Daddy’s billionaire step-brother
Chapter 7: Secret passage

Clara's initial excitement began to waver as Marcus's kisses grew more insistent, his grip on her neck tightening with an unexpected force. The tender moment dissolved into a surge of discomfort and unease. She felt his fingers pressing into her skin, sending a twinge of pain down her spine.

"Marcus," she murmured, trying to pull back slightly, but he seemed oblivious to her unease. His lips continued to press fervently against hers, his embrace now feeling more like a restraint than an embrace. Clara's heart raced, not with passion but with a growing sense of alarm.

She attempted to speak again, more urgently this time. "Marcus, wait..."

But he didn't seem to hear her. His hands roamed over her back, his touch becoming more possessive and demanding. Clara's mind raced, torn between the desire not to spoil the moment and the need to assert herself. "Marcus, please," she managed to say, her voice trembling now. "I need..."

Finally, Marcus pulled back, his expression clouded with confusion as he looked at her. "Clara, what's wrong?" he asked, his tone a mixture of concern and frustration.

Clara took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I... I need you to slow down," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Clara's heart raced as Marcus kissed her again and gently guided her down onto the couch. Her nerves tingled with a mix of excitement and apprehension, but Marcus's reassuring words eased some of her tension. "It's okay, Clara," he whispered, his voice low and soothing. "You can trust me."

Just as she began to relax into his touch, a muffled noise and distant laughter caught her attention. Clara tensed, her senses on high alert. "Marcus, what was that?" she asked, pushing him away slightly to look in the direction of the sound. Marcus hesitated, trying to appear nonchalant. "It's probably nothing," he said dismissively, but Clara heard the voices again, clearer this time. Before she could voice her concern, a section of the bookshelf on the far side of the room swung open abruptly.

Two figures stumbled out, their surprised expressions quickly turning to embarrassment as they tried to regain their footing. Clara's eyes widened in shock as she recognized them from the party: two of Marcus's friends who had apparently stumbled upon the hidden door.

As the two guys initially stumbled out, their drunken laughter echoed in the library, followed closely by the emergence of three more of Marcus's friends, equally intoxicated and struggling to contain their amusement. Clara's confusion turned to disbelief and then to hurt as she recognized them.

Their faces were flushed with alcohol and amusement. She turned to Marcus, her nerves fraying as she noticed he too was laughing, albeit uncomfortably. "Marcus, what is going on?" she demanded, her voice trembling with a mix of confusion and hurt.

Before Marcus could respond, one of the guys, still chuckling, offered a sarcastic apology. "Sorry, lovebirds," he slurred, his words dripping with insincerity. "We didn't mean to interrupt. Carry on." Clara's stomach churned with a sinking feeling as she realized they were making fun of a situation that felt deeply personal and violating to her.

Clara turned back to Marcus, her eyes pleading for an explanation. "What is all this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Marcus hesitated, his laughter fading as he looked at Clara with a mix of cynicism and nonchalant. "It was just a bet," he finally admitted, his voice shameless.

Clara's heart dropped. "What bet?" she asked, her voice trembling.

One of Marcus's friends, emboldened by the alcohol, spoke up. "The bet was that Marcus here would... well, you know, take your virginity tonight" he said crudely, his words cutting through the air like a knife.

Clara felt tears stinging her eyes, a rush of humiliation and betrayal washing over her. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had trusted Marcus, believed he liked her, only to discover it had been reduced to a wager among friends. Clara's heart pounded in her chest as Marcus's grip on her arm tightened, his words cutting through her like a knife. The tears streaming down her face were a mix of hurt, anger, and profound disbelief. She couldn't comprehend how someone she had trusted could say such cruel things.

"Let me go, Marcus," she pleaded, her voice trembling with emotion.

Marcus's expression darkened, his features contorting with a mix of frustration and contempt. "What were you expecting, Clara?" he spat, his voice laced with bitterness. "That I would court you like some naive girl from a fairy tale? Wake up! You're just a nobody from a broke family. You should consider yourself lucky to lose your virginity to someone like me."

Clara recoiled, stunned by his callousness. She struggled against his grip, trying to break free, but Marcus's strength overwhelmed her. His words cut deep, reopening wounds she didn't know she had.

"And your father," Marcus continued, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "Do you even know how much money he owes my family? It's surprising he didn't put your virgin pussy up for auction to settle his debts." Clara's breath caught in her throat, the gravity of his words sinking in. The tears flowed freely now, her cheeks wet with shame and indignation. She pushed against Marcus again, desperate to escape his grasp. "Let go of me," she pleaded, her words nearly choking her.

As Clara struggled against him, her mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions-betrayal, humiliation, and a searing sense of injustice. How could she have been so wrong about Marcus? How could he be capable of such cruelty? Finally managing to break free, Clara stumbled backwards, her eyes fixed on Marcus with a mixture of fear and disbelief. Without another word, she turned and fled from the library, her footsteps echoing loudly in the hallway. As she turned to leave, her ears caught the sickening words from one of Marcus's friends behind her. "Are you letting her go? You said we could take turns on her after you were done!"