"Marco—" My voice trembled.
"She remarried a rich man and left me with my grandmother. She never came back. Do you know what it's like to have the person you love disappear? I couldn't accept it. I couldn't accept you leaving… so before you leave me, I'm going to have my fill."
He tied my hands with the belt—fast, professional, like he'd planned it.
"No! Let me go!" I kicked with the feet I still had.
He sat on my legs and pinned me. "The more you struggle, the more I like it," he panted, eyes sick with pleasure. "Like that night, watching you under Igor—it almost made my cock explode."
His fingers found my nipples and pinched them through my bra.
"Don't lie." He lowered his face, triumphant and deranged. "Your little nipples are hard."
"No." I shook, tears streaming. "It's just a reflex. I don't feel anything for you."
It was true. Even when my body got all stimulated, all I felt was this deep humiliation and straight-up nausea. Not a single bit of that soul-shaking bliss I had with Igor, that electric rush where every damn cell in me was screaming with joy. Right then, I just felt sick to my stomach, like I was gonna puke, like I just wanted to die.
"I don't believe you." He ripped at my shirt. Buttons flew off. Cold air hit my exposed chest; my bra was the only thing left.
I twisted, but the bound hands left me helpless. He searched me like prey and reached for my skirt.
"You know how long I've wanted this," Marco whispered. "Every accidental brush I had to hold back. But now—"
He tore my skirt. My panties were exposed.
"No! Help! Please!" My screams shredded my throat.
"Scream," he said. "Scream all you want. No one's coming."
I watched him pull out his ugly dick, that gross thing jutting right at me, and a wave of nausea hit me hard, like I was gonna puke.
"I'm going in, Elena," he panted, his eyes gleaming with this twisted, creepy excitement, "I wanna show you I can make you feel good too."
His hand reached for my panties—
Bang!
The door exploded inward; the frame splintered. Igor stood in the doorway. I had never been so glad to see anyone.
"Igor!" I nearly sobbed his name.
Right then, the look on his face was the most terrifying thing I'd ever seen. Like the gates of hell had swung open, and the most vicious demon had barreledright in.
He charged over in two strides, grabbing Marco by the back of his collar and flinging him off me like he was nothing but trash. Marco's body slammed into the wall with this dull thud, and I swear I heard bones crack. Then he crumpled to the floor, his head smacking the corner of the coffee table, blood gushing from his forehead instantly.
Igor spun back to me, that icy rage in his eyes melting away in a flash, turning into this endless wave of heartbreak and guilt.
"I'm sorry, baby," he said, his fingers shaking as he fumbled with the belt tying me down.
I was crying too hard to even answer.
Once the belt was off, he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it gently over me, covering up my bare skin. Then he pulled me into this tight hug.
"I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely right by my ear. "I got here too late."
"You didn't. You got here right in time." I was shaking in his arms. "But... how'd you even know I was here?"
"I put a tracker in your phone." He admitted it straight up, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "When I flew back from New York, I saw you'd come here. It's a weekday—you should've been at the studio. I knew something was wrong."
