“What would you like to have Miss” Theressa jumped, her hand instinctively reaching for her chest. It was the elderly woman from before, Theressa immediately bowed to her again, she had evry reason to be on edge aside from Marcelo that she doesn’t know much about, the rest in this mansion was unfamiliar to her.
“I’m fine with tea,” Theressa replied with a apologetic smile as the elderly woman turned to head toward the kitchen. As she waited for her tea, Theressa’s eyes began to roam around the opulent mansion, taking in its grandeur. She couldn’t help but marvel at the splendor that surrounded her. The twin sweeping staircases, the dark golden walls, and the sparkling golden floor all exuded a sense of luxury that she had only seen in movies before.
Everything in this mansion spoke of immense wealth, and the realization hit her like a wave. She was dining with a billionaire, the CEO of the largest car production company. It all felt so surreal, a glimpse into a world she had only dreamed of. It stirred a pang of longing for what her life could have been if she had made different choices, if she hadn’t been stubborn, if she hadn’t-
“You’re making a mess,” Marcelo’s deep and dominating voice shattered her reverie. Theressa jumped, her tea having spilled onto her feet. The elderly woman had tripped and sat on the floor with a shattered teacup.
“Oh my-” Theressa had bent to help the old lady, but before she could react, Marcelo had already stepped in. “Theressa, go get dressed,” he ordered, surprising her. She was taken aback by his indifference to the old lady’s plight, but she rolled her eyes and picked up the broken pieces of the teacup.
However, her attempt to be helpful was abruptly interrupted when Marcelo yanked her out of her seat. The suddenness of his action startled her, and before she could protest, he had his arm around her waist and his other hand gripping her arms tightly. His fingers dug into her skin, and the pain was undeniable.
“You are hurting me,” Theressa winced, but Marcelo seemed deaf to her pleas as he began to push her forward. She tried to free herself from his grasp, struggling against his overpowering force. As they reached the foot of the grand staircase, her struggles proved futile. Marcelo forcibly picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder, and without a word, he began to ascend the stairs with her.
“Get dressed. now,” Marcelo’s command was swift and unwavering as he deposited Theressa on the bed. Before she could utter a word, he had already vanished into the bathroom, leaving her startled and frustrated, standing alone in the lavish room.
Taking a deep breath, Theressa tightened her fists, resentful of the way Marcelo had asserted his authority. She loathed being silenced and ordered around, and the sense of powerlessness gnawed at her. She walked to the side of the bed, her intention to retrieve her dress. She had expected it to be there, laid out on the bed, or perhaps scattered on the floor, but it was nowhere to be found.
Frowning, her brows furrowed in thought, she tried to retrace her steps from the previous night, recalling every detail. She had been meticulous about keeping her clothes on; that dress was far too expensive to be carelessly discarded. So how had it gone missing?
Pacing around the room, she considered the possibilities, and her eyes fell on Marcelo’s closet. It beckoned her, a double-sized space that dwarfed her living room. With a growing sense of unease, Theressa ventured into the closet, determined to find her missing dress.
“What are you doing in my closet?” Marcelo’s voice disrupted her search, causing her to turn and face him. In that moment, she realized her mistake and immediately regretted it. Theressa gasped as her eyes traveled over him, absorbing the sight of Marcelo, who had only a towel wrapped around his waist. His tanned skin glistened with water droplets, and Theressa’s eyes were drawn to the well-defined muscles of his physique. Marcelo was not just buff; he was massive.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she watched him methodically dry his hair, the damp locks swinging back and forth. It left her momentarily entranced, and she found herself involuntarily uttering a soft, “Wow.”
“Want me to let my towel down to get you a better view?” Marcelo’s nonchalant question sent a shiver down Theressa’s spine. She let out a startled, low-pitched scream and hurriedly turned her back to the clothes hanging in the closet, her face flushing with embarrassment.
Marcelo chuckled at her reaction, but Theressa was not about to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. She took a deep breath, suppressing her unease, and composed herself.
“Where’s my dress?” she questioned, still refusing to face Marcelo.
“Oh, that? Got it burnt,” Marcelo stated matter-of-factly.
Theressa didn’t care about Marcelo’s state of undress; she turned to him with her eyes widened in disbelief. “You did what?!”
“Burnt it. I don’t like it,” Marcelo shrugged as he began to buckle his suit trousers.
Theressa was incensed, her rage building with every word he spoke. She approached Marcelo, her voice sharp with indignation. “Why would you get someone’s clothes burnt just because you don’t like it? Are you insane?!”
“Because I wanted to,” Marcelo replied coolly. Theressa was left stunned by his response. This guy was utterly unhinged, and that was one thing she was now certain about.
“I’ll get you another one on our way,” he added dismissively, as if the matter were of little consequence.
The way Marcelo spoke, his tone devoid of remorse, only served to aggravate Theressa further. Her precious dress had been destroyed, and Marcelo’s indifference to her anger was maddening. She couldn’t simply let this go.
“I don’t care. I’m asking you, who gave you the right to burn my dress?!” Theressa scolded, her voice laced with frustration and anger. In an instant, her world seemed to shift as Marcelo swiftly maneuvered, and she found herself on the bed with him hovering over her. He pinned both her hands to the bed, effectively immobilizing her.
“Look here, I didn’t save you so you could raise your voice at me,” Marcelo stated firmly, his annoyance palpable in his tone. Theressa felt a shiver run up her spine, her breath caught in her throat, and her heart raced. She watched Marcelo breathe out, as if he was trying to ease his anger.
Finally, he released her and stepped away, leaving Theressa lying on the bed, still taken aback by the sudden turn of events. “Grab a suit and meet me downstairs,” Marcelo commanded before making his exit.
Theressa exhaled a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. Marcelo was truly an intimidating figure, and the encounter had left her shaken. She hurried to pick a suit, her thoughts racing as she went through the luxurious selection. Each garment seemed to scream wealth and extravagance, a far cry from her own modest wardrobe.
Eventually, she settled on a black suit, quickly donning it and adjusting the oversized attire to fit her frame as best as she could. With every step she took in her ill-fitting attire, she felt a strange mix of unease and a newfound sense of opulence. Despite the chaos and confusion, she was taking her first steps into a world of wealth and intrigue that she could have never imagined.
Theressa rushed out of Marcelo’s room, making her way down the grand staircase with a sense of wonder at the opulent surroundings. The pristine condition of everything suggested a staff of diligent housekeepers kept the mansion in immaculate order.
A man in a black suit guided her to an underground parking lot, and Theressa’s eyes widened at the sight of the multitude of luxurious cars. “Goddamn,” she muttered to herself, her eyes scanning the impressive collection.
The back seat of a sleek vehicle was opened for her, and as she settled in, she noticed Marcelo already inside, engrossed in his phone, paying her no heed. She crossed her arms, staring out the window, observing the array of cars as they exited the parking lot.
Her mind began to drift, and she couldn’t help but entertain the thought of the cars’ worth. If she could somehow get her hands on one of them, she might be able to clear her debts and even have enough to finance her mother’s much-needed surgery.
Then, reality hit her hard. Her mother’s condition, the medical expenses, and her debts weighed heavily on her. She reached for her phone to respond to a message from the doctor but found that the doctor had messaged her first. The message was heart-wrenching: “Your mom had a seizure, the symptoms are getting worse, and we need to get the surgery done as soon as possible.”
Theressa felt a sharp pain in her chest, a feeling of helplessness as she realized that her mother’s life was slipping away, and she had no solution. She fought back tears, her mind racing for a way out.
Then, a difficult decision crossed her mind, one that would require her to swallow her pride but could potentially save her mother’s life. Theressa turned to face Marcelo, whose gaze had never left her.
“What is it you want?” Marcelo inquired, as if he had already read her thoughts.
Theressa cleared her throat before getting straight to the point, setting aside her pride in her desperation. “You said I should reach out to you if I still wanted the job,” she began. “What if I want it now?”
Marcelo tilted his head, his eyes locking onto hers as he considered her question. “You would have to give me something,” he replied.
Theressa pressed for clarification, her heart racing as Marcelo leaned in closer, his fingers inching towards her. Their faces were so close, and she couldn’t tear her gaze away from Marcelo’s lips. Her pulse quickened as he revealed his condition.
“You, let me own you.”
Theressa’s heart stopped, and her world seemed to tilt on its axis. This was the precipice of a new chapter in her life, one filled with uncertainty, and she couldn’t determine whether it would lead to redemption or further despair.