"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, butmy 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."
