“Married to a Monster”

CHAPTER 9

Lucien wasn't used to being looked down upon. He was always at the top, the head of the Valderama Group, heir to his father's empire, and the king of every room he entered. But earlier... in the very living room of his home, a woman had glared at him with a look that was not respectful, but rather courageous.

Clara Evangelista.

His ride from Valderama Tower was silent. All he could hear was the gentle sound of the V12 engine of his customized black Maybach. He was alone inside, he didn't want anyone to be with him when he needed to think.

Pero imbes na mga numbers sa bagong merger o detalye ng security breach ang iniisip niya, tanging ang mukha ng dalaga ang bumabalik sa isipan niya.

She looked different.

Hindi na ito ang babaeng umiyak sa veranda, hindi rin ang nahihiyang tagasilbi sa hapag. She was fire burning, shaking, unafraid. At ang mas nakakainis?

It stirred something in him.

Arriving at the mansion, he didn't immediately go down. Instead, he looked at the large gates that his grandfather had opened for him when he first built the Valderama estate in Forbes Park, with a hacienda-like expanse of land that felt like a small kingdom.

When he entered, he was greeted by chandeliers that cost more than a condo unit, and marble floors the size of a ballroom. But he didn't care about all that. What he wanted to see was her.

Clara.

"Where is she?" he asked Manang Celia who immediately bowed in fear.

"She's in the maid's room, sir. She hasn't come down since last night."

She didn't respond. Instead, he quickly went up to the east wing.

He shouldn't have been upset. But Clara's sudden loss of respect for him seemed to slap his pride.

When he opened the door, the girl immediately met his shocked gaze. She was standing next to the bed, wearing a simple dapper, and holding a wet towel. She quickly lowered the towel into the basin.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" malamig niyang tanong, pero ang tinig niya’y mas mababa kaysa sa inaasahan niya.

Hindi sumagot si Clara, pero hindi rin ito umatras.

"I’m not your servant, Mr. Valderama," matapang na sagot ng babae.

Napakuyom siya ng kamao.

"Alam mo kung bakit ka narito, Clara. Don’t act like you’re not benefiting from this arrangement."

Natawa ito, isang mapait na tawa na mas naramdaman niya kaysa sa mga salita.

"Benefiting? You think being treated like dirt is a benefit?"

Lumapit siya, marahang pero marahas isang kombinasyon ng pwersa at pagpipigil. Halos magkadikit na ang mga mukha nila.

"Watch your words."

"Or what? You’ll throw me out? Gusto mong gawin mo na. At least, tapos na ‘to."

Tahimik. Saglit. Pero malakas ang tensyon.

Para bang may sumabog sa dibdib ni Lucien. Galit ba ito? Hindi. Hindi ito galit. Ito ay...

Pagkagusto.

A desire that was hard to explain. Out of all the women he had met in his life, no one had ever dared to answer him like that.

"You're brave," he said in a low voice.

"I'm not brave. I'm just tired of being a fool."

After that, Clara turned away. She didn't wait for Lucien's answer.

But inside the man known for his cold personality, there was a feeling she hadn't expected. And as she watched him walk away, an idea slowly formed in her mind:

This woman… was going to change everything.

The entire room was silent after Clara left. But inside Lucien, something was boiling, not anger, but rather an annoying desire.

Damn it.

He should be angry. He should put her in her place. But why instead of tying the woman to the sins he had accused her of, did he want to hold her and taste her plump lips?

He leaned against the wall. He bent over. He laughed bitterly.

“Get a grip, Valderama.”

But it was too late. His thoughts were no longer his. All the anger was slowly fading away in the midst of something more dangerous, an obsession.

Lumipas ang gabi nang hindi siya nakatulog. He worked through files, attended late-night calls with New York investors, pero kahit sa pagitan ng business jargon, Clara’s face flashed in his mind.

Umaga na nang bumaba siya sa private dining area. Nakalatag na ang almusal lahat ng paborito niya: smoked salmon, poached eggs, truffle toast. Ngunit wala siyang gana.

"Nasaan si Clara?" tanong niya kay Manang Celia.

"Nasa likod po. Nagdidilig ng halaman."

Napataas ang kilay niya. “Halaman?”

"Mahilig daw po siya sa mga tanim, sir. Kahit nung nasa probinsya pa siya, sabi niya hilig na niya ang lupa.”

The woman he wanted to tie to his bed... was in the garden, holding a hose, the hem of her skirt wet.

He followed her.

In the backyard of the Valderama estate, he could see the small greenhouse that had once been purely ornamental. Now, there were new pots of herbs, vines, and flowers. And in the middle of it all...

Clara.

She was on her back, wearing an old white T-shirt and cotton shorts, a little mud on her knees. It was as if she wasn't in a mansion, as if she had returned to her own world.

“Ano’ng ginagawa mo rito?” tanong niya.

Nagulat ito, pero hindi umatras. “Pinayagan ako ni Manang. At isa pa, hindi mo naman sinabing bawal akong humawak ng tubig.”

He approached her slowly, like a predator cornering its prey. Pero kahit dahan-dahan ang hakbang niya, hindi natitinag ang titig ng dalaga. Kung may takot man ito, marunong itago.

“You really don’t listen, do you?” malamig na bulong niya, huminto sa tapat nito.

Hinawi ni Clara ang ilang hibla ng buhok na kumapit sa kanyang pisngi. “Mas gugustuhin kong makipag-usap sa mga halaman. Mas totoo sila kaysa sa mga taong mahilig magpanggap.”

Tumingala ito. Diretso sa mga mata niya.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Clara," aniya, halos bumubulong.

“Then stop watching me play.”

Ang kapalmuks ng babaeng ‘to.

At bago pa siya makaisip, hinila na niya ito palapit. Isang kamay sa bewang, isang kamay sa batok. Hindi pa man nag-uumpisa ang halik ay ramdam na nila pareho ang tensyon.

Pero bago siya makalapit nang tuluyan, kumawala si Clara.

“Hindi mo ako pag-aari, Lucien. Kahit pa ikaw ang nagbigay ng bubong sa’kin, hindi mo kayang kontrolin ang puso ko.”

Napako siya sa kinatatayuan. Hindi dahil sa galit kundi dahil sa dami ng salitang tumama sa kaniya nang diretso.

She wasn’t just defying him. She was challenging the very control he thought he had over everything.

Habang papalayo si Clara, bitbit ang hose at hawak ang damuhan sa ilalim ng paa, isang bagay ang naisip niya:

If I can’t control her…

Then I’ll make her want to be mine.

Willingly. Desperately. Entirely.

And that's where the trap began, not of anger, but of desire, excitement, and something a monster should never feel for its prey.

He didn't immediately leave the room.

He remained standing there in the very space where Clara had uttered the words that should have angered him. But instead of anger, Lucien felt only one thing.

Lust.

Dangerous. Deep. Unreasonable.

The monster inside him, which had been silent for a long time, seemed to be suddenly awakened by the one woman he was looking up to. A woman who seemed unafraid of getting hurt, of competing with him even though she knew she would lose.

He found that thrilling. Infuriatingly thrilling.

He sighed. She shouldn't be there. She shouldn't be feeding on this emotion. She was just a tool. A woman who agreed to the deal to save her family. A creature who should have been silent, obedient, and disappeared from the scene.

But now, everything had changed.

He ran a hand through his hair. Malalim ang gabi, pero hindi siya makatulog. Bumaba siya mula sa east wing at nagtungo sa private lounge sa may veranda. Sa bawat sulok ng mansion, may CCTV. Alam niya kung kailan lumalabas si Clara. Ilang araw na rin nitong iniiwasan ang main dining hall. Pinipili nitong kumain sa kusina, o di kaya ay sa quarters ng mga kasambahay.

Tulad ng isang asong binugbog at ngayon ay natutong manikmal.

Nagbukas siya ng isang bote ng bourbon isang regalo mula sa Prime Minister ng UK sa huling gala. Pero hindi na iyon mahalaga. Hindi ang alak, hindi ang mamahaling kristal na baso. Ang mahalaga… ay kung paano niya huhubaran ng depensa si Clara Evangelista.

Hindi physical. Hindi pa. Mas masarap ang laro kapag utak ang ginagamit.

Tumunog ang phone niya. Mensahe mula sa kanyang ina.

Selene is back from Milan. She wants to visit the house next week.

Should I tell her you’re… married now?

Napakuyom ang kanyang kamao.

Selene.

Ang babaeng minsang sinugal niya ang puso para sa pangalan. Ang babaeng may ganda, yaman, at ugaling naaayon sa isang Valderama. Pero walang apoy. Walang puso. Walang tapang gaya ni Clara.

Bumaling siya sa gilid ng veranda, tanaw ang malawak na hardin. Madilim na, pero alam niyang gising pa ang babae sa silid nito. Ilang araw na siyang tinutulugan nito. Ilang araw na rin siyang pinapakain ng ego nito ng tanong: Bakit hindi ka niya kinatatakutan?

Tumayo siya. Naglakad papunta sa hallway. Tahimik ang mansion maliban sa munting tunog ng ulan na nagsisimulang bumagsak.

Pagdating niya sa may hallway ng servant’s quarters, hindi niya alam kung bakit hindi siya bumalik sa sariling silid. Hindi niya alam kung bakit tumigil siya sa harap ng pinto ni Clara.

Bumukas ang pinto. Hindi niya inaasahan iyon.

Nagulat si Clara nakasuot ng oversized hoodie, hawak ang basang tuwalya. Muling nagtagpo ang mga mata nila.

Walang nagsalita sa una.

"Hindi ako magnanakaw, Mr. Valderama," ani Clara, malamig ang boses. "Kung iniisip mong may binabalak ako dahil gising pa ako sa ganitong oras, sorry. Mali ang akala mo."

"I wasn’t thinking that."

"Then bakit ka narito?"

Hindi siya sumagot agad. Tumingin siya sa mata nito, parang sinusukat ang lalim ng hinanakit, ng galit, ng hindi maipaliwanag na tapang.

"Because I can’t stop thinking about you."

Biglang huminto ang mundo.

Natigilan si Clara, at sa unang pagkakataon mula nang pinilit nila ang kasunduang ito, nakita niyang nabasag ang depensa ng babae. Napalunok ito. Nagtago ng kamay sa likod.

"Baka lasing ka lang."

Hindi siya lasing.

"I don’t drink when I plan to make dangerous decisions."

"Bakit mo ako iniisip?" tanong ni Clara, at sa boses nito'y may halong takot at galit. "Para saan? Dahil gusto mong dagdagan pa ang pagdurusa ko?"

"No." Lumapit siya. Mabagal. Walang halong pananakot pero may dalang bigat ang bawat hakbang. "Dahil gusto kitang basagin."

Kumunot ang noo ni Clara. "Ano?"

"I want to see how far I can push you… bago ka tuluyang bumigay."

Tumalikod siya bago pa man makasagot ang babae.

He didn't touch her. He didn't kiss her. But by simply saying the word, he showed that he was the monster in their story.

And Clara Evangelista? She was the first woman who had never cried in front of the monster.

Now she was the one that the monster wanted to tear apart not to destroy… but to possess.