It was late at night. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of Alia's private office, the city lights were a blur. Files and documents of the mafia empire were piled high in front of her. At some point, exhaustion had won, and Alia had fallen into a deep sleep right there on the desk, her head resting on her arms and her hair spilling over the paperwork.
Suddenly, the heavy office door creaked open silently. A tall, dark shadow entered—Victor Alexeyevich Demidov Stepanovich Petrov.
Victor was dressed in a jet-black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His movements were as silent as the 'Owl'. He didn't wake her. Instead, he sat down quietly on the edge of the desk, right next to her.
He watched her sleep with an intense, intoxicating possessiveness. In the soft ambient light, Alia's face looked innocent—just like the ten-year-old girl who had brought light into his dungeon years ago. The usual violence in his eyes had faded, replaced by something much deeper.
He reached out, his long fingers barely brushing through her hair. He whispered to himself:
"Everyone thinks the Dragon only knows how to destroy. They don't know that the Dragon also knows how to stay awake all night just to guard his treasure."
Victor noticed a document on the desk where Alia had signed her name. She hadn't added 'Petrov' to it yet. Taking a black ink pen from his pocket, he leaned over and slowly added it himself: 'Alia Petrov'.
Then, he placed his large hand over Alia's hand resting on the desk. In her sleep, Alia stirred slightly, but sensing his familiar warmth, she settled back into her slumber. Victor remained there, like an emperor guarding the most precious jewel in his kingdom.Victor gazed intently at the sleeping Alia. His eyes held not just affection, but an overwhelming possessiveness. Her disheveled hair, her face hidden by files... Victor couldn't hold back any longer.
Very carefully, he gently lifted Alia into his arms from the desk. Her head lolled softly against his strong shoulder. Exhausted from work, Alia was still in a deep slumber. She felt so soft and fragile that Victor wondered how this delicate woman could be part of such a ruthless mafia empire.
Victor carried Alia to a luxurious, soft sofa positioned on the opposite side of the table, likely meant for her rest. With utmost care, he gently laid her down.
As he did, Victor noticed Alia's jacket had shifted slightly, revealing a glimpse of her nightdress underneath. The light silk of the nightdress subtly outlined her figure.
Victor's eyes darkened with intensity. The 'Dragon' within him stirred. He gently reached out and brushed her hair away from her forehead. Then, he pressed a warm kiss upon her soft forehead.
He murmured:
"You are mine, Alia. Every breath you take, every dream you have—they are all mine. Dimitri thought he could save you, but he doesn't know that no one has the power to save you from me. You are my Dragon's treasure, and I will guard you like this for all eternity."
Victor then settled onto the low armrest of the sofa beside Alia, his eyes still fixed on her. Outside, the city lights twinkled, but in Victor and Alia's private world, there was only silence and Victor's unspoken vow.It was 2:00 AM. Except for the rhythmic ticking of the clock, the entire penthouse was dead silent. Alia wasn't fully asleep; she had been drifting in a trance. When she felt the heavy presence of Victor's body and the grip of his powerful hands, her eyes slowly fluttered open.
She saw Victor standing before her—like a primal predator and an absolute sovereign. The depth of the darkness and desire in his eyes left her paralyzed for a moment.
Without saying a word, Victor grabbed both her legs firmly and pulled her toward him. Alia was lying on the sofa, her silken nightdress becoming disheveled under his pull. The iron-like strength in Victor's hands made it clear to Alia that there was no escape tonight.
Victor held her gaze for a split second. His eyes carried a thirst built up over years. Then, he slowly unzipped his pants. In the silence of the room, that metallic sound echoed like a dark omen.
In a low, gravelly voice, Victor whispered:
"It's 2:00 AM, Alia. The whole city is asleep, but your Dragon is hungry tonight. You said I know how to destroy like a Dragon, didn't you? Tonight, I won't destroy you... tonight, I will make you mine, forever."
Alia was trembling, but within her eyes, a battle between fear and an inexplicable attraction raged. She knew that when Victor Alexeyevich Petrov claimed something, he would seize it even if the world turned upside down.
Victor leaned over her, his body weight and heat taking her breath away. His strong hands were still clamped firmly on her legs, as if ensuring his prey wouldn't slip away.It was 2:10 AM. Victor was in no rush; he knew Alia was completely under his spell. While keeping a firm, iron grip on both her legs with one hand, he reached for the glass of expensive Red Wine on the table with the other.
In the dim light of the room, the deep red of the wine looked exactly like blood. Victor took a slow sip, his Adam's apple moving as he swallowed. His intoxicated gaze never left Alia's exposed form.
Pressing the rim of the glass against his lips, he said with a cruel smirk:
"You know, Alia, the taste of your fear is far sweeter than this vintage wine. Tonight, there are no protocols, no mafia rules. Tonight, there is only me and my claim."
Victor didn't finish the wine at once. Instead, he slowly tipped the glass, letting a few drops of the dark red liquid spill onto Alia's thigh. The cold touch of the liquid made Alia gasp, her body arching involuntarily. Victor set the glass aside and began to rub the spilled wine into her skin with his large, calloused hand.
Alia's breathing became ragged. The heat from Victor's body mixed with the pungent aroma of the wine, creating an intoxicating atmosphere. Victor leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against her ear.
"I told you, didn't I? The Dragon guards his treasure. Tonight... the Dragon tastes it."Victor's eyes had turned into a darker shade of desire. With one hand, the expensive wine glass was pressed to his lips, while with the other, he gripped Alia's legs so firmly that any hope of escape vanished.
Alia cried out in a mix of pain and a sharp, sudden thrill, "Ahhhh... Victor! Let me go! This isn't right!"
Instead of stopping him, her plea seemed to further rouse the 'Dragon' within him. He took one last swig of the wine and shattered the glass against the floor. Shards of glass flew everywhere, mirroring how he intended to break down all of Alia's defenses tonight.
Victor moved his heavy frame, pinning her down. His grip tightened. He leaned in, his hot breath fanning against her ear as he whispered:
"I didn't catch you just to let you go, Alia. Dimitri would show you mercy, but I am Victor Petrov—I only know how to conquer. Every time you say 'let go,' my claim on you will only grow deeper. Tonight isn't for your tears; tonight is for my victory."
Alia tried to push against his broad chest with both hands, but her strength was nothing against his stone-cold physique. Victor pinned both her wrists above her head with just one hand. Her nightdress was now completely disheveled.
Alia sobbed, "You are a monster, Victor!"
Victor let out that signature cruel smirk:
"Yes, I am the monster you once tried to soothe with your doll. Now, that same monster has come to claim what's his."
He dipped his head toward the crook of her neck. The pungent scent of wine mixed with his masculine cologne began to numb Alia's senses. She realized then—this dark night wasn't just about pain; it was the beginning of a total, terrifying surrender.Victor's cruelty reached a new level. Seeing Alia struggling helplessly beneath him, he suddenly pulled his high-end smartphone from his pocket. Despite her tears and disheveled state, there was no mercy in his heart—only a demonic smirk.
He held the phone inches from Alia's face. Her pupils dilated in sheer terror.
In a low, calm voice, Victor said:
"Did you think what happens in this dark room stays between us? No, Alia. I want the world to see how helpless the 'Mafia Queen' is beneath her King. I want Dimitri to see that the woman he deified is nothing more than a plaything in my bed tonight."
Victor turned on the camera. As the blinding flash hit Alia's eyes, she squinted. Victor gripped her chin, forcing her to face the lens, and started recording.
He looked into the camera and began to speak:
"Look, Dimitri. Look, Nikolai. You all wanted to take her from me. Today, she is in the palm of my hand. Her tears, her cries—they are the new documents of my empire."
Alia screamed, "No, Victor! Please don't do this! Don't record it! I'll listen to everything you say... Victor, stop it!"
Victor ignored her pleas. He propped the phone up on the edge of the desk, setting the frame perfectly to capture everything. Then, he turned back to her, unbuttoning his shirt slowly.
He whispered mockingly:
"Alia, tonight won't just be in the history books; it will be stored in my digital gallery. Every time you try to be rebellious, I will show you this. This is the last shred of your dignity, and it belongs in my pocket now."
This combination of digital blackmail and physical dominance completely shattered Alia's spirit. She realized Victor didn't just want her body—he wanted to annihilate her soul.In that dark office, there was only the sharp white glow of the mobile flash and the sound of Alia's stifled sobs. Victor held the phone in one hand as if documenting a prized trophy. His stone-cold face showed no remorse; instead, it blazed with a dark, triumphant intoxication.
Staring at the phone screen, Victor spoke in a chillingly calm voice:
"Look, Alia. Look at the lens. You have no idea how beautiful your broken form is. The world knows you as the 'Mafia Queen,' but this video will prove exactly whose property you are."
Alia covered her face with both hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Her silken nightdress trembled with her cries. She wailed:
"Victor, I beg of you! Stop this! I'll do whatever you want, but don't humiliate me like this. I'll fall at your feet, just please..."
Victor laughed a demonic sound. He forcefully pried her hands away from her face and gripped her chin, pulling her face directly into the camera's view. Her eyes were streaming with tears like a monsoon rain, her lips quivering in pure humiliation.
Victor, with his finger over the record button, said:
"Fall at my feet? You'll do that anyway, Alia. But this video is my insurance. If Dimitri ever dares to dream about you again, I'll show him this. He'll see how helpless his 'pure Alia' is beneath Victor's boots."
Alia finally went limp, surrendering to the despair. She realized Victor Alexeyevich Petrov wasn't a man; he was a monster. Victor saved the video, tucked the phone into his pocket, and leaned close to her ear, whispering:
"The camera is off now, Alia. But the real game has only just begun. You look even more desirable when you cry. No one outside this room will hear you tonight."
Victor threw his shirt aside and loomed over her again. The night outside grew deeper, while Alia's dignity remained trapped in that digital memory forever.