Chapter 11 - Yulian
Flicking off the sander, the workshop falls quiet, and I let out a frustrated sigh. I could be getting a lot done today, but instead, I’m distracted and annoyed.
The monitor on the wall behind my workbench has a live feed of Katerina in her studio. She moves about elegantly, busy and happy.
She’s been spending a lot of time there, obviously, and I’m really happy for her. But it leaves me yearning for her and missing her. I hate being away from her.
Even though I can still watch her all day, it’s not the same as having her with me. Within reach. Where I can touch her and smell her.
And the kiss we shared the other night won’t stop haunting me. That glimmer of hope. The small indication that she wouldn’t push me away if I tried something more.
She’s nervous of me. I get that. But it’s so obvious she wants me. The way she moved against me, those soft, sweet moans that spilled from her lips as she kissed me. That’s a response that tells me how she really feels. At least physically, anyway.
As far as her other emotions towards me go…well…I’m still trying to be patient with regard to that.
I watched her with my family, though. Seeing how well she got along with them and how easily they gave in and accepted her—I think it pushed my obsession to a new level. If they can accept us being together, then everyone can.
It’s not just some delusional idea I’ve been clinging onto.
I pick up a piece of scrap wood and toss it across the room into a bin standing against the wall. Sawdust clouds up and then settles again. The pieces catch the sunlight as they drift back down.
I can be patient waiting for Kat. I have all the time in the world for her.
I’d give her everything I have. But what’s bothering me is that I know, any day now, the Kroliks are going to come knocking on my door.
It won’t be long. I haven’t been hiding her.
I haven’t been keeping her a secret. We’ve been out in public in numerous places.
My family knows she’s with me, and I didn’t exactly tell them it was a secret, either. People have seen us. A lot of people.
And in my world, information spreads like wildfire over dry grassland pushed by a gentle breeze. People love talking about other people. And if anyone recognized who she was, a Krolik with an Andreev…well, that kind of information would spread ten times faster.
I’m actually surprised her brother hasn’t already contacted me and demanded I send her back to him.
Or just come bursting in here, guns blazing. That would be more of a Krolik-style entrance. Shoot now, overreact, ask questions later. Or never.
Missing Katerina makes me restless, but worrying about her family coming and taking her away from me makes it much worse. It’s not even my safety I’m worried about. It’s just losing her, I can’t deal with. I don’t want to face that. I refuse to.
The agitation is getting to me, and I decide if I only have her with me for a short amount of time, I should spend as much of it with her as possible. The closer we become, the more chance I have of making this something real. Something lasting.
Watching her through a camera isn’t enough for me.
I shower quickly, pulling on some clean black jeans and a black long-sleeved T-shirt before I shrug my leather jacket on and head to the car.
She might be busy, but I could hang around and pretend to be working on the renovations, even though they’re all done.
Renovations always need a few touch-ups here and there. All I want is to be close to her.
Her studio is close to home. Obviously, that was done on purpose.
Within fifteen minutes, I’m parking outside the center and making my way towards her, already feeling better because I’m going to see her.
When I walk in, Katerina is wearing a white dress that sits above her knees, tight around her body with long sleeves and a low-dipped neckline. She’s paired it with crisp white sneakers for a young, feminine look. She looks fresh and professional, and absolutely stunning.
There is a client talking to her about a dress she wants designed for an upcoming wedding she has to attend.
“It’s a red-themed wedding. I can’t imagine why anyone would want a red-themed wedding, and with my skin tone, I don’t know how I’m going to pull off the harshness of red,” the woman grumbles, and I take note of how pale she is.
Katerina doesn’t miss a beat. She shakes her head, smiling calmly, “There are so many ways to tone red down, to make it softer and more elegant. Seeing as you don’t have a choice and have to wear that color, we’ll make it work for you by choosing the right shade of red for you, and very soft, flowing fabrics.
I assure you, you’ll feel confident and beautiful at the wedding.
Why don’t you come in tomorrow morning, and I’ll have a few samples of different shades of red that we can color-match to your skin.
I’ll also put together some rough sketches of what I envision for you. ”
“Oh, really? You sound so confident that you’ll make red work for me,” the client laughs.
“I am confident. You’ll be wearing that color as you chose it yourself.”
Standing to the side, I wait for her to finish talking and walk the client to the door. I’m impressed with her. She handled herself incredibly well, and the way she spoke to her client made me excited to see what she would come up with for the woman.
Katerina walks back into the studio, smiling at me, happy and filled with purpose.
“Yulian,” she grins. “I didn’t expect to see you here today.”
“I heard there was a brilliant new young designer in town, and I need a suit designed for a gala I’m attending.”
She catches on quickly.
“Is that so? It just so happens that I’m the new young designer, and I’d be happy to assist you with your fashion needs,” she giggles, her cheeks flushing a soft, beautiful shade of pink.
“You might be too expensive for me. From what people are saying, you’re very exclusive, only taking on the most elite clients.” I cock my head to the side, folding my arms over my chest with a smirk on my lips.
“Is that what they’re saying?” she laughs shyly. “Well, as someone who invested in my business, I highly doubt you’ll be charged anything at all.”
Katerina walks over to me, a professional smile on her face, her lips glossed and beautiful.
She picks up a folder from her workbench. “There are several styles of suits that I’ve been working on. Are you a bold-statement type of man? Or more one for classic elegance?”
“Firstly, you will most definitely be charging me. I am a client. And secondly. I trust the designer. So it’s in your hands.” My eyes trace over her body. The dress hugs every curve, teasing me, making me want to run my hands down her back and over her ass.
She flips open the folder, and her drawings fill my vision. She’s good. Not just good. She’s brilliant. The first picture is a black suit. Classic, but with subtle twists. Surprising, small changes that catch the eye and make it stand out against the norm.
She turns the page, chattering away about what she’s added or removed from each piece and why she thought it would work.
I love all of them. Maybe it’s because she’s brilliant, maybe it’s because it’s her, and I can’t help but love everything about her.
“Wow.” I stop her from turning to the next page, placing my hand on the image of a black suit with neon orange and grey trim patterned over the jacket and pants in geometric designs that subtly mimic a circuit board. “What is this?” I stammer.
“It’s a futuristic design. Something that pushes the limits a bit more than I imagine most people would like.”
“Are you kidding? This is the one I want to wear to the gala. This is so bold and unique, it will be the center of attention from every angle.”
“Are you serious?” she asks, her voice glowing with excitement. “This is my favorite one. It’s the one I’ve been dying to make, but I knew it would probably have to wait until I’d gotten a few more customers before I found the right person for it.”
“This will be my suit,” I nod, smiling, looking forward to seeing how she brings the image to life.
Katerina pulls the folder closer to us and gently traces her fingers over the design. “I’ll need to measure you. When do you think you’ll have time for that?” she asks, not looking at me.
“I’m available now.”
She bites her lower lip, making me wonder what’s going through her mind.
“Come right this way,” she gestures towards a small, round podium, leading me to stand on it. From her pocket, she draws a tape measure and a small notebook.
Katerina gently lifts my arms out, measuring from my wrist to the shoulder, then around my wrist, then along the underside of my arm, and around my bicep.
I’ve had my measurements taken a hundred times. It should be familiar to me, something simple and straightforward. But it’s her hands on me. It’s her fingers brushing slowly over my body.
I clear my throat as she moves around me, taking notes with her pen, holding it in her mouth, and pressing the tape measure against me again.
Her hands brush smoothly around my waist, up my chest, over my shoulders.
Everywhere she touches, my body burns with the need to feel it again.
She leaves a yearning in her wake, and I’m struggling to hold back the thoughts rushing through me.
She moves in front of me, and I don’t even bother trying to hide it or make excuses. She kneels down to run the tape measure from my ankle up the inside of my leg and discovers the raging hard-on she’s given me.
“Oh,” she whispers, hesitating, her hand hovering midair, the tape measure dangling from her elegant fingers.
When she looks up at me, she’s biting her lip hard enough to turn it pink.
She stands up slowly, not backing away, so she’s right up against me.
“Would you like me to give you a moment?” she whispers.
But the look in her eye suggests she isn’t interested in moving away at all.
Boldly, I step off the platform and pull her into my arms. I run my hands down her back, slowly, savoring the arch of her back and the curve of her hips before I cup my hands over her ass.
Her breathing comes faster, sharper. Her fingers are digging into my side. She’s not stopping me.
“It seems you might also need a moment?” I chuckle, teasing her about how turned on she clearly is.
“No…um…I’m fine,” she answers quickly.
“Well, I think you should do something about the situation you’ve created here.” I glance down, indicating that she’s responsible for the rock-hard cock pushing against her.
“I didn’t do that. That has nothing to do with me,” she gasps.
“And I suppose it hasn’t affected you in any way?” I tease.
“Of course, it hasn’t.”
Boldly, I push my luck, slipping my hand under her dress, up the inside of her thigh, and letting my fingers slide beneath her panties.
She’s soaking wet.
And the moment my fingers brush over her delicate skin, she moans so beautifully I almost come right then and there. A low growl rumbles through me as I push my fingers into her pussy.
She shivers, shuddering against my hand, her fingers digging harder into my side as she rocks her hips, rubbing herself against me. Katerina tilts her head back, and her lips part as she lets out a soft sigh of relief. She’s finally lost in the pleasure she’s been longing for as much as I’ve been.
This time, I want everything. I can’t wait any longer. I can’t hold back anymore.
I cup my hands around her ass again and lift her against me.
She wraps her hands around my neck and presses her lips over mine as I carry her into the back room.