Page 12 of Marcello DeLuca

Sneaking in time to be with Marcello had become a delicate dance, where we found pockets of moments between my theater schedule and his obligations to his father’s dealership. Yet, each time we managed to steal some time together, it made all the effort worth it. Seeing him after my rehearsals had been the highlight of my days. And slowly, but surely, we fell in love.

Tonight, it was time for the opening performance of “Romeo and Juliet,” and the air backstage was thick with anticipation and the buzzing energy of opening night jitters. I could feel the thrum of excitement in my veins, but it was accompanied by an undercurrent of something else—a longing, perhaps, or a restless need to see him, to feel his presence.

As I slipped into Juliet’s decorative gown, I couldn’t help but think of Marcello. His rugged handsomeness, that aura of mystery and danger, contrasted so sharply with the pristine world of Shakespeare's Verona.

The house lights dimmed, and the opening notes of the overture began to play. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the light, becoming Juliet.

The stage was my sanctuary, a place where I could lose myself in the story, in the emotions of another time. But there was an added layer to my performance, a thrill that coursed through me with every word and gesture.

As the scenes unfolded, I delivered my lines with fervor, each syllable a bridge to the heart of the audience. And then, in one fleeting moment, my eyes drifted beyond the glare of the stage lights and into the sea of faces. There, amidst the shadowed rows of spectators, I saw him.

Marcello.

He sat in the second row, his intense gaze fixed on me, dressed in a sleek black suit that made him look every bit the enigmatic figure I had come to adore. His long, silky hair framed his face, cascading around his shoulders in dark waves. The sight of him took my breath away, sending a jolt of electricity through my entire being.

For a moment, I faltered, the words of Juliet catching in my throat.

But then, something miraculous happened. Instead of feeling overwhelmed or distracted, I found myself more focused than ever. Knowing Marcello was there, watching, gave my performance a new depth, a raw, untamed energy. It was as if I was performing solely for him, the rest of the audience fading into oblivion.

I became Juliet not just in name but in essence. Every word I spoke was infused with the passion I felt for Marcello, every glance and movement a reflection of the love that burned within me. The story of Romeo and Juliet had never felt so real, so achingly close to my own heart.

When it came time for Juliet’s soliloquy, I poured my soul into it. The lines about love and longing, destiny and despair, took on a profound resonance. I could see Marcello’s eyes glistening under the dim lights. In looking into his eyes, I realized he was as devoted to my performance as I was.

As the final act approached, I found myself dreading the lights fading out. The thought of the curtain falling, the magic dissipating, filled me with a strange sadness. But I held onto the moment, savoring every second.

The play concluded with the tragic demise of the star-crossed lovers, a poignant reminder of the fragility of love and life. As the curtain descended, a thunderous applause erupted from the audience. But all I could hear was the pounding of my heart and envision the silent promise in Marcello’s eyes.

Backstage, the cast celebrated the successful night, laughter and congratulations echoing through the narrow corridors. But my mind was elsewhere, my thoughts consumed by the man who had been my silent muse tonight.

I slipped away from the crowd, seeking a moment of solitude in the quiet backstage corner. And then, I felt his presence before I saw him. Turning, I found Marcello standing in the doorway, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.

“You were incredible,” he said, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down my spine. He extended his hand toward me, producing a dozen red roses. “These are for you.”

“Aw. Thank you.” I smiled as I accepted the flowers, feeling the warmth of his words wash over me. “You were my inspiration,” I replied softly.

For a moment, we just stood there, the world outside our little bubble fading away. In his eyes, I saw everything—hope, passion, and the unspoken future that lay ahead.

And then, his lips were on mine.

The kiss was everything I had dreamed of and more—fierce and tender, consuming and gentle all at once. Time seemed to stand still as the world around us disappeared, leaving only the two of us entwined in a moment of pure, unbridled emotion. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer.

I melted into him. Each touch, each caress, each moan, was intoxicating. I surrendered to the feeling of being wrapped up in his essence, losing myself in the process.

As we finally broke apart, breathless and dazed, Marcello rested his forehead against mine, his eyes filled with a mix of wonder and intensity.

“Lanay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but carrying the weight of a thousand emotions. “Being with you... it feels like coming home.”

Part of me felt guilty that he didn’t know my real name. Unwilling to ruin the moment, I pushed that part to the farthest recess of my mind.

“Marcello,” I murmured back, my voice trembling with emotion. “You are weaving your way into my heart.”

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Witness protection was a distant thought. My uncle’s wish for me to stay away from Marcello was a faint memory. Wrapped in each other's arms, it truly felt like the future was ours to create.

I took his hand, feeling the reassuring warmth of his touch as we stood there. The vibrant hum of the theater slowly faded into a background murmur. The applause from the audience still echoed faintly in my mind, but my thoughts were now focused on the conversation ahead.

“I think it’s time you speak with my uncle,” I said, my voice steady but tinged with an undercurrent of nervous anticipation.

Marcello’s dark eyes searched mine. “Are you sure you want to do this tonight?” he asked, his tone gentle yet serious.

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