C4 Chapter 4: Mystery Ex

I don't know where I found the strength and courage to laugh at what he said.

"You're right, this marriage is a prison." He placed the food in front of me, but I could only stare at it.

"Eat." The meal he prepared looked delicious, but I had no appetite.

"Join me..." Damn, bitch! Where did you get the nerve, huh? Fuck! I must have been wrong to think I was finally free from him. When I looked up at Hunter, he was staring at me seriously.

"Who says I'm not going to eat with you?"

I was momentarily stunned by his words, and my breath caught when he pinched the tip of my nose before sitting in the chair next to me.

Wake up, Dimaria. He's just messing with you. He's acting so strange. Or maybe he finally got tired of his other women? Now he's into model types instead of someone who looks like an octopus?

I snapped back to reality when he flicked my forehead.

"What was that for?"

"Eat. Stop spacing out. I've known for a long time that I'm handsome."

My jaw literally dropped. Wow, he's so full of himself. I thought I was the only one.

"Am I just drunk, or are you really talking to me now like you didn't abduct me and threaten me three years ago?"

I chuckled, but he didn't join me. My laughter died down, and the air around us grew awkward. He sighed, set his spoon down, and my whole body stiffened when he reached out and gently caressed my face—like I was something precious, fragile, something that had to be handled with care so it wouldn't get scratched or shattered.

For a moment, it felt like my breath had stopped, in contrast to the rapid, thunderous beating of my heart.

"I'm sorry..."

My chest pounded even harder. My body shivered, my eyes widened, and even my lips parted slightly at his words.

Did he just say sorry? To me?

I stared into his eyes, and what I saw left me even more shaken. There was no trace of deception in them.

He's sincere.

Damn.

"W-Why are you apologizing to me?"

Damn, bitch! Of course! You literally just brought up everything he did to you, didn't you?

"Silly, because I put you in this situation. I trapped you in my world. I took away your freedom—to choose, to live the way you wanted, to love the man you were in love with." He smiled apologetically.

"It's been three years, and not a single night has passed without me thinking about this. About us. About the past. About my mistakes. I went too far when I forced you into this marriage and threatened you. I shouldn't have dragged you into this mess—you were never supposed to be part of it. This was a war between me and your brother. You had nothing to do with it, and I truly regret that."

My mouth literally hung open as I tried to process his words.

What the fuck is he talking about?!

"I know this is sudden and unexpected. I just... well, I admit it—I felt guilty when I heard you crying in the restroom earlier. I must have been a real jerk to you."

"Why are you telling me all of this? No matter how much you try to apologize, 'sorry' doesn't mean anything now. I've been here for three years. I've been Mrs. Martinez for three years. The guy I liked has moved on—he already has a girlfriend. My brother has spent all this time worrying about me."

"I just admitted my mistakes, but that doesn't mean I'm letting you go back to Damon. You're my wife, and I want you to stay with me. Seven years, Dimaria. We've already wasted three, so I'm giving you four years—to love me, to fall for me."

"W-What? And then w-what?"

God! I swear my heart is about to burst.

He smirked.

"And then you'll be mine forever. No one will take you away from me because I won't allow it. I have no intention of freeing you from this marriage. I'm giving you four years, and after that, we'll marry again. Do you know why I won't just let you go when I could easily file for divorce?"

He leaned closer—so close our lips were nearly touching. His warm breath fanned my skin, intoxicating me.

"I want this marriage to work. I want us to work... So please, cooperate and help me fulfill this fantasy, wife."

My eyes widened in shock as, in an instant, he closed the remaining distance between us.

His lips crashed against mine.

I was completely stunned.

I didn't even get the chance to fight back, too shocked to react. Just moments ago, he was spouting cryptic words I couldn't even comprehend, and now he was devouring my lips like it would satisfy some deep hunger inside him.

His lips moved with dominance, claiming mine, as his tongue slipped into my mouth—exploring, teasing, tasting.

A soft moan escaped me, and I gripped his shoulders, digging my nails into his flesh through his shirt. My fingers clenched around the fabric, wrinkling it as my body reacted instinctively.

It was like the alcohol in my system had been replaced by something far more intoxicating—him.

This kiss broke the record of my first. It even surpassed my first kiss at eighteen.

Growing up in a Western country, I had adapted to their culture. I was a little more liberated before I reached eighteen—before I became legally an adult. I dated men, kissed them, and no one cared. No strings attached, just flings and playful flirtations.

But this?

This was different.

Reality hit me like a slap, and I slowly pushed him away. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to catch my breath. And when I finally dared to look at him—

I saw him licking his lips in an unbearably sensual way before flashing me a smirk.

"I should have known you'd be this delicious. If I had, I might have devoured you the first time we kissed."

I felt my face heat up at his words, but I quickly shook off the thought and silently focused on my food.

"Why are you ignoring me? Did I kiss badly? I doubt it. Did I taste bad?"

I almost choked on my food and quickly swallowed the bite I hadn't even finished chewing. Grabbing my glass of water, I took a long sip.

"What do you expect me to do? Talk about it? Isn't that a little awkward? When I kissed guys before, we usually didn't talk about it afterward. It was like nothing happened—we just moved on and went our separate ways."

I saw his expression darken. His jaw tensed, and he shot me a sharp glare.

I froze.

"Don't ever kiss another guy like you did before. Unless you want me to kill anyone who dares to taste your lips."

And now he's being possessive? How did we even get here?

"I'm a married woman—whether it's real or not, whether it's a contract or not. I have always been and will always be loyal."

Even though I admitted to myself that I still liked Meast, I would never cheat. Hooking up with some random guy was just not me.

He fell silent at my words, clearing his throat as if trying to compose himself.

"Play fair, Hunter."

He looked at me, and the darkness in his face slowly faded.

"I'll accept your 'four years' for me to fall for you..."

"In exchange?" he asked curiously.

"You'll stop hooking up with random women. If you truly want us—if you want this marriage to work—then give up your womanizing ways and focus on me. Make me, Hunter. Make me fall for you."

Even though deep inside, I knew I was already falling. And I had no idea why.

"Aren't you going to sleep?"

I jumped slightly at the sound of his voice beside me.

When did he get so close?

How did the tables turn so fast?

Or maybe three years had been enough for him to heal and move past whatever had driven him to do all those terrible things before.

"I miss my brother. I missed him before we reunited, and then three years ago, I left him... again."

I had been just a child when I was sent to the U.S. without him. He suffered without me. And that guilt had never left me.

While he was struggling, while he was in pain—I was living freely in the U.S.

I had been doing well academically, even though life itself had been a nightmare.

I was only eight when it all happened.

I wasn't there for him when he was fighting to get back on his feet. I wasn't there when he was trying to heal. I wasn't there when he was undergoing treatments.

I am a useless sister.

"My fault. Do you want to visit him? We'll go back."

I froze.

"W-What?"

"I'm not joking, wife," he said before wrapping his arms around me from behind.

My mind spun.

That fast?

We're going back?

But... I was still studying.

"But I'm only in my third year here."

"You can finish your degree there while working for my company."

"Huh? You mean... even though I haven't graduated yet, you're already hiring me?"

"Yes. I already know you're capable."

I stared at him, completely dumbfounded.

C'mon, Dimaria. Don't fall too hard just yet. It's still too early for that.

You still have to learn more about him. You still have to dig deeper—to discover more. That night, I just thought maybe it was all a dream, or maybe I was too lightheaded to think straight, so my mind conjured up illusions as an effect of the alcohol.

The next morning, I woke up to find Hunter nowhere in sight. I still went to school with Robert, my driver. After class, I met up with Kimmy since our coffee date yesterday got postponed. I knew she'd throw a fit if I didn't make time for her today.

"Oh, so you actually showed up? You're always so busy," she said, flipping her hair before taking out her iPad.

"Sorry! That's why I made time today, didn't I? Do I still need to make it up to you?"

"Oh, no thanks, dear! I have my boyfriend for that," I chuckled.

"Hmm! Speaking of! You know Hunter Martinez, right?" I nearly choked on my drink.

"Y-Yeah? I mean, everyone knows him... why?"

"Girl! He personally selected you to be the new ambassador for their latest product release. So many people were dying for that opportunity, but he chose you! Take note—he personally picked you. I was just about to submit your application when I suddenly received an email from his assistant."

What the hell, Hunter.

"Can you imagine? The top richest, hottest, and most eligible bachelor, Hunter Martinez, just handpicked you. And for all we know, he's not even into models."

I frowned. I knew he wasn't fond of models. That wasn't his type. He preferred women who weren't in the spotlight—those whose faces weren't seen everywhere.

"Hmm? You didn't know? Everyone does. It's been mentioned multiple times in magazines from his previous interviews."

"I don't know. I rarely read magazines."

But now, I'm both curious and nervous.

"Usually, he doesn't personally choose the models for their products or even talk to them for interviews," she said, leaning closer after taking a sip of her coffee frappé.

"They say... it has something to do with his ex-fiancée. Apparently, she was a model too."

My heart dropped—like a fragile glass slipping from my hands and shattering into pieces.

I don't know why, but fear rushed through my veins and up into my head.

He had a fiancée? A model? Who is she? And where is she now?

. . .