Isabella's POV
My heart quivered in my chest. And I stood there frozen. A jolt of current ran down my spine, and my whole body went rigid.
My eyes were fixed on the man sitting in front of me. The man I was trying so hard to ignore.
Nikolai Volkov sat on my sofa with his legs spread wide as he leaned back casually. He was in the same clothes that he was wearing in class today. His expressions were dark as he rested his elbow on the armrest, and two of his fingers were pressed on his lips in a thinking manner. His dark grey eyes were fixed on me, and before I could even come out of this trauma. His eyes darted to something, and they darkened even more. I followed his gaze, and my stomach dropped seeing the flowers he had sent me in the bin. And he was staring at exactly that.
"H...How did you get in?" I stuttered, but I did my best to stay calm. And I was failing miserably in that.
"Easy. Key under the third plant. You showed me when I first came to your house that night," he said coolly, and my face paled.
I was so stupid. How could I tell such a thing to a stranger? Ever since he came into my life, it felt like I'm on a rollercoaster of chaotic emotions.
"Why are you here? This is illegal. Leave, or else-" I stopped and let the words hang.
His thick brow raised, and he narrowed those dark eyes at me. Something irked him as he pulled to his feet, and his intimidating, tall frame made me take an involuntary step back. His beastly frame made my home look smaller and dangerous.
"Or else?" His voice was deep as he took a step forward, and my gaze shot to his shiny shoes, and he dared to take another step closer. My heart began to beat so wildly that slowly fear coiled in my chest.
"I...I...I..." I was a stuttering mess. It wasn't only in his voice. It was the way he looked at me. His dangerous gait. Everything was terrifying. I felt like prey.
"I?" He rasped, still prowling towards me.
"I'll call the cops," I said with all the mustered up courage, and his brow raised. Not in fear but in utter amusement or mock. I didn't know.
"Stop," I whispered because the damned beast of a man wasn't stopping and now I was walking back to maintain distance between us but my back touched the wall and my whole body jerked, a gasp escaping my lips as I looked over my shoulder for a fraction of a second and when I looked ahead again, my vision was blocked by a muscular chest clad in white crisp shirt.
My head shot up, and Mr. Volkov was already staring down at me.
He was too close.
I can't breathe.
"S...sir, please step back-" he grabbed my chin and forced my eyes back to him. His grip was stern.
I was scared.
"Sir?" He mocked again.
"P...please, step back," I murmured as he tilted his head, examining my fear.
"You were about to call cops, little dove. So what's with all the stuttering? I'm not hunting you right now," he rasped. Voice deep and low as it vibrates through my skin.
He deliberately said the hunting part because he knew I felt like prey right now. And he was definitely hunting, that was why he was in my house right now.
I raised my hands and tried to push him away with all my strength, but I failed because he barely budged.
His grip on my chin loosened only to grab my jaw as he squeezed enough to make my lips pucker out, and I winced as his fingers dug into my cheeks.
"When I call you to my office. You have to show up. You've no choice, and next time don't give me any excuse because then I'll show up at your place, which you probably didn't want." He said calmly while his gaze pierced through my soul. I closed my eyes because he looked terrifying.
"Am I clear?" He asked, and I wanted to kill him right then. Lowering my face, I bit his hand, the sensitive skin between thumb and index finger, which was very close to my mouth.
He jerked his hand back, and I ducked away from him, getting out of the cage.
The freedom lasted a second before he grabbed my throat, and I was pressed against the wall again, but this time I was slightly in the air with my toes touching the ground.
I grabbed his hand, trying to pry the grip off, but he looked mad.
Leaning in, he pressed the kiss on his hand where I bit. My heart quivered at that act.
"Don't f*ck with me, Isabella. You've no f*cking idea how much I've missed you," he rumbled and leaned in again.
My wide eyes closed tightly as he kissed my shoulder, and leaning into my neck, he inhaled deeply, causing goosebumps to rise on my flesh.
"Your scent. F*ck, you drive me crazy," he growled lowly as his hold loosened enough for my feet to touch the ground, as he rested his forehead on my shoulder, making me inhale sharply.
I was scared. I was terrified, but something else, so potent, was also there.
Temptation.
Thrill.
Need.
"And don't you dare throw my flowers in the bin," he gritted.
"Are we clear?" He said. When I didn't answer, he tightened his hold on my neck as a threat, and I began to nod my head vigorously.
And then he just let go of me and stepped away as I stared at him wide-eyed.
"Breathe," he rumbled, and I realized I was holding my breath. I took in a shaky breath.
He began to roll his sleeves up and ambled to the kitchen.
"Good girl. Now come, let's make dinner," he said so casually as if he wasn't just choking me a second ago, and to my utter horror, his behavior reminded me of something I never wanted to remember. Ever.