The Wrong Mark

Chapter 7

~LEONARDO RESIDENT ~~~

Mariana lay against Leo’s chest, her eyes closed, but her mind restless. His fingers gently combed through her hair, drawing slow, comforting lines.

"It's late. I should get going now," she mumbled.

Leo exhaled heavily. "You're leaving me… to spend the night at another man’s house."

Her head lifted instantly, meeting his troubled gaze. “Are you jealous?”

He shifted away slightly. “I don’t know.”

He made a move to get off the bed, but she pulled him back down, crawling on top of him.

"Are you angry?" she asked softly.

He smiled despite himself, his hands instinctively finding her waist as her head returned to his chest.

“No. I trust you,” he said, and she cupped his face with her hands.

She leaned in and ran her tongue lightly across his lips, teasing.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a chuckle, his hands sliding down to grab her ass.

She circled her tongue again before taking his bottom lip into her mouth, drawing a moan from him.

“Mmm…” he groaned, flipping her onto her back. He was on top now, his hand slipping beneath her top. She shut her eyes as he squeezed her breast gently, then raised her shirt and pulled off her bra. His smile widened at the sight of her bare skin.

He was about to kiss her chest when his phone rang.

He hesitated, sighed, and reached for it. Anna (Mariana) opened her eyes as he answered.

She watched as he murmured into the phone, his voice low. The call ended quickly.

“Who was that?” she asked, trying to read his face.

“Just a friend,” he said, walking back to the bed.

“A friend?” Her brow furrowed.

“I swear, just a friend,” he said, pulling her in.

“I need to go now,” she said, starting to dress. But Leo wasn’t ready to let her go. He grabbed her hand and pinned her gently to the mattress, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What are you doing?” she asked warily.

He said nothing—just leaned down and sucked on her neck, hard, letting his teeth graze her skin.

“Ow—Leo, stop. It hurts,” she whispered.

He pulled away slowly.

“What was that for?” she asked.

He pecked her lips and whispered, “You still haven’t told me who you married.”

Anna stiffened. She knew she couldn’t tell him. If Leo found out it was Alessandro, he would go off the rails—and maybe get himself killed.

“He’s not that important, darling,” she said dismissively, fixing her top and packing her things.

“I’ll drive you,” he offered.

She shook her head. “No. I’ll be fine.”

“Please,” he pleaded, reaching for her hand—but she was already halfway to the door.

“I love you,” she said quickly and pecked him goodbye before leaving.

Leo sat on the bed, silent.

His heart was caving in, but he kept the smile on for her sake. He was not okay. He couldn’t be. Just thinking of another man touching her—his Anna—tore something inside him apart.

He sighed and walked toward the bathroom.

---

The house was too quiet.

No maids. No footsteps. Not even the soft clink of cutlery in the kitchen. Something felt… off.

Mariana stepped in cautiously, her heels echoing faintly through the vast hallway. She was on her way to her room when she noticed someone—a woman—sitting elegantly on the living room couch.

She narrowed her eyes.

“Who is she?” Mariana muttered to herself. She was about to ignore her when the woman spoke.

“Hey.”

Anna stopped, turning slightly. “Hi.”

The woman stood and walked closer, her gaze sharp and judgmental, scanning Mariana from head to toe.

She was tall, though not as tall as Mariana. Fair-skinned, with long blonde hair that cascaded in gentle waves down her back. Her eyes were an icy blue, her figure slim and graceful—model-like.

But Mariana already knew her type. High-end, polished, and paid to be here.

Sitara.

She was Alessandro’s slut—the kind who wasn’t shy about it. Everyone who mattered knew it. She’d always been around his house, available whenever he needed to clear his head or relieve his stress. He never kissed her, never whispered sweet nothings, but he used her, and she got paid. Every single time. A transactional arrangement with no feelings—except for one problem: Sitara was in love with him.

“Hi?” the woman snapped. “Do you even know who I am? How dare a maid talk to me like that?”

Before Mariana could respond, Madam Gloria stepped out from the kitchen.

“Miss Sitara, please calm down—”

“Who is she?” Sitara barked.

Mariana stepped forward, pushing Gloria gently aside. “That should be my question. Who are you, and what are you doing in my wing?”

Sitara let out a laugh. “Your wing? Who the hell is this crazy bitch?”

“Oh,” Anna replied, eyes cold, “You’re calling me a bitch? Well, what do you call a woman who visits a man’s house this late—if not a slut on assignment?”

Sitara's face turned red. “Did you just call me a slut?!”

She raised her hand to slap Mariana—

“Touch her and dig your own grave.”

The voice was ice.

They all turned to see Alessandro walk in, hands in his pockets, eyes locked on Mariana.

He was still in his work clothes—dark suit, undone tie, power radiating off him in waves.

“San!” Sitara rushed to him, clinging to his arm. “She called me a slut!”

Anna rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t acted like one.”

“Who do you think you are?” Sitara screamed. “Why don’t you leave, bitch?”

Alessandro’s voice dropped.

“Leave.”

Everyone froze.

Mariana turned to him, eyes narrowing.

“You heard him. Leave!” Sitara smirked.

But Alessandro turned his gaze on her. “Are you stupid? Why is she the one leaving?”

Sitara blinked.

“Leave, Sitara. My wife feels uncomfortable around strangers.”

Silence. Sitara’s jaw dropped.

“Wife?” she gasped.

Alessandro nodded once. “Now leave.”

Sitara glared at Mariana with venom but said nothing as she stormed out.

Mariana turned to go to her room, her chest tight with a mess of emotions.

“Why are you late?” Alessandro’s voice stopped her.

“Why do you care?” she replied coldly.

He took a step closer, and she instinctively stepped back.

“You don’t get to question me, little kitten. Answer me.”

She kept backing up until her back hit the wall.

He stood in front of her, gaze locked on her neck.

“Wh... what are y-you doing?” she stammered.

“This is my house, kitten.”

“But this is my wing. We’re married—”

“Oh? So now you remember we’re married?” he whispered, grabbing her wrist and pulling her closer. His breath ghosted against her skin, his eyes burning holes into her neck.

"Why does a married woman have a hickey on her neck that I didn’t give her?”

Her eyes widened.

“Damn it, Leo…”

"It looks fresh, kitten,” he whispered, dragging his thumb across the mark. 

“What have you been up to?”