THE COLOR OF SIN: RED

The heavy mahogany doors of the private lounge opened with a silent, ominous push, closing behind me with a soft click that sounded dangerously like a trap snapping shut. I stepped inside, the delicate heels of my shoes sinking into the plush, crimson velvet carpet. The air in the room was suffocatingly thick, heavy with the scent of expensive hand-rolled cigars, rich oak-aged bourbon, and an undeniable aura of absolute, terrifying power. My hands were trembling violently, so I clenched them into tight fists at my sides, digging my fingernails into my palms to anchor myself. I prayed my composure wouldn't fail me now. My brother had messed up. Badly. His reckless gambling addictions and desperate greed had finally pushed him over the edge, and his fatal mistake had brought me straight into the lion’s den—to the private, heavily guarded penthouse estate of Araz Karadağ. Araz was sitting behind a massive dark oak desk at the far end of the dimly lit room, framed by floor-to-ceiling glass windows that overlooked the rain-slicked, glittering skyline of Istanbul. A crystal tumbler filled with amber whiskey rested loosely between his long, calloused fingers. He didn't look up immediately when I walked in. He just sat there in the shadows, emitting a quiet, suffocating presence that made every single survival instinct in my body scream at me to turn around and run. "Mina Yılmaz," he finally spoke. His voice was low, smooth as silk, yet laced with a cold, commanding edge that sent a violent shiver straight down my spine. He slowly raised his head, and his dark, piercing eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that felt almost physical. For a painful moment, the air completely evacuated my lungs. Photos in business magazines didn't do him justice. He was impossibly, dangerously handsome—a sharp, sculpted jawline, dark hair styled back, and a faint, ruthless tattoo peaking out from beneath his crisp shirt collar, crawling up his neck like a shadow. "I... I am here on behalf of my brother," I managed to say, forcing my voice to stay steady as my heart hammered frantically against my ribs. Araz placed his crystal glass down onto the desk with a slow, deliberate movement that echoed in the silent room. He leaned back in his high-backed leather chair, his dark eyes lazily tracking every small movement I made, assessing my posture, my fear, and my defiance like a predator calculating its prey. A ghost of a cold, razor-thin smirk touched his lips. "Your brother is a coward who sends his fragile sister to face his sins. Do you even have a clue how much he owes me, Mina?" "He made a mistake," I insisted, taking a small, hesitant step forward despite the warning bells ringing in my head. "Give us time. My family will raise the money. We just need a few weeks—" "Time?" Araz cut me off, his voice dropping an octave, becoming dangerously quiet. He stood up from behind his desk. His tall, broad-shouldered frame loomed over the room, instantly making the grand space feel microscopic. As he began walking toward me with slow, measured, effortless steps, the sheer weight of his presence pressed against my chest. I instinctively backed away until my spine hit the cold glass window. He didn't stop until he was standing mere inches away from me, trapping me completely between his towering body and the city lights behind us. The heat radiating off him was intoxicating, smelling of mint, cedarwood, and pure danger. "Your brother didn't ask for time when he gambled away what wasn't his," Araz murmured, leaning in close enough that his warm breath fanned across my sensitive jaw. He reached out, his long fingers lightly cupping my chin, forcing me to look up into his unyielding eyes. "He signed the papers, Mina. He put up your family's entire legacy as collateral. And tonight, the debt is due." My breath hitched at the electric touch of his skin against mine. "I am not going to let you ruin my family." "You don't have a choice," Araz whispered, his thumb slowly tracing my lower lip, sending a jolt of pure, terrifying electricity through my blood. "Unless... you are willing to pay his debt yourself."