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I remind myself that Pia's safety comes first, above any carnal desires. I will protect her at all costs and empower her in her quest for independence. My commitment to safeguarding her is unwavering.
My erection refuses to relent, pulsing with a ferocious desire that consumes me. I burst into the house, my heart pounding and sweat dripping down my face. The stairs are a blur as I take them two at a time, practically ripping off my clothes as I enter the bedroom and slam the door shut. The floor-to-ceiling windows provide a breathtaking view of the ocean. Still, my attention is focused solely on her—Pia, standing on the grass below, her body tense and fixed on some distant point. I grab hold of my throbbing cock and stroke it with an urgency I haven't felt in ages. My mind races with thoughts of what it would be like to taste her sweet pussy, to feel myself buried deep inside of her, and to suckle those plump breasts until she moans in pleasure. Pia, you're driving me mad with desire, I think as I continue pumping faster and harder until I reach the edge and explode violently into my hand. Panting and trembling from my release, I open my eyes to find her gone. Determinedly, I rush to the bathroom to clean up, knowing I must do everything possible to help give her the freedom she craves and deserves.
As I confront the man in the mirror, my chest heaves with each breath. Unlike Pia, my scars aren't etched into my skin but buried deep within, invisible to the naked eye yet just as indelible. I compose myself, tucking away the emotions that Pia's revelations and very presence have stirred within me.
Exiting the bedroom, I find only Darrel standing guard. "Where's Joshua?"
"Viktor is here," Darrel replies, his tone signaling the importance of the meeting.
Nodding, I lead the way back downstairs, my steps more measured than the hurried pace that had taken me away from the earlier confrontation. Darrel gestures towards the library where Viktor, Joshua, and Don Melchor are gathered. "Marco, there you are," Don Melchor greets, urgency in his voice.
I take a seat, my thoughts still preoccupied with Pia's predicament. Viktor breaks the silence, his news dire. "We've made progress with our investigation, and the findings are troubling. There's a confirmed plot to assassinate the president."
Pia's warnings echo in my mind, her insight suddenly crystallizing into a prescient caution I'd nearly dismissed. "How so?" I ask, seeking clarity.
Viktor's response is grim. "Details are forthcoming, but the threat is real and imminent."
Turning to Don Melchor, I seek his perspective. "What do you know about this?"
He shakes his head, the news clearly catching him off guard. "Nothing until now. The senator's assassination, given his stance against criminal elements, was not surprising. The president, though? His connections to our world have been minimal, if not nonexistent. Sure, his campaign might have accepted contributions from various factions, but there's never been a direct link."
I inhale deeply, closing my eyes for a moment. Pia's sweet floral scent, a memory now, reminds me of why I'm here in the Philippines—to protect, uncover, and navigate the treacherous waters of alliances and betrayals. Reopening my eyes, I focus on the task at hand. The stakes are now undeniably higher with the potential loss of a nation's leader. The convolution of our situation, intertwined with personal vendettas and political machinations, demands our attention and immediate action.
"Very well," I assert, rising to command the room with my presence. Pacing the library, my hand absently strokes my trimmed beard in contemplation. Halting, I fix my gaze on Viktor. "If we need more resources, secure them. More people? The same. We leave no stone unturned, and we move with haste. The last thing we need is a national crisis that could implicate us or our allies."
My eyes then shift to Don Melchor, who seems absorbed in the rows of books before him. I can almost feel his concern, the anticipation of the potential repercussions of our situation.
Refocusing on Viktor, I press on. "Determine how they intend to connect Luna Sangrienta and Don Melchor's operations to this plot."
Viktor rises, his demeanor resolute. "Señor Marco, rest assured, we're deploying all necessary measures to prevent this assassination."
As Joshua makes to leave, I halt him. "Hold on. Viktor, you're dismissed." Once Viktor exits, I turn my attention back to Joshua. "I want a comprehensive rundown on the Talim ng Dagat cartel and Angelo Mendoza."
Don Melchor's sudden interest is evident, his gaze snapping to mine. "What do you wish to know?" he inquires pointedly.
Facing Don Melchor squarely, I disclose my earlier conversation with Pia. "Pia mentioned her father might be privy to the assassination plans against the president. We must ascertain the depth of Angelo's involvement with El Diablo."
Don Melchor inhales deeply. He nods, an unspoken agreement to our shared objective. In this room, the lines of loyalty and strategy blur between men of power and influence. We're entangled in a web that extends beyond mere criminal undertakings to the very heart of national stability.
The commitment to unearth the truth, to protect not just our interests but potentially the political future of the Philippines, solidifies among us. This isn't just about safeguarding our enterprises; it's about preventing a calamity that would alter the course of history.
As I'm about to exit, Don Melchor's voice halts me. "Marco, hijo…" he begins, his tone laden with something I can't quite place. "Miss Mendoza—"
"Tito," I interject, a firmness in my voice. "I've grown beyond the boy you once knew."
He offers a knowing smile and nods. "Indeed, you have. Proceed."
Exiting the room, I find Darrel, ever vigilant. "Stay hidden," I instruct briskly as I pass him, confident in his understanding without awaiting his acknowledgment. His professionalism requires no further direction from me.
Drawn by the sound of Pia's voice, I approach to find her engaged in conversation with a maid. The sight of her, so poised and seemingly untroubled by our earlier discussion, prompts an unfamiliar surge of emotion—a mixture of attraction, intrigue, and an inexplicable pull towards her.
As the maid excuses herself upon noticing me, Pia offers a smile that erases the enormity of the day's revelations. Her duality captivates me; she is at once assertive, yet possesses an innocence that beckons like a mystery, urging me to delve deeper.
"Let's go on a walk," I suggest, caught in my newfound feelings.
She eyes me skeptically. "Are you asking or demanding?"
I can't help but grin at her challenge. "I'm asking."
