Dangerous beginnings / MADE MEN BOOK 1

In Flammis - Up in Flames

Aslanov

A traitor.

And Petrov.

All that has been on my mind since I've came to find out - besides her.

She lives in my mind rent free.

Her sweet laugh, the soft sounds her feet make when she runs up the wooden stairs towards my room and office, her sweet smell and her intoxicating gentleness.

She's everything I'm not.

This morning before the sun set she stared up at me with those brown eyes of her, her freckles always peeking through her porselein skin. She told me "anger is the more productive cousin of hurt."

It has been stuck with me all day.

She's good, she's smart and sees through some of the cracks inside the walls I've set up.

Fuck, I was whipped.

I've told her more about me than I've told anyone else, ever. I have let her touch me, touch my scars that run up on my back. I bite my tongue when she provokes me and contain anger I've not been able to control for years. I've been gentle, a new verb, noun and adjective to my book.

She has made a big mistake.
Drawing my attention.
Letting me in.

It's an obsession I have to feed.

Isabella

I make my way inside the cabin again, using my sleeve to wipe sweat off my forehead. Running through these woods has become my new hobby, building some sort of a condition and wiping my mind clear.

Immediately I'm stopped, my body tenses, I freeze as I notice the usual wooden table isn't empty. There are four men seated onto it, only one of them I recognize; Dominik.

Smoke lazed in the room as it surpasses one dimly lit light bulb. The other three men stare at me like I'm some exotic animal they have never seen before. One of them is chewing on a toothpick, while another leans back in his chair and brings a cigarette to his lips. I hate smoke.

I only enjoy the aftertaste when my lips find his.

His suit jacket lay carelessly open, white button-up beneath, no tie.

Where is he?

I cough on smoke that slowly lingers and finds its way into my nostrils. "Potushi sigaretu," the man looks behind me and immediately puts his cigarette out and throws it in the ashtray. Put out your cigarette

The demand lingers from behind me and, his Russian tickles my back equally cold and hot. I've never been involved in anything in his work business, it feels off.

I turn around, only to be met with broad shoulders and a shirt. I'm not tall, but he is immensely tall. I tilt my head up, surely meeting his gaze.

"What's this?" I barely choke out as I nod at the table full of men I've never seen in my life.

His gaze falls between me and the table. The atmosphere is tense and even though I should not fear him anymore, it always lingers.

As he wants to stroll past me towards the table I stop him, unable to deny the empty space it leaves when he passes me. Strange these men scare me more than the boss that commands them.

Aslanov stands behind me as he turns me around to face the table.

My eyes darting nervously between each of the men as they watch me with varying degrees of interest. One of them nods in acknowledgment, while another offers me a tight-lipped smile that does nothing to ease my unease.