Page 46

"Where is Zyon?" I asked, ready to leave the office after another unforgettable experience. This place was the epitome of the weirdest adventures—first, my lame attempt to blackmail Zyon, and now this. I really didn't want to find out what the third one would look like.

"Take the elevator, use code 4267, and it will take you to the gym," was the response. I swiftly turned on my heels and disappeared .

Standing in the modern elevator, I checked myself in the mirror. My face was pale, and my eyes showed fear and confusion. I had no idea why I reacted that way, but the meeting with probably Malin Zhumagulov got under my skin and upset me.

How often did they change places? How many times had they fooled me?

The door opened into another dark hall. I walked out, frowning at the long corridor dimly lit by the pointed lights.

The sounds of grunts, exhales, and muffled groans reached my ears, making me wary.

I didn't want to interrupt a torturing session led by my boss.

He was surely crazy enough to hold someone down here to interrogate.

Rolling my eyes at my foolish thinking, I came to the only glass door at the end of the corridor. I hesitated for a second, unsure if it was a good idea to listen. He could be doing something illegal that I didn't need to see.

However, my curiosity was stronger than my self-preservation instinct, and I stepped closer to the door. Pushing the knob down, I opened it slowly. My heart thundered in my chest, expecting something shocking, but I was welcomed by the room full of lockers, benches, and the smell of sweat.

Exhaling heavily, I felt the weight lifting from my shoulders when my mind acknowledged that Malin hadn't lied. This really was a gym, and the sounds I heard were, at some point, torturous, but they were because people worked out, not because they were beaten.

Yet, the sight that rose before me when I entered the spacious place full of equipment took me completely by surprise.

I expected Zyon to run on the treadmill, punch the bag, or lift some weight.

Instead, he was in the ring, dressed only in black shorts, sweaty and bloody, knocking his opponent to the ground.

The cheers erupted around me, making me realize that at least twenty men were watching the match. Some were dressed in suits, looking like they had just stopped by during their break, while others interrupted their training to enjoy the show.

Anyway, they were all clapping and whistling for the boss beating the guy who lay face down, motionless on the floor in the ring.

Two men came, took him by his arms, and dragged him away while Zyon wiped the blood from his mouth and chest. The sinister, hungry smile I knew so well turned his face into a devious grimace.

But instead of making me scared or disgusted, I was enchanted.

My eyes were glued to his massive, ripped body beautified by many tattoos.

Sweat dripped down his chest, making a trail I wanted to take with my tongue.

My mind quickly submerged into the fantasy of tracing his muscles with my fingers and kissing and licking his smooth skin while he marked me with the blood of his opponent.

My eyes widened at the idea that popped out of nowhere in my brain, and embarrassment washed over me when my pussy clenched with excitement. This was a completely new feeling for me, and I was shocked to the core by my own imagination.

Yet I didn't have time to muse about this recent discovery because the reason for my ludicrous thinking had just noticed me. Zyon's dark eyes were set on me, watching me like a delicious dessert he had to taste, and his face lit up.

"Mrs. Kellerman." He jumped from the ring, directing the attention of his men to me. I pressed the files against my chest, watching him as if hypnotized as he approached me. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

He stopped before me, roaming my face with his black eyes that gleamed with happiness.

Could he truly be happy to see me?

"I need your signature," I replied breathlessly, trying to act calm and collected, but it wasn't possible. The effect this man had on me was unimaginable and incomprehensible.

My heart missed a beat when I handed him the files, but his only reaction was a lifted brow.

"Sign it for me, Valeria," he said in a low voice, surprising me.

"Excuse me?" I clutched the file tightly, blinking in confusion. He was giving me immense responsibility. He hadn’t even checked the papers, and he wanted me to sign them instead of him.

These papers went to the financial institutions where they would be reviewed, and if something wasn't okay, the casino could end up in trouble.

"You heard me," Zyon replied nonchalantly, adjusting his black glove on his right hand. "Sign it for me. I trust you, Valeria."

My heart fluttered in my chest excitedly at his words. It was the first time in my life someone had ever told me this, and I couldn't fight the wide smile that stretched across my face .

"You trust me, Mr. Zhumagulov?" I repeated, trying to mask my smile, but I failed miserably. "I wouldn't consider you a man who trusts easily."

"Well." He shrugged casually, wiping the sweat from his left eye. "Maybe I just let you intentionally fool me with your stunning, innocent face."

He winked at me playfully and thankfully turned his back on me so he didn't see the flush creeping on my cheeks. The man was freaking irresistible, and these little inappropriate flirtatious remarks made me blush like an inexperienced teenager.

"One more thing." Zyon came to a halt abruptly, turning back to me.

Our eyes met briefly, but I didn't notice anything unusual in them.

"Attention, everyone!" he hollered, and all the men in the room instantly stopped what they'd been doing and directed their attention to the boss.

It was fascinating to watch how they obeyed his orders.

"From this moment," Zyon started in a firm voice, pointing his glove at me.

"Whatever this woman wants, she'll get." My mouth fell agape, but it was just the beginning.

"Whatever she tells you to do, you'll do.

You'll obey her as if my brothers or I issued an order.

One act of disobedience or disrespect toward her will grant you a severe punishment. Understood?"

"Yes, boss," the men confirmed in unison while I stared at Zyon in bewilderment.

He outwrote every fantasy story I made up in my head.

He demolished my imagination with reality.

He stood me on the pedestal before his men without blinking as if it was the most natural thing he ever did.

Shit, it felt as if he crowned me the queen of his kingdom.

The reality hit me like a speeding wagon, knocking the air out of my body. This wasn't just a one-sided crush. Zyon was interested in me.

But what about my stalker?