15. Ana
15
Ana
M aybe it was the wine loosening my grip on caution, or maybe I’d abandoned reason long before tonight, somewhere around the time Charlie claimed us, deciding for both of us that we belonged together, bound by something neither of us would let go.
His marriage proposal was absurd, yet a strange thrill shot through me at the thought. His obsession with me wasn’t some passing impulse; it was fierce, consuming, a desire to bind us in a way meant to be unbreakable. But I knew better than most that marriages could crumble, their promises left hollow. We didn’t need that. I knew, with a certainty that ran deeper than anything I’d felt with Jake, that I loved Charlie in a way that went beyond vows or titles. It was a love that felt more real, more consuming, than anything that came before.
And even though I told Charlie to respect my boundaries only hours before, here I was, watching them crumble with every word, every touch. He broke down every wall, shattered every reservation I tried to cling to. I hated the way he unraveled me so completely but, mierda , I loved it too.
I knew we had to go through with it before I changed my mind. I’d never been the impulsive type, but Charlie pulled qualities from me I barely recognized, qualities I wasn’t proud of. But I was ignoring that, pushing away the warning signs as usual.
Sloane wanted to go to lunch before she and Callan flew back to LA that evening. We had missed them the night before, getting back to my apartment far later than they had, and I found myself wanting just a little more time with her before she left.
We chose a quiet spot in the West Village for lunch. I knew what could happen if we were all seen together in public but Sloane insisted. And Charlie—he was thrilled at the idea, of course. He was less thrilled, however, about Miles tagging along, hovering in the background, keeping a close watch from the shadows.
We settled into a cozy corner booth, surrounded by an abundance of vegetarian options that suited all four of us. Charlie had his arm casually draped over my shoulder as we chatted and thankfully, the tension that had lingered the past few days seemed to ease.
On the sidewalk afterwards, Sloane hugged me tightly, her voice soft in my ear. “I’m really happy for you, Mom,” she whispered, the black car idling nearby, ready to take her and Callan to the airport.
“ Gracias, pequena. Te amo ,” I whispered back.
“ También te amo, ” she replied with a warm smile as she pulled away.
“See you later, Sloane,” Charlie said, offering her a quick hug. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”
Callan reached out, placing a stern hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Charlie.” He turned to me, pulling me in for a warmer embrace. “Be careful, Ana,” he murmured softly, his voice low in my ear.
As he pulled back, I forced a small, uneasy smile, unsettled by his quiet warning, especially with Charlie only inches away. I could sense the shift in Charlie beside me, his arm sliding around my waist as his possessiveness took hold, pulling me firmly to his side. “Safe travels,” he said, voice light, almost sarcastic.
Sloane, blissfully unaware, waved happily to Charlie and me as Callan slid in the seat beside her. We waved back, watching their car pull away, and then Charlie slipped his hand into mine, his dimpled smile sending a swarm of butterflies through me.
“Shall we?” he asked lightly.
I nodded, bracing myself for whatever he had planned. I didn’t want to know. If it was some grand gesture, I wouldn’t put it past him to officially out us to the world in his own dramatic way. But instead, we found ourselves on the subway, heading towards Midtown.
“Where are we going?” I asked, slightly excited by the unfamiliarity of the subway, always having kept myself hidden from such public places in the past.
He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close, as his other hand held the railing above us. “Central Park. I know, it’s freezing,” he said with a grin. “But it’s big enough that sometimes it feels like you’re in your own little world.”
I exhaled a small laugh, surprised by the sweetness of his choice. “So, your idea of outing us to the world is a secluded stroll in Central Park?” I teased, pressing my hand to his chest.
“No,” he replied, shaking his head with a laugh. “This is.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, the bustling noise of the train fading as his warmth washed over me. His kiss was deep, unhurried yet intense, as though claiming me in this crowded, public place. His arm tightened around me as our lips moved in perfect sync and the world melted away, leaving only the heat of his touch. I leaned deeper into him, letting his kiss say everything words couldn’t. When he finally pulled back, I gasped for air, the excitement buzzing through me, knowing without a doubt that was the best kiss I ever had.
“You think that might’ve done the trick?” he asked, his voice a low, teasing whisper.
I laughed, biting my lip to hide my smile. “I think so.” Almost too afraid to glance around the train, I scanned the crowd and caught sight of a few discreetly raised phones, snapping back down once I noticed them. Charlie followed my gaze, his laughter spilling out, rich and carefree. He leaned in close, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, I know so.”
I silenced my phone as soon as we got home. Home. My apartment was now our home. When the calls began pouring in from everyone—Marissa, Jake, others from my team, even distant family members—I hit do not disturb and put my phone face down on the dining table.
It was starting to sink in: we just made out on a crowded train for everyone to see. I knew that we’d be splashed across gossip magazines, online headlines, and every corner of social media. But the thought of it, the idea of claiming Charlie as mine so openly, and knowing he wanted to do the same, was exhilarating.
As I sank into the couch, the room wrapped in a comfortable silence, Charlie sat beside me with his phone in hand, a mischievous spark lighting up his eyes. I was about to ask what he was up to when he tilted the screen towards me, showing a photo he’d taken earlier, just the two of us, as a drafted post on Instagram.
It was candid, the kind of photo that felt private, like a glimpse into a moment meant to stay between us. My head was tilted towards his, our smiles subtle, his hand resting lightly on my knee.
“You’re posting that?” I asked hesitantly.
We had already stirred up enough drama for one day, but Charlie seemed to want more.
“Yep,” he said with a triumphant smile, then hit “share.” It had been posted for the world to see.
My heart stuttered as I leaned closer, reading the caption he’d written beneath the photo:
Some things are too real to hide.
It was simple, but it spoke volumes.
I stared at him, caught between shock, annoyance, and exhilaration. He didn’t say anything; he reached for my hand, letting his fingers intertwine with mine, his thumb brushing over my skin.
I couldn’t stop myself—I swung my leg over his lap, pressing my lips to his with a desperate urgency. I could feel that darkness twisting inside me. Charlie had become like oxygen, like some essential, primal thing I couldn’t live without. It wasn’t just wanting him near me—I needed him with a hunger that clawed at me, insatiable and relentless. He’d broken down every wall, every layer of my careful composure until all that was left was this raw, vulnerable version of me—someone who craved him and this reckless, all-consuming passion, no matter the cost.
The boundaries between us were gone, erased so completely that I didn’t know where I ended and he began. And I didn’t want them back. I wanted his chaos, his obsession, his recklessness. I wanted to lose myself in him, to be consumed completely, even if it meant becoming someone I didn’t recognize. There was no return from this, no piece of myself he hadn’t already claimed.
Something shifted in him as his fingers pressed into my skin, his breath quickening. His kiss grew deeper, darker, filled with an urgency that surprised me, something more intense than anything I’d felt from him before. Excitement and a whisper of fear pulsed through me as he pulled back, his eyes wild and almost fevered.
“Ana,” he murmured. “I don’t think you understand…I can’t put into words what you mean to me. Sometimes it feels like nothing I say could ever be enough.” He ran his hand through his hair, looking away for a moment before his gaze returned, fierce and desperate. “I need you to know…to feel how much you own me.”
He pulled something from his pocket and I realized it was a pocket knife. He held it out, opening it, his eyes searching mine. My breathing sped, my heart pounding with a sudden, instinctual fear. But then his expression softened. “I’d never hurt you, Ana. This…this isn’t about pain. It’s about you, and me. Something words can’t touch.”
Something dark, but thrilling, built inside me. I hesitated, glancing down at the blade, feeling its weight in my hand as he placed it there, his fingers lingering against mine. “What do you want me to do?” I asked quietly.
“Mark me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Leave something of yourself with me, something I’ll carry always. And let me do the same to you.”
My heart pounded at his request—this was something that went beyond possession, beyond anything I imagined wanting. And yet, as I looked at him, I realized that I did want this, more deeply and fiercely than I ever expected.
I brought the sharp blade to his chest, my hand steadily drawing a shallow line, watching as blood blossomed against his skin. The sight was so intimate, our connection laid bare, visible in a way that felt both haunting and thrilling.
I looked into his eyes, feeling the last trace of my hesitations vanish, replaced by something so powerful as it was consuming. There was no return from this—only him, only us, bound in a way that defied all sense and reason. And as he brought the blade to my skin, his eyes dark, I realized I wanted this as much as he did. We were two halves of the same, each claiming and being claimed, our love sealed in a vow of blood and desire that neither of us could ever let go.
* * *
We decided to venture out the next evening, craving a moment of normalcy amid everything that felt so intense between us. The morning and afternoon were spent lazily entwined in bed or curled up on the couch, our conversations drifting from lighthearted banter to quiet, intimate confessions, finally peeling back layers of each other in a way that felt long overdue.
As the sky began to darken, we got dressed, our laughter mingling with the noise of the city as we headed out. It was exciting walking through the streets together, his arm draped protectively over my shoulders, as if we were just any other couple. But even here, out in the open, I could feel the weight of our secrets, binding us in a way that made each step feel like a silent declaration.
Charlie suggested a quiet place tucked away in the East Village, a place he swore was private and unnoticed. But as we walked down the street, fingers intertwined, it became clear that “unnoticed” was no longer an option for us.
The flash of cameras began before we even reached the restaurant, quick bursts of white that blinded me momentarily. Voices called our names, more faces than I could count, more lenses than I could imagine. My heart raced and for a split second, I almost pulled my hand from Charlie’s, the urge to disappear pressing hard against my chest. But his fingers tightened around mine, reminding me that this was a choice we both made.
As we finally made it inside and away from the chaos, I let out a shaky sigh. It was surreal, a reminder that what we shared was no longer just ours. Headlines had already spread across every outlet imaginable: First Lady No More! Ana Del Rosario Seen in Public With Younger Rockstar. Age Gap Romance or Midlife Crisis? and Ana Del Rosario’s Scandalous New Love Affair.
Charlie seemed unfazed, grinning at me as if we had just strolled through the park. And as uneasy as I felt about the intrusion, there was also a strange, dark excitement coursing through me. The world was seeing a part of me they’d never known, a side I hadn’t even known myself. They’d talk, speculate, criticize…but none of it mattered, really. I had to keep reminding myself that. Because the only reality that felt tangible was this: Charlie, his hand still in mine, his quiet smile that told me he understood every bit of what I was feeling.
“I love you. Quite the wild start to our night, huh?” he said lightly, pulling me out of my tangled, racing thoughts.
I wanted to take in every detail, to let the moment settle over me—the way his messy brown hair waved over his head, the faint stubble tracing his jaw, and those mesmerizing green eyes, fixed on me with a tenderness that felt like it belonged only to me.
“I love you too. Wild is an understatement,” I replied, leaning closer to him. “I’ve never experienced anything like this…at least not so unexpectedly.”
He laughed softly, squeezing my hand. “It’s been going on for about…ten years for me,” he admitted, his eyes holding a mix of humor and sadness. “Not here quite as much, but in other places I’ve traveled to…it’s intense.”
A pang tugged at my heart as I realized how little I knew of his life, the questions I hadn’t thought to ask while I was swept up in our passion. What else had he been through that I hadn’t seen?
“Are you close with your family?” I asked gently. “I haven’t heard you talk about them much.”
His gaze flickered away, a shadow of sadness crossing his face before he met my eyes again. “No. My dad left when I was young, as I told you, and I never had much of a relationship with him. My mum…” He hesitated, swallowing. “She passed away about ten years ago, right when the band took off. I’m an only child, so it’s just been me ever since.”
The vulnerability in his eyes was heartbreaking, and I put my other hand atop of our already clasped hands. “I’m so sorry, baby. That sounds so hard. You’ve had to go through all of this—fame, life…all by yourself.”
He smiled faintly but the hurt lingered in his gaze. “It was rough. Sometimes it still is,” he admitted quietly. “But then you came along. And now…it doesn’t feel so hard.”
His words sent a warmth through my chest. I gave his hand a gentle squeeze, a silent promise to be there for him, to help fill the spaces left by everything he lost.
We finished dinner with easy conversation, sharing glances across the table as we made flirtatious banter. By the time we returned to my apartment, there was an ease between us that felt deeper, like every conversation brought us even closer together.
“We’re out of wine,” I said over my shoulder as I glanced in the liquor cabinet. Charlie had suggested we take a bath together and relax with a glass of wine, and that was an offer I couldn’t turn down.
“I’ve started the bath already—why don’t you get in and relax and I’ll run down to the market and grab a bottle?” he suggested.
“Okay, baby. Thank you,” I said with a smile.
He gave me his dimpled grin and was out the door before I knew it. The apartment was quiet, filled only with the faint sound of the running water. I headed to the bedroom to grab an extra towel and stopped when I noticed Charlie’s phone vibrating, the screen lighting up on the nightstand. I glanced over, surprised he left it behind, but curiosity pulled me in.
The message preview showed a text from an unsaved number. Unable to resist, I tapped on the screen and was prompted to put in a password. I shouldn’t do this. I decided to try just once, tapping in my birthday, and sure enough, the screen unlocked. I smiled, but as I tapped on the thread, my heart began racing as I read:
Left the penthouse, Monarch Tower. Black SUV. Only one guard today.
My stomach dropped. Monarch Tower, just outside D.C.—that was where Jake lived. Is someone tracking him?
Returned to Monarch. Elevator straight to top floor. Stayed in for the rest of the afternoon.
The updates went on, each one more chilling than the last, detailing Jake’s movements.
The latest message, from just now, was the worst of all:
Alone today. No additional security. Prime time to send a message whenever you’re ready.
I felt a surge of dread. These weren’t just observations. Whoever was messaging Charlie was not only watching Jake but hinting at something worse.
Just then, the door opened and I quickly placed the phone back on the nightstand, my heart pounding as I tried to make sense of what I just uncovered.
I walked out to the living room as the door closed behind him. Charlie set down the bottle of wine, flashing me a soft smile. But fear suddenly rose from my chest and I found it hard to even return his gaze, knowing what I just read.
I took a slow, steadying breath. You have to ask. There’s no way around it.
“Charlie,” I began, struggling to keep my voice calm. “I saw some…messages on your phone.”
His smile faltered, a flash of confusion crossing his face.
“My phone?” He looked over towards the bedroom and I saw a momentary flicker of realization as if he remembered what I must have seen.
“Yes,” I replied, unable to stop now. “From someone…someone tracking Jake’s every move.”
His expression hardened, but he tried to cover it with a casual shrug. His smile seemed forced as he walked towards me and slipped his hand into mine. “You’re misunderstanding this, Ana,” he said softly, as if trying to soothe me. “I just wanted to make sure he couldn’t hurt you again. I would never do anything reckless.”
I shook my head. “But this isn’t just harmless, Charlie. You have someone following him, waiting for the right moment? For what? That’s not protecting me—that’s stalking him for no reason. It has to stop.”
Frustration passed over his face before he masked it with a look of hurt. “Ana, I can’t let him walk away from everything he’s done to you.”
I shook my head, refusing to back down. “If you care about me, then stop watching him. Let him go. Jake is out of my life, Charlie. I don’t need you or anyone else keeping tabs on him.”
His expression softened, sighing as he shook his head. “If that’s what you want…” he said reluctantly. “I’ll call it off. No more watching him. I promise.”
I studied his face, searching for the sincerity in his words. I wanted to believe him but I could still sense his anger, lingering between us like a storm cloud waiting to break. Still, I nodded, choosing to trust him.
“Thank you,” I murmured, feeling both relief and an odd sense of dread. He pulled me into his arms, but as I rested my head against his chest, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over.