Chapter 5

Marcelo awoke with a languid stretch, his body still heavy with the remnants of sleep. Yawning, he made his way to the window, his steps silent against the cold wooden floor. 

The first rays of the morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting a soft glow across the room.

As his gaze swept over the bed, his eyes settled on Georgina's form. The sight of her stirred something within him, a mixture of desire and satisfaction. 

But to Georgina, his presence was nothing short of repugnant, a reminder of the night that had forever changed her.

Georgina squinted her eyes, the sunlight dancing upon her face as she tried to shield herself from its intrusion. 

She peered at Marcelo through narrowed eyes, observing him as he stood by the window, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. 

Everything about him disgusted her, every fiber of her being recoiling from the memories that lingered in the air.

Sensing his presence drawing near, Georgina instinctively closed her eyes, feigning slumber. She hoped that by appearing unaware, she could protect herself from his invasive touch. 

Marcelo moved closer, his steps gentle yet purposeful, his fingers tracing a path across her face. 

She held her breath, her body tense with anticipation, willing herself to remain still until he departed.

The scent of him filled the air as he bent down, his lips grazing her skin, leaving a trail of shivers in their wake. 

Marcelo was intoxicated by her, his desires simmering beneath the surface. Every inch of her body aroused him, fueling a hunger that gnawed at his very core.

He bent down, inhaling her delicate scent, his desire for her palpable in the air. "You're all mine," he whispered huskily, his voice laden with an unsettling mix of possessiveness and lust. 

Every inch of her stirred his desires, feeding the dark craving within him.

Georgina fought the urge to recoil, her heart pounding in her chest. She yearned for him to leave, to grant her a moment of respite. And then, like a whisper, the sound of the room door closing reached her ears. It was her cue. 

With a trembling hand, she reached up to brush away the remnants of Marcelo's touch, her fingers tracing a trail across her face, trying to erase the lingering sensation.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Georgina slowly opened her eyes. The room seemed different, the air heavy with unspoken tension. She sat up, her body achingly aware of the night that had passed. 

Georgina sat up in bed, her tear-streaked face reflecting a mix of despair and disbelief. "How the hell did I end up here?" she whispered to herself, her voice filled with a combination of regret and resignation. 

The deed had been done, and she was bound to him by vows she never wanted to make.

Determined to wash away the remnants of the previous night, she made her way to the bathroom, her steps heavy with the weight of her emotions. 

The sound of running water filled the room as she turned on the shower, hoping that its cleansing touch could somehow rid her body of Marcelo's lingering scent. 

She stood beneath the warm streams for what felt like an eternity, as if trying to wash away not only the physical traces but also the emotional turmoil that threatened to consume her.

Stepping out of the shower, her body wrapped in a robe, Amelia walked up to the mirror to face herself. The mundane act of searching for a brush to tame her tangled hair became a moment of shock and terror. 

As she opened the drawer, her eyes widened in horror at the sight before her—an ominous black customized gun lay nestled among the innocent objects. 

A gasp escaped her lips, and she screamed in fear.

Just then, Marcello entered the room, his presence filling the space with an air of authority. He glanced at her with a mixture of amusement and indifference as he took in her distress. 

"What? You've never seen a gun before?" he said with a sardonic smile, his voice laced with arrogance. 

He walked towards her, effortlessly picking up the weapon from the drawer, the weight of it held in his hand.

Amelia trembled as he trailed the gun around her body, the metal cold against her skin, a stark reminder of the danger that surrounded her. 

Marcello leaned in, his breath brushing against her ear as he whispered, "It's a normal thing around here, my dear. A means to deal with people who don’t listen. I hope you understand."

Her tears continued to flow, silent sobs escaping her as she nodded in response, her voice choked by fear and resignation. 

Marcelo's lips pressed against Georgina's delicate neck, his grip firm but possessive. "I need you," he whispered, his voice tinged with urgency. 

Tears welled up in Georgina's eyes as a mixture of fear and resignation washed over her. She nodded her head in agreement.

But Marcelo demanded more. His voice boomed with authority, echoing through the room. "No! I want to hear you say it," he bellowed.

Georgina's wail escaped her trembling lips, her voice choked with surrender. "Yes... I'm yours," she managed to utter, her admission weighing heavily on her heart. 

Marcelo's lips left her neck and descended upon her trembling mouth, capturing her in a forceful yet tender kiss. He wiped away her tears.

"Don't worry, your father's debt is cleared, all thanks to you." The weight of those words sank deep into Georgina's soul.

Marcelo released his grip, his attention captured by the sudden intrusion of Greta, the Chief maid, bursting into the room.

"Oh... I'm sorry, I didn't know you were busy," Greta stammered, her voice filled with embarrassment. 

Marcelo's demeanour softened as he reassured her. "It's fine, Greta. Give her the dress and show her around," he said, allowing Georgina a momentary reprieve. 

As soon as Marcelo departed, Georgina took a deep breath, feeling a momentary relief wash over her. 

Greta approached her cautiously, concern etched on her face. "Are you alright, Miss Georgina?" she asked, her voice filled with empathy.

Georgina looked up at Greta, her eyes filled with exhaustion and despair. "How can I be?" she murmured inaudibly her voice choked with emotion.