Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Elena
I woke up in bed, my whole body aching like I'd been run over by a truck. The room was pitch black—was it night already?
Memories from the afternoon flooded back like a tidal wave. The luxury car, the black cloth over my eyes, the man with the voice changer ripping my clothes off, his fingers digging into my inner thighs, and that near-maniacal possessiveness when he demanded to know whose child it was.
My jaw clenched. I forced myself to take deep breaths—Stella!
I rushed barefoot to Stella's room, my heart finally settling when I saw her. She was sitting at her little table, drawing, her blonde hair glowing softly under the lamp. At the sound of the door, she turned, her blue eyes sparkling.
"Mommy!" She dropped her crayons and ran to hug my legs. "You're finally awake! I drew so many pictures for you!"
I crouched down and pulled her into a tight embrace, burying my face in her soft hair. She was here. Safe. Unharmed.
"Baby." My voice was hoarse. "Did Mommy sleep a long time?"
"Yeah!" She tilted her little face up. "Aunt Mary said you were really tired and not to wake you. I was good—I just kept drawing!"
Sounds of cooking and delicious smells wafted from the kitchen. I stood, took Stella's hand, and walked out. Mary was busy at the stove, her apron spotted with tomato sauce. She saw me and offered a warm smile.
"Miss Elena, you're awake. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes."
"Mary." I paused at the kitchen doorway, trying to keep my voice steady. "How did I get home this afternoon?"
She turned, a flicker of confusion in her eyes. "You don't remember? A tall man brought you back around four. He said he was a client of yours. You seemed drunk, so he dropped you off."
"Did you get a look at his face?"
Mary shook her head. "No, he was wearing a hat and sunglasses."
My stomach churned uneasily. I knew nothing about this stalker, but he knew everything about me.
Mary noticed my expression and asked with concern, "Miss Elena, are you alright? Was there something wrong with that man?"
"No, it's nothing." I forced a smile. "I just... don't remember much. Thanks, Mary."
"Mommy, you look so pale." Stella craned her neck to look up at me. "Are you sick?"
I knelt down and touched her cheek. "Mommy's fine, just a little tired. Go finish your drawing—we'll eat soon."
She bounced back to her room. I took a deep breath and turned to Mary. "Thanks for everything today. You can go home now. Don't come tomorrow—I'll stay with Stella myself."
"But Miss Elena—"
"I insist." I pulled out my wallet and handed her some bills. "Here's your pay for the week, plus a little extra. You did a great job."
Mary looked like she wanted to say more, but she accepted the money and untied her apron. "I'll call you tomorrow. If you need anything, just let me know."
"I will. Thanks."
Once she was gone, I deadbolted the door and checked every window. Then I hurried to the bathroom and locked the door behind me. The first-aid kit was under the sink. I grabbed the STD test strips, my fingers trembling so badly I could barely hold the damn things.
Fifteen minutes later, the results came back negative. I slumped against the wall, my legs turning to jelly. At least that pervert hadn't left me with any disease.
My phone buzzed on the counter. It was Marco calling. I stared at his name for a few seconds before answering.
"Elena?" He sounded exhausted. "Everything okay this afternoon? We had an emergency patient—I was stuck in surgery for six hours."
"Marco." My voice came out raw and scratchy. "Can you come stay with me for a few days? I... I need someone here."
"What's wrong? Did something happen?" His tone sharpened with worry.
I closed my eyes, unsure how to describe the terror of being blindfolded, dragged into a car, and violated.
"Please." My voice trembled. "I don't want to be alone."
There was a brief silence on the other end. "I'm packing right now. I'll be there soon."
I hung up, gripping the sink and staring at my pale reflection in the mirror. Why the fuck did this have to happen to me?
Marco arrived an hour later, with a suitcase and a big bag of Stella's favorite chocolates and snacks.
"Uncle Marco!" Stella flung herself into his arms.
He scooped her up and spun her around, but his brown eyes stayed fixed on me. "Little princess, I brought new paints and storybooks. Why don't you go check them out in your room?"
"Yay!" She snatched the bag and ran off excitedly.
As soon as she was out of sight, Marco stepped closer and gripped my shoulders. "Tell me what happened."
I opened my mouth, but my throat tightened. How could I put that fear and humiliation into words?
"Elena." His voice softened. "You're shaking."
"This afternoon, I saw the stalker." I lied—I still couldn't bring myself to tell Marco I'd been assaulted.
His face hardened, his grip tightening.
"What did he look like?"
Tears streamed down my face. "I don't know. I didn't get a clear look."
"It's okay." He pulled me into his arms. "I'm here now."
His warmth was comforting, his embrace secure.
"I've already contacted my guys," Marco murmured. "They'll find out who this psycho is soon enough."
I nodded.
"Mommy! Uncle Marco!" Stella came running out, holding a storybook. "Can you both read to me?"
Marco released me and gave her a gentle smile. "Of course, little princess. Which one?"
"Sleeping Beauty!"
"Let's have dinner first, then story time, okay?"
"Okay!"
The next day, life seemed almost normal.
Marco stayed in the guest room, spending the day drawing and playing games with Stella, and evenings reading on the couch.
I tried to focus on work, handling the backlog of orders, but I couldn't help glancing out the windows, paranoid that the creep might reappear.
At ten that night, a new email popped into my inbox from Le Bon Marché, the upscale Paris department store.
My heart raced. Three months ago, I'd submitted a design proposal to their buyer, hoping to get Stella into their jewelry and accessories section.
There'd been no response since—I thought it was a lost cause.
I opened it. It was an invitation to feature in their spring collection showcase. Le Bon Marché! One of the most prestigious department stores in Paris. This meant Stella was truly breaking into the international market!
"I did it!" I whispered excitedly, clapping a hand over my mouth to avoid waking Stella.
I dashed to the living room, where Marco was lounging on the sofa with a medical journal.
"Marco!" I practically bounced over to him. "You won't believe what just happened!"
He looked up, his brown eyes widening in surprise. "What is it?"
"Le Bon Marché! The one in Paris—they want my designs! They're including Stella in their spring showcase!"
Marco stood up, a huge grin spreading across his face. "Elena, that's incredible! I knew you could do it!"
I laughed, pure joy and excitement bubbling up. For a moment, it even pushed aside thoughts of that damn stalker and the afternoon's terror.
"I need to get some sleep now," I said, as if it had just occurred to me. "I have to be sharp tomorrow—there'll be a ton of details to discuss with Paris."
Marco nodded, and we exchanged goodnights.
I headed to my bedroom and lay down, staring at the ceiling, my mind buzzing with plans for Stella.
I needed more design sketches, inventory checks, to contact the artisans in Italy to speed up production.
.. But gradually, the excitement ebbed, and exhaustion washed over me.
The events of the afternoon had drained every bit of my energy. My eyelids grew heavy.
Outside, the familiar chirping of Tuscany's night insects lulled me like a hypnotic melody, drawing me into sleep.
In a drowsy haze, I felt the mattress dip as someone climbed onto the bed. My consciousness struggled at the edge of sleep. Was it Stella? She sometimes slipped into my bed after a nightmare, seeking comfort. But the weight felt wrong—too heavy.
A rough, scorching hand slid possessively over my cheek. The touch sent an electric jolt through my skin, making me flush with heat. This wasn't Stella—the masculine scent was overwhelming, suffocating. My heart pounded wildly. I tried to open my eyes, but sleep clung to me stubbornly.
Those unfamiliar hands continued boldly, sliding down my neck and roughly yanking open my nightgown. In an instant, I was completely naked, my nipples pebbling in the cool air.
Was this a dream? Two large hands greedily kneaded my breasts, squeezing them together before pulling them apart like cherished playthings.
Thumbs and fingers pinched my nipples wickedly, tugging and teasing, each twist bringing a sting of pain mingled with a strange, unwanted pleasure that made my body arch involuntarily.
Was this really a dream? It felt so real, so depraved.
The hands slipped between my thighs, rubbing insistently through the thin fabric of my panties.
Suddenly, my hips were lifted, and the panties were torn away.
Now I was fully exposed under his heated gaze.
His fingers plunged straight into my core, stroking forcefully, reveling in the wetness that gathered there.
My breathing turned ragged and erratic. Awareness finally pierced the foggy haze. This wasn't a dream!
I snapped my eyes open. In the dim lamplight, I recognized the owner of those hands—Igor's familiar yet distorted face. He hovered over me, his lips curved in a wicked, devilish smile.
Igor!!!
"Igor? It's you? What the fuck are you doing here?!" I cried out in panic, pushing hard against his chest, trying to scramble away. But he was quicker—one hand clamped over my mouth while the other continued its assault on my core, fingers slipping in slyly, stirring the slick heat.
"You finally woke up, Elena." His deep voice rasped in my ear, thick with husky excitement. "But don't moan so sluttily. I know your little pussy is already drenched for me. If you scream too loud, that bastard Marco will hear."
His words seeped into my mind like poison, igniting fury and a cursed thrill. I twisted my body with all my strength, fighting back.
"Let me go! Igor, you bastard!" My muffled protests leaked through his palm.
Igor pressed down harder, his body pinning me completely. His fingers delved deeper inside me, thrusting faster and harder, hitting every sensitive spot, making my walls clench around them against my will.
"Baby, your struggling is so fucking sexy. The more you fight, the tighter your slutty pussy grips—sucking my fingers like it'll melt them."
I thrashed desperately, my arm knocking the bedside lamp off the nightstand. It crashed to the floor with a loud bang.
Igor chuckled softly. He slowly unzipped his pants, freeing his massive erection, swollen to its limit. It pressed against my entrance and thrust in relentlessly, the familiar fullness making me grit my teeth.
Just then, hurried footsteps echoed outside.
"Elena? Is everything okay?"
It was Marco—he must have been woken by the crash.
Igor kept his hand firmly over my mouth; I couldn't respond, only managing stifled grunts. His cock pumped inside me, each thrust making my body tremble.
Marco waited a moment without an answer, then pushed the door open—I'd forgotten to lock it! The room lights flicked on. He stood in the doorway, eyes wide, staring at us entangled on the bed.
Far from stopping, Igor drove his massive length into me even harder. He released his hand from my mouth, and my moans poured out uncontrollably.
"Ah... Igor, please... Don't do this!" My pleas broke apart under his relentless pounding.
Marco stood frozen at the door.
Igor finally stilled, turning to face him with a smug, provocative grin. My mind went blank, overwhelmed by endless shame and confusion.