Alessia
The van didn't smell like blood.
It smelled like leather and cold air, like cologne that clung to skin and money. I'd expected pain. Chains. Some kind of warning. Instead, the Bratva didn't bother.
They took me in silence.
A black bag over my head. Rough hands — but not cruel. Just efficient.
I don't know how long we drove. I lost track after the second sharp turn and the stop at a gate that groaned open like something ancient. When the bag was pulled off, I blinked hard against the warm glow of chandeliers.
The room was gold.
Not real gold — but too lavish to be anything else. Velvet chairs, carved pillars, and a fireplace that crackled softly. The ceiling stretched high and curved like a chapel.
And in the center of it all, sitting like a king in the devil's court, was him.
Nikolai Volkov.
He wasn't wearing his coat this time. Just a black shirt rolled at the sleeves, revealing veins and ink and a silver watch on his wrist that looked like it cost more than my apartment. His eyes were fixed on a glass of vodka in his hand, but when I moved—when I breathed—he looked up.
"You took your time," he said, like I'd arrived late to a dinner reservation.
My wrists were bound. My ankles too. But his voice held no urgency.
Just command.
"You kidnapped me," I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
"I invited you," he corrected. "You just needed… encouragement."
I swallowed hard. "You killed someone in front of me."
He shrugged. "He deserved it."
"And what? Now I do too?"
Something in his expression changed — a flash of heat, of interest. He stood slowly, swirling the drink in his hand as he came toward me. My breath caught as he stopped in front of me, towering, every inch of him danger wrapped in temptation.
"No," he murmured. "You deserve something else."
His fingers touched my chin — not roughly, but like he was testing the edge of porcelain. My entire body stiffened. My heart thudded so loud I thought he'd hear it.
"I should kill you," he said, more thoughtful than threatening. "You saw something you weren't meant to see. You know my face. That's a risk I don't usually allow."
"Then why am I here?"
"Because when you looked at me, you didn't scream."
I frowned. "What?"
"You didn't scream," he repeated. "You didn't beg. You didn't cry. You looked. That intrigued me."
I pulled back slightly, the chains clinking as I moved. "That's insane."
"Most things worth wanting are."
He circled me slowly, like a lion assessing prey that interested him more than usual. Not for food. For play.
"I've done this a long time, kotenok. I've seen men weep at the thought of death. You? You didn't even flinch."
"I froze."
"Exactly."
He stopped behind me, and I felt the heat of him against my back, the slow press of his breath near my ear.
"You want to live," he whispered. "But not just survive. You want more. You want something to break you out of the numbness."
My breath hitched. Because he wasn't wrong.
And that scared me more than the chains.
Nikolai
She smelled like fear and lilacs. Like innocence with a crack down the middle.
I shouldn't have brought her here.
Luca had warned me. Oleg had rolled his eyes.
"She's just a girl," they said. "Kill her, wipe the tape, and move on."
But Alessia Rossi wasn't just a girl. Not anymore.
She was an accident. A witness. A problem.
And now, a fixation.
There was something in her silence. Something soft but sharp underneath. The way her lips parted when I touched her, like her body didn't get the memo her mind was screaming.
I didn't just want to silence her.
I wanted to keep her.
"Untie her," I ordered, without looking at my men.
Luca hesitated. "You sure?"
"She won't run."
She could try. I'd enjoy catching her.
The rope fell from her wrists. Her hands trembled as she pulled them into her lap, rubbing circulation back into her fingers. I stepped around to face her again and handed her the glass of vodka I'd poured before she arrived.
She didn't take it.
"You drugged it?"
"No. If I wanted you unconscious, you'd be unconscious."
She took it.
Sipped. Coughed.
Good girl.
"What's your name?" I asked, even though I already knew.
She hesitated. "Alessia."
I nodded. "Italian?"
"My father was."
She didn't say is. Interesting.
"You live alone?"
"Yes."
"Family?"
"No one."
A lie. But she believed it when she said it — which meant she had no one who'd come looking.
Even better.
"You're not going to kill me," she said suddenly.
I raised a brow. "No?"
"You would've already. So now I want to know… what do you want from me?"
Her voice was shaking, but her eyes were steady.
She was learning to bluff.
I leaned in.
"You want the truth, Alessia?"
She nodded.
I took the glass from her hand, set it down, and slowly brushed her hair back from her shoulder.
Then I bent low, my lips just beside her ear.
"I want to own you."
Alessia
The room spun.
Not from fear.
From him.
I couldn't breathe. Not properly. My chest rose and fell in shallow bursts, and the spot where his fingers had brushed my neck felt like it was on fire. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to run.
But part of me didn't move.
Part of me wanted to hear what came next.
He stepped away — just enough for me to breathe again.
"Own me," I repeated, almost mocking. "You sound insane."
"Maybe."
"You don't even know me."
"I know you freeze when you're terrified. I know you dream in color. I know your favorite cafe closes at nine and you tip the barista too much because you don't like confrontation."
My heart stuttered.
"I know you haven't let a man touch you in over a year, and I know it isn't because you don't want to. It's because you're waiting for someone who'll make you want to."
My mouth opened, but nothing came out.
He wasn't guessing.
He'd watched me.
For days? Weeks?
"You're psychotic."
He smiled. "No. I'm obsessed."
Nikolai
She didn't move when I stepped close again.
Didn't flinch when I pressed two fingers beneath her chin and forced her to meet my eyes.
She hated this.
And she didn't.
Perfect.
"I'm not going to hurt you, kotenok. But you belong to me now. You walked into my world, and I don't let go of what's mine."
She looked like she wanted to fight. To scream.
But all she did was whisper:
"What if I say no?"
I leaned in until our mouths almost touched.
"Then I'll make you say yes."