Shadows of Intention

8 – Shadows of Intention

The afternoon light seeped through the thin curtains, casting a soft glow over the disheveled room. Ilya slowly stirred, his entire body aching and heavy. A dull, throbbing pain radiated from his lower back and thighs, a reminder of the night and the relentless passion that followed into the next day.

His muscles protested as he shifted slightly, the sheets sticking to his sweat-slicked skin. He blinked away the lingering haze of sleep, only to find Nero kneeling beside the bed.

Nero's head was bowed low, his long dark hair shadowing his face. But what caught Ilya's attention were the tears silently spilling from Nero's honey-colored eyes.

His trembling hands clutched the bed sheet tightly, and his wide, tear filled eyes were fixated on the faint streaks of blood staining the sheets beneath Ilya.

Ilya's lips curled into a soft, pained smile. Despite the soreness anchoring him to the bed, Nero's guilt ridden expression tugged at something deep within him.

"Hey..."

Ilya's voice was raspy, barely above a whisper. He reached out, fingers lightly brushing against Nero's cheek.

"Why are you crying?"

Nero flinched under the touch but didn't move away. His lips quivered, struggling to form words he didn't know.

Ilya sighed softly.

"Is it because of this?"

His eyes drifted to the bloodstained sheets.

"It's not your fault."

Nero's head shook slowly, his expression twisted in pure remorse.

"You're too big for your own good, but it's fine,"

Ilya teased weakly, a faint chuckle escaping his throat before it turned into a wince. He rubbed his lower back and muttered,

"Okay, maybe not fine..."

Nero leaned in, pressing his forehead against Ilya's leg as if silently begging for forgiveness.

Ilya's fingers threaded through Nero's hair, gently stroking it.

"Don't look like a kicked puppy. You didn't mean to hurt me."

Nero let out a low, broken whimper, his shoulders trembling.

Ilya let out a soft sigh.

"Next time, try not to break me, alright?"

Ilya froze, the words lingering in the air, heavier than he intended.

Next time?

His own voice echoed in his head, and a flicker of shock crossed his face. He hadn't meant to say that. All he wanted was to give his first time to someone who mattered to him or had something real towards him, not some old, perverted rich man. Nero had been the safer choice in the moment, an escape.

But he hadn't thought about next time.

The realization hit him hard, tightening his chest. It was too late to take the words back now.

Ilya's eyes flicked to Nero, who was still watching him with wide, remorseful eyes, completely unaware of the turmoil brewing inside him.

Ilya swallowed hard, forcing a smirk to cover the sudden unease.

"Yeah… next time. Just don't break me again, okay?"

But deep down, the words clung to him, unsettling and far too real.

At that moment, Ilya's phone vibrated loudly on the bedside table, breaking the fragile silence.

Groaning, Ilya leaned over to grab it, grimacing at the stretch.

Ilya answered sluggishly.

"What now, Leo?"

Leo's sharp voice barked through the phone.

"What do you mean what now?! Do you know what time it is? The sponsor meeting is today, and I'm waiting downstairs!"

Ilya's eyes widened.

"Shit."

"You better not make me drag you out by force. The President is already on edge about this sponsor. Get your ass down here in ten minutes!"

Leo hung up before Ilya could even respond.

Ilya flopped back against the pillows, groaning.

"Of all days..."

Nero lifted his head, his expression softening in confusion.

Ilya glanced at him and sighed.

"I have to go. Work calls."

He sat up slowly, biting his lip as pain shot through him.

"Damn it, I can't even sit properly."

Nero immediately moved to support him, slipping an arm around his waist.

"Gentle, gentle,"

Ilya muttered, leaning into him.

"I can't show up limping to a meeting with a rich perverted man can I?"

Nero tilted his head, clearly not understanding but still hovering close, worried.

Ilya chuckled under his breath.

"Relax. I won't die. But I might if Leo drags me out of here."

Ilya forced himself to stand, steadying himself with Nero's help. He began searching for clean clothes, wincing every now and then.

Before leaving, he paused and looked at Nero.

"I'll be back soon. Stay here, don't open the door for anyone, and don't destroy my place while I'm gone."

Nero didn't understand anything and just watched him with a lingering look of concern, but Ilya managed a small smirk.

"And stop crying. You're too pretty for that."

Ilya leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against Nero's cheek, a small gesture meant to console him. The touch lingered for a second longer than necessary, but it seemed to work.

Nero's wide, honey-colored eyes shimmered with pure adoration, locking onto Ilya with such raw affection that it made Ilya hesitate.

Why does he look at me like that…?

A strange tightness formed in Ilya's chest, making it harder than he expected to turn away.

But he did.

The door clicked shut behind him, the quiet hum of the apartment swallowing the space. Nero remained still in the dimly lit room, the bloodstained sheets untouched beneath him, his gaze fixed on the closed door.

The car ride was oppressively quiet at first, the city blurring past the windows.

Ilya didn't bother to get ready, he just wore a simple brown and white colour sweatshirt and jeans.

Leo's sharp eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, catching sight of Ilya lounging in the passenger seat. The faint, purplish-red love marks scattered along Ilya's neck and collarbone were impossible to ignore.

Leo's lip curled in disgust.

"So, not acting pure anymore ah?" Leo scoffed, his voice laced with mockery.

Ilya, his mind already clouded by exhaustion and lingering pain, blinked in confusion.

"What?"

Leo smirked, eyes still on the road.

"Weren't you playing all innocent to seduce the Vice President? Guess that act's over now."

Ilya's stomach twisted.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

His tone sharpened, though there was an underlying unease in his voice.

"Oh, please."

Leo let out a dry chuckle.

"Come on, the Vice President knows. And so do I."

The words struck Ilya like ice water.

His grip on his phone tightened. Cairo knows?

Ilya had always been careful, convincing himself he'd hidden his feelings well. He thought the glances, the subtle ways he clung to Cairo's attention, were invisible.

But if Cairo knew… then why hadn't he said anything? Why hadn't he stepped in when the President arranged this disgusting meeting?

Ilya's throat felt dry.

He fell into an awkward, suffocating silence, his mind spiraling with questions.

Before he realized it, the car had stopped.

Leo's door slammed shut, snapping Ilya back to reality.

"Move it. Wait for Mr. Evans in the restaurant; the room upstairs is booked."

Ilya let out a shaky breath and stepped out of the car. He had no intentions of even glancing toward Leo as he stepped forward.

"Call him an animal again, and you'll lose your job. I still have enough evidence against you."

Leo repeated the words Ilya had said to him during the outskirts shooting, making Ilya stop in his tracks and turn around.

"Isn't this what you told me, dear Ilya?"

Leo mocked, a proud, victorious smile curling his lips as his eyes lingered on the faint love marks on Ilya's nape.

"It's good you have experience spreading your legs for others, or you might have ended up jobless. Firing me might be impossible, don't you think?"

Ilya had always known that Leo had issues with him, but today, it became clear that Leo had discovered his sexual orientation. That revelation was where all the hate and disgust stemmed from.

Ignoring him, Ilya turned once again toward the entrance of the five-star hotel and restaurant.

"Oh, and remember," Leo called after him, his voice dripping with venom.

"This job is because of my own strength and good work. The company pays me, not you or your animal sex toy!"

Without bothering to respond, Ilya lifted his hand and gave Leo the middle finger as he entered the restaurant, his back straight and his resolve unshaken.

Ilya knew his worth. He is a valuable asset to the company, and Leo would never dare to tarnish his own reputation publicly. However, he also understood the power Evans Corporation held, They were too influential for the company to shield him completely if things escalated.

The private lounge was upscale but suffocating, the dim lights casting long shadows across the polished floors.

Ilya sat tucked away in a corner booth, his mind still spinning.

Just get through this.

"Hey, Ilya!"

The sudden, cheerful voice startled him.

A tall man approached, dressed in an elegant, perfectly tailored suit. His light brown hair was slicked back, and sharp green eyes shone with warmth behind thin-framed glasses. His features carried a subtle blend of Eastern and Western charm, giving him a striking, almost cinematic presence.

"Lucus Evans,"

the man introduced himself casually, extending a hand.

Ilya stared, blinking. This is the president of Evans Corporation?