Before the echo of the shattered glass could even fade, the romantic atmosphere inside the room transformed into a heated battlefield. Alia did not back down after hearing Viktor's dominant Russian words; instead, the stubbornness within her flared up. She shoved Viktor's chest away, looked him straight in the eyes, and screamed in sharp, fluent Russian.
Alia spoke rapidly and piercingly:
"Ты думаешь, что можешь просто так запереть меня здесь и называть своей вещью, Виктор?! Я не одна из твоих кукол!"
"Do you think you can just lock me in here and call me your property, Viktor?! I am not one of your dolls!")
Viktor wasn't surprised; instead, his eyes deepened into a darker, more dangerous shade of blue. He shoved the table aside with a sudden jerk, stepped closer to Alia, and roared back in Russian:
"Заткнись, Алия! Ты понятия не имеешь, в какой опасности была там, на улице! Ты хочешь играть в королеву? Тогда веди себя как она, а не как капризный ребенок!"
"Shut up, Alia! You have no idea what kind of danger you were in out there! You want to play Queen? Then act like one, not like a moody child!")
Furious, Alia grabbed the collar of Viktor's jacket and hissed in Russian:
"Я сама справлюсь со своими опасностями! Мне не нужен тюремщик, мне нужен партнер! Если ты еще раз коснешься меня так перед этими женщинами, я превращу твой 'Красный Дракон' в пепел!"
"I can handle my own dangers! I don't need a jailer, I need a partner! If you ever touch me like that in front of those women again, I will turn your 'Red Dragon' into ashes!")
The closed room seemed to vibrate with the sound of their high-pitched Russian argument and heavy, angry breathing. Outside, the five jealous beauties trembled as they heard the terrifying echoes of the confrontation through the door. They realized then that this girl wasn't just beautiful she was as fierce as Viktor, and perhaps the only one who could look this Mafia Lord in the eye and command him.A storm had erupted inside that secret room. Viktor and Alia both were now like two violent volcanoes. Viktor's mask of sophistication had slipped, and Alia's patience had finally snapped.
Exploding with rage in his raw, gritty Mafia tone, Viktor began shouting insults in Russian. His voice was so loud it pierced through the walls. He roared:
"Черт возьми, Алия! Ты хоть понимаешь, что ты делаешь?! Ты ведешь себя как дура! Здесь не место для твоих глупых капризов!"
"Dammit, Alia! Do you even realize what you're doing?! You're acting like a fool! There is no room for your stupid whims here!")
Alia didn't flinch an inch. Instead, she took a step forward and tightly gripped the collar of Viktor's expensive white shirt with both hands. The clash between Viktor's broad chest and Alia's small frame reached a breaking point. Looking directly into his eyes, Alia hissed back in Russian:
"Не смей так со мной разговаривать, Виктор! Ты думаешь, твои деньги и пули делают тебя Богом? Если ты еще раз назовешь меня 'дурой', я вырву твое сердце этими самыми руками!""Don't you dare speak to me like that, Viktor! Do you think your money and bullets make you God? If you call me a 'fool' one more time, I will rip your heart out with these very hands!")
As Alia spoke, her breath fanned across Viktor's face. Viktor was momentary stunned by her fearless spirit. His shirt collar was crumpled under her grip, but he didn't try to pull away. Instead, he tightened his hold on her waist even more, as if he wanted to crush her against him.
Outside, the five jealous friends were pressed against the door, listening to this bone-chilling Russian argument. One of them was shaking so much that her glass slipped and shattered on the floor. They had never seen Viktor argue with anyone like this usually, Viktor just shoots. But with Alia, he seemed utterly helpless.In the middle of that breathtaking argument, the situation took a sudden and unexpected turn. Viktor's rage had transformed into a raw, undeniable desire. Alia's fists were still gripping Viktor's shirt collar when he abruptly reached out and, with one swift tug, pulled the ribbon securing her red dress.
In an instant, the expensive ribbon came undone, and her red backless dress slipped down. Alia was paralyzed by the suddenness of it. Her hands let go of Viktor's collar and flew to her body. She desperately pulled her thick, cascading hair forward, using it as a veil to cover herself. Her cheeks burned crimson with a mix of humiliation and shock.
Viktor took a step back. The anger was gone from his eyes, replaced by a deep, intoxicating gaze. Caught off guard by her vulnerable yet mesmerizing beauty, he began to stammer, "Hum..." while gripping his own tie and ripping it off in one sharp motion.
Viktor's deep voice was trembling now. He held the tie out toward Alia and whispered in a low, gravelly Russian:
"Я не хотел... (I didn't want to...). But you pushed me, Alia. Just as your fire drives me mad, your beauty leaves me completely undone."
Alia stood pressed against the wall. Tears of rage shimmered in the corners of her eyes, but as she took the tie from his hand, she realized this was no longer just a battle for power. This had turned into something more dangerous than fire itself.
Outside, the five jealous friends grew suspicious at the sudden silence. They feared some violent bloodshed had occurred within those walls, unaware that a completely different kind of storm was brewing inside. The tension inside the secret room had long since crossed all boundaries. When Viktor ripped off his tie, Alia's mesmerizing beauty combined with her defiant spirit drove him beyond the point of reason. In one swift motion, he scooped her up and threw her onto the massive, regal bed in the center of the room.
Before Alia could steady herself, Viktor leaned over her, his presence overwhelming. He firmly gripped her two legs. On Alia's feet were incredibly expensive diamond-studded anklets, which released a strange, melodic chime with every movement. Her feet were still clad in designer heels, which scraped against the bedsheets under the force of Viktor's grip.
Due to Viktor's frenzy and Alia's resistance, the heavy legs of the bed slammed hard against the floor. That loud 'thud' and the frantic jingling of the anklets echoed through the walls and into the outer corridor.
The five beautiful friends waiting outside jumped at the sound. Their faces were a toxic mixture of jealousy and curiosity. One of them leaned in, whispering under her breath:
"Did you hear that? What was that sound? Did Viktor lay a hand on her, or is it..."
Another, biting her nails in frustration, hissed:
"F#ck! This doesn't sound good. Viktor has never been this crazy for any girl. Is there actually a fight going on in there, or is it something else?"
The third one, bursting with rage, added:
"That brat has Viktor dancing to her tunes so much that he's forgotten we even exist. That sound is proof that Viktor is completely under her spell today."
They huddled closer to the door, but none dared to enter for fear of Viktor. They could only stand outside, listening to the echoes of their own defeat. Alia's hands were gripping the white silk bedsheet tightly, her nails digging into the fabric as if she were trying to hold onto something amidst a turbulent storm. In the middle of Viktor's intensity and her own overwhelming emotions, she could only let out a faint "Hum...". Her eyelids were closed, and her long hair was scattered across the pillow.
Viktor suddenly softened. His Mafia-like roughness vanished in an instant, replaced by a deep tenderness. He pulled Alia closer to his chest and pressed a long, warm kiss on her sweat-slicked forehead.
His heavy breath fanned against her ear as he whispered in a strained, emotional voice:
"I can't take it anymore, Alia... Seeing you like this before me, all my logic and all my power just fail. You have completely undone me."
This confession was Viktor's ultimate surrender. The man who holds the entire Russian underworld in his palm was now defeated by Alia's love. Outside, the five jealous friends stood in stunned silence. There were no more screams or arguments only a mysterious quiet. They realized Viktor was no longer the same man; Alia had taken him to a height they could never hope to reach. Inside the room, the heat had crossed all limits. After his confession, the moment shifted back into a primal frenzy. Viktor pulled Alia up from the bed and turned her around swiftly. Now, Alia's back was pressed flush against Viktor's broad, solid chest. With a sense of absolute possession, Viktor wrapped one hand firmly but gently around her neck, like a predator claiming his prize. Her bare back felt the scorching heat of his body.
In that moment, their forms united in a profound bond. The overwhelming sensation drew a long, breathless cry from Alia's lips: "Ahhhh... Viktor!"
It was a sound of pain, pleasure, and total surrender all at once. Viktor buried his face against her shoulder, his every breath intoxicating her senses. The world outside that door had ceased to exist; there were only two souls merging into one. Outside, when the five jealous friends heard that satisfied "Ahhhh," the ground seemed to slip from beneath their feet. They realized Viktor hadn't just conquered a woman tonight he had become hers forever. Feeling the lingering heat of that intense moment in the air, Alia realized Viktor was now completely entangled in her spell. His admission—"I can't take it anymore"—pushed her confidence to a new height.
While still pressed against Viktor's solid chest, Alia tilted her head back to look him in the eyes. There was no fear in her gaze, only the aura of a victorious Queen. In a slow, icy-cool Russian tone, she threw down her first condition:
"Viktor, if you truly want to show me your world and give me the status of your 'Wife,' then I have one condition."
Viktor loosened his grip on her neck slightly but didn't let her go. He asked in a low, raspy whisper, "What is it?"
Alia locked her eyes onto his and spoke firmly:
"From this day forward, I hold equal rights in your dark empire. No 'mission' or secret decision will happen without my consent. And those five 'friends' outside? They must be cleared from this palace grounds tonight. I will not have any old shadows lingering beside my throne."
Viktor was momentarily stunned by the sheer weight of her demand. He realized Alia wasn't just here to share his bed; she was here to rule his entire kingdom. Leaning into the curve of her neck, Viktor whispered back:
"Accepted. From today, my every bullet will carry your name, and my every breath will follow your command."
Outside in the corridor, the five beauties heard the gravity of the discussion through the door and realized their time was up. Every word from Alia was the final nail in their coffin.Alia quickly pulled her dress up, covering herself with Viktor's tie and her hair. As she moved toward the door in a fit of rage and humiliation, Viktor's powerful arms suddenly wrapped around her from behind.
He leaned close to her ear, his voice no longer angry but eerily calm and mysterious. He whispered:
"Why are you running, darling? We've only just begun. You have a 'Pen Name,' don't you? Anastasia... right?"
Hearing that name, the ground slipped from beneath Alia's feet. Her body froze like ice. She never imagined this Russian Mafia Don would know about her secret life as a writer. Alia looked at him with wide, terrified eyes.
Seeing her fear, Viktor suddenly burst into a fit of laughter a wild, maniacal laughter that echoed off the walls. Between his laughs, he said in Russian:
"Ha ha ha! Anastasia! The girl who writes about fictional mafias with her pen is now in the bed of a real-life Mafia Lord! Will your next chapter be about tonight? Or am I the final destiny of your story?"
Alia realized then Viktor hadn't just met her by chance; he had been watching her every move from the very beginning.After hearing the name 'Anastasia,' Alia's fear instantly turned into blinding rage. Realizing she was just a pawn in his game, she spun around and launched a sharp strike (Takenju) at Viktor.
Viktor, caught off guard, stumbled back for a second but quickly regained his footing. A fierce fight broke out between them. Alia fought with everything she had, but against Viktor's muscular frame and combat skills, her strikes were failing. She realized she couldn't win this physical battle.
In a split second, Alia's eyes darted to the side table. With a lightning-fast movement, she reached out with one hand and grabbed a heavy bottle of wine. With fire in her eyes and the bottle raised, she lunged at him. Viktor, however, kept that sadistic smirk on his face, as if he was thoroughly enjoying her desperate struggle. When Alia lunged at Viktor with the wine bottle, there was no trace of fear in his eyes. She tried to strike him with all her might, but Viktor caught her wrist with lightning-fast precision.
Realizing she was losing the battle of brute strength, Alia played her trump card. Using every ounce of her years of Taekwondo training, she threw him off balance. With a masterful maneuver, she caught Viktor off guard and pinned him down, landing directly on his lap.
One of Alia's hands still held the wine bottle high near Viktor's throat, while the other gripped his collar tightly. Their faces were inches apart. Panting for breath, Alia hissed:
"What did you think, Viktor? That I only write stories? I know how to protect myself just like the heroines in my books. Did you think knowing my identity would make me fear you? Never!"
Instead of being intimidated by her fearless spirit and her Taekwondo moves, Viktor began to laugh even louder. His maniacal laughter seemed to vibrate through the very walls. He wrapped his hands around Alia's waist, pulling her even closer, and said:
"Hahahaha! Alia, you are truly one of a kind! This is the fire I have been searching for. You aren't just an author; you are a living volcano! If not you, then who else would be worthy of being the Queen of my dark world?"
Alia stood stunned by his madness. She realized then that Viktor wasn't trying to scare her—he was madly in love with her rebellious spirit.