wind, a look on my face as though I’m deep in thought. He has captured me perfectly, even down to the slowly fading cut on my head.
“It’s amazing, although I wish you hadn’t put in the scar” I say, running my fingers over the charcoal rendition of it.
“That’s the most important part, it makes you wounded, vulnerable, yet searching for a resolve” he makes me sound far more mystical than I am, I don’t even remember sitting like this, let alone what was going through my mind at the time.
“When did you do this?”
“Yesterday, after I delivered your picnic, I caught a glimpse of you like this and I just couldn’t resist. There’s more to you than meets the eye Miss Mavers.” There he goes again, making Carlos’s words toxic as he breathes them onto the side of my face. His arm rests on the back of the sofa, behind me, while his face is millimetres away from touching mine. His fingers rest on his scrap book, but the palm of his hand sits, not so innocently on my thigh.
I want to stand, to distance myself from him, but I’m trapped. I watch him slowly close the book, his hand moving to my far leg and pulling it round so I’m facing him.
“What are you…”
“Ssshhh” he croons, placing his index finger to my lips. This is wrong, this is all kinds of wrong. I need to get out, but I can barely string together a sentence, let alone find the strength to co-ordinate my limbs, I knew I shouldn’t have drunk that wine. I feel sick and out of control, I’m mentally pleading for Carlos to come back and save me; Marcus has started stroking my hair, “You know when I first saw you, I knew I had to sketch you. Those dark soulful eyes told me a million things about you before you even opened your mouth.” He runs his thumb across my bottom lip and places his other hand at the base of my neck.
“Marcus, ple..”
“I need to touch you, you are my muse Kaitlin” he cuts me off, holding my face in place as I try to look away, “I know you want this” he whispers as his lips find mine, pressing onto them aggressively. I struggle, desperately trying to find the power to fight him off, but it’s futile; even when sober he would have more than enough force to subdue me, let alone now, when my muscles have turned to a useless jelly consistency and my head is spinning so savagely I barely know which way is up.
He perseveres, though I give him nothing; my lips are pursed shut, my hands are pushing against his chest with all my inebriated might and I’m doing my best to scream with my mouth closed. But still his wet lips are pushed against mine, his body is crushing down on me, holding me still, while his hands take full advantage everywhere else.
He stops as suddenly as he started, slowly removing himself from me, I stare at him, shocked at how at ease he seems, when I realise that he’s not looking back at me, but towards the door. Following his gaze I see Carlos stood in the doorway, every muscle tensed, teeth grinding, his eyes burning into me.
“Oh Carlos” I say reaching out to him, relieved that he’s come to my rescue, but instead of racing over and embracing me, kicking Marcus out simultaneously, he turns on his heel and storms away, slamming the door behind him.
“Dude, come on” Marcus shouts after him.
I can’t believe it, what just happened? Marcus got me drunk and practically tried to rape me, conveniently at a time when Carlos was sure to discover him and now he’s making out like it was mutual, what kind of sick game is he playing?
“What the fuck Marcus?” I still don’t think I have the physical strength for this fight, but I am capable of a vicious verbal attack.
“What? Someone had to show him what a money grabbing whore you are” he replies flatly.
“Money grabbing whore? Fuck you! I didn’t even know his family owned this place to begin with, I thought he just worked here” I scream back incensed by his accusation.
“That didn’t stop you flying about on our jet and moving yourself in here, did it” he hiss’s back at me.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, none of that was my idea, my husband..”
“Your husband? So you’re married as well? Ha! I did