The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself Chapter 677

Chapter 677

When Marico kissed Natalie again, she bit his lower lip in anger. But when she saw someone in the car across the street filming them with a phone, she suppressed the urge to push him away.

But the bastard took a mile when she gave an inch. Kissing her like a ravenous wolf wasn’t enough; his hands began to wander, even slipping inside her clothes.

“Get your hands off me. If you touch me again, I’ll… I’ll kill you!” Natalie gasped, her breath unsteady.

Marico looked like a predator who had just tasted his prey. “You should be saying, ‘Not here, someone will see us.””

“Marico!”

“Say it, and I’ll let you go.”

Natalie gritted her teeth in frustration, but with the person in the car still filming, she had no choice but to comply.

“Don’t… not here. Someone will see us.”

“Tell me you’re shy.”

“I’m shy…”

“Say the word, and we’ll continue this in private.”

“We’ll continue this in private.”

“Good.”

Natalie thought Marico would release her, but instead, he swept her into his arms. Before she could react, he carried her into the building.

He took the stairs, unlocked the door, and just as she was about to push him away, Marico pinned her against it, a triumphant smirk on his face.

“Darling, remember, you’re the one who invited me into your home.”

He didn’t wait for her to respond before kissing her again. This time, there was no room for struggle or resistance. He captured her lips and pinned her hands against the door.

All Natalie could do was glare at him, which only seemed to excite him more.

Her breath was stolen, her struggles were useless. Just when she felt she was about to break, he suddenly let her go.

Natalie caught her breath, managed just a couple of gasps before his mouth was on hers again. This time was different, gentler. Like he was calming her down. He held her up, let her lean into him — steady, like a rock.

She forgot to struggle, lost in the moment, if only for an instant.

“Natalie, you’re going to fall in love with me,” he said with confidence.

The spell broke, and Natalie shoved him away. “In your dreams!”

Marico watched her intently, like a predator observing its prey, in no rush to make the kill, content to wait for the prey to walk right into his trap.

“We’ll see about that.”

With that, Marico released her and sat down on the sofa, raising an eyebrow.

“So, tell me. How can I help you?”

Natalie’s lips were swollen and numb. She was already beginning to regret asking Marico for help.

Late that night, Natalie returned to her room and peeked through the curtains at the street below. As expected besides the car from: before, there was now a black Rolls-Royce.

The driver’s side window was down, and a long, slender hand held a cigarette outside. The man was smoking impatiently, the cherry glowing and fading in the darkness.

It was Hamilton.

After his man sent him the video of her and Marico, Hamilton must have been reminded of his past humiliation or felt he’d been played for a fool. Whatever the reason, he had shown up in a rage, but he had no right to come upstairs.

So he could only wait below, trying to calm his twisted state of mind.

That night, Natalie was too worried to sleep well. She now held Marico as a card in her hand, but it was an unreliable one. She had mo confidence he would cooperate with her, or that he would be dependable even if he did.

The next morning, Natalie was making breakfast.

Kristin came out after getting ready and was delighted to see Marico.

“Sir, what are you doing at my house?”

Marico glanced at Natalie in the kitchen, a playful urge bubbling up again.

“Call me Daddy!”

Hearing this, Natalie shot Marico a glare from the kitchen, but he just gave her a roguish look that said, ‘What are you going to do about it?’

Kristin was a little shy, but remembering how nice Marico had been to her, she whispered, “Daddy.”

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