Chapter 22
Elena
I'm holding onto Marco's waist for dear life. If I let go, my knees will give out completely. Marco is making it crystal clear to the Irish that I'm not to be messed with—that much is obvious from his stance, the possessive way he's positioned his body between me and them, the warning in his voice.
The Irishmen step away from the table, and I finally release the breath I didn't even realize I was holding. That was intense. They weren't able to say whatever they came here to say before Marco arrived, but the threat was clear enough. They're growing more impatient, more desperate.
But they weren't the only thing I was scared of tonight.
My dad showed up to what I thought was going to be a meeting with Marcello. When I saw him sitting in that booth, looking older and more haggard than I remembered, my heart had leaped with hope. Finally, we could talk. Finally, I could get some answers.
Instead, he spent twenty minutes explaining that there's a bounty on his head and he's been in hiding. When I tried to get more information, he was skittish, stuttering his words like a man on the edge of a complete breakdown. He was clearly terrified.
But if he was so afraid, why risk coming out of hiding to find me? And why meet me in an Irish establishment of all places?
I know why. He wanted me to pull money out of my trust fund to help him. He thought that if we were approached by the Costellos in their own territory, he could tell them I had access to the funds they wanted.
The realization makes me sick. First of all, I don't have a million dollars I can just withdraw from my trust fund.
Second, I have to ask permission for any significant withdrawals, and that kind of money would raise questions I can't answer.
And third—most importantly—he doesn't give a damn about my safety.
He was prepared to throw me to the wolves, to tell dangerous men that I had access to money, then leave me to deal with the consequences. This isn't the father who taught me to ride a bike, who told me family means everything. This is a stranger with his own selfish agenda.
When those men approached our table, he didn't even look back. He just ran, abandoning me to face the threats he'd created.
"Let's get out of here," Marco whispers in my ear, and I lean into him for just a moment, drawing strength from his solid presence.
He keeps his arm around me as we walk through the club. I can feel every eye on us. Feel the weight of what just happened settling over me like a heavy blanket.
The ride back to my apartment is a blur. Marco and I sit in the backseat of the SUV, his hand still holding mine. Our thighs touch. I can feel his warmth, and I try to focus on that instead of the chaos in my head.
But then reality crashes over me like a wave. That might have been the last time I ever see my father. He could disappear again, or worse—someone could collect that bounty. Despite everything he's done, despite how he abandoned me tonight, the thought of losing him forever makes my chest tighten.
My breathing becomes shallow. Too fast. The world starts to spin, and my chest feels like it's trapped in a vise.
Marco's hand tightens on mine. "Elena. Look at me."
I can't. The panic is overwhelming, consuming everything else.
We pull up in front of my building. I need air. I need space. I need—
The moment the car stops, I'm fumbling for the door handle. It swings open and I stumble out, nearly getting myself killed as a car screeches to a halt inches from my body. The driver lays on the horn, shouting something I can't hear over the ringing in my ears.
I stumble around the back of the SUV and into my building, taking the stairs two at a time. Marco is calling my name behind me, but I can't stop. Can't breathe. Can't think.
I make it to my apartment door before my legs give out. Marco is there a second later. He takes my keys from my shaking hands and unlocks the door. Guides me inside with a hand on my back.
I'm pacing the living room like a caged animal. My chest heaving as I struggle to get enough air. The panic is overwhelming.
"Elena." Marco's voice is calm. Steady. "You need to breathe."
"I can't—" The words come out strangled. "He just left me there. He didn't even look back."
"I know."
"And they know who I am. They know about Elio. They know—" My voice breaks. "What if they go after Rina? Or Sofia? What if—"
"Hey." Marco steps in front of me. His hands frame my face, forcing me to look at him. "Breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. With me."
He demonstrates, and I try to follow. It takes several attempts, but slowly, my breathing starts to even out. The panic recedes just enough for me to think.
"That's it," he says quietly. "You're okay. I've got you."
I've got you.
The words break something open in my chest. I look up into his gorgeous eyes and see tenderness there. Concern. Something deeper that makes my breath catch for an entirely different reason.
We're both breathing hard. His hands are still on my face. His breath feels like a gentle breeze over my lips.
"Thank you," I whisper. "For tonight. For being there."
His gaze flickers to my lips. "I'll always be there."
The moment hangs suspended between us, thick with everything we haven't said, everything we've been fighting against. Without conscious thought, we lean closer to each other.
And then his mouth is on mine.
His lips are soft and demanding at the same time. His hands thread through my hair and I wrap my arms around him, running my hands up the broad expanse of his back. God, he feels so good. So solid and real and safe.
He takes control, pushing his tongue into my mouth, and I whimper at the sensation. This feels amazing—better than amazing—and I don't want it to stop. Ever.
He spins us around and slams me against the door, pressing his groin into my stomach. The pressure of his body against mine turns me wild, desperate. I lift my leg and hook it over his hip, and he responds immediately, lifting me so I can wrap both legs around his waist.
I move my hands to his neck, threading my fingers through his hair as he breaks our kiss to trail his mouth along my jaw and down my throat. The soft moans escaping me seem to spur him on, and I feel his teeth graze my collarbone.
I tighten my legs around his waist and gasp when I feel his hard cock pressing against my core through our clothes. The friction is incredible, and when he starts to rock his hips, stroking me through the fabric, my entire body comes alive.
He lifts my shirt and I help him pull it over my head. His mouth returns to my neck, then moves to my collarbone, then lower to my chest.
When he pulls my bra down and takes my nipple into his mouth, I nearly come apart. He begins to rock against me more deliberately, his hard length stroking my clit through our clothes with perfect pressure.
I run my hands through his hair and pull his head up so I can slam my mouth back to his. The kiss is desperate, hungry, full of weeks of pent-up tension and want.
He continues to rock against me, pressing harder, moving faster, and I can feel an orgasm building low in my belly.
Holy shit. I'm going to come.
He must sense how close I am because he presses my body harder between himself and the door, his movements becoming more urgent. I throw my head back and moan, feeling the climax racing toward me like a freight train.
I bring my mouth back to his, whispering "I'm gonna come" against his lips.
He licks my lips in response, and that simple touch sends me over the edge. I explode, my body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash over me. His mouth captures mine as I shatter in his arms, muffling my cries as the orgasm seems to go on forever.
He slows his pace gradually, planting soft kisses around my mouth and jaw as I struggle to catch my breath. When the last tremors fade, he puts his face in the crook of my neck and hugs me tightly.
I hug him back. Hold onto him like he's the only solid thing in a world that's falling apart. Because right now, he is.
Marco steps away from the wall and lets my legs slide to the ground. He holds me for another moment, and I can feel his heart pounding against his chest. Then he releases me, adjusting my bra with gentle hands before picking up my shirt and handing it to me.
"Marco—" I start, wanting to tell him I can take care of him too. Wanting to reach for him.
But he steps back. "You should get some rest. It's been a long night."
The distance he's putting between us feels like a physical thing. Our lust-filled haze is dissipating, and I can see the walls going back up in his eyes.
"Wait—"
"Goodnight, Elena." He turns and walks down the hallway toward the bathroom without looking back.
I pull my shirt back on and sink onto the couch, my legs still shaky. The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom, and I stare at the closed door.
What just happened? And why does it feel like he's already regretting it?
The next morning, I wake up exhausted after spending the entire night thinking about Marco. About the way he kissed me, the way he touched me, the way he made me come apart with nothing but friction and determination.
What confuses me is why he walked away afterward. Was he regretting it? He seemed to enjoy it just as much as I did, but before I could reciprocate, before I could even offer to take care of him the way he'd taken care of me, he broke contact and left.
I'm tired of this back and forth between us. He either wants to explore this desire that's clearly burning between us, or he can fuck off and leave me alone.
When I finally give up on trying to sleep more and step out of my bedroom, I find Marco doing his usual workout routine in my living room. I don't pay attention to him. I'm not some lovesick puppy who's going to wait around hoping for scraps of his attention.
I make coffee and pour myself a cup. Marco finishes his set and walks into the kitchen, grabbing a mug from the cabinet.
"Morning," he says in that deep, rough voice that does things to my insides.
"Morning," I reply with deliberate indifference.
We stand there for a few moments in awkward silence. When it becomes clear he's not going to say anything else about last night, I walk to the pantry and grab a protein bar.
As I head back toward my bedroom with my coffee and makeshift meal, I let my hips sway a little extra, knowing he's watching me walk away. If he wants to look but not touch, that's his loss.
I spend the rest of the day avoiding Marco, and he makes no effort to seek me out or discuss what happened. Clearly, last night was a moment of weakness he wants to forget.
Fine by me.
My phone rings in the late afternoon, and I smile when I see Rina's name on the screen. I know she's pregnant—I've been carrying around the knowledge like a secret weight—and I can't wait for her to tell me herself.
But the moment I think about her pregnancy, dread washes over me. The threat is still out there. The Costellos know who I am now, and they've made it clear this is about more than just money. What if they go after Rina to get to me? What if they hurt her baby?
I answer before the last ring. "Hey, Ri!"
"Hey, cuz! What are you doing?" Her voice is bright and cheerful.
"Just sitting at the apartment. Thinking."
"Yeah? What about?"
There's so much I want to tell her. About Dad's debt, about the threats, about the way Marco makes me feel like I'm losing my mind. But instead, I lie.
"I've been thinking about going back to school."
"Wow! That's great!" she says excitedly. "What are you thinking of studying?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe something with botany?" The lie gets easier with practice.
She laughs. "You definitely love your plants."
I need to change the subject before I dig myself deeper. "So what's up?"
"Oh! Vito is having a formal dinner with some business associates, and he thought it would be nice to make it a family dinner too. Marco will bring you, and I wanted to formally invite you to dinner and a movie night afterward."
"Sounds fun," I say, grateful for the distraction. "When?"
"Tomorrow night! Formal attire, but bring comfortable pajamas and an overnight bag. We're making it a full girls' night after the men talk business."
"I'll be there."
"Yay! Perfect! See you tomorrow!"
After I hang up, I sit in the quiet of my bedroom and stare at the phone in my hands.
Tomorrow night, I'll have to pretend everything is normal.
I'll have to smile and laugh and act like my world isn't falling apart, like I'm not terrified that my father's mistakes will get the people I love killed.
And I'll have to do it all while sitting next to Marco, pretending that what happened between us last night doesn't change everything.
I just hope I can pull it off.