Chapter 3. Going Back

There lay in front of her the clothes she had forgotten at the Southampton Beach house in her haste to leave. Her house keys and her ID card issued by the club were also there. She gasped with surprise. Last she remembered, she had placed them in the pocket of her jeans when she left her home in the morning. Who had checked her pockets?

There was no one at the house other than the rude man with blue-gray eyes. Did he come here to deliver her stuff? No, that seemed unlikely. Why would he? He hated her already. She was nothing but a sl*t in his eyes.

An envelope fell from the packet, and she picked it up with a frown. Now, what did it contain? Picking it up, she found a small wad of 100-dollar bills wrapped up in paper. She read the words scribbled on the blank wrapping paper.

Payment for cleaning services.

Her eyes widened with disbelief! Had he paid her 2000 dollars for her cleaning services? That was a lot of money! She couldn’t accept so much. She needed to return the rest, but how? In no way would she go back to his mansion! There had to be some other way! She found her house keys and ID card inside the envelope, to her relief. Deep in thought, she stuffed the things into the packet and proceeded to Rudolph Sterling’s office to collect her pay. Afterward, she took the bus home.

Marcus Donnelly climbed into his car at last as he drove away. He did not know what made him drive to the club to return her things to her. Maybe he wanted to see for himself what she did for a living! Some performance was going on and he had no interest in seeing what she was up to. He knew it would be some cheap pole dancing or such other stuff. What else could such cheap women do for a living? He saw her walk towards the bus stop afterward, wearing some loose denim jacket that some man might have given her. Maybe one of her many boyfriends or customers. Who knew the truth?

He hadn’t expected to react so rudely toward her, but one look at her made his blood boil with anger. She was, after all, the same as all the other females who pursued him for his money. When he had clearly mentioned that he didn’t want any company, how could she dream of seducing him in a towel?

But what was more disturbing was that she had succeeded in her task. The arrogant and infamous player, the ruthless playboy, the experienced Casanova, Marcus Donnelly, was having a hard time keeping his desire in check. That too, just by looking at her naked body, had made him crave a touch.

He had never been so aroused even while he was in a relationship with Cassie Thornton! He hardly ever desired anyone to this extent, the way he desired her at that point in time. Ever since the day he had seen her here, he could not forget those innocent, expressive, dazzling blue eyes that seemed to pull him into their very depths. However, all his thoughts had been crushed when he saw her true colors earlier at the mansion.

Maybe that was the real reason for his frustration!

Marcus returned home, but he couldn’t drive away the sinful thoughts of the girl from his mind. Cara Rose Sullivan! It seemed his mind was fixated on thoughts of her! It was strange since he hated women after Cassie's betrayal two years ago.

Marcus sighed, wanting nothing but to block all thoughts of Cassie Thornton out of his mind. He wouldn’t go into that tonight. Although it had been two years since he had caught her naked and in bed with his best friend, Bryan Simmons, he hadn’t been able to forget it at all. He loved her! They had been engaged! He had wanted to marry her! But in that one moment, his hopes were dashed, his world was shattered, and he was devastated!

Marcus gripped the steering wheel and drove faster. No, he wouldn’t do this to himself again. He had stopped believing in love the day he found out about Cassie’s betrayal. He had been devastated since then. His life had turned upside down as he coped with the helpless condition of a painter’s block. He tried everything in his power to get rid of it but he just couldn’t find the inspiration to paint again. Ever since, he had been trying hard to escape the hard truth with unsuccessful diversions.

So, at twenty-six, he plunged into the world of traveling, vacations, wild parties, mindless and casual se* yet nothing helped him and his condition. From a successful and renowned painter the world respected, he was reduced to a nobody.

However, the Southampton beach house had made him feel good the last time he had been there. He refused to believe that it was because of a girl with a pair of innocent, doe-shaped, dazzling blue eyes that took his breath away!

Shaking his head, he tried to drive the useless thoughts away and out of his head. She wasn’t what he thought her to be. He wouldn’t get into another mindless fling with her. It wasn’t likely that he would ever meet her again! He needed a drink badly tonight. He needed to drown himself in his only solace, his only companion, his bottle!

When Cara returned home, her siblings were playing with cards at aunt Maggie’s house and she plopped tiredly into the couch beside them.

“What happened? Did you go to Mr. Davenport’s house to clean?” asked aunt Maggie. Cara nodded and took out the money to show her.

“He gave me so much money for the job,” she said with a sigh.

“Cara, if he has given you the money, why don’t you keep it?” suggested Aunt Maggie when Cara told her about the way he had left it in the parcel for her.

“No, aunt Maggie. I might be poor, but I don’t need his charity. I’ll return him the extra money,” she said stubbornly. Aunt Maggie sighed. She knew how honest, stubborn, and hard-working Cara was. Once she had decided, she would never listen to anyone’s advice.

So, the next morning, Cara took the first train to the Southampton beach house to return the man his extra money. She had thought about an alternative way the whole night but couldn’t come up with one.

So here she was, right outside his gates, thinking hard about how to get in. Without a guard in sight, she scanned the walls for any sort of lever she could use to open the huge wrought-iron gates of the mansion. But there were none! She started having second thoughts about coming here!

Suddenly, the doors slid open, and she just looked all around her. How did the gates open on their own? She walked inside looking perplexed when the gates closed shut again on their own after her. Startled and apprehensive, she inched towards the main door. The hair at the nape stood up with fright. It seemed as if she was being watched.

She looked around but found no one. Just as she stood in front of the main door, it opened on its own before she could even ring the doorbell. Cara’s eyes widened with fear. By now, she was certain that the new owner was not only a rude jerk, but he was also weird. How can someone live all alone in such an enormous place?

She walked inside and stood hesitantly in the foyer, scared to take a step further. The door closed automatically, and she jumped, clutching at her heart.

“Don’t just stand there like a fool. What have you come here for?” growled Marcus, disturbed by her presence so early in the morning. As if it wasn’t enough that she invaded his thoughts all evening and then all night.

He consumed more alcohol than ever to get her out of his head, but to no avail. He only felt vehemently sick with a severe hangover! If it hadn’t been for his automated security system, he wouldn’t have known of her presence outside his mansion gates. She didn’t know how to operate such an advanced automated system!

Cara looked inside, inching towards the direction of the voice. Was he in the living room? She walked through the reception area that opened into a vast living room. Her eyes scanned the room for him. Was he here or in the study?

“What? Are you blind?” groaned Marcus, very much in pain. Startled, Cara turned to find him slumped upon a couch with two empty bottles of whiskey on the table in front of him. Her eyes widened with disbelief. Had he consumed all of those?

“I’m still waiting! Are you done staring?” he asked impatiently. Cara came to her senses and took out the envelope with the extra money inside it.

“I came to return this to you Mr. umm,” she stopped, not knowing his name. She hadn’t caught on when old Ben Duncan had mentioned it earlier.

“Marcus Donnelly,” he prompted gruffly, amazed at her ignorance. How could she not know him already? His pictures were all over the magazines and newspapers every fortnight or so! The media loved his notorious ways and always hounded him for juicy gossip. Either she was naïve or she was an excellent actress. He was used to cheap women like her who could stoop to any level for money.

“Mr. Donnelly, you paid me extra. I’ve kept 300 dollars for my cleaning services. Here’s the rest,” she said awkwardly, seeing him frown at her.

“Keep it. Next time don’t come up with such lame excuses to see me. Your plans won’t work with me. I don’t f*ck kids,” he growled, staring at her with contempt.