Chapter 1: The Unexpected Proposal

On a cold Lisbon evening, in the presidential suite of one of the luxurious hotels, a hand clamped roughly over Mariana's mouth, stifling her scream. Disoriented, she blinked at the stranger looming over her, his face a mask of predatory malice. Panic clawed at her throat. "Stop it!" she shrieked, grabbing the nearest object and swinging it with all her might. The man roared in pain as the base of the lamp connected with his skull. Adrenaline surged, propelling her towards the door. She didn't look back, the pounding of her heart a frantic drumbeat against the plush hallway carpet. Home. The familiar warmth of her apartment enveloped her as she slammed the deadbolt shut. Collapsing under the cascading heat of the shower, she tried to scrub away the terror she managed to escape. Memories of the night, replayed on a loop. Mariana wasn't born to this. Once, her family held wealth, their laughter echoing through grand halls. Now, after a string of misfortunes – her father gone, her mother ravaged by a stroke – she worked in a bar, in order to meet her basic needs. One night, a group of boisterous men, their eyes gleaming with a predatory amusement, had singled her out. "Be our muse," they'd offered, a wad of cash flashing under the dim lights. The sum was obscene, enough to cover her mother's mounting medical bills for weeks. Shame battled with desperation in her gut. Shame lost. She downed drink after drink, the world blurring at the edges. Shame burned in Mariana's throat even as she clutched the wad of cash. It was enough, life-changing even, but the smug grin on the man's face twisted the victory sour. "That's just the first part, darling," he slurred "Follow me, there's a little more to this 'muse' deal." Mariana's stomach lurched. The way his eyes lingered on her, the way his hand brushed against hers – it wasn't about art anymore. Her voice, though tight, held a spark of defiance. "No deal. That was the agreement." The man's smile vanished, replaced by a sneer. "Agreements can be renegotiated, especially with pretty things like you." He reached for her again, his grip rough. A hush fell over the bar as Tiago sauntered in. Tall and impeccably dressed, his dark hair fell in a perfectly tousled mess, and his ocean-blue eyes scanned the room with an air of quiet confidence. The commotion at the bar caught his attention, and he spotted Mariana struggling in the grasp of the lecherous man. "Leave her alone," Tiago's deep voice cut through the smoky haze, a calm authority lacing each word. The man, clearly intoxicated, squinted at Tiago. "Who the hell are you to interfere?" he slurred, his grip tightening on Mariana's arm. A nervous cough came from behind them. The bar manager, a portly man with a perpetually worried expression, scurried over. His eyes widened in recognition as they landed on Tiago. "Mr. Alarc?o," he stammered, bowing slightly. "What brings you here?" The man, seeing the manager's deference, finally grasped the situation. A flicker of fear replaced his earlier bravado. "I, uh... I didn't know..." he mumbled, releasing Mariana's arm like a burnt potato. Tiago derogatorily stared at him with an aura of superiority. The man's face turned ashen. "I am terribly sorry… sir...” he stammered, turning to Mariana. "My deepest apologies, miss. Let me, uh, let me make it up to you both. Anything! Just name it!" He reached for a bottle behind the bar, quickly gulping it down, attempting to subject himself to what he had earlier subjected her to. "Leave!” Tiago said curtly, gesturing towards the exit. Relief washed over Mariana as the man and his cronies scurried out, their drunken apologies trailing behind them. The manager, mopping his brow with a napkin, cast a grateful glance at Tiago. "Thank you, Mr… Alar…c?o." She said, trying to remember his name. Tiago simply nodded, his gaze lingering on Mariana for a moment before he turned and walked out into the cool Lisbon night. She slung her bag over her shoulder, ready to face the night and the walk home, when a shrill ring pierced the air. It was her phone. "Hello?" she answered. "Mariana? It's the hospital. Your mother... there's been a change in her condition. We need you here now,". Mariana's breath hitched. "A change? What kind of change?" "It's gotten worse, I'm afraid. Please come as soon as you can," the voice replied, laced with urgency. Mariana didn't wait for another word. "I'm on my way," she gasped, hanging up and rushing out of the bar. Images of her mother, weak and pale, flooded her mind. No, it couldn't be happening. She had to get to the hospital. Now. She arrived at the hospital, bursting through the automatic doors, ignoring the concerned stares from fellow patrons. "My mother! Maria Silva!" she called out desperate. A young nurse approached "Ms. Silva? Follow me, please." Mariana followed the nurse down sterile white corridors, each step echoing her growing fear. Finally, they reached a room, and the nurse ushered her inside. There, on the bed, lay her mother, her usually vibrant face pale and drawn. Machines beeped rhythmically around her, a constant reminder of her fragility. A doctor stood beside the bed, his expression grave. "Mariana," he said softly. "Your mother's condition has deteriorated significantly. We're doing everything we can, but..." Tears welled up in Mariana's eyes. "Please, doctor," her voice thick with emotion. "You have to save her. I can't lose her too." She fell to her knees beside the bed, clutching her mother's hand. "Mom, please fight. Don't leave me." "We're doing everything we can, Ms. Silva. But you need to prepare yourself..." His words hung heavy in the air, as he stepped out. The Lisbon sun was beginning to get harsher when Mariana emerged from the bank, her shoulders slumped. The loan officer's words echoed in her head, "Insufficient collateral, Ms. Silva." Her mother's pale face flashed before her eyes. No. She wouldn't give up. A low rumble startled her. A gleaming Rolls Royce Phantom pulled up beside her. The back window glided down, revealing Tiago's face. "Get in," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. Mariana hesitated. Tiago's gaze turned steely. "I won't repeat myself." She opened the door hesitantly, sinking into the plush leather interior. The air inside smelled of wealth and something else, something she couldn't quite place. "What's wrong?" Tiago asked, his voice softer now. "You look like the weight of the world is on your shoulders." Tears welled up in Mariana's eyes. "It's my mom," she choked out. "She's... she's in the hospital. They need money for an operation, but the bank refused. I have nothing left to offer them." Her voice cracked. "She's all I have left. I can't lose her." A sob escaped her lips. Tiago reached forward to the driver, who passed the box of wipes. He took one out and offered it to her gently. "Here," he murmured. "Stop crying." She took it, wiping at her streaming eyes. He leaned closer, his gaze intense. His eyes, a startling blue, seemed to pierce through her. His warm breath tickled her ear as he spoke. "Marry me." Mariana recoiled, her breath catching. "Marry you? B-but..." Tiago's lips curved into a half-smile. "You need the money," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "And I need a wife. It can be a mutually beneficial arrangement." He leaned in further, the scent of his cologne filling her senses. Mariana felt a shiver crawl up her spine. This was insane. "But why me?" she whispered, scepticism battling with a sliver of desperate hope. Tiago's smile vanished. His eyes turned cold, devoid of the warmth they held a moment ago. "How dare you question me?"