Chapter 1 ( Eyes that don't feel)
Adrian Volkov sat on the edge of the bed, shirt half unbuttoned, cigarette smoldering between his fingers. Smoke curled like whispers around him, carrying the scent of his empire—power, danger, and something intoxicatingly forbidden.
Isabella moved closer, her fingers tracing the sculpted line of his back, lingering on the small curve of his shoulder. The silk sheet slipped from her, revealing a tattoo over her chest, sharp and dangerous—like her.
She is trying to get closer to him, slowly moved toward him and touched her bare breasts with his back.
> “Do you ever feel anything, Adrian?” she whispered, voice trembling.
His eyes didn’t meet hers. They were fixed on the window, on the storm outside. On the reflection of a night sky that looked too much like the eyes he couldn’t forget.
She leaned against him, heat pressing into his bare skin. “I love you,” she breathed, lips hovering near his ear.
When ever I'm with you, I'm complete. The way you kiss me, makes me feel so special.
Adrian finally turned, his gaze sharp and cold, but beneath it, a flicker of something he hadn’t felt in years stirred—an echo he didn’t recognize.
> “Don’t,” he said, voice low and dangerous.
“Don’t love me.”
Isabella’s hand slid from his shoulder to his chest, pressing gently, desperately. “I do, Adrian,” she said, eyes glistening. “And I’ll wait for you to feel it too.”
A flash of something unreadable crossed his expression. He wanted to pull her closer, feel the warmth, the softness—but he knew the danger of letting himself fall. He could break her, as easily as he’d broken everyone else.
He moved back slightly, his hand brushing hers, sending an unexpected shiver through them both. “You think love can survive this world?” he murmured, voice almost a growl. “In my world, love dies.”
Her lips parted. “Maybe… maybe we can make it live,” she whispered. She leaned forward, pressing her lips to the hollow of his neck, feeling the pulse beneath his skin. His muscles tensed, but he didn’t pull away. Not yet.
For a heartbeat, just one, the room felt warmer than it had in years. Smoke and rain and skin and desire mingled in the air, heavy and electric. But then Adrian pulled away, eyes darkening.
> “I don’t do love,” he said, voice hardening again.
“I do… what I want. Nothing more.”
The silk sheet fell to the floor between them. She looked at him, heart pounding, frustration and longing battling in her gaze.
> “Then why… why does it feel like you almost want me?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he picked up his black shirt and walked toward the door. Rain tapped against the window like distant applause, reminding him of the past he couldn’t escape—memories of a girl he had loved before, a pair of eyes he could never forget.
He didn’t remember her name.
But he remembered her eyes.
Downstairs, the world demanded him—guns, deals, enemies. Yet even in the shadow of his empire, Adrian’s chest ached with a memory he had buried. Somewhere, in the dark, those eyes were waiting too.
And this time… maybe he wouldn’t be able to walk away
