“Let me go, Danyar!” I shout, pushing even harder against his stone-hard chest, in a hopeless attempt to break free. “I’m not your fiancée! Not yours! And I will never be!”
Both of my wrists are caught in a huge, strong palm—Baymatov holds me so I can’t even flinch. He looks at me seriously and tensely.
— Mine. I told you already. Mine. No one will be near you—do you understand? Never.
— If you want someone to have a hard time, just start smiling at him…
I came back to my homeland, leaving in Moscow my old life, my friends, my beloved… and I never thought I’d end up under the power of a cruel, dangerous man. He saw me and decided I was his fiancée—and my opinion about that doesn’t interest him at all…