chapter 1
“I don’t drink,” I tell Selly again, just in case she didn’t hear me the first time.
“Ohh, Isa, you should try this! This is the best thing you’ve ever taken in your mouth,” Paige leans closer. “Actually, it’s the second best thing. The best thing is always a hard dick.”
She winks, Selly and Mari burst out laughing.
“Go on, Isa, we’re cheering for you,” Mari says.
They call me Isa here, which isn’t even part of my name. But I guess it’s better than Isaliye or Isale or whatever other strange versions they come up with. I honestly don’t know what’s so difficult about pronouncing Iselyn.
I take a sip of the drink. My face instantly scrunches up at the bitter taste. I cough and quickly set the glass down before asking the bartender for water.
Their laughter follows. “You’re so cute,” Selly says, smiling.
“I guess that’s why every other guy here is dying to take you on a date,” Mari adds, I think I catch a not-so-friendly flicker in her eyes beneath her smile.
“Would you like to join us on the floor?” Paige asks, gesturing toward the crowd of dancers.
I shake my head. “I’ll wait here.”
They don’t ask me again and leave for the dance floor. These girls are fellow researchers in my group—whom, to be honest, I want to bond with because staying alone isn’t much fun. But I guess I’ll soon start finding enjoyment in being alone.
I glance around the club, the laughter and flashing lights feeling too loud, and I can’t help but regret my decision to come here.
There isn’t a single good thing that has happened to me in this city. I guess today is my regret day.
I was doing perfectly fine back in Vladivostok—developing my plant-based natural medicines with steady progress.
Then I got the challenge of creating a formula for a rare skin disease called Poyasa.
And I thought coming here would help. Not really my fault though, this whole country claims that this university has the best ethnopharmacologists.
Bullshit.
I’m not a narcissist, but some facts need to be acknowledged if you want to save your time and sanity.
One such fact is that the New York Medical University doesn’t have a single person who could me.
I’ve discussed my project with their best professors and doctors, and they all looked at me like I’d lost my mind for even thinking about developing such a medicine.
I pinch the space between my brows, feeling slightly lightheaded. If I weren’t someone who keeps a close watch on her body, I might have missed it. And the boy with blue eyes who’s just taken the seat across from me only confirms my suspicion.
Another boy follows, standing beside him with a dirty grin stretched across his face. This one’s a blonde. I know both of them, they’re friends with Selly, Mari, and Paige.
Those bitches crossed me.
Right now, all I want to do is show them, and these two idiots, the skills my father taught me. He was the Pakhan of the Mikhailov Bratva before he married my mother. He never knew any skill other than ruling and killing.
And I had no interest in learning about ruling.
I push myself off the barstool and head toward the side of the ladies’ room, they both fall in step behind me. I glance at the dance floor, Selly, Mari, and Paige aren’t there. Perfect. I’ll see them tomorrow.
“Hey, Iselyn,” one of the boys calls from behind.
They step in front of me. I narrow my eyes and glare, they laugh.
“Don’t get mad. We just want to have fun with you.” He leans in. I take a step back.
“Get away,” I grit.
“Or what?” the blue-eyed bastard smirks. “Look, it’ll be more fun for all of us if you cooperate. So stop playing hard to get and come with us. We know you want to take care of the heat of your kitty.” He winks.
The drug starts taking hold. It’s a good thing I only had one small sip, but whatever they put in that drink is strong.
I step back, tighten my core, and throw a punch. The blow splits his lip and his head jerks back. “I said, get away.”
He looks at me, now angry, and lunges. I move to the side, he overcommits.
I drive my heel into the back of his knee with everything I can manage while the drug tugs at my balance.
He collapses to the floor. The blond lunges, but I slip past him and sprint into the restroom, slamming the door behind me.
Moments later there are furious knocks and hard pushes shaking the wood.
I fumble my phone from my purse and call Kaz, my brother. He’s Pakhan of Russia, he’s not here, but he can still do something.
He picks up my call.
“I’m at a bar near the college named Brown and Blue. Someone spiked my drink. I’m in the restroom right now.”
“Stay there,” he says quickly before disconnecting.
The door bangs behind my back. I yank at the collar of my high-neck dress, feeling suffocated by the sudden heat. The space between my thighs aches to the point of going numb.
I slide down against the door, sitting on my heels, holding my head. My thighs tremble, my vision spins, and my heart beats so loudly it echoes in my ears. Then, suddenly, I’m pushed forward. I fall on my hands and knees, my palms scraping the cold floor.
I quickly turn my head, blinking fast to see through the fog of dizziness.
Five boys stand at the doorway of the restroom. Panic crawls up my spine. I shuffle back on the floor, trying to put distance between us.
My legs have lost their strength, I can’t stand. My back hits the wall. I pull my knees to my chest, trembling in fear.
The blue-eyed guy bends down in front of me, laughing in my face. He slaps me across the face. My cheek stings with a sharp burn, and the back of my head hits the wall. He laughs “Now you’ll get slaps and dicks together.”
They all start laughing. I hug my knees tighter, my body shaking like a leaf in a storm. He grabs my shoulders and pulls me up, my body, unable to fight back, is pressed against the wall.
“Fuck, got hot slut.” Someone speaks.
“You could fuck her second.” The blond laughs. “First fuck is for Tony.”
“She can take you in mouth.” The blue-eyed motherfucker speaks. I try to push his hands away with my trembling ones. Fear consumes me whole. Tears start falling. God, please help me.
A loud crash makes everyone turn. The restroom door, which they had locked after entering, falls to the floor.
“Don’t kill any of them.”
The voice echoes through the space like thunder. My heart stops for a split second, then starts pounding like it never has before. I tell myself it’s the drug.
Tony releases me, and I collapse to the floor. Everyone’s eyes are fixed on the man standing in the doorway. I can see fear etched across their faces. That’s the effect Matleon has on people.
His men flood the restroom, delivering brutal beatings to the bastards. I watch everything unfold, keeping my gaze away from the man at the door, whose eyes remain fixed on me.
He is so tall and broad, his frame occupying almost the entire doorway. He hasn’t stepped inside, yet the restroom feels smaller, the air almost stolen from it. I’m suffocating. Around me are the cries of men, but all I can hear is the relentless thump of my own heartbeat.
The mere presence of this man makes the effect of the drug intensify.
His men drag the badly beaten fuckers out of the restroom, leaving only him and me.
He comes closer to me with slow, steady steps.
I clench my jaw, still not looking at him.
He bends down and picks me up without saying a single word.
I keep my face turned away, but his warmth and scent engulf me, worsening my condition.
I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms, the pain helping me stay sane, keeping me from giving in to the physical urge to wrap myself around this man I hate the most and beg him to help me.
He carries me to a black car, sets me on the back seat, and closes the door. I roll down the window, hoping for some relief, my head spinning badly. I rub my thighs together, almost moaning and crying from the mixture of pleasure and ache.
I force myself to sit still when he opens the door on the other side and sits beside me.
“Here.” He extends his hand, two pills resting on his large palm.
I take the pills, my fingers curling around them on his hard, rough skin.
I want these hands on me. The drug is messing with my head badly.
There’s no chance in this life I’d ever want this man to do anything like that to me if it weren’t for this fucked-up state, where all I can think about is having this unbearable ache taken care of.
“I want—” I bite my tongue to stop myself from saying you.
“Water,” I manage to say through labored breaths.
He hands me a bottle. I open it and swallow the pills, then return the bottle. My eyes wander over his relaxed posture, his elbow is resting on the windowsill, head leaning on his knuckles, his gaze fixed on me. I don’t try to decipher the look in his eyes—it changes anyway. Now, he’s smirking.
“You want me to help you?”
I narrow my eyes. “What gave you this wrong idea?” I say, my voice sounding nothing like my own.
My heart rate has calmed a bit, my breathing easing. The effect of the drug is fading, now, I just desperately want the ache between my thighs to subside quickly.
“The way you’re checking me out is too obvious,” he replies.
I roll my eyes and turn toward the window. The car started moving after I took the medicine; we’re on the highway now. The cool night air fans my face, easing the discomfort. I lean closer to it, inhaling deeply.
“Thanks for today,” I mutter, not looking at him. I hate looking at his face, or at him.
“Who are you thanking?”
“You.”
“Then do it while looking at me. I don’t accept Wi-Fi thanks.”
I close my eyes, ignoring him. Bitter memories tied to the man sitting so close overwhelm me, his scent of myrrh and incense smoke filling my senses. I want to bury those memories, but in his presence, they refuse to stay hidden, scorching my already burned heart again and again.