The Runaway Mrs Dela Merced ( English )

Chapter- 5

I felt like someone was watching me.

I opened my eyes slowly. I reached out in the dark before I made out a shadow at the end of the bed. Blurry. I forced my eyes open wider. And I almost jumped when I recognized who it was.

Vincent.

Standing at the end of the bed.

I bolted upright, eyes wide. Vincent was staring right at me. He wore a white long-sleeve shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His tie was crooked, like he’d yanked it and never bothered to fix it. And I had to admit that even in the faint glow from the lampshade, his looks cut through. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes, but his jaw was sharper. His gaze darker. More dangerous.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, startled. I had to speak so I wouldn’t keep analyzing him. He was distracting me. My handsome husband.

“Dinner’s ready. I was about to call you,” he answered. That voice, baritone and a little hoarse, like he’d just woken up, sent a shiver down the back of my neck and straight down my spine.

“Why the hell are you here?” I snapped, trying to cover my nerves. And I noticed him glancing at my body. That was when I realized.

I looked down fast.

“Aaaahhhh!” I screamed and yanked the blanket up, wrapping myself to my chin. I’d forgotten I was only in black underwear.

“s**t,” I whispered to myself.

“Get out! You pervert!” I shouted over and over. But he just stood there, staring at my body wrapped in the blanket. Like he didn’t care about my shouting.

I felt my cheeks burn.

“Are you deaf? I said get out! Get the hell out of my room!” I shouted again. I tightened my grip on the blanket.

“Why would I do that when I like what I see here?” he answered seriously and smirked.

“Have you been watching me?”

“Enough to realize my wife actually has a beautiful body,” he answered, smirking.

I shivered at his answer. Especially when he stressed the word wife.

I grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. But he caught it before it hit his face.

“You are nothing but a pervert! You maniac!” I shouted, furious. I was red with anger and embarrassment.

“Well, sorry, this pervert, maniac is your husband! Get up. After dinner, we’re going home,” he said.

“Going home?” I repeated his last words. And suddenly I remembered what my dad said. He brought me back because he wanted me and Vincent to live together as husband and wife.

“The hell no!” I shouted. And without thinking, I threw off the blanket and got out of bed to face Vincent.

“No way! In your dreams that I’ll go with you to your house! I didn’t come back to San Miguel just to be with you! And I have no plans to live in your house! I especially have no plans to be with you! Get out of here! Go to your damn home! Leave me alone!” I shouted at him, furious. I practically lost it in front of him just to let out my resentment.

But he just kept staring at me. No emotion showing. While I was practically exploding with anger.

“You heard me, right? Get out! I know what you and my dad planned! Well, I’m sorry, Mr. dela Merced! You can’t force me to go with you! You can’t make me live in your house!” I shouted again. My chest was rising and falling with anger.

“Why didn’t I notice before how beautiful your body is,” he said. Like he didn’t hear anything I just said. He looked at me from head to toe. I knew he could see everything now. And I’d admit there was a strange shiver I felt every time Vincent looked at my body. Strange in a way I’d never felt in my entire life.

“Oh, God. I can’t believe you, Vincent,” I whispered and sighed. I glanced at Vincent. I could see the desire he wasn’t even hiding in his eyes.

I didn’t cover myself anymore. I knew somehow I was making it hard for him. In that way, I was getting back at him. I was used to being seen in a swimsuit. In England, I was always at the beach with friends. And I didn’t care if some guys stared. So what? They can’t have me. That’s what I always told myself when I got annoyed at stares that looked like they wanted to devour me whole.

But Vincent’s stare was different. Just thinking that he was struggling made me feel satisfied. Add the strange shiver he sent through my whole body.

“You’re damn sexy, Ella. I guess four years of waiting is enough,” he said, and I frowned.

He stepped closer to me. I stepped back.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, frowning. Whether I admitted it or not, I was nervous, especially because he kept coming closer and I kept backing away to avoid him. Until I felt the bed against the back of my knees.

“Damn,” I cursed to myself.

“Stop!” I yelled and put my hands on his chest to stop him from coming closer. But I pulled my hands back fast, like I’d been burned.

“What?” he asked. And suddenly he pulled me by the waist.

I gasped when my almost bare chest slammed into his hard chest. I felt his hot palm on my waist. My eyes went wide when I looked into his eyes full of desire. I quickly looked away and struggled again to break free from his tight grip.

“Let me go!” I fought him. But Vincent only pressed me harder against his body. I could feel his hot hand tighten on my waist. It sent bolts of electricity through my entire body. And his other hand lifted my chin so our eyes would meet.

“You owe me, remember?” he whispered. I could already feel his hot breath on my cheek. I could smell his masculine cologne. It was familiar, intoxicating, and it amplified his s*x appeal that was honestly alarming to me.

Something inside me was waking up. Something I couldn’t name. I didn’t understand it. But I knew it was dangerous.

Vincent really had a different effect on me. He could still make my heart race. And make me feel something strange in my body.

“Let me go! I don’t owe you anything!” I managed to say while I could barely breathe from nerves and from how hard my chest was pounding.

“No, sweetheart. You owe me a honeymoon.”

At his words, I opened my mouth to protest, but no words came out of my lips. Because Vincent covered them with his.

My eyes were wide while his lips forced themselves on mine. I struggled and tried to break free. But his grip on my waist was tight. And his other hand held my face so I couldn’t turn away. And I could feel the hardness of Vincent’s body pressing into me. It made my skin prickle even more.

His kiss was rough and angry. It hurt. I felt like Vincent didn’t care if my lips got hurt. He kissed me carelessly. Like I wasn’t his wife.

Tears suddenly fell. I knew I wasn’t a wife to Vincent. And I never would be to him. He hated me and, most of all, he didn’t love me. That’s why he treated me like this. Like a rag. Used without care.

“Damn!” Vincent cursed and pushed me. I fell onto the soft bed. I quickly wiped the tears that fell and glanced at Vincent. I saw anger and desire in his eyes. Mixed, opposite, but both terrifying.

“Don’t you dare do that again! Don’t touch me again! Don’t kiss me again!” I shouted, angry. My chest rose and fell with fury.

“Why not? You are my wife,” he answered. Like the word wife was poison in his mouth.

“Yes! We’re married, but only on paper! You have no right to kiss me! We’re not a real couple!” I shouted at him. If anyone should be angry right now, it was me. Because of his reckless kiss.

“Why not?! Do you have a lover you left in England?” he asked and gave me a sharp look. If looks could kill, I’d be dead already.

“Answer my question! Do you have a lover?” he asked again, veins almost popping in his neck.

I lifted my chin and met his angry eyes. I answered proudly.

“YES!” I lied.

And suddenly I felt his hard hand on my arm.

“What the hell?”

“Who the hell is your lover?”

“Let me go! You’re hurting me!”

“Answer my question! Damn you!”

“Ouch, Vincent!” I cried while writhing in pain. I felt like all his fingers were digging into my arm from how tight he was holding me. Add his fierce face as he stared at me, waiting for an answer. I wanted to regret lying to him because of the rage I saw on his face. Like he was ready to kill me any second.

“Who?!” he shouted, making me flinch.

“He is my… He’s Patrick. One of my friends. I met him be—”

“Shut up!” he shouted. He tightened his grip on my arm even more.

“Ouch, Vincent. You’re hurting me!”

“Break up with that damn asshole! You’re married, for God’s sake! Damn you!” he cursed at me.

“How can you do that?” he asked angrily, teeth nearly breaking from fury, eyes bulging with rage.

“Why? You did the same thing! I know you are still with Caroline! And—”

“Don’t throw my words back at me!” he cut off what I was going to say, vicious.

“From now on, you can’t leave the country! Tell that asshole you’re married. You’re a Mrs. dela Merced!” he ordered through gritted teeth, unable to control his anger.

“If I don’t?” I challenged and lifted my face to meet his furious eyes. I wanted to look brave. I’d already started the lie and I would finish it.

“Don’t push me, Ella! You won’t like what I’ll do!” he threatened and raked his eyes over me. My whole body trembled.