Bíllonaire lover, a forbidden romance

Chapter 3

Hello, Mia,” a deep yet soothing voice called her name. She turned to see Marco standing before her, holding a sleek umbrella that shielded them from the relentless rain.

His gaze bore into hers, and she felt a rush of shyness and embarrassment, leaving her momentarily speechless.wondering how he knew her name

“Why are you walking in the rain? Don’t you know you’ll catch a cold?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Mia replied, trying to downplay her discomfort.

“Where are you headed?” he asked, his expression turning stern.

“Home,” she answered.

Mia found Marco’s presence intimidating, and unease washed over her. Not knowing what else to do, she began to turn away from him. But Marco gently grasped her wrist, stopping her. He held out the umbrella. “Take it; you need it more than I do.”

“I can’t accept it,” Mia protested.

“Will you stop being stubborn, young lady?” Marco insisted, his tone softening. As she reluctantly accepted the umbrella, he removed his coat and draped it over her shoulders to shield her from the cold. Just then, a car pulled up, and Marco stepped inside.

Mia watched as the vehicle drove away until it vanished from sight.

Afterward, she flagged down a cab that took her home, her mind replaying the encounter until she drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, thoughts of how to return Marco’s umbrella and coat filled her mind. Then it struck her: she still had his wallet. Later that day, she set off to trace his house. When she arrived, she was awestruck by the magnificent estate before her.

Marco's home was a stunning blend of elegance and opulence. tall, arched windows gleamed under the soft sunlight. Lush gardens flanked the entrance, filled with vibrant flowers and meticulously trimmed hedges, exuding an air of refined luxury. A grand oak door, embellished with ornate carvings, stood as the gateway to a world of sophistication within.

Mia knew that security would not let her inside, so she showed them Marco's wallet and his coat, which bore his name elegantly embroidered on the inside. They instructed her to wait outside, and moments later, Jenny emerged, casting a disdainful look in Mia’s direction.

“I was told you have Marco’s belongings. Hand them over,” she demanded.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t give them to you,” Mia replied. “I have to return them to Marco in person.”

Jenny scoffed, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Such effrontery from a thief.”

Mia shot daggers at Jenny but managed a smile. “I’m not a thief, ma’am. If I were, I wouldn’t be returning these.”

“Spare me this trash and just hand them over.”

“Who do you think you are?” Mia shot back, her voice rising.

“I am Marco’s wife,” Jenny declared, her expression firm.

“Please, ma’am, you need to leave now,” a voice interjected from behind. Mia turned and recognized Marco's driver, feeling a pang of guilt for her previous hostility. She quickly apologized and handed over the wallet and coat before leaving the premises, stepping out onto the street.

As she walked away, she murmured to herself, “You know what, Mia? Just forget this ever happened and focus on your normal life.”

Soon, her phone buzzed with a call from Peter. “Hello, Mia! I think I’ve found a new job for you. I’ll forward you the address; it’s for a housekeeper position. Are you okay with that?”

“Sure,” Mia replied, relief washing over her. “Anything beats working at a club.” Peter sent her the address along with the job criteria, and Mia felt a surge of excitement at least the pay would cover her bills.

She called her dad to check on him and sent a little money from her savings, omitting any mention of her unpleasant experience at the club, knowing he wouldn’t approve if he found out.

As the days passed, Mia gradually moved on from the ordeal at the club. Now healthy, she returned to her work at the grocery store while preparing for her interview for the domestic staff position.

Although many applicants were vying for the job, only three were selected, and Mia was thrilled to secure a role that fit her schedule perfectly, allowing her to work two jobs each day.

As she settled into her new position, she enjoyed cleaning the spacious house and grew fond of the chef, Mr. Martin, often assisting him in the kitchen. With each passing day, she learned new culinary skills and honed her abilities.

“Mr. Martin,” Mia called out one day, “is it only Mrs. Bianca who lives in this enormous house with all the housekeepers?”

“Not at all, Mia,” he replied. “Her son visits and spends some time with her , but her husband seldom comes around.”

Mia was asked to clean one of the rooms she had never entered before. It was as spacious as Mrs. Bianca’s, a testament to the house’s grandeur. As she stepped inside, her gaze was immediately drawn to the room’s stunning design.

The deep mahogany furniture, the plush rugs, and the soft, ambient lighting all spoke of understated luxury. The bed, grand and elegant, was draped in silken sheets, and the walls were adorned with art, but none stood out more than the enormous portrait of Marco hanging above the fireplace.

His likeness was striking a confident, brooding figure with sharp eyes that seemed to follow her.Captivated by the portrait, Mia found herself walking toward it, her fingers gently tracing its edges. She was lost in thought when the sound of footsteps behind her snapped her back to reality. She turned, and there stood

Marco unsmiling, his gaze fixed on her. He wore nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist, water glistening on his well-built chest and dripping from his wet hair, trailing down to his toes.

He had just stepped out of the shower, and the sight of him left Mia momentarily speechless.Her eyes widened in shock, and she finally managed to stammer, “I’m so sorry,” before quickly turning to leave.“Stop,” Marco ordered, his voice low but commanding.

He moved toward her with a quiet intensity, each step deliberate, until he stood only an arm’s length away. Mia kept her eyes down, heart racing, her nerves on edge.“I assume you’re the new maid,” he said, his voice as cold as it was deep.“Yes, sir,” Mia muttered, still avoiding his gaze.“Interesting,” Marco mused, his voice husky. He lifted her chin with his hand, forcing her to look into his eyes. “You returned my wallet and coat.

That was unnecessary.”Mia, still bewildered, thought, " How rude, no thank you? But before she could react, Marco’s gaze softened slightly, do you wanna watch me get dressed,he asked

No sir, Mia said and quickly left the room, her heart still pounding in her chest.

—---------

Later, when Mia helped Chef Martin with dinner, she casually asked, “Mr. Martin, you’re preparing a lot of food tonight. Are there guests coming?”“Oh yes,” Martin replied. “Marco, Mrs. Bianca’s son, is home, and they’re expecting someone else.”Mia paused, surprised. “Marco is Mrs. Bianca’s son?”Martin noticed her reaction and smiled. “Yes.

Why do you look so surprised? Is something on your mind?”Mia quickly shook her head, smiling to mask her confusion. “No, nothing at all.”When it was time to serve dinner, Mia carried a tray of juice into the dining room.

As she approached the table, her eyes locked with Jenny’s. Panic surged through her. What if she tells Marco or Mrs. Bianca about our previous encounter?In her distraction, Mia slipped.

Before she could hit the ground, Marco was there, catching her just in time. Their eyes met for a brief, breathless moment, but the glass cups she had been carrying shattered against the floor.“You silly girl!” Jenny screamed.

Mia quickly pulled away from Marco’s grasp, bowing her head in shame as she apologized profusely.“What were you thinking? Clean this up immediately!” Mrs Bianca ordered.Hands shaking.

Mia knelt to gather the broken glass, her heart heavy with embarrassment.

After cleaning up, she rushed outside, overwhelmed by everything that had happened. Tears pricked at her eyes as she wondered why it seemed like everything was going wrong.

Lady Rose, one of the chefs, followed her outside. She gently wiped Mia’s tears and whispered words of comfort, assuring her that everything would be alright.

Mia nodded, grateful for her kindness, but still shaken. She hurried back inside to clean Marco’s room, hoping to finish before he returned.

At the end of the day, as Mia left the house, Marco pulled up beside her in his car.“Get in,” he said, his voice stern, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.Reluctantly, Mia slid into the passenger seat. As they drove, she realized this wasn’t the way to her home.“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice soft but tense.

Marco didn’t respond, just continued driving until they arrived at the city’s footbridge. He stepped out, opened the door for Mia, and they began to walk along the bridge. The evening was cool, the sky lit with a scattering of stars, and the city lights glittered below them.

Mia tried to stay calm, but her mind raced, wondering why he had brought her here.“So,” Marco began, finally looking into her face, “tell me about yourself.”Mia hesitated before speaking. “I’m Mia Dawson. I live alone.

I lost my mom, and that... that tragedy affected my dad deeply. He’s staying with my grandma now, recovering. I dropped out of school to support him and my little sister.”“I’m sorry about your loss,” Marco said, his voice softer than before.“Thank you,” Mia replied, surprised by his sudden warmth.

They walked in silence for a few moments before Marco turned to her again. “You’re beautiful,” he said, his eyes lingering on her face.

Mia’s heart skipped a beat, but before she could respond, Marco asked, “What were you thinking when you slipped back there at the house?”Mia’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t slip. Your... wife tripped me.”“What?” Marco asked, his tone darkening, his expression hardening.

Realizing her mistake, Mia quickly backtracked. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Please forget I mentioned it.” She walked ahead, trying to escape further questioning, but Marco easily caught up to her.“Jenny isn’t my wife,” he said, his voice low but firm.Mia blinked in surprise. “But... she said she thought to herself.”They walked together for a while longer, exchanging thoughts and getting to know one another.

By the time Marco dropped Mia off at her home, she felt a mix of confusion and intrigue.“Thank you, sir,” she said quietly, bowing slightly before stepping out of the car and into her house.Determined to put her best effort into both of her jobs, Mia resolved to avoid any trouble with Jenny.

She handled the harsh customers at the grocery store the same way she now handled Jenny gracefully but with caution.