I'll protect you

Chapter 26

As they were still lost in each other's embrace, their kisses growing more urgent, the doorbell rang, shattering the moment.

Drogen groaned, his lips lingering on hers as if refusing to acknowledge the interruption. His voice was low and gruff, laced with frustration. "Who the hell is that?"

Natasha blinked, her flushed face mirroring the heat between them. "I don't know… but they're not stopping," she whispered against his lips, her breath shaky.

"It's no one important," he muttered, his hands tightening around her waist. "They'll leave eventually."

Natasha pulled back gently, her lips slightly swollen and her heart racing. "I'll tell them you're not home. Just wait here," she said, slipping out of his grasp.

Drogen leaned back against the counter, watching her go, a sly smile tugging at his lips. His gaze dropped to the aching bulge below his waist, and he let out a low growl. "Great timing," he muttered to himself. His c.o.c.k was painful hard and she was the only one who could relieve his urge.

Natasha opened the door, and her breath caught at the sight of the woman standing there. She was striking—tall and curvaceous, with long dark hair cascading over her shoulders. Her figure-hugging black dress left little to the imagination, and her overly sweet perfume was so strong it made Natasha's nose twitch.

The woman's sly smile froze the moment she saw Natasha. Her expression darkened, her perfectly arched brow rising as she looked Natasha over.

"Who are you?" the woman asked, her voice sharp with irritation. "Where's Dante?"

Natasha stiffened, her pulse quickening with annoyance. Dante? she thought, her eyes narrowing. She crossed her arms, her voice steady but cold. "I'm his girlfriend. And you are?"

The woman's lips curled into a smirk, her eyes glinting with mockery. "Oh, so you're the one he's fucking now?"

"What did you just say?" Natasha's tone dropped, her patience hanging by a thread.

The woman stepped closer, her confidence dripping like venom. "Just let me in. I need to see him." Without waiting for a response, she pushed past Natasha, but Natasha grabbed her by the hair, yanking her back with enough force to make her yelp.

"I don't think so," Natasha said firmly, her eyes blazing. "I asked you a question, and I didn't say you could come in."

The woman flailed, trying to free herself. "Are you insane? Let go of my hair!"

Drogen Came out of the kitchen, his sharp gaze darting between the two women. His voice was calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it. "what's going on here?"

The woman wrenched herself free, glaring at Natasha as she stumbled toward Drogen. "Dante, thank God! This psycho just attacked me! Tell her to back off!"

Drogen's expression darkened instantly, his jaw tightening as he stepped closer. "First of all, don't call me by my first name," he said, his voice a low growl. His eyes, cold and piercing, locked onto the woman. "Second, who the hell do you think you're calling a psycho?"

The woman faltered, her confidence visibly wavering under his intense glare. "I—I just…"

Natasha leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed as she watched the scene unfold. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she kept her expression calm. "So… are you going to tell me who she is, or should I start guessing?"

Drogen didn't take his eyes off the woman. "Natasha, I don't know why she's here. And trust me, she's leaving in about thirty seconds."

The woman's face paled. "Wait! Dante, I mean, Mr Lee, you know me! It's Gabriella. Remember? We—"

"Stop talking," Drogen snapped, cutting her off. His voice was icy now, his patience gone. "Whatever you think we had, it's over. You showing up here, uninvited, only proves why I wanted nothing to do with you in the first place."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a smirk creeping onto her lips despite the tension. "Wow. You sure know how to pick them."

Gabriella turned to Natasha, her anger flaring again. "Oh, please. You're nothing but a distraction. He'll get bored of you like he does with everyone else."

Drogen moved so quickly that Gabriella took a step back, her words dying in her throat. "Don't you dare speak to her like that," he said, his tone deadly quiet. "Get out. Now."

Gabriella hesitated, her lips trembling as she searched for a retort, but Drogen's cold, unrelenting stare left her with none. With a sharp turn, she stormed out, her heels clicking furiously against the floor.

Natasha shut the door with a heavy sigh, leaning her back against it. When she turned, Drogen was already watching her with those intense, unreadable eyes.

"So… ex-girlfriend?" she asked, her voice laced with forced nonchalance, though the slight crack betrayed her irritation.

"Not even close," he said smoothly, the tension in his shoulders easing. He took a deliberate step forward, his tall frame towering over hers. His hands found her waist as though it was their rightful place. "Are you okay?"

She shrugged, though her gaze remained steady. "I'm fine. But next time, maybe give me a heads-up if there are any crazy women lurking around "

Drogen let out a deep, amused chuckle, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face with a tenderness that made her heart skip. "Next time, I'll make sure they don't get past the door."

"Good," she shot back, her chin tilting defiantly. "Because if it happens again, I can't promise I'll be as polite."

He smirked, his thumb grazing her cheek in a way that sent warmth flooding through her. "Were you jealous?" he asked, his voice teasing, but his eyes sharp and probing.

"No," she lied, her tone a little too quick, her cheeks flushing. "I just didn't like the smell of her perfume." Without giving him a chance to respond, she stepped away, heading toward her room.

But the truth was clawing at her chest. Of course she was jealous. Hearing that woman dismiss her so casually as a distraction—it was like someone had reached into her and twisted the knife of her worst fears. She was a distraction. And even if she'd made peace with the fleeting nature of whatever they had, the idea of him eventually growing tired of her hurt more than she cared to admit.

"Natasha," Drogen called after her, his deep voice calm but insistent. He followed her, though he stopped short of the closed door she locked behind her. "What's wrong? Why are you mad?"

"Nothing," she replied, her voice muffled and brittle. "I'm fine. I just… want to sleep."

He could have teleported inside in an instant, but something stopped him. For the first time, he hesitated. Barging in might only make things worse.

"If it's about that woman," he started, his voice dropping, "we were done a long time ago. She doesn't matter, Nat...we"

"I didn't ask for your explanation!" she cut him off, her words sharp and shaky. "It's not like I'm your real girlfriend, anyway. It's just three months. Then it's over."

The second the words left her mouth, she regretted them.

The silence that followed was heavy and electric, like the moments before a thunderstorm. Drogen didn't waste any moment and instantly teleported into the room, cornering her against the door were she stood.

"Say that again," he said quietly, his voice low and lethal, his dark eyes burning into hers.

Her breath hitched, but she refused to look at him. "It's true, isn't it? This ends eventually. It's not—"

"Natasha," he interrupted, his hand gently catching her chin, tilting her face up until their eyes locked. "Listen to me. I can't promise you love. I don't even know if I'm capable of it. But don't you dare doubt what you mean to me."

She blinked, her resolve faltering under the weight of his gaze.

"You're not a distraction. And as long as you're my girlfriend—even if it's only for three months—I will make damn sure you never feel like you're anything less than irreplaceable. I'll protect you. I'll spoil you. And I'll remind you every single day that no one, and I mean no one, could ever compare to you, is that clear?"