The door was slammed shut behind them...

Cecilia's heart thumped in her chest. Eyes darting around anxiously, she bit her lip and asked, “What if they find out?"

Mark pressed her against the door, his breathing heavy.

This little fool didn't realize the real danger at all...

Mark lowered his head, his chin rubbing against her ear.

“Are you afraid of being misunderstood?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

Cecilia nodded stupidly.

Mark smiled. In fact, it didn't matter even if others saw them. No one would make a fuss about whatever went down inside this private room.

Having drank a lot, Mark felt that the little girl in his arms was very soft.

As his breath sprayed against her face, Cecilia's heartbeat quickened.

She didn't dare to move, lest she touch him. Only now did she notice that this man wasn't as thin as she thought—he wasn't that strong, but he had firm, well-defined muscles.

Standing this close to each other, she felt his warmth.

Mark knew women well. He felt her uneasiness, so he gently touched her head.

"Scared?" he asked gently.

Cecilia whimpered in response.

Cupping her face with both hands, Mark ordered in a low voice, "Call me ‘Uncle Mark’, and we'll stop this.”

"U-Uncle... Mark... Uncle Mark!"

Her lips were trembling, and her legs almost couldn't stand on their own.

She didn't know what was wrong with her.

She felt ashamed.

But she couldn't lied to herself. She liked him, despite denying it by calling him "Uncle Mark".

Mark's face inched closer and closer to hers.