Page 25 of Marco

"Fuck, Alessia," he growls. "You're so tight." The bed creaks under our combined weight as we move together, our bodies slapping together in a primal dance.

The aftermath is a blur to me, as intimate as the moment has been. Marco rolls off me, his heavy breathing synced with mine. I feel the sweat cooling between us, and I can't help but trace his jawline with my fingertips. The stubble scratches my skin lightly.

"Stay here," he says, his voice rough. He gets up, leaving the room momentarily, returning with a warm, damp washcloth. He cleans me up gently, his touch a stark contrast to the rough sex we just had.

As I watch him, I can't help but think about the irony of our situation. Just hours ago, he felt like a stranger who I was just beginning to know. Now we're tangled in sweaty sheets, our bodies intertwined like two humans who've just valiantly fought for survival. It doesn't quite seem real.

We're silent for a while, lying there in each other's arms. Eventually, Marco speaks up. "You know this changes nothing, right?" he says, his voice low.

I nod against his chest. "I know." But I don't really. Because suddenly, everything feels different.

Outside, the sounds of chaos continue—sirens wailing in the distance, people shouting orders, guns cocking. It's a stark reminder of the reality we live in. A part of me wishes we could stay here forever, safe in our little bubble... but I know it's not possible.

Marco pulls back to look at me, studying my face. "Was it good for you?" He asks, his voice a raspy whisper.

I nod, unable to meet his gaze. My heart thunders in my ears, and I feel a blush creep up my neck. It's not just because of the physical pleasure—it's because this man, this ruthless criminal, just made me feel things I never thought possible.

"You're brave," he says simply, tracing my jawline with his thumb. "You faced me head-on, and you never backed down."

Slowly, I nod again, not sure what else to say. The praise catches me off guard, but it also feels right. He deserves the truth, even if it's hard to swallow.

"You're not so bad yourself," I manage to whisper, my voice barely above a whisper.

His lips quirk up in a small smile. "Flatterer." He pulls me back into his embrace, and we stay like that for a while longer, lost in our own thoughts.

Eventually, we hear footsteps approaching the door. Marco tenses, and I can feel the shift in his body language. He's all business now. "Get dressed," he commands.

I do as he says, pulling on my dress from earlier. It's now wrinkled and stained with sweat, a testament to our passionate encounter.

When I emerge from the bedroom, Marco is gone, leaving me with a lingering sense of awe and confusion. But also, an undeniable longing for more. This can't be happening... or maybe it's exactly how it should be.

I make my way downstairs on shaky legs, still feeling the aftereffects of Marco's skilled touch. My core throbs pleasantly with each step, and I have to bite my lip to stifle a moan.

In the foyer, Marco is barking orders at his men, clearly preparing for retaliation against the rival family that dared to attack us. His expression is stern, almost cruel, a far cry from the tender lover I knew only minutes ago.

He senses my presence and turns to face me, his gaze softening for the briefest moment. Then he's all business again.

"The security team will monitor the house. I have... matters to attend to." His jaw clenches, a muscle feathering in his cheek. "You will hear from me soon."

I swallow hard, acutely aware of the eyes on us. His men know we were intimate, and now they're watching to see how Marco handles me. Asserting control and dominance in front of them is clearly important.

Still, I can't help the flare of hurt in my chest. After everything we shared, he's dismissing me so easily. As if I mean nothing.

I lift my chin, refusing to show any weakness. Now is not the time to show him or his men how I really feel. "Of course, Signore De Luca. I understand you have a job to do."

The words taste bitter on my tongue, but I stand by them. This is the life I chose when I agreed to marry Marco, danger and unpredictability included. I knew what I was getting into.

If only my heart understood that too. In a way, I think it did at first. But the mind's stubbornness is no match for true love.

Marco's gaze sharpens, and for a moment I think he sees right through me. But then he gives a curt nod and turns away, already issuing new orders to his men.

I let out a shaky breath and head for the door, more uncertain of my place here than ever before.

I stare out the window at the swirling sea, lost in thought. So much has changed in such a short time. Barely a week ago, Marco and I were still uneasy strangers bound by an arranged marriage. Now we've shared an intimacy I never could've imagined, only to be plunged back into the brutal realities of his world.

It's foolish to wish for any normalcy or predictability here. I knew that going in, and yet part of me had hoped...

What? That Marco would sweep me off into the sunset, away from the violence and danger? I shake my head at my own naïveté. That will never be our story. If I'm going to find happiness with Marco, it will be in spite of the chaos, not separate from it.

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