5. Marco
Marco
I thought the stranger from the street looked really familiar. I recognized him from somewhere, but I wasn't sure where—well, not until I did a little digging.
Tracking people is a sort of my thing, and I'm pretty good at it. Concerned about whatever he said to Olivia that put the fear of God into her, I had to find that asshole.
He disappeared into the crowd that day, and I couldn't go after him because Olivia was already having a panic attack. I've asked her repeatedly what he said that had her all spooked, but she's yet to give me a straight answer.
I can't sit back, waiting for her to be honest about it.
There was something off about him, and his weird statement, “Red really was your color back then, wasn't it?” echoes in my mind even till now.
So, I get to work, decide to find that asshole and find out for myself what the hell is going on.
It took a while, but after having my guys pull up the camera footage from outside the coffee shop on the day of the encounter, I could track him.
My tech guy zooms in on the man and runs a facial recognition scan on him. After a while, we find a match.
The man's name is Hunter Calderon.
No wonder he looked really familiar. Hunter worked for the Bellanti organization until they fired him for embezzlement. I remember he had some sort of secret obsession with Olivia and how leery and creepy he was toward her.
But that doesn't explain why she was spooked to the point of having a goddamn panic attack. It makes little sense. There's more to this, and I will figure it out.
It's been two days since the Hunter incident, and we still haven't talked about it. Likewise, I haven't told her what I found out, either, not yet, anyway.
Today, there's a charity event that requires Olivia's presence. And as her bodyguard, I’ll be there with her every step of the way. Initially, it was her brother Lorenzo, who was supposed to attend, representing the family.
However, his wife was feeling sick, and he couldn’t make it. Olivia was next in line. So, here we are.
The grand hall is full of the hum of quiet conversations as impeccably dressed men and women chatter in small clusters. Waiters and waitresses weave through the crowd of affluent folks with trays of champagne and canapés balanced on their hands.
The aromas of expensive wine, perfumes, and colognes waft through the air as chandelier lights cast a warm glow over the guests.
I stand at a safe distance, watching Olivia like a hawk. However, as strict as my gaze is, there's a flicker of admiration, maybe even lust, dancing underneath. I can't seem to tear my gaze off of her, and a flutter rises within me.
She's so gorgeous and her green dress hugs her in the right places. It has a daring slit that reveals her thighs, adding a sense of sophistication to her overall look. She's so stunning, and I almost tell her that before we leave the house. Maybe I should have.
I can smell her signature scent even from here and it's bringing back old memories. Focus, Marco. Focus .
I watch her mingle with the créme de la créme of society, the who's who–the elites who run the city and control the government. They say this is a charity event, but we know better. It's not. It's just a charade, a distraction—a cover for arms deals between mafia families.
My eyes squint when I notice Olivia's reaction when an associate of hers introduces her to Alex DiMartino, the enigmatic and feared leader of the DiMartino family.
There's a touch of fear in her eyes, even though she tries to mask it. Yes, she’s afraid of him. But why? Yes, Alex DiMartino is the devil himself, but he should pose no threat to her.
Olivia does an excellent job of hiding her unease, but I know her too well. Her hands tremble slightly as she grabs a champagne flute from a waitress. Her hands never tremble.
She is definitely hiding something.
After what feels like an eternity, the event finally ends, and I drive her home. She sits in the passenger seat, her head against the window.
The car is silent as a graveyard, only the sound of the humming engine filling the air. I want to start a conversation, but I'm not sure how. I don't know what to say, even though I have lots of questions.
I glance in her direction and reach across the dashboard for the bottle of water, but she withdraws, almost jumping out of her skin. Her reaction was a little extreme and rather hilarious.
“Still afraid of getting close to me, I see.” I chuckle lightly. Taking the bottle of water and placing it in between us, “Perhaps you're afraid my touch will ignite something in you,” I tease.
She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Please.” She looks out the window. “Don't flatter yourself.”
There's a flash of lightning in the clouds, followed by a clap of thunder. Moments later, it starts to rain.
“Some things don't change,” I say, stealing another glance at her. “Your pulse spikes when I touch you.”
She turns to face me, her expression dark and menacing. “You lost the right to touch me when you vanished from my life three years ago,” she says, her voice laced with venom. “Oh, and the reason my pulse spikes when I see you is because you irritate me,” she adds, a scowl settling on her face.
Thunder rumbles in the sky.
I take a turn down an empty street, and then I get a message on my phone. My eyes dart to the device sitting on the dashboard console. The message said that Olivia's former apartment, now occupied by a couple, had recently been broken into.
My face contorts into a frown, and I slam on the brakes, stopping the car in the middle of the road.
Why the hell would someone break into her old apartment? Sure, a couple lives there and maybe the break-in has to do with them. But I can't shake the feeling that something is awfully wrong.
“Why'd we stop?” she asks, glaring at me.
“Olivia,” I begin, turning to face her. “What's in that safe?” I ask, on a hunch.
She stares back at me for a moment before letting out a dismissive laugh.
“Do you find this funny?” I fix my gaze on her, my expression dark and serious.
“No, what I find funny is your audacity.” She unhooks her seatbelt, opens the door, and steps out of the car.
Damn it! She's trying my patience.
Without a word, I step out into the rain, my footsteps hasty as I walk over to her. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I grab her wrist, forcing her to turn around and look at me.
“You wanna know what's wrong with me?” she snaps, yanking her hand out of my hold, her voice rising against the pouring rain. “You are!” Olivia points at my chest, her eyes red and misty. “You're what's wrong with me, Marco.”
I grow cold for a moment, watching her lips quiver. She's drenched in the rain, the fabric of her dress clinging to her skin, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage. But that's not my focus at the moment, the words flying out of her mouth are.
“Three years,” she blurts out, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions.
“Three fucking years, Marco. That's how long you were gone for.” She pauses, letting her words sink in.
“Do you know what you put me through, huh?
The pain, the heartbreak—God! I didn't even know whether you were dead or alive!”
I just stand there, weak in my bones, as I watch the rain hide her tears.
She continues, her hands moving fast as she talks.
“I didn't know how to feel, Marco—I didn't know if I should mourn or hate you.” She goes silent, her chest rising and falling in anger before adding in a calmer tone, “And then you show up three years later and act like you still own me…like nothing happened. How dare you? How dare you mess with my emotions, Marco?” She blinks rapidly as her voice trails off.
I dare to close the distance between us until we're mere inches apart. My hands frame her face, and I watch her melt at my touch. Ollie raises her head and meets my eyes, a glint of desire flickering in hers. She claims to be mad at me, yet she doesn't pull away.
Without a word, I caress her skin, my fingers dressing a wet strand of her hair behind her ear. I can feel her body trembling, her lips shuddering. Perhaps it's the cold from the relentless rain, or perhaps it's the effect of my touch.
The longer we stare into each other's eyes, the more the tension between us brews. In a moment of pure adrenaline, she pulls me close, and our lips clash in a hot, fiery kiss. I push my tongue in her mouth and she lets me, our heads tilting to the rhythm of the passion burning within us.
Before I can grab her waist and give in to the kiss, she withdraws. Olivia stares at me with a mix of arousal and hatred in her eyes. She holds my gaze. “Take me home,” she says, her voice laced with authority.
Olivia walks back toward the car, her heels clicking against the pavement. I smooth my hair backwards and let out a soft sigh, confused as to what had just happened. “Fuck,” I cuss under my breath.