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EARNED IT

♧

THE WEEKND

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I SPENT MOST of the night packing bags of cocaine and counting money. My fingers moved automatically, sealing the last of the product while my mind drifted. I yawned, rolling my shoulders, then yawned again. Not because I'd pulled an all-nighter—I'd done worse and felt fine. No, this was artificial exhaustion.

The little bitch Albert had crushed up a melatonin and slipped it into my coffee. I knew he did.

I had half a mind to cuss him out, but I was too damn tired. Instead, I tied my hair up in a bonnet and had Lottie bring me some sweatpants. Not because I wanted to change—I still preferred my tiny skirts—but moving bricks of coke all night wasn't exactly heel-friendly.

I leaned back against the counter, watching as Summer zipped up another duffel bag. Lottie was still folding the money neatly, but she kept glancing at me.

"What?" I asked, rubbing my temple.

She hesitated. "Are you... okay?"

I snorted. "I'm great, mami."

Lottie flushed, looking back down, while Summer smirked.

Albert strolled in just then, expression set in his usual unimpressed judgment. "Ah, yes. Nothing screams 'great' like someone who's been drugged by their own household staff."

I shot him a glare. "You think this is funny?"

"I think it's necessary," he said smoothly. "You're insufferable when you don't sleep."

I exhaled through my nose. "I should dock your pay."

"And yet, you won't," he said, then smirked before stretching with an exaggerated yawn. "Speaking of, the master of the house will be up soon. Would be a shame if he found his wife slumped over a pile of illicit substances."

I rolled my eyes. "Antonio can suck my—"

"I'm sorry, were you speaking?" Albert interrupted, already turning away.

I exhaled sharply, watching him disappear.

"He has a point," Lottie murmured.

Summer stretched. "She won't listen."

They weren't wrong.

I rubbed my eyes, exhaustion threatening to drag me down, but I wasn't about to listen to Albert of all people.

Then I heard footsteps.

Heavy. Familiar.

Antonio.

He walked in like he owned the place—which, technically, he did—his gaze sweeping over the neatly packed drugs, the sealed stacks of cash—then me.

"You should be in bed," he said flatly.

I smirked. "So should you."

His jaw tightened, but his eyes flicked over me—my sweatpants, my bonnet—like he wasn't sure whether to be amused or exasperated.

Then his gaze dropped to the bricks of coke still waiting to be packed.

His entire body stiffened.

"Celine." His voice was tight. "Don't touch it. Have someone else do it."

"I am someone else," I said, still smirking.

His jaw clenched. "That's not what I meant."

I shrugged, grabbing another bag and sealing it shut.

"I'll come to bed soon. I'm almost done."

"That's a lie," Albert's voice came from the doorway.

I whipped around. "Fuck you! You just drugged me."

"It was melatonin," he said, unimpressed. "It's like Mentos compared to what you've been packing up to sell all night."

Antonio pinched the bridge of his nose. "Celine, vai a dormire."

I chilled.

"I'm not tired," I muttered.

"She just yawned," Summer added helpfully.

"Rat!" I snapped, whipping my head toward her.

She just grinned.

Antonio exhaled hard, stepping forward, his hands settling firmly on my waist. "Celine." His voice was lower, firmer. "You're done for tonight."

I tilted my head, looking up at him through my lashes. "Make me."

His grip tightened.

I smirked, dragging my fingers down his chest slowly, teasing. "You're always so bossy, papi."

He exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening.

I let my hands trail lower, barely brushing his waistband before leaning up to kiss him, slow and deliberate. His hands tensed on my hips, but he didn't stop me. I could feel the way his body reacted, the way his breathing shifted—just slightly.

Before I could pull away, Antonio suddenly grabbed me and threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

"Antonio!" I shrieked, laughing as I smacked his back.

"You wanted me to make you, right?" His voice was smug as he started walking toward the stairs.

I kicked my feet, but he tightened his grip. "Put me down, papi, I was almost finished—"

"You're done."

"I'll fire you."

"You wish you could fire me."

I groaned, dropping my head against his back as he carried me upstairs. "You're lucky you're cute."

He chuckled, the sound deep and satisfied.

Albert's voice followed us. "Ah, finally, some peace and quiet."

"Fuck you, Albert!"

He threw me on the bed, and for a good few seconds, I felt like I was flying. My breath caught as I landed against the plush mattress, my body bouncing slightly from the force.

I blinked, watching as Antonio locked the door, his broad back facing me. My gaze trailed downward—over the ink running down his spine, curling around his arm, the way it stretched over muscles that shouldn't be allowed to look that good. The sharp cut of his abs, the way his shoulders flexed slightly as he turned.

I swallowed and quickly got up, heading straight into the bathroom.

My hands moved automatically as I started my skincare routine, trying to focus on the cool feel of the cleanser instead of the heat still rolling through my body. Get it together, Celine.

What happened in Tulum had happened.

And now? Now I had no idea where we stood.

I just knew one thing—I didn't want anyone else to have him. Not in any way. I didn't want him looking at someone else, thinking about someone else. I wanted to be the only thing in his head. The only person who mattered.

I stared at my reflection, my fingers tightening against the counter.

The bathroom door cracked open. I didn't have to turn to know it was Antonio. I could feel him behind me—his presence alone made the air feel heavier.

"You ran away," he said simply.

I rolled my eyes, focusing on patting my skin dry. "Walked away. Big difference."

He stepped closer. I could see him in the mirror now, standing just behind me, his eyes dark and unreadable.

I refused to look at him directly.

"Are you mad at me, papi?" I murmured instead, watching as his gaze flickered.

"Why would you be sad, princesa?" He leaned against the sink, arms crossed, his head tilting slightly as he studied me.

I scoffed, dabbing at my face with a towel. "I'm not sad."

He hummed, clearly not convinced.

I ignored him, reaching for my moisturizer, but before I could grab it, Antonio's hand shot out, snatching it first.

I finally turned to glare at him. "Give it back."

He twisted the lid off, dipping two fingers inside like he had every right to it. "You act like I don't know you, Celine."

I crossed my arms. "You don't know me."

That earned me a quiet laugh, one of those deep, knowing ones that made my skin prickle. "Is that so?"

He spread the moisturizer between his fingers, then—without warning—cupped my face and started rubbing it into my skin himself.

I stiffened, my breath catching as his thumbs swept over my cheekbones, moving in slow, deliberate circles.

"You're mad about something," he murmured, his voice softer now, more controlled. "And it's not the money. Not the drugs. Not even me throwing you over my shoulder."

His fingers trailed down to my jaw, tilting my chin up. My lips parted slightly, and I hated the way my body reacted so quickly to his touch.

"You wanna tell me what's wrong?" he asked, his voice dropping lower.

I swallowed, forcing myself to look him in the eyes. "No."

His mouth quirked, but he didn't push. Instead, he just kept smoothing the moisturizer into my skin, his touch gentler now.

I should have pulled away. I should have smacked his hand and told him to get out.

But I didn't.

I stood there, letting him touch me. Letting him act like he cared.

And that was the worst part—I wasn't sure if he did.

"Why do you want me to carry your children so bad?" I asked, watching his expression carefully.

Antonio exhaled through his nose, leaning against the counter. "It's part of the agreement when we got married. Our families expect it to seal the alliance."

I raised a brow. "But why do you want me to carry your children so bad? To make our families happy?"

His jaw tightened slightly, but he didn't answer.

Silence stretched between us, thick and weighted.

I should've let it go. I should've rolled my eyes and moved on. But something about the way he wasn't answering made my chest tighten.

I turned back to the mirror, running a hand over my bonnet. "You ever think about what happens after that?"

His gaze burned into me through the reflection. "After what?"

"After I give you an heir. After we've done our duty." I met his eyes in the mirror. "What happens then?"

Antonio was quiet for a long moment. Then, finally, he said, "I don't know."

It wasn't the answer I expected.

I turned to face him fully, leaning against the sink. "You don't know?"

He shook his head, looking almost... frustrated by the admission.

I let out a small, humorless laugh. "That's a first."

He shot me a look but didn't deny it.

I tilted my head, watching him closely. "You always have a plan. You always know the next move."

Antonio's fingers tapped against the counter. "Not with you."

Something about the way he said it made heat creep up my spine.

I let the words settle, searching his face. He wasn't lying. He wasn't feeding me a line.

For the first time, I saw a crack in all that control.

I stepped closer, pressing my hands to his chest. "Good."

His brows pulled together slightly. "Good?"

I smirked. "Yeah. I like that I keep you guessing."

Antonio stared at me, his eyes dark, unreadable.

Then he exhaled, his hand sliding to my waist, fingers digging in just enough to send a shiver through me. "Of course you do, princesa."

I smiled up at him, knowing he was right.

His hand slid up to my jaw, fingers pressing just enough to make me tilt my head back. The moment he lifted my chin, it was like my entire body obeyed without question—my breath hitched, my spine arched slightly, and for a second, I forgot every sharp remark I had lined up.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent.

My heart dropped to my stomach.

Not because I didn't know I was beautiful—I did. But because the way he said it, the way he looked at me, made it feel like more than just an observation. Like it meant something. Like I meant something.

I swallowed, trying to find my footing, trying to remind myself of who I was, but his thumb brushed my bottom lip, and I barely held back a shudder.

I hated how easily he could do this to me.

And worse?

I let him.

"You tired, mami?"

His voice curled around me, rich and warm, sending a slow shiver down my spine.

I couldn't move. My mouth stayed soft in his palm, my breath shallow, my body sinking deeper into him. The world blurred, fading into nothing but the heat of his touch, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the quiet pull of his voice keeping me tethered.

His fingers tilted my chin higher, his other hand sliding down my back, smoothing over my waist, tracing slow, lazy circles like he was feeling me, memorizing me. His palm was so big, so firm, pressing into the curve of my hip, and I leaned into it, into him, my body following instinct before my mind could catch up.

"Look at you," he murmured, his thumb sweeping along my bottom lip. "You can't even hold yourself up, preciosa."

I didn't care. I wanted to fall. I wanted him to catch me.

I pressed closer, my forehead brushing against his collarbone, my fingers weakly gripping his shirt like I needed to feel him, to anchor myself in the warmth of him. His scent—clean, expensive, and something undeniably Antonio—filled my head, making me dizzier, making me yearn.

"You work too hard," he said, his lips grazing my temple. "Running around, wearing yourself out. When's the last time you let someone take care of you?"

I let out a quiet breath, my arms finally curling around his waist, clutching at him as I buried my face against his chest. My body knew before I did. Knew that I needed this, needed him.

His hand slid up to my nape, fingers threading into my hair, cradling the back of my head as his other hand pressed against my lower back, pulling me in until there was no space between us.

"That's why you're all soft right now, huh?" he murmured against my ear, his breath warm, his voice slow, dripping with something that made my stomach tighten. "Just needed someone to slow you down, baby?"

I barely managed a nod, my body going heavier, weaker. My breath hitched as he smoothed a hand down my thigh, gripping just under the curve of my ass before suddenly lifting me like I weighed nothing.

A small gasp escaped me as I wrapped my arms tighter around his neck, my legs instinctively locking around his waist.

Antonio chuckled, his grip tightening on me as he carried me with ease. "Guess Albert gave you four melatonins."

I groaned against his shoulder, barely able to find the strength to argue. "That little bitch."

He laughed again, low and deep, and I felt the vibration of it against my chest, against my entire body. His hold on me was solid, effortless, his hands warm and firm as he carried me out of the bathroom, like this was where I was always meant to be.

And maybe it was.

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i lowkey don't understand how mf write slowburns because this shit is so HARD OMGG . bro never write this slow and now I don't wanna make that far of a jump into something too tensiony but girl it's like how long is it going to take ??? (insert king Julian voice)

like urgh I might just time skip to be real and make them fuck because girl i am stressed out 😔

anyways y'all did y'all like this chapter?? Let me know !!

remember to stay hydrated

- zio 🍸