Ilay. He was sitting on my bed, watching me.
A scream tore from my throat, louder than necessary. "What the hell are you doing in my room at—" I glanced frantically at the clock. "At 10 PM?!"
He didn't answer. He just looked at me, his gaze heavy and unreadable. Then, he stood up.
God, I always forgot how massive he was until he was this close—the height, the sheer, suffocating weight of his presence. It was a miracle I had survived every time I'd slapped, shoved, or screamed in his face. He didn't speak, he just stalked forward, forcing me to retreat until my shoulder blades hit the dresser.
And then, like a moth to a flame, his hand reached for my face. He peered down at me with those maddening, soulless eyes. "Are you still angry that I shot that man?"
I scoffed, tightening the towel around my chest as I sidestepped him. "That man? You still have no remorse. You won't even call him by his name. He is a friend of mine, Ilay."
He didn't flinch or blick. He simply took another step, cutting off my escape route. "I don't like it when you keep your distance from me," he said, his voice restrained but vibrating with tension.
I turned to face him, gripping the windowsill behind me to anchor myself. "Then stop doing things that push me away," I said, my voice quiet, exhausted. "You hurt someone I care about, and you don't feel a thing. Why do you even care what I think ofyou?" I looked him dead in the eye. "Why should you care? I'm just some underpaid lawyer you hired for a case."
His mask cracked. "Because I fucking like you, okay? I don't—" He runs a hand through his hair, taking another step closer. "Fuck, it's so hard to talk to you when you're mad. I never think I'd feel anything close to remorse, and I'm sorry I don't, but I can't stop liking you, Iris."
My breath hitched. "What?" I whispered.
His voice drops, almost like he regrets saying anything at all. "I'm interested in you."
I couldn't explain it, but laughter bubbled up from my chest—a dark, humorless sound that escaped when the absurdity became too much. I pushed off the windowsill and tried to brush past him toward the bathroom, needing space. He grabbed my wrist. Not with force, just enough to make me halt. His gaze locks onto mine, pleading for me to say anything at all.
But I remain silent.
I didn't pull away. Instead, I yanked my wrist free and closed the distance on my own terms, stepping into his space until my bare chest brushed against his suit. I felt his sharp intake of breath, the tension radiating off him like heat. I lifted my chin, challenging him with a glare.Go ahead. Tear the towel away. Claim me.
Yet my voice is as cold as ice. "Mr. Ivanovich, it's quite inappropriate for you to keep pursuing me," I state smoothly. "I have no interest in mixing business with pleasure."
His mouth twitches, hinting that he might respond, but I press on.
"You claim to like me, to have feelings. But genuine suitors don't go so far as to sabotage their potential partners' vehicles tokeep them away from their friends. And when you finally let me go, you shoot him on the first meeting. Instead of remorse, you turn the gun on yourself. So forgive me if I feel no sympathy."
I step back, severing the contact. "You think I'll still want you? That I'd throw myself into your embrace as if none of this matters?"
He didn't try to stop me this time. He just stood there, his chest rising and falling rapidly as I walked toward the closet, turning my back to him.
And then, I let the towel slide down.
The silence that followed was deafening, heavy enough to crush bones. I didn't rush for a robe. I didn't hide. If he wanted to look, let him look. I stood tall, my back exposed, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs as I reached for a shirt.
"If this is your test," his voice came from behind me, vibrating through the floorboards. "To tear me apart with your words and then stand there, naked, tempting me with what you think I can't have...then I hate to break it to you, Iris..."
I felt his warmth before he even touched me.
"...but I will fail. Woefully."
I grip the edge of the vanity, refusing to turn. He’s right behind me now, bending down until his breath tangles in my ear like smoke. As he whispers, brushing my hair over my shoulder, I close my eyes, facing down gripping the edge of the vanity. "Since you know just how much of a villain I am," I shiver, "let me give you the full picture." His tone drops cold, to my ears. "If I can't have you, Iris, then no one will. Ever."
A sharp chill ran down my spine and I open my eyes seeing how white my knuckles have turned from how hard I wasgripping the table. I shift, trying to step away, but his hand finds my hip, fingers digging in as he yanks me back against his solid frame. I look in the mirror seeing how cold yet lustful his eyes look and can’t help but get turned on.
"I will hunt down every man who so much as looks at you," he whispers, the promise dripping with malice. "I won't give them the mercy of a bullet,kotyonok. I'll dismantle them. Fingers first. Then hands. Then arms. I will make them watch as I peel the skin from their bodies, keeping them conscious and screaming until their minds shatter." His grip tightens, bruising my skin.
"I'll carve your name into their chests with a dull knife so they bleed out slowly. And when they beg me to kill them, when they're sobbing and pissing themselves, I'll laugh. I'll tell them this is the price for coveting what belongs to me."
I couldn't move. I was paralyzed by the darkness in his voice.
"And their families?" he continued, his voice dropping to something inhuman. "I'll kill them too. Mothers, fathers, children—I don't give a fuck. I'll make sure everyone they've ever loved dies screaming, and I'll make sure they know it's because ofyou."
