Chapter 7: Fragments of Trust

The icy tendrils of water clung stubbornly to Mariana's skin, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. Despite the cold, she instinctively obeyed the command of his pull. As she moved nearer, his response was immediate. His arm encircled her waist, pulling her tightly against him until there was no space left between their bodies. Caught off guard by the intensity of the moment, Mariana struggled to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, he pressed her against the cool tile wall, his touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through her veins. “What are… you doing” She asked shakily, with a hint of concern in her voice “Shhh!” He interrupted her, as he pushed back the strands of hair covering her face. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, and his lips unexpectedly descended upon hers in a passionate kiss that left her breathless. The sound of water drowned out his heavy breaths, as the atmosphere brimmed with desire. As the first light of dawn filtered through the window, Tiago stirred from his slumber with a groan, his head throbbing with the remnants of a night he struggled to recall. Blinking away the haze of sleep, he glanced around the room, his heart sinking at the empty space beside him. Where was Mariana? With a sense of unease gnawing at him, Tiago rose from the bed and made his way to the bathroom, half-hoping to find her there. The bathroom however was spotless, gleaming as if untouched. Confusion clouded his thoughts as he descended the stairs, searching for any sign of her presence, but finding only silence echoing through the empty house. "Mary," he called out, his voice hoarse. Mary appeared from the kitchen. "Good morning, Mr. Alarc?o. Did you sleep well?" "Something like that," he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. "Have you seen Mariana?" "Mrs. Alarc?o is in the guest apartment, sir. She's still resting, I believe. Probably fatigued from staying up late, I guess." Mary's voice held a hint of amusement that Tiago couldn't quite decipher. "Please do not disturb her," he ordered. He still couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Why couldn't he remember the events of last night clearly? Why did everything feel so… different? With a curt nod, Tiago headed back upstairs. He had his bath, came back down all dressed, grabbed a quick breakfast and headed out the door, the unanswered questions swirling in his mind like a storm. He needed some serious coffee and a chance to clear his head. Perhaps some work would help jog his memory. It wasn't unusual for him to forget details after a heavy night of drinking – a curse, some might say, of his… heritage. He dismissed the questions in his mind as the car pulled into the parking lot of his company. Arriving in his office, he immersed himself in the day’s work. The insistent rapping of knuckles on the grand oak door shattered the peaceful morning quiet. Mary, humming to herself as she dusted the living room, frowned and hurried towards the sound. Swinging the door open, she found herself face-to-face with Claire. "Took you long enough," Claire sniffed, pushing past Mary without a word. Her designer heels clicked a sharp counterpoint against the marble floor. "Is the wife still tucked away in dreamland?" Mary's lips tightened. Claire's disdainful tone was like nails on a chalkboard. "Mrs. Alarc?o is resting, Miss Dupont. Would you like to wait?" "Of course," Claire said, dropping herself onto a plush armchair with a theatrical sigh. "Though frankly, I can't imagine needing so much sleep after a night of nothing…" Her voice trailed off suggestively. Mary gritted her teeth. She knew exactly what Claire was implying, and it rankled. Claire had never missed a chance to cause trouble, whenever she came around. Mary could still remember countless times when Claire had tattled on her to Augusto, Tiago's domineering father, for even the most minor infractions. Claire was the daughter of Augusto’s best friend, and a childhood friend of Tiago. She was Augusto’s preferred choice for Tiago, but Tiago chose to marry Mariana instead. A faint creak of the stairs drew their attention. Mariana appeared at the top, her face pale and drawn. Dark circles shadowed her eyes. "Mariana!" Claire exclaimed, her voice dripping with mock concern. "You look positively dreadful. Cried all night?" she asked scornfully. Mariana ignored the jab. She descended the stairs slowly, her movements betraying a lingering fatigue. "Good morning…” she said coolly. "Who are you, please? “Ohh! I’m Claire Dupont. A friend of the family and Tiago’s close friend right from childhood.” She replied, trying to establish authority. Mariana, the picture of composure, straightened her spine and even managed a weak smile. "Claire, dear, so unexpected to see you. Won't you come in and join us for lunch?" Claire's reply was a curt shake of her head. As Mary, entered the room carrying a platter of vibrantly coloured fruit, Claire deliberately knocked into her, sending the fruit tumbling to the floor in a messy splatter. "Oh dear," Claire exclaimed, feigning surprise. "How terribly clumsy of me." Mariana saw right through the act. Claire's malicious intent was as clear as the juice staining the expensive rug. Yet, Mariana refused to give Claire the satisfaction of a rise. In a calm voice, she instructed Mary, "That's alright, Mary. Step back and let Ms. Claire handle this." Claire's brows furrowed. "Why should I? That's what the maid is for, isn't it?" Mariana's gaze held steady. The unwavering confidence in her eyes contrasted sharply with the childish tantrum Claire had just thrown. "Consider it a favour to me, Claire. Clean up the mess." For a moment, a flicker of defiance sparked in Claire's eyes. But cornered by Mariana's unexpected composure, she eventually mumbled a begrudging assent and knelt down to pick up the fruits. The clatter of glass hitting the floor ceased abruptly as the grand double doors of the mansion swung open, revealing Tiago entering. He took in the scene with a swift, assessing glance - the scattered fruit, Claire on her knees picking it up with a grimace, and Mariana standing rigidly by, an unreadable expression on her face. Mary, ever the attentive care taker, immediately rushed to Claire's side and was now assisting with the clean-up. Claire shot up, a touch too eager in her greeting. "Oh Tiago, you're back!" she chirped, a forced cheer in her voice. Tiago, however, seemed to completely ignore her. His dark eyes narrowed as they met Mariana's. A flicker of unease crossed his features, a memory nagging at the edges of his mind - a hazy recollection of the previous night. He couldn't quite grasp it, but a disquieting feeling settled in his gut. Mariana, too, seemed unsure of how to proceed. Her husband's stoic demeanour was a wild card, and she wasn't sure what to expect. Breaking the tense silence, Tiago finally spoke, his voice a low rumble. "Mariana," he began, "what happened here?" Thinking quickly, Mariana decided to shield Claire, perhaps fearing a confrontation. "It was nothing, Tiago," she said smoothly. "A small accident. I bumped into the fruit platter and spilled it. Thankfully, Claire was kind enough to help clean it up." A sardonic glint flickered in Tiago's eyes. He slowly turned his head towards Claire, his expression hardening. "Claire," he said, his voice dripping with coldness, "What are you doing here?"