Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Elena
I didn't object, and those words haunted me like a ghost, following me all the way from kindergarten to my studio.
They were basically the same as giving in. My mind was screaming at me, warning how crazy this was—how this man had stormed into my life like a barbarian just days ago, forcing me, terrifying me. But my body, my emotions—they were all leaning toward forgiving him.
Igor parked the car downstairs from the studio and came up with me. Just like yesterday, I buried myself in work while he watched with that intense, burning gaze, occasionally helping out with small tasks.
I was checking the new gem samples when Marco pushed open the studio door. He stood in the doorway, his face still bruised—from the beating Igor had given him a few days earlier.
"Marco?" I stood up. "How did you—"
My words were cut off. Igor rose from behind the workbench, where he'd been organizing my design sketches. His movements were slow and deliberate, but a dangerous tension filled the room instantly.
"You've got the nerve to show your face," Igor's voice was low and ominous, like the calm before a storm.
Marco's eyes skipped over Igor, fixing straight on me. "Elena, I need to talk to you. Alone."
"She won't be alone with you anywhere," Igor stepped beside me, his hand resting naturally on my waist.
That possessive gesture made Marco's face darken even more.
"What gives you the right to stay at Elena's place!" Marco exploded, his voice echoing through the studio. "I've been the one taking care of Elena and Stella all these years! I got them through the hardest times, watched Stella grow up. Stella's my daughter!"
"So what?" Igor's tone turned icy. "You want a participation trophy?"
Marco's voice hardened. "I don't need thanks, but today, I'm taking them with me!"
With that, he turned to me. "Elena, come with me. Leave this man. He abandoned you five years ago, then shows up out of nowhere and turns your life upside down."
Every word pierced my heart. Because it was all true. If it weren't for Igor, I wouldn't have endured that betrayal. And now, his return was stirring up my emotions all over again.
"You're right," I heard myself say. "This is all because of him."
Igor's arm stiffened.
Marco's eyes brightened. "So you're coming!"
"But that's not a reason for you to take us," I continued. "Marco, I'm grateful for everything you've done over the years. Really. You're a good man, and you deserve better."
"I don't want better!" Marco rushed toward me. "I just want you, Elena!"
He reached for my arm, but before he could touch me, he was sent flying. Igor kicked him—swift and vicious. Marco crashed into the wall with a pained grunt. He tried to scramble up, but Igor was already there, his foot pressing down on Marco's chest.
"You fucking touch her again and see what happens," Igor's voice was laced with pure killing intent.
"Stop!" I hurried over and grabbed Igor's arm.
He turned to me, his deep green eyes blazing with fury. "Elena, you're still protecting this asshole?"
I shook my head instinctively. "I mean, you can't do this here. This is my studio—please."
I saw his jaw tighten, veins throbbing at his temples. He was struggling to hold back. Finally, he lifted his foot.
Marco struggled to sit up, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a whirlwind of emotions.
"Marco," I crouched down to his level. "Thank you for all these years of care. But now, please leave."
If Marco said one more thing about taking me away, Igor would kill him—I could see it. The only thing I could do was get Marco out of here quickly.
"Elena," Marco grabbed my hand. "You're back together with him, aren't you?"
I didn't answer, but my silence was answer enough.
"You'll regret it," he said, his voice thick with pain and anger. "He abandoned you once; he'll do it a thousand times. Five years ago, he chose his family over you. What about next time? What will he push you aside for then?"
His words cut like knives, striking right at my deepest fear: Igor abandoning me, betraying me. I'd lived through that pain once—I couldn't bear it again. It would destroy me.
"Get the fuck out," Igor's voice came from behind me, cold as ice.
Marco staggered to his feet and lurched toward the door. At the threshold, he looked back one last time. "I'll always be there, Elena. If you ever need me, I'll be waiting."
Then he was gone. The studio was silent, just me and Igor. I stood up slowly, my back to him. My heart was sinking, plummeting into an unknown darkness.
"Elena." Igor's voice sounded from behind me, laced with a vulnerability I'd never heard before. "What are you thinking? Do you believe that bastard?"
"Is Marco right? Would you abandon me again?" I asked softly.
"No." There was no hesitation. "Never."
"How can you guarantee that?" I turned to face him. "Five years ago, you said you loved me, but you still chose that engagement. Who knows what might happen next time—"
"There won't be a next time!" He closed the distance in a few strides, gripping my shoulders. "Elena, listen to me. Five years ago, I was a bastard—I lied to you. But now, I've experienced the cost of losing you. It's no different from dying."
Tears blurred my vision. I wanted to believe him, I really did. But fear coiled around my heart like vines.
"I need some time alone," I pushed him away. "Igor, I need to work."
"Fine," he said. "Then I'll work alongside you."
"I want to be by myself."
"I won't disturb you," he pleaded. "I'll just sit over there, not saying a word. But I'm not leaving."
I looked at him and saw the determination in his eyes. I was too exhausted to argue. So I nodded and returned to the workbench.
I tried to focus on the designs, but my mind was in chaos. Marco's words, Igor's promises, the betrayal from five years ago—all tangled together like a mess of knots. Suddenly, I heard the door lock click. I looked up and saw Igor securing it.
"What the hell are you doing?" I asked.
He didn't reply, just strode toward me. His eyes had shifted—no longer anxious or pleading, but filled with a raw, predatory desire.
"Igor?"
He scooped me up and set me on the desk. Sketches, samples, and rulers clattered to the floor.
"You said you need time alone," his voice was low and husky, laced with dangerous allure. "But I know what you really need."
His hand cradled the back of my head, forcing me to meet his gaze. Those deep green eyes burned with desire.
"You need me to prove it," he said, his kisses trailing along my neck. "Prove that my hunger for you is real, prove what you mean to me."
"Get away! Not here," I pushed against his chest, but my voice had already softened. "Anna could come back any minute—this is the office!"
"She went out for deliveries; it'll be at least an hour." His lips brushed my collarbone. "More than enough time to make you forget every single doubt."
His hand slipped under my skirt, fingertips grazing my inner thighs. My body lit up like it was on fire, melting under his touch.
Damn it, why was my body always so brutally honest?
"Igor," I gasped. "We can't do this here—ah!"
His fingers pressed against my pussy through my panties, sending electric shocks through me even with the thin fabric in the way.
"Your mouth is saying no," he whispered in my ear, his voice sinfully sexy. "But your body is telling the truth, baby. You're already soaking wet."
Shame burned in me, and I wanted to argue, but his fingers started circling, rubbing my clit through the drenched material. My comeback dissolved into a stifled moan.
"Look at you," he pulled back slightly, drinking in my reactions. "So damn sensitive. I haven't even done anything yet, and you're this wet."
"It's all your fault," I bit my lip, trying not to moan. "You always, always..."
"Always what?" He raised an eyebrow, smirking devilishly. "Always make you drip for me?"
Suddenly, he tore off my panties, the move rough and full of possession. Cool air rushed against my heated core, making me shiver.
"Spread your legs," he commanded.
"Igor."
"Spread them," his tone brooked no argument, pure authority. "Let me see how much you want me."
My face flushed hot, but I obeyed, parting my legs on the edge of the desk, completely exposed to him.
He let out a satisfied groan. "Perfect."
Then he dropped to his knees.
"Wait, you're going to—" Panic surged, and I tried to close my legs, but he gripped my thighs, holding them firmly apart.
"I'm going to taste every inch of you," he looked up, his eyes pure, unfiltered lust.
His tongue flicked over my most sensitive spot.
"Ah!" I cried out, my hands scrambling into his hair.
His tongue was nimble and teasing—sometimes darting quickly over my clit, sometimes lapping slowly across my entire pussy, sometimes probing into my wet entrance. Each stroke hit my pleasure points with precision, my body arching like a taut bowstring.
"Igor, oh God!" My voice came out in broken gasps. "It's too... too much..."
He lifted his head, his chin glistening with my arousal in the light. "Too much? Baby, I've only just begun."
His fingers slid inside—one, then two. They were thick, stretching me with a slight ache, but overwhelming pleasure. He thrust them slowly while his mouth returned to suck on that swollen bud.
"No, I'm going to—" I felt the orgasm building, waves stacking higher and higher.
Right then, footsteps echoed outside. Then a knock. Terror locked my throat, and I couldn't respond.
"Elena?" It was Anna's voice. "Are you in there? I thought you were here earlier."
My eyes widened in horror, and I tried to push Igor away, but he only sucked harder, his fingers moving faster.
"Shh, stay quiet," he looked up, his eyes like a predator's, smirking softly. "Unless you want her to know exactly what we're doing in here."
"Igor, please," I begged in a hushed whisper, the pleasure teetering on the brink.
The doorknob jiggled, but the lock held.