XXXXIV

My senses come to life before my eyes.

It's cold, but the strong grip forcing my body upwards cancels out the shivers. It's pretty obvious as to who this is, and what's going on here.

Marco didn't wake me up, instead he's carrying me to some place I can only trust is my bed.

"Marco." I whisper, my eyes still closed and body still gullible to his touch. "Yes." He replies through a whisper, his usual intense accent softening for just a moment. "I badly need-"

His tone suddenly switches up

"Badly need what." He replies sternly, not letting me finish.

"My bed." I reply, exhausted.

I never get like this. And I would absolutely never get so vulnerable in front of a man. Vulnerability is a weakness, no matter what anyone says, but my eyes are doing their own thing right now, and it would be a battle on it's own just to keep them open.

He grips me tighter, and picks up the pace. It's all black, but I can feel each and every sharp turn he makes almost too distinctly.

He's so strong, and could throw me around dangerously easy - if he wanted to.

He notices me stirring.

"Stay still." He orders, squeezing my inner thigh. I flinch slightly, enjoying this little 'game' we have going on.

I breathe out when he pinches my thigh a second time, this time higher up.

"Don't do that." I whisper after a moment.

He draws his hand away, "As you wish."

***

My eyes fly open.

I don't sit up immediately, as I give my thoughts their time to process. Last night was chaos as usual.

I think from the club, all the way to being carried in Marco's arms. Why do shitty situations like this keep on happening?

My hand strikes my forehead as I issue a low groan, tossing my sheets aside with limited consideration.

My legs eventually build up enough momentum to venture out of the room.

The first person I come across is Francesca, who I catch on the stairs drinking a smoothie. She looks at me with a half grin.

"Mom tells me Marco brought you home last night." She says, raising an eyebrow with suspicion. "Seriously, she saw that?!" I reply, trying to figure out away to explain this one.

It's messy, especially after I ordered for our 'so called wedding' to be diminished all that time ago.

"No, but the guards outside did, and they were just confused as I am." She explains.

I need to explain this to her.

"Luca had connections, Fran, and those connections are still after us." I say through an awfully nippy pace.

She purses her lips.

"I figured. Nothings that easy to get rid of, is it, we will just have to think of a bigger and better plan to rid them for good." She replies, swallowing the rest of her smoothie in one, big gulp.

I smile before she egresses through m the front door, leaving me alone at the bottom of the stairs.

I wonder what Marco's up to, and can't help but feel bad that I may be the reason his club was plundered by goons. After all, they were after me, not him.

I'm sure I'll see him soon.

I am about to head back upstairs when my phone buzzes.

It's from Mom.

The Cortez's have arranged a final meeting at there house tonight. Don't miss it, Lana, this is important.

Questions rip through me, the word 'important' sticking out from the rest.

I guess I'll be seeing him again very soon - almost too soon...

I write a quick one word reply before getting on with my morning.

***

My eyes fuse through the mirror as I attempt to endure the pain of my bodysuit crushing my organs. It's not even like I'm being dramatic - this is the tightest thing I have ever worn in my life.

I pull down the tempting silver zip ever so slightly: just enough to protect my modesty - however that flew out the window at the club last night.

With a coy look plastered on my face, I grab my birkin and wait for Elliot on the doorstep.

He arrives a few minutes later in his classic black jeep. "You're attending the meeting, I assume. Apparently the entire Cortez family is there." He says, opening the side door for me.

"Yes, that's right. Even I don't know what it's about. But somethings not right about this place - even with Luca's absence." I speak hesitantly, thoughts proceeding to evaluate the past few days. "Maybe he wasn't the real enemy." He replies, as I turn to face him.

"What makes you say that?" I answer, almost too briskly.

He starts the car in an attempt of breaking the silence. "Gut feeling." He whispers without looking at me for even a second.

I raise an eyebrow, before eventually resting my case.

We arrive in silence , just as Marco pulls up on a motorcycle. I stare on, confused. This is his house so where the hell has he been?

"Nice bike." I call out, somewhat impressed. He places his helmet down before straightening his leather jacket and looking over at me. "Maybe I'll take you for a ride sometime. You would like that, wouldn't you?"

I gulp.

"If you say so."

He smirks as his eyes trail me up and down, spending a dangerous amount of time on my half open zip.

"Look-"

"MARCO!" I hear from an open window.

He groans as his eyes stray from me. "Yes, mom?" He replies.

"You were supposed to help us set up an hour ago! Where the hell have you been!?" His mom continues yelling. Elliot finally reverses out of the driveway, escaping the carnage.

Marco doesn't reply. Instead, he advances towards the front door without giving me another look.

Great. There's nothing I want more than to walk in on family drama. I just prey that Francesca is already inside.

I cross my fingers subtly behind my back as I egress the driveway and instead, manoeuvre through the front door.

The sight before me is familiar. The Cortez's each have paintings hung up on the wall upon entrance, Marco's being front and centre.

Of course his is in the middle: that alone outlines his personality traits: cocky, possessive, and controlling. I snicker before listening in on the voices coming from the dining room. I specifically focus on the female voices - and am almost certain of Francesca's sounding out.

I let out an audible sign of relief, knowing that if she's here then Mom most likely is. That mean's we can get down to business right away with no funniness.

I walk down the hallway towards the door, my Saint Laurent heels clicking satisfyingly. I walk into the doorframe and place my hands on either side of it.

My nails tap against the wood. Most people in the room look up, aside from a few deep in convocation.

I look around for a moment.

Marco looks annoyed, Mom looks impatient, James looks... well... drunk as usual, and Fran has her usual smile on her face.

I walk in and seat myself between James and Francesca, the smell of beer immediately slapping me in the face.

"I see you're up to no good." I whisper to James, tempted to take his array of wines and beers away from him, though deciding against it as I'm in the mood for mischief. He mumbles something back - his words sounding nothing more than gibberish.

I eventually turn away and shake my head, noticing Marco pour himself a riskily large glass of whiskey.

We make eye contact for a split second, but it seems he has more interest in his drink than me as he breaks it and sits down.

Francesca taps me on my shoulder, "A night full of drunk people, what a revelation." She whispers.

A revelation indeed.

I wonder what could go wrong?

------------------------------------------------------- Please interact guys it gives me motivation🤍