Isabella's POV
I blinked at him silently. My heart was thumping wildly. There was something so wildly attractive about the situation I was in right now. Why do I feel electricity running up my spine? My skin prickled with foreign sensation.
Yes, I was scared of him. Of the proximity. Of the tiny space between our bodies from touching, but there was something else too. Something darker and sinful, which made my soul crave for it, and the realization left me baffled.
"I'm not scared of you," I said with all the mustered up courage I could gather in front of a 6'2 beast who was built like a Greek God and was towering over my small frame. My shoulders were hunched in submission. And I looked like nothing less than a scared cat.
"You should be." His deep voice was soft with a hint of care in it, but at the same time, it was dark and dangerous. Holding the power. "Because I don't know what I'd do if someone tried to hurt you again," he breathes.
I flinched when he raised his hand, but he didn't stop as he gently brushed the lock of my hair off my face; the touch was intimate. His fingertips lingered near my bruises; his touch was protective but also possessive. Our eyes locked. The air between us crackled with electric sensations.
My neighbor's door slammed, and I snapped back to reality. I quickly ducked under his arm and dashed to my house, leaving him standing in the driveway breathing hard. I quickly opened the door and stepped inside, hurriedly locking the door, afraid that he might barge in behind me. I slid down the door, breathing heavily as slowly everything began to come back.
The attack, the pain, my savior, the treatment, and the scene just outside my house, everything rushed back. Tears brimmed in my eyes as I hugged myself.
Simon has gone crazy. I never expected that from him. Thank God that Mr. Volkov saved me on time. I couldn't even imagine what would've happened if he hadn't come in time.
Once I felt a little better, I got up and went straight for a shower. I was careful not to wet my bandages. I examined my bruises in the mirror and put ointment on them. I put on the TV and made a sandwich for myself. I ate it silently while watching TV. I watched my favourite series, and it did help divert my mind.
Isabella got into her bed as she sighed when her phone vibrated. It was a text from an unknown number.
'Are you safe inside. Call me if you need anything.'
For a second, I was stunned, and fear began to coil in my chest. Who could it be? But then I realized it must be Mr. Volkov. He had done something similar before. It had to be him. I didn't reply for a while, and another message popped up.
'Don't ignore me, Isabella.'
Now I was certain it was him. Though I still ignored him. Yes, I was thankful to him, but I didn't want anything to do with him.
'Sleep. I'll see you in class tomorrow.' He said as I stared at his texts for a while before I saved his number in my phone as Mr. Volkov.
His last message felt less like care, but more like a command.
Lying on the bed, I kept tossing and turning for a while, my heart was restless before finally sleep consumed me.
The next day, when I got to the campus, the whispers had exploded across the campus. Simon's was all over the gossip chain. Someone saw his bloodied face, bruises and all.
He told his friends that he had slipped and fallen down the stairs brutally, but his friends weren't buying that. There was tension in the air. Thankfully, I had applied makeup and had properly covered my bruises, while my forehead was covered with my hair. I made sure no one associated me with his condition.
When I walked into the class, all eyes snapped to me. Including Mr. Volkov's who was standing at the podium, calm, collected, giving a lecture as if nothing had happened, which was good.
When my eyes met his, my stomach twisted up in knots at how closely he was observing me. There was something in his gaze that made me want to run for the hills. Maybe he was mad I didn't text him back last night, but I had every right not to.
"Miss. Martinez. You're late, hurry and take your seat," he said in a curt tone as she mumbled a small sorry and jogged to her seat.
The class went by smoothly, and I kept my gaze on the presentation rather than on him. Once the class ended, I was quick and wanted to leave early, but luck was never on my side when Mr. Volkov was around.
"Please, visit my office. I'd like to have a word about our research work," he said as my shoulders dropped in defeat.
Why, God? Why was this happening to me?
I stood outside his office. With a deep breath, I knocked once and heard a loud come in. I stepped inside, closing the door behind me.
"Mr. Volkov. I've told you I will not be working on research-"
"You didn't reply last night?" His deep voice was calm as he sat at his desk, and the tension in the air was crackling.
I inhaled deeply.
"You shouldn't be texting me," I said calmly.
"And you shouldn't be walking alone, but you did that too." He said, and my brows furrowed.
"That's illogical. I didn't know Simon would attack me. So please, don't blame me. I'm thankful that you saved me, but calling me in your office like this is not appropriate. I'd appreciate it if you won't do it again."
He pulled to his feet and walked over to me as my confidence faltered.
"You think I'll simply forget what he did to you. No, Isabella. I can't."
"Please, Mr. Volkov. You're my professor, and you should act like it."
"Hmmm," he hummed, his eyes dark and unreadable.
"Yes, I'm your professor. But didn't I make love to you that night? When I f*cked you so good you couldn't stop your moans-" my jaw slacked, and wide eyes, horrified at his words, as I slammed my palm on his mouth.
His words left me appalled.