Chapter 2 Help Me

Marian sensed a foreign breath, an unfamiliar presence that enveloped her.

Arms encircled her waist with an unyielding grip, while an intense, devouring kiss claimed her in its fervor, plunging into the depths.

"Who are you... Release me... Hm..."

Enshrouded in partial obscurity, Marian's struggle intensified, her vision obscured by the stranger's features.

The magnitude of Rogelio's animosity rendered such intimacy unthinkable.

But this was Rogelio's sanctum. How had an interloper ventured here so audaciously?

Engaging in intimacy with an unknown man was inconceivable. What if... The potential fallout, if Rogelio discovered her lack of virginity, was unfathomable.

Marian fought back fervently, simultaneously seeking an advantage. Eventually, her fingers found a red wine bottle!

Deliverance seemed within reach.

The bottle was poised, her intent clear-to strike the man's head.

Just then, a serendipitous gust of wind billowed the curtains, ushering in a beam of light that illuminated the stranger's countenance.

With widened eyes, Marian breathed, "Rogelio..."

It was him, indeed!

Rogelio's eyes narrowed slightly, his visage flushing with an unusual hue, his body seemingly aflame.

What...What had gotten into him?

"Help me," Rogelio's voice rasped, its tone low and strained. "I'll be responsible for whatever happens!"

Before Marian could react, her clothing was torn away, her predicament deepening in its intensity.

"No, no..."

Yet, Rogelio remained impervious to her pleas, ensnared in the grip of the drug, his sanity unraveling thread by thread.

The night unfurled in a tempest of unbridled passion and frenzy.

Sated, Rogelio succumbed to slumber while Marian huddled in the corner of the bed, her body trembling with a mix of emotions.

Her mind whirred with a dilemma-how to navigate her predicament?

She had rendered assistance, but what of her own welfare? Who could offer her solace?

The impulse to shatter the wine bottle earlier had wrestled with her conscience. She had hesitated, wary of causing further harm to Rogelio, the only son of the Bailey family now.

Neal's death had been her burden; she could not inflict more pain upon Rogelio.

The notion of facing the aftermath, should Rogelio discover the truth of their night, was unbearable.

Marian didn't even dare to think about that.

Neal's love echoed in her mind; Rogelio's vow not to claim her body reverberated.

After meticulous consideration, escape emerged as the sole recourse.

Suppressing her physical discomfort, Marian slipped out of bed. A sight caught her eye-disheveled men's clothing strewn across the floor-rekindling her mission's purpose.

The jade pendant!

Her search yielded success; she retrieved it from Rogelio's pocket, clutching it fervently.

Swiftly, she exited the suite.

Meanwhile, Rogelio roused from slumber, glimpsing the white figure at the doorway.

"Stop!"

Marian's pace quickened at the resonant baritone behind her.

Stopping was unthinkable; her sole focus was escape.

Rogelio, in pursuit, threw back the covers, only to realize he was unclothed.

As he reached for his attire, realization dawned...

His clothes... His clothes had vanished! Disbelief surged, quickly overtaken by rage.

Even his undergarments were absent!

"Damn it!" Rogelio muttered under his breath. "How in the world did she manage to take all my clothes?"

In his state of undress, he was doomed to fall short in the pursuit.

To Rogelio's confusion, why did she run away like that? His promise of assurance had failed to stave off her escape!

Seething, he enveloped his lower body with a bath towel, summoning his assistant, Matteo Barnes. "Fetch me my clothes."

"Of course, Mr. Bailey."

Promptly, Matteo materialized with a new set of clothing.

His aptitude for efficiency, coupled with a reticent demeanor, had secured his longevity in Rogelio's employ.

Rogelio, gradually resuming his attire, displayed his sculpted form-broad shoulders and chiseled eight-pack abs-an embodiment of a male model in a commercial shoot.

"Mr. Bailey," Matteo reported, "Mrs. Kyra Bailey phoned, inquiring about your and Mrs. Bailey's return home."

Rogelio's movements halted, a query emerging. "What? Marian wasn't home last night?"

Where could she have been? On their wedding night, where else could she have ventured?

Oddly, thoughts of the woman who had fled sprang forth.

Was...Was that Marian?

Could she have been the one who helped him?

Swiftly, Rogelio dismissed the notion. Marian had consistently avoided him. Intimacy was an improbability.

His gaze fell upon the bloodstained bedsheet. "Matteo," Rogelio uttered in hushed tones, "identify the woman who entered my room last night... I must know who she is."

Her alabaster skin and her plea for mercy bore a feline allure, triggering a subtle temptation within him.

Marian discarded the pilfered suit into a roadside bin, promptly hailing a taxi destined for the Bailey family's estate.

Her nimble intellect had averted capture by Rogelio's pursuit.

Nonetheless, her body now protested vehemently, legs weak and aching, threatening her balance.

The stark realization of Rogelio's formidable strength dawned upon her-the encounter had left her debilitated.

"Mrs. Bailey." The butler greeted her upon her return, adding, "You've finally returned. I attempted to contact you. Mrs. Kyra Bailey has been waiting."

What was Kyra doing here? Kyra's presence alarmed Marian.

The Bailey family's resentment towards her was deep after Neal's demise, making every encounter an ordeal.

What was more, mother-in-law and daughter-in-law dynamics were traditionally fraught-this situation was no exception.

As expected, Kyra's inquiry followed. "Marian, did you spend the night outside on your first day of marriage? A Chapman family member, behaving this way?"

Marian maintained her composure, listening to Kyra's reproach with her gaze lowered.

"Are you mute?" Kyra's criticism persisted, punctuated by frustration. "Where did you disappear to last night?"

"I..." Marian offered a fabricated response. "I went to Neal's gravesite."

The truth was untenable.

Kyra's countenance softened marginally. "Well, a smidgen of conscience remains. Pay him visits more frequently. He held you dear during his life. My eldest son died trying to save you, and now you are the wife of my second son. Marian, how fortuitous you are."

"How could fortune befall her? She's nothing but a wretched bargain."

An unmistakable, resonant male voice interjected-a magnetic timbre that revealed its speaker: Rogelio.

Walking in with an air of arrogance, he paid Marian no heed.

Her head dipped in submission.

In his presence, her thoughts involuntarily meandered to the memory of his robust physique, his muscular arms near...

Stop! Marian brought back her thoughts to the current situation.

She bit her lip, berating herself.

"Mother, you are well aware of my motives for marrying her," Rogelio articulated, lowering himself onto the sofa. "Further elaboration is superfluous."

Kyra addressed the unspoken issue, stating, "While I understand your desire to honor your brother's wishes, he has departed, and your marriage to Marian carries your name. She is now your wife."

"So? What does that have to do with anything?" Rogelio's query held a hint of challenge, his demeanor unyielding.

"She must bear you a child, upholding the Bailey lineage," Kyra declared, her tone laden with urgency. "Rogelio, the Bailey family requires heirs. Swiftly, a child must be conceived-male or female. Their role is to inherit the Bailey Group."

Kyra's anxiety was palpable.

The loss of Rogelio's father, Jimmie Bailey, had thrust Kyra into the role of upholding the Bailey family and its business, with great expectations on her two sons.

However, with the elder son's affliction rendering him intellectually impaired, all hope had fallen onto Rogelio's shoulders.

The Bailey family's wealth, coveted by eager relatives longing for their share, made them a target.

Rogelio's child would quell such ambitions. The presence of an heir would discourage the covetous from encroaching.

Rogelio's gaze lifted, his response measured. "Mother, did you resort to drugging me for this purpose?"