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Roman Volkov: Isla Bennett. The daughter of my bitter adversary, she was supposed to be nothing more than a pawn in my elaborate game of vengeance. I intended to break her, to turn her world into ashes just as her father did to mine. Yet, she dismantled my resolve with her fearless gaze, her sharp tongue, and the gentleness of a single, unexpected kiss. I despise her... but my longing for her is relentless, consuming me like wildfire. Isla Bennett: Roman Volkov. The man my father warned me about, a merciless foe cloaked in danger and power. But I've always been drawn to forbidden paths, and Roman is the ultimate risk. I vowed to conquer him, to thaw the ice around his guarded heart, and leave him yearning for me. I looked into his piercing eyes and saw something raw, something broken-and I wanted to own it. Now, we are locked in a battle of wills and desire, where surrender feels like betrayal, but resistance could destroy us both.

Chapter 1 Isla

~ Isla~

Dickhead.

This shitface wanker sits beside me, effectively ruíning my day.

Today, I woke up feeling kind of upbeat. It is unusual because it doesn't happen often. I slipped into my Monday uniform, wore my hair up in a ponytail with a sword hair stick pin, and exited my room. Without bothering to sit for breakfast because I was not in the mood to get angry, I strolled out of the house to my Bentley and drove to school.

Everything was going well. I went to the classes and pretended to listen to the bloody nonsense that came out of every teacher's mouth, answered questions when I am called upon-overall, I was good.

Until the first break while I sat down on one of the chairs in our superfluously grand cafeteria that I realized that my day will be spóilt.

"So, which book are you reading currently?" Julianna-Jules, as I love to address her-asked before pushing a piece of chips into her mouth.

I lazily shrugged my shoulder. "Legacy of the Gods by Rina Kent. It's a really good series."

"Hmm?" Her skeptical hum almost passed over my head when I felt a pair of unwanted eyes at the back of my head. "Does the book have unhingéd men doing questionàble things?"

"Yeah," I breathed out like it's a given fact. "I mean, what else would I rather read about?"

"I don't know, like, Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare or The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald or-"

"Nah, nah, nah." I waved my hand frantically in her face, thankfully cutting her off. "Books like that don't correlate to me."

"Yeah, I know." Jules rolled her eyes, threw another chip in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "You only read books that have psychós as their male lead."

Dang right!

I am a sucker for bàd, bàd men.

See, I said, "men," not "boys" who are just playboys not ready to commit to a relationship and go around fucking everything that wears a skirt.

"Don't forget what I always tell you; one day, those books you read will catch up with you. Like, you could end up living a life like the book's female lead."

Immediately those words left her mouth, a grin stretched out on my face, and I sighed softly at the thought.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?"

Duh.

"Yes, very much so!" I exclaimed, totally not giving two fucks about every head that turned to us, muttering hushed whispers under their breaths. "I mean, didn't Romeo and Juliet díe at the end? And, didn't Gatsby live alone forever or something like that? But, in the books I read, they always end up together," I added.

"Yeah, but-"

"Nope. No buts needed here, Jules." I shifted in my seat, ready to convince her to read one of my many dark romance books, but before I could even open my mouth, she shook her head. "Come on, you will love it. Just read one and see how it goes, yeah?"

"No, I don't want to. Reading is boring."

I let out a comical and dramatic gasp, holding my chest, causing a smile to crack on her lips. "How dare you?"

Jules giggled in her girly way, tucking her equally blonde hair behind her ear. The only difference is that while hers is sandy blonde, mine is in the middle of red and blonde.

"Hey babe," my smile quickly faded away when that raspy voice reached my ears and a frown slapped itself on my face when he put his hand on my shoulder. "Looking pretty as ever, aren't you?"

I let my eyes give him a once-over even though I've seen him one too many times as he stood over me, one hand on me and the other on the table.

"Let go," I ordered.

The bloódy idíot obviously didn't listen and even sat himself beside me. My gaze flicked to Jules and she shook her head at me, secretly and wordlessly telling me to not do what I wanted to do.

A rebellióus smirk brushed against my face as I watched him pick up one of my chips and put it in his mouth.

"Go away, Liam."

"Shut up and mind your business." He snapped at my best friend, staring at her like she is mere dust on his designer shoes.

Don't do it.

Don't do it.

Don't do it.

I looked at him again only to already find him gawking at me. When our eyes met, he winked and a grimace tugged on my lips.

Restraint.

Control.

Suppress.

We stared at each other-sorry, he stared at me while I glared at him-for ten seconds tops before he lifted his hand, and his grubby fingers inched to my face-my hair, to be precise.

No one touches my hair but me.

It was swift and happened in a blink of an eye. I removed the hair stick pin holding my hair up in a bun, spun it between my middle finger and forefinger before jabbing it deep into his hand on the table.

Liam, the school playboy, let out a loud shrill scream that resonated in the cafeteria, holding his hand as crimson liquid hit the floor in little drops.

I did it.

No.

No.

Why did I do it?

I didn't restrain, neither did I control nor suppress. I mean, that was a pretty good stàb which may or may not cause him his left hand, but still... Nah, just kidding, it felt good. I would do it again a million times if he touches me next time.

In less than a minute, every student has gathered around him as if he is bleediñg. I mean, yeah, I know he is, but it is just his hand; no biggie, right?

"Let's go to the infirmary," I heard someone mutter from the crowds as I pushed away the food in front of me that he touched.

"Wait," Standing up, I took just three steps to him because he was still standing kind of close to me. Fear, pain, and anger mixed together in his green eyes greatly delighted me, and I tilted my head and smiled to show him my smile. "Does it hurt a lot? I hope it does." I let my hand inch to his injured, bleeding hand, he flinched and I chuckled darkly. "Calm down, I just want my hairpin back, or do you want to keep it like a souvenir?"

"You bitch!" Liam exclaimed, finally glaring at me, the hungry pervertéd gaze completely gone.

I like this better.

"You're crazy,"

"I know. Next time, it will be your throat." I slapped the fakest smile on my face and forcibly dragged out my hairpin from his hand, earning another deafening cry from him. "Shhhh, my ears are delicate."

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