Before Cara could rush towards the wrap-around balcony to make her escape, the door was pushed open, and in walked a furious Marcus Donnelly. He glared at her as she stood like a statue with the tray in her hand, like a deer caught in the headlights.
From a distance, she could feel the anger and fury emanating from him. A tremor ran down her spine, and she gulped with fright as he approached her like a predator. Would he punish her? Cara gulped more and looked down at her feet, trembling like a leaf by now.
“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Donnelly. I just came to get the tray,” she mumbled out of fear. He came to a stop right in front of her, his eyes like burning coals as they bored right into hers.
“How dare you come here without my permission? Get out,” he said with clenched teeth. Cara looked up and gaped at him with shock. Was he the same man who had come over to her house and made friends with her siblings?
“I won’t warn you again. Next time I see you enter my studio, I’ll not spare you, Cara. You will be punished,” he gritted out. Cara nodded and, hanging her head with guilt, she rushed out of the studio, swearing in her head, never to set foot in the place ever again.
After she left, Marcus closed his eyes and counted to a hundred to calm himself down. He himself was at his wit’s end. After two years of inactivity, now all he could paint was Cara Rose Sullivan, a girl eight years younger and almost forbidden to him. He tried his best to sketch something else, but his hand seemed to have a mind of its own and he produced three sketches of Cara already.
Thankfully, she only saw one of them. Still, what she might have thought of him? She might laugh at his inability! Did she understand how obsessed he had become with her? So much obsessed that seeing her laugh and eat at old Ben Duncan’s place had made him intensely jealous.
Why couldn’t she eat at his house? Had he asked her not to? Why couldn’t she be happy and carefree with him the way she was there at his old security guard’s house?
He immediately repented having blasted her, but what options did he have? He didn’t want her to see his art studio being filled up with paintings of only her! This was the best way to keep her away from the place.
As he sighed and picked up his easel and brush to fill colors into the sketch of the diva under the flashlights, he gasped at the effect. It looked just like the real Cara, alive and lifelike!
Cara dragged on with her cleaning. Later, she made dinner for Marcus Donnelly and completed all her work for the day. After that encounter in his studio, she hadn’t met him thankfully, and steered clear of him and his studio.
Having completed her work for the day, she wondered whether she should go up there and ask for permission to leave! She had to go home and get ready for her performance at Kingston Club, but with her whole body aching; she didn’t feel like going there at all.
Taking a deep breath, Cara went towards his studio at last. She stood outside the door and knocked softly. No answer! After trying three times, she pushed the door open and peered inside. There was no one inside! What would she do now? She walked away towards his bedroom. Would he be there?
She knocked on his bedroom door and waited. Again, no answer. She pushed the door open and peered inside. There was no one. Now, this was getting creepy! She needed to leave, and it seemed Marcus Donnelly had just vanished from his house.
Sighing, she went inside to check the walk-in closet and washroom. If he wasn’t there, then she would go to the gym room to check. Just as she had expected, he wasn’t there in the closet. Turning, she walked towards the en-suite when the door flew open, and out emerged Marcus Donnelly, wrapped in nothing but a towel.
It brought back memories of the day he had walked in the same way when she had emerged from his washroom! That dreadful day.
Her eyes widened at seeing his freshly showered damp body with water droplets glistening like crystals all over his ripped torso. She had never seen a man this gorgeous in all her life. His sun-kissed, bare body was enough to turn on even a stone, but her condition was worse than that of a stone. She couldn’t indulge in such frivolous ways, nor could she afford to anger him again. She didn’t want to lose this job.
“I’m s-sorry, sir. I was just looking for you. My work is done. Please c-can I leave?” she asked, keeping her eyes trained on the floor. She didn’t want to be caught checking him out.
“How can you just walk in anywhere you want to? You should have knocked and waited outside,” he growled, coming closer to her.
“I knocked, sir,” she mumbled as fear seemed to grip her tongue, making her incapable of speech. He didn’t seem to be in the mood to listen to any reason as he continued to approach her.
Cara’s breath hitched seeing him move in her direction. She looked up with scared eyes and stepped backward. With every step he took in her direction, she took two backward, ready to flee from the room.
“Can I l-leave sir?” She tried again, but he didn’t answer her at all. Cara gasped as she hit the wall behind her. When did it close? She hadn’t closed it. To her horror, Marcus stopped inches away from her, blocking all her chances of an escape.
“Why are you here, Cara? Do you want me to lose my sh*t totally?” he whispered hoarsely, pinning her against the wall with his body. Cara’s eyes widened and her breath hitched when his hot bare chest touched hers, scorching her, burning her. A strange throbbing started deep down inside her, something which she had never experienced before.
“I-I..,” she stammered, attempting to stay sane. He raised his hand and trailed his index finger downwards, starting at her cheeks.
“Tell me, why did you come to my room? Do you want me to kiss you?” he asked in a husky whisper, his eyes drinking her in. Her baby-soft skin made him delirious and crazy. He could touch her all day and never get tired. She was like a drug to ease all the blocks that he was facing.
Cara’s mind was in turmoil. The gentle caress of his roughened hands on her cheek, his warm breath fanning her face, the intoxicating scent of his body wash and the hard, ripped length of him pressed against her own body were creating sensations inside her she had never felt before.
Her eyes closed on their own and she leaned into his caress, inhaling the magical scent of his body. The throbbing increased and she could feel how wet and aroused she was.
“Cara, kiss me,” he whispered, leaning in to graze his mouth against her neck, just below her ear. A shudder went down her body, bringing her back to reality with a jolt. She opened her eyes and looked at the fire burning in his eyes. Had she unleashed an animal?
“I n-need to go, Mr. Donnelly,” she gasped at last. It took all her willpower to decline what he was asking her for. He raised his head and stared back at her. A nerve twitched near his jawline as he tried to control the anger and frustration boiling inside him. How could she decline him? How could she not feel anything for him when he was going crazy about her?
“Not so easily. You broke a rule twice and got caught twice. You need to be punished,” he said menacingly, making Cara’s eyes widen with fear.
“I come in and clean without your permission, sir,” said Cara, trying to put some sense into his head. He shook his head slowly, not releasing her at all.
“That’s different. When I’m occupying a room, it’s basic courtesy to knock,” he pointed out.
“I did, sir. You weren’t there, so I walked in to check,” she argued. He grabbed her by her chin and compelled her to look straight into his eyes.
“You should have waited outside and called my name. Since you didn’t, you need to be punished,” he said, his face closer to hers as he gazed into her eyes, taking in the shocked expression on her face.
His glance fell to her lips, and he leaned in more. His hand traveled from her chin to the nape to steady her. Cara’s heartbeats sped up as she realized he was going to kiss her. She placed her hands on his bare chest, but instead of pushing him away, she found herself leaning in more into him.
At that point, she knew that her traitorous body wasn’t listening to her mind at all. Instead of wanting to escape, it seemed to want Marcus Donnelly, of all the people on earth.
“Sir,” she started in a whisper to make him realize what he was up to, but it seemed futile. He wasn’t even listening to her.
“Marcus,” he prompted her. “Call me that and I’ll reconsider the punishment,” he whispered, but she didn’t call him even once by his name. Maybe she wanted to be punished, after all.