Owned by Him (rewrite)

35. Discolored Truths

"You said you were working overtime, but why were you doing it in a hotel?"

A certain word in Marvel's question hit me hard and it stung. It sent chills down my spine to see him still smiling, unaffected that he'd found out about the fact that I lied to him.

How, and... since when? Did he casually make those conversations with me while knowing about the truth all along?

"Going to such a cheap hotel with another man, what kind of overtime you were working on, Asta?"

When Marvel proceeded to the next question, the shock registered on my face before I could hide it and he saw everything. Even before I produced a word to respond, he had pulled my waist closer, pressing our bodies together. While maintaining his smile, his fingers were still around my wrist, curling for a grip above my bracelet.

At this point, I won't be able to fabricate another story to tell Marvel.

"Sir, did you order someone to tail me?" I asked, questioning his actions.

"Tail you?" Marvel almost snarled toward my objection, his facial expression swiftly changed, and it was when I knew the danger signal had been on. "I could just tell my people to barge in because I could, but I held it in because I didn't want to know what was going on between you and that trash inside that hotel room."

He squinted at me through hardened eyes that I always thought beautiful, but now they brought only the accusations like a jealous lover I couldn't recognize. Their color had only a minute ago reminded me of the beauty of the ocean, sighting out to where the warmth of the hearth blended into the earthy hue of his bedroom, now they were simply cold. Every muscle in his face was tense, and without a word, his gaze communicated intense mistrust and anger toward me.

Marvel took me in various gazes before, most of them were cold, but this time was different. I didn't recognize the gaze that was holding mine now, as if we were two people who had never met.

Perhaps, he didn't want to show it to me all this time. Perhaps, he waited for the right chance to come and kept it in until today.

I'm not sure, but, I've never seen such a malicious gaze in a person before.

Cautious, I was about to step backward, but Marvel suddenly yanked my wrist, dragging and throwing me to his bed. Before I could turn around to anticipate his next move, my jacket had withdrawn my body.

"You stench like a slut," he scowled as he got rid of my outer clothing, disgusted by the different smell all over it. "If you don't burn your clothes after this, I will."

He didn't stop until then, let alone give me chance to counter. When I tried to rise from the bed, he immediately pushed the back of my neck, slamming my face against the pillow and I was no longer able to move. Despite receiving the effects of all those motions, it was unknown to me how his movements were so quick and accurate, locking my body precisely.

I was treated this way and yet, for a moment, I was grateful that it was a pillow under my face, not a desk.

The clinking sounds clashed in the air when Marvel tried to unbuckle my belt from behind. I gasped, knowing where his hand would soon reach.

"S-Sir, I will do as you say, s-so please..." I begged and finally got him to stop to hear me. "If you hate the smell, then please let me wash first..."

After hearing my request, for a moment, Marvel didn't react. I gulped hard as I glanced at his face. I got a feeling that I had said something I should never have said.

"O-of course, I will also burn my-"

"Why?" He cut me in, his voice flat and low. "Are you telling me that it's not just your clothes, but your body is also dirty?"