The Morning After
Chapter 54
The Morning After
Aslanov
Tick tack. Tick tack. Tick tack. Tick tack.
I haven’t slept a single fucking minute.
The sound of my phone buzzing pulls me from the edge of my thoughts. The screen lights up with Dominik’s name, a stark reminder of the chaos unfolding outside this room. My jaw clenches as I swipe to read his message, the words hitting me like a punch to the gut.
We got one of Petrov’s men. Captured him. Didn’t speak—didn’t name anyone— It’s worse than we thought.
Another text comes through, faster this time.
Petrov’s man didn’t crack. He held out. Didn’t give names or details, but the way he reacted... something’s off. He knows something big. Maybe a plan, just whispers, but there’s too much uncertainty. Feels like a setup, Aslanov. Feels like we’re blind.
My grip tightens on the phone, my knuckles turning white.
We’ve placed trackers and cameras on Petrov’s belongings. We’ll monitor his digital and physical movements, and try to get ahead of this, but… Aslanov, it’s a storm waiting to hit. I’ll keep you updated.
The unspoken accusation in Dominik’s words lingers like the sting of a blade. I shove the phone into my pocket and drag a hand down my face, frustration radiating through me.
I twist the red elastic band around my fingers, a nervous tick I can’t seem to control.
I watch her as she draws in a deep breath, exhaling softly, her red hair fanned out across the pillowcase like spilled wine. The peacefulness of her face feels like a cruel contrast to the chaos threatening to consume us both.
My feet carry me to the shadowed corner of the room where I’ve planted myself all night. The dim light from the bedside lamp casts faint shadows over my features as I unscrew the cap of a whiskey bottle. The liquid sloshes, golden and burning, as I bring it to my lips. No glass. Not tonight. The sharp sting of the alcohol isn’t enough to drown out Dominik’s words, but it dulls the edges for a moment.
My green eyes, usually a fortress, flicker restlessly. I take another long swallow, the heat sliding down my throat, warming the parts of me that her presence hasn’t already ignited. I don’t bother turning away from her, my gaze locked on her soft, steady breathing.
Watching her makes me calm, it has done that before.
I’ve made her my priority, chosen her. And now? Now, the cracks are showing.
The bottle lowers, forgotten, as my thoughts spiral. Petrov and all the vague shit around him and his empire. A man who knows too much hates me and lurks like a loaded gun pointed at my head. I’m fucked if I don’t get to the bottom of this, and the worst part? I don’t care about any of it as much as I care about her.
I don’t even realize I’ve risen until I’m pacing the room, my free hand gripping the elastic band like it’s a lifeline. Protecting Isabella feels more urgent, more real, than anything else. The underworld I navigate is a firestorm, but she’s become the tender thing I can’t let burn.
And that terrifies me.
Because I haven’t been able to protect anyone before. I fucking failed before.
I stop dead in my tracks, staring at her sleeping form. My heart clenches with the worst realization of all—not just that I might fail to protect her from the outside threats, but that I might be the danger she truly needs saving from. My emotions have turned violent, and possessive, something I barely recognize in myself- for someone.
With a growl, I stride into the living room and hurl the empty whiskey bottle onto the floor. Glass shatters, shards scattering across the hardwood. It’s not enough. The fury, the fear—it all bubbles over. My arm sweeps across the kitchen counter, sending glasses crashing to the ground in a symphony of destruction.
But none of it quiets the voice in my head.
I mixed a sleeping pill in her water earlier, watching her gulp it down without question. She looked exhausted, her shoulders heavy with the weight of the world I dragged her into. She doesn’t deserve another sleepless night, haunted by fears she doesn’t yet know are waiting outside the door.
I sink onto the couch, head in my hands, as the rage inside me simmers. My pocket is heavy with sleeping pills, the weight of them a temptation I can’t resist. I don’t want to think anymore. I don’t want to feel.
I take four.
The darkness comes quickly, like a wave pulling me under.
Isabella
As I slowly awaken, I notice the absence of Aslanov beside me. Sitting up in bed, I wince at the soreness that spreads through my body, a lingering reminder of our passionate night together. I groan slightly. But the ache is faint and no longer painful.
Pushing aside the covers, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my muscles protesting with every movement. Wrapping the sheet around me, I make my way to the window, drawn by the soft light filtering through the glass.
Glancing over at the chair in the corner of the room I slowly turn around. It’s positioned directly at the bed and the light above it still shines; he’s been watching me. I scrunch my nose at his absence. A slight panic rises in me. Did he leave?
My bare feet tap onto the wooden floor that cracks beneath me as I make my way over to the door. I push it open. An eerie creak fills the cabin and as I’m just about to set foot in the living room I stop. My bare feet rested above the shattered glass.
My gaze slowly moves up, a confrontation with the mess of the room. There’s glass everywhere around the counter, and some furniture has been knocked over.
I carefully make my way into the living room without touching the shattered glass around me. And when I reach the fireplace next to the couch I stop in my tracks.
My heart skips a beat at the sight of him, a mixture of apprehension and longing swirling within me. He looks so distant, so untouchable, and I can’t shake the feeling of vulnerability that washes over me.
He’s knocked out cold.
I carefully approach him, a wave of concern washes my face as I spot a bottle of pills in his hand, clutching tightly. I gently take the bottle out of his fingers and set it down on the table next to the couch.
My hand comes down on his forehead, he’s not hot. He’s simply in a very deep sleep. Despite my own raging emotions, I gather the bedsheets from the bedroom and carefully place them over his large body. I tuck the sheets in under him and gently lift his arm from underneath the blanket. He stirs a little, a painful expression on his pale face. It’s in this moment that I can see behind the hardened exterior, and meet a more tender, unsure soul. The curtains are still closed in the living room and the entire cabin is a mess. I look around as my eyes fall onto his gun, openly on the table. I swallow down my emotions and gather my thoughts. What the hell have I done? What am I doing? Seriously, check me into a mental asylum.
I groan as I rub the sleep out of my eyes. My body is sore everywhere. His entire DNA is spread over me, under me, and in me.
My wrists look like shit, my feet as well, and honestly my face too. My neck is covered in his doing, marking my pale skin. Reminders of what we did last night. Does he regret it? He looks ever so regrettable. Acid creeps its way into my veins. This wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did.
Aslanov
I groan as sunlight hits my face. I check my watch, “Blyat!” Fuck.
It’s already afternoon. I’m covered in bedsheets and when I check my gun holster, it’s empty. Where the fuck is my gun? I sit up and rub my stubbles while adjusting to the sudden light. Gazing around my eyes, I fall onto the kitchen table where my gun rests. I take a deep breath, but as I begin to calm down my nerves speed up again within a second. Where is she?
I immediately get up, throwing the bedsheets behind my back on the couch. I pull my boots on as I scan the room, “Isabella?!”
No answer.
I tie the laces together and secure the gun back in my holster. Beside it is my coat, putting it on over my hoodie I call out her name again. This time silence greets me again. My chest begins to rise and fall a little faster and uncertainties fill me, panic. And it’s slowly rising, like the tide. A wave, a storm inside of me at her absence. And as I scan the room, I notice the shattered glass is gone. Did she clean? Where did she go?
I make my way to the bedroom, the bathroom, and any other room of the cabin but she isn’t anywhere. I burst through the front door as a warmer breeze hits me, immediately followed by a colder one. I scan the view laid out in front of me, nothing. No small redhead woman.
“Isabella!” I thrash around the cabin, maybe she’s in the garden. But she isn’t. She’s nowhere. And just as I begin to lose my sanity and almost want to call for help, for a fucking searching for her, I catch a glimpse of her. Instant relief fills me.
She’s on the opposite side of the lake. Immediately I make my way over to her, the walk taking longer than I want it to. I clutch my knuckles to my sides, anger consuming me at her absence. Yet I know she has not intended it the way I perceive it. Gentle Aslanov. I mentally laugh at my comment. Never thought I’d have to use that word again, let alone act on it. But here I am, doing exactly that.
Isabella
I twirl the flower around between my fingers, I needed some fresh air. Some time to think. Yes, thinking about my sins. I’ve just been mentally cursing myself and debating my life choices. And as you can tell those aren’t the brightest. Losing my virginity to a mafia man.
Suddenly a snap of a branch interrupts my thoughts, and my head immediately turns, looking at the direction of the sound. And there he is, looking more pale than last night. Guess I haven’t been the only one lost in thoughts.
I swallow at the sight of him. It’s different, but also not that different. And I’m not going to lie, I’ve been drooling all over him since the beginning, right now I’ve just anticipated that thought.
He walks over to me, closer. He now stands in front of the bench I’m sitting on, and my gaze doesn’t move away from the flower. There’s a tense silence between us, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. I want to tell him how I feel, to bear my soul to him, but the words stick in my throat like thorns. Instead, I lower my gaze, feeling suddenly shy and uncertain in his presence. But the words burn in my throat. ‘Rough night?’ He had been tearing the place down like some animal.
I feel his gaze burning through me. He doesn’t answer, instead we share a silence. The cold wind whooshing through my hair, made me shiver. Aslanov seems to notice my discomfort and with one swift move, he takes off his jacket. He effortlessly positions it over my shoulders. I pull the material closer. Seeking warmth—his warmth in particular. I now glance up at Aslanov, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation swirling within me.
“So, what now?” I ask, unable to keep the question from slipping out. It’s honestly the only question on my mind.
Maybe he just sees this as a quick encounter and nothing else, even though his words still ring in my mind. Perhaps he just told them to lure me in. Maybe it meant nothing more than a desire and primal instinct.
Aslanov crouches down in front of me and regards me with a calculating gaze, his dark eyes piercing through me. “What do you mean by ‘what now’?” he responds, his tone sending a shiver down my spine.
I swallow nervously, feeling the weight of his gaze bearing down on me. “I mean…what does last night…us…mean?” I stumble over my words, unsure of what answer I’m hoping for. I pick at the flower in my hands while studying his pale but sharp features.
A slow, predatory smile curls at the corners of Aslanov’s lips, sending a shiver of fear and excitement coursing through me. “What it means, Isabella,” he says, his voice low and husky, “is that you are my woman.”
His words hang in the air like a dark promise, sending a thrill of apprehension coursing through me. “I meant what I said last night.” I stare at the man in front of me. His pale face looks out over the lake. “I want to take care of you,” he pauses with a calculating gaze, “but you’ll need to grant me some slack.”
“It’s been a very long time since I’ve last cared for someone.” Aslanov his hand comes around my jaw as his green eyes lock onto mine, his thumb lightly stroking my cheek. The flower falls to the floor as it has lost its purpose.
“You’re going to have to let me in,” I pause as I meet his gaze into the light of dawn. “you’re going to need to drop your demeanor.” His eyes intensify on mine, a hint of darkness mixed with the green of his iris. His eyes narrow further, and a hint of skepticism flashes in his eyes as he takes in my words. His jaw tightens, and his muscles tense beneath the surface.
“I want to know the real you,” my words come out in a mere howl of the wind. His grip tightens on my jaw.
“If that’s what you want.”
I nod, willingly.
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes and gravely regretted decisions,” his thumb strokes my heated cheek again. “Also toward you, but this won’t be another add to the list. I will do anything to keep you safe .” I swallow. “It’s okay.” My mouth is dry, lips trembling with anticipation, “I forgive you.”
“I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” his voice comes out thick and gruff, “and nor should you grant people it that easy.” His face comes closer to mine, his breath dancing on my lips. “Especially not for a man like me.” My lips part. “But let me earn it.” He nuzzles my nose with his as his eyes dart towards my lips.
“ Okay. ” It comes out in a whisper, a lone cry in the wind.
He stares at my lips before his eyes move up again and lock into mine. He’s staring at me with passion, lust, like he will fucking destroy me. Devour me like I’m his last meal, and he’s savoring me. His fingers tighten under my jaw. This is so wrong, so very wrong. I shouldn’t be attracted to a criminal, let alone him. Let alone more than being attracted. I bite my lip, and Aslanov seems to notice.
“Just tell me one thing,” he pauses as his thumb now moves to the outer of my lower lip, “did it arouse you to know you’ve been deflowered by a criminal? Did it arouse you when I hunted you down like prey?”
My breath hitches in my throat, recreating the feeling of my lungs collapsing. My eyes flutter, my veins fill and my body responds before my brain can, “Yes.”
An evil smile reaches his eyes and forms his oh-so-perfect face. He looks rather pleased with the confirmation. “You forgot your phone,” the statement comes out as a low threatening danger.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper against his lips. His thumb circles my cheeks again.
“I was worried.” The choice of words crashes down on me more than it should.
“I won’t forget it again.”
A grin spreads itself onto his lips. “You’re so very submissive.”
“And you’re so very dominant.”
Another grin which is wider spreads on his lips. “I assume that fits very well,” he states as he holds my gaze.
A smile clings itself onto my lips. “You know what assuming gets you?”
Aslanov blurts out a laugh against my wet and hot lips. “You learn fast.” He grins softly as his lips connect with mine. A passionate kiss and I want it to drown me.
“Now get up,” he states, brushing a stray of hair out of my face.
“I’m not your dog to command around,” I state back as I cross my arms even though I know he’s never going to lose that attitude.
“My love, light of my dead eyes, would you please do a pleading man the kindness of walking back to the cabin?”
I stay still for a moment and smile.