Chapter 3-Marry Me

I couldn't believe what had just happened. My face felt hot, and I knew I had been staring at the man's bare chest, almost drooling. How embarrassing!

I tried to hide my blush as I realized his eyes had caught mine, still fixed on his chest. I felt like a sinner just for looking.

"Are you comfortable there, Shay?" I heard his voice, smooth and deep. I was about to ask how he knew my name when I saw him walk towards me from a hallway. I realized it was his walk-in closet.

I sat still in his swivel chair, watching him approach. When we had stood face to face earlier, I'd had to tilt my head up just to see his whole face. Compared to Orion's softer features, this man's face was more manly and sharp. A slight mustache added to his strong look. His hair was styled in a mid-fade, and I noticed a piercing glinting in his ear.

He wore only a white tank top and black shorts, yet he oozed power. He didn't look like someone just hanging out; he looked incredibly expensive.

"Thank you for helping me last night," I mumbled, looking away. His gaze was intense, and he hadn't taken his eyes off me.

He sat on his bed, not far from me. One pull of my chair, and I'd be right next to him.

"It was not last night. It was already two days ago, Shay." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His loose tank top shifted, giving me another glimpse of his bare chest.

Two days? My mind raced. How embarrassing. I have been living here.

"Really? Thank you! And I—" I took a long pause, "really need to go home, I was just about to—" I started to stand up, but a sudden tug made me yelp and fall back onto the chair. He had pulled my swivel chair closer to him.

Now I was trapped. He placed both his hands on the sides of my chair, caging me in. Our faces were inches apart, so close that a careless movement could make our lips meet.

I stared into his deep brown eyes, and my breath hitched when his fingers slowly brushed my skin, tracing a line up to my shoulder.

"Shay, you can't go. Outside is so dangerous." Then his finger moved, gently pressing against my lips as I tried to speak, as if trying to silence me. I don't know what came over me, why I couldn't speak, why I couldn't stop him. Even though I knew what he was doing was wrong, I found myself wanting him to continue.

I thought I'd seen him before. I just couldn't quite remember where or when. I felt like his fingers had touched me before. Those eyes had been fixed on me before, and his breath, it smelled like someone I had shared a moment with before.

But I had something important to do outside. I needed to find out who did that to Orion. I needed to clear my name, especially if I was their main suspect.

I slowly took his hand and quickly stood up. I looked at him; his lips curved into a smirk, a hint of red on his face.

"You can't go. You're mine." He claimed.

"W-what? Are you crazy?" I laughed, a nervous, disbelieving sound.

"I don't even know you, and you're saying things like that? And how did you know my name? You're a stalker, aren't you!?" I added. He looked up at me, his gaze so intense it felt like he was devouring me.

"I've known you for a long time, babe. And if you're asking if I am your stalker? Well, sort of."

My eyes widened at his words. I was even more confused. Inside my head, I kept wishing I was just dreaming, that everything was a product of my imagination.

But it wasn't.

"Shay, if you go out, they are looking for you . The police already knew about you, and your face is all over the city," he explained, his eyes filled with concern.

I crossed my arms. "How can I believe you?"

He took out his phone and handed it to me. Hesitantly, I took it, checking if what he was saying was true.

I searched online about what happened, and he wasn't lying.

Everyone was looking for me. People were mad at me. I even saw interviews with Orion's parents and his friends. I was about to click on one when he gently took the phone from my hand.

I don't know why I couldn't cry, maybe it was exhaustion? My heart just ached, and I wanted to disappear for a while. I didn't know what to do. And now, I was stuck with this stranger who joked about being obsessed with me, even though I'd never truly met or seen him before. Maybe I saw him somewhere, but I'm sure we never talked before!

"I know you're still confused right now. But I can help you." My ears perked up at his words.

"How?" I retorted, a defiant edge to my voice.

He grinned, biting his lip. "Marry me."

My eyes popped wide.

What did he think I was? Easy to get? Wow, how bold of him! Even if he was undeniably rich, he couldn't just buy me, even if he could help me. If I could just be his housekeeper in exchange for his help, I'd do it.

"No. I'm leaving here, and I'll clear my name myself."

"I can clear your name. I will face the people who will threaten you. And the only thing they will know about you is you're my wife."

I stared at him for a long time, shaking my head. "That's how rich people are, right? Using money to twist things around? I can just hire my own lawyer to clear my name."

Even though his offer sounded convenient, I wouldn't agree to marry him. Who was he, anyway? I didn't know him, and I didn't want to be tied down to someone until I had truly experienced my own life.

I walked out of the room and saw the woman, not far from the door.

"Ma'am, if you want to eat—"

"No, thank you. I want to leave here." I saw the surprise on her face, and she just nodded.

We went downstairs using what looked like an escalator and headed straight for the exit. Two armed men stood guard outside, and a large fountain stood in front. A car waited at the bottom of the steps, and since it was already noon, the sun beat down brightly.

Even though I didn't want to, they insisted on driving me wherever I needed to go. I had no money—and my cellphone. I must have left it behind. I didn't even try to go back for it; I was afraid I wouldn't be able to leave again.

"Ma'am, is that your house?" The driver, a kind man, called my attention, pointing to a house crowded with people, cameras, and many parked cars. I chose to go home first, thinking I'd feel safer, especially with everything happening, but I underestimated the power of the media.

An elderly man, around 70, stood outside, surrounded by people asking questions.

"F-father..."

I couldn't stop myself from crying at the sight. I knew I hadn't done anything wrong, but I felt so guilty. I wanted to go out and clear my name. My father was involved now. I knew they were looking for me and worried about me.

"Kuya, let's just go back," I told the driver.

I hoped the decision I was about to make was the right one.