The Boy Who Tattooed My Name on His Chest novel Chapter 48

Later, he held me in his arms, whispering my name over and over again.

"Clara, don't be afraid."

Half-asleep, I heard my phone ringing.

Dazed, I answered it.

Marcus's voice came through the receiver.

"Clara."

I smiled and murmured playfully, "Marcus, I miss you. Come pick me up and take me home."

Before he could reply, I hung up, sinking back into unconsciousness.

When I woke up, it was already five in the afternoon.

My head throbbed painfully. I needed something to sober up.

Marcus used to drink a lot for business, so I had learned to make hangover soup for him.

Now, I needed it for myself.

I opened the door and saw him.

Standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, Marcus was bathed in the warm glow of the chandelier. His eyes were fixed on me, his lips pressed into a tight, restrained line.

"Drink less next time. You've lost weight."

His voice was the same as always, as if he still cared about me.

"None of your business."

I brushed past him, but he suddenly grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his arms.

I froze.

Then, struggling with all my might, I tried to break free.

"Don't touch me."

I felt filthy.

He didn't let go. Instead, he tilted my chin up in a provocative manner.

"Clara, you were the one who said you missed me. You were the one who asked me to pick you up."

Tears blurred my vision.

I bit my lip and sneered, "So obedient. I tell you to come, and you actually do. Like a well-trained dog."

It was the first time I had ever spoken to him so cruelly.

Marcus snapped.

Like an enraged lion, he grabbed my hands and pinned me against the cold glass, leaving me no room to escape.

I glared back at him defiantly, refusing to back down.

His dark eyes flickered with something unreadable, growing deeper and more dangerous.

A long silence stretched between us.

Then, he leaned in, his breath warm and heavy against my skin. His lips hovered just inches from mine.

Just as he was about to kiss me—