AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Leaning back into the sand, I tilt my face skyward, letting the shadow of the bluff offer me a temporary respite from the sun's glare. With my eyes closed, Marco's words about Mexico replay in my mind—a vivid picture of a world so different from mine, a place of freedom and beauty I yearn to explore. I would love to see Mexico, to experience the world beyond the confines of my gilded cage. But reality snaps at my heels—I have no money, no means to venture beyond these shores. I possess a passport, a sliver of hope in a sea of uncertainty, yet I lack my legal documents, the keys to my chains.
My eyes snap open, a newfound resolve piercing the haze of despair. Could I approach Don Melchor with such a request? Would that be asking too much? No, I chide myself. Now is not the time for doubt. I must cast aside my fears and confront the barriers head-on. It's a matter of survival—either I take a leap of faith or succumb to the vast, indifferent ocean sprawled before me. And succumbing isn't a true option; death is not a destination I'm willing to embrace.
Rising to my feet, I brush away the tears that have smeared my face, shaking off the sand that clings to me like the remnants of my old life. The determination coursing through me is energizing, a fierce will to live, to fight for the freedom that's been denied to me. I square my shoulders, facing the expanse of the ocean, its endless possibilities a mirror of my own.
The decision is clear, etched in the resolve that hardens within me. I will seek out Don Melchor, lay bare my request, and step into the unknown. The risks are immense, but the alternative—a life shackled to despair and thwarted dreams—is intolerable. With each step back towards the mansion, towards the possibility of liberation, I feel a spark of hope flicker to life. It's a fragile flame, yet it propels me forward, away from the shadows and into the light where potential freedom lies.
Upon reaching the mansion, I seek out a maid, inquiring where I might find Don Melchor. In a soft voice, the woman directs me toward the library but cautions me that he is not alone. I thank her, my resolve unwavering as I head towards the library, determined to speak with Don Melchor regardless of his company.
Before I can reach my destination, an unexpected force pulls me aside into an alcove. Startled, I glance at the hand gripping my arm and trace it upwards to find Marco. "Marco? What are you doing?" I ask, confusion lacing my voice.
He presses a finger to his lips, signaling a need for silence, and motions for me to follow him. I comply, curiosity piqued, as we ascend the service stairs to the second floor. Marco navigates through a series of doors until he finds a secluded sitting room. His bodyguards take their positions outside.
"What is the matter?" I ask, my gaze locked on Marco, searching for answers.
He inhales deeply, a seriousness overtaking his usual composure. "The men currently with Don Melchor… I'm not convinced it's safe for you to be anywhere near them. We can't ascertain their allegiances," he explains, his words carrying an undercurrent of concern that tightens the air between us.
I'm slightly taken aback by his protective stance. "We have no way? Are you suggesting you're on my side?" My tone teeters between playful and incredulous, an attempt to lighten the mood despite the flicker of fear his words ignite.
Marco smiles, a hint of warmth breaking through the moment's gravity. "As you might be aware, Pia, I stand against the mistreatment of women, children, and the innocent."
His sincere and reassuring words stir something within me—a flutter of attraction, perhaps, or the first sign of a deeper connection. I'm unsure why, but his stance and protectiveness resonate with me, igniting a spark I hadn't anticipated.
I view Marco in a new light in this secluded sitting room, far from the complexities and dangers below. The pull of the moment, laced with an unexpected sense of camaraderie, leaves me contemplating this enigmatic man who, despite our brief acquaintance, has shown me nothing but kindness and understanding.
I notice Marco's gaze lingering on me, curiosity in his eyes. "What is it?" I inquire, puzzled by his scrutiny.
He smiles gently, leaning forward, his fingers brushing against my shoulder with a lightness that belies the moment's intensity. "You have sand on you," he explains, his voice soft.
A warmth spreads through me, coloring my cheeks with a blush more vivid than I'm accustomed to. "Thank you," I manage to say, acknowledging the remnants of my earlier solitude on the beach. Self-consciously, I pull my hair over one shoulder in an attempt to cover my unease.
But Marco's reaction catches me off guard. He freezes, his hand hanging in the air as his eyes dart from my back to meet my gaze. The shift in his demeanor is unmistakable, charged with a sudden tension.
"Marco?" I press, seeking to understand his sudden reticence.
His voice is barely a whisper, laced with concern. "Who did this to you?" He reaches out again, his fingers grazing the edge of my sleeveless sheath dress with a hesitancy that speaks volumes. Gently, he pushes the fabric aside, revealing more of my skin, more of the scars I've long kept hidden.
I flinch, instinctively pulling away from his touch. The moment's vulnerability clashes with a surge of anger for the boundary crossed. "Please don't," I say, my voice a mix of a plea and command, as I hastily adjust my hair, chastising myself for forgetting the visible markers of my past.
Yet, Marco's expression hardens, not deterred by my retreat. His concern is obvious, but so is his unwillingness to drop the matter. In this charged exchange, an intricate dance of emotions unfolds—my desire for secrecy battling against what I perceive to be his instinct to protect, to understand.
Despite my instinct to shield myself and to maintain the walls I've built, Marco's attitude forces me to confront the reality of my scars, not just as physical remnants of pain, but as barriers to trusting potential connections. Beneath his gaze, I find myself at a crossroads, torn between the safety of solitude and the terrifying prospect of vulnerability.
Chapter Six
Marco
The sight of the scars marring Pia's back ignites something primal within me—a visceral blend of fury and protectiveness that I've seldom felt with such power. This woman, technically an adversary according to the twisted fates of our world, evokes in me a need to shield her from further harm. The urge to hunt down and punish the person responsible for her suffering is overwhelming. Yet, the visible discomfort and the silent barriers she erects compel me to tread carefully.
I clear my throat, struggling to temper the storm raging inside me. "Whoever did this to you should pray we never cross paths. Because for him, I'm reserving a special torment. A hell of my own making." My voice is a low rumble that carries the weight of my promise—a vow of retribution steeped in power and dark, possessive need.
Yet, her reaction, or lack thereof, fuels my frustration. I press on, determined to make her understand. "You do not know me, but know this—I will not stand by while harm comes to women." Closing the distance between us, I invade her personal space. She remains immovable, proof of her resilience or perhaps despair.
Pia doesn't even flinch. The thought torments me, provoking a silent question: What else has she endured? My heart seethes as I lean in, whispering close enough to breathe in her sweet, floral scent—a juxtaposition to the darkness of this moment. "I'll ensure your safety," I murmur, each word laced with a force meant to convey protection and a deep-seated claim over her well-being.
My body responds to her presence, primal instincts taking over as my dick throbs to life. The desire to claim her, to dominate her, consumes me as I feel my teeth aching to sink into her swollen lips and taste the sweet rush of need. But I force myself to turn away, knowing that what she needs from me is not raw passion but respect for her wishes.
As I leave, the unresolved pressure lingers. Locking eyes with my comrades, Joshua and Darrel, I know we all understand the importance of our mission. But deep inside, I struggle with the need burning between my legs, demanding release.
