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⊰ 29 ⊱ Facing My Reflection
There are some things that I know I’ll never be able to repay Marcel for, and last night is one of them.
As my eyelids flutter open, my gaze lands on my hand as it rests flat against Marcel’s bare, muscular chest. My head fits perfectly on his shoulder, and in my comfort, I remain utterly still, tracing the split of his pectorals with my eyes, shifting my sight to his restful features. The morning light casting from behind the window drapes is just bright enough to illuminate his face, and as I lay here, watching him sleep, I feel a peace I haven’t felt in a long time.
Despite everything that happened last night, it seems that all I can think about is how he agreed to spend the night with me without hesitation. All I can think about is how he held me and how when I kissed him, instead of taking advantage of me—or letting me take advantage of him—he was gentle. Like the perfect gentleman he can be, he was…sweet—loving.
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The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 30 ⊱ Treading a Fine Line
It feels as though someone has turned up the heat in the room, feeling my blood run hot beneath my skin as I sit here, sharing the dining table with Marcel, Levi, Santiago, and Guillermo. I hold my hands on my lap, twiddling my fingers under the sleeves of my sweater as my heel incessantly bounces up and down against the marble floor. I’m intentional with my gaze, avoiding looking at Levi who sits right next to me, and only glancing at Santiago and Guillermo who sit across from me every-so-often. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Marcel as he leans forward on his seat, resting his elbows on the table as his fingers interlock with one another. “Mercy,” Marcel’s voice draws my attention, my head instinctively snapping to the side, my gaze flicking up to meet his. A stern look plays on his face, a stark difference from the tenderness he offered me when I first walked in the room. “How long until you’re finished preparing the devices?” We’re talking about
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 31 ⊱ Bitter Tastes
As it turns out, I never actually needed Adderall. I just needed to go off on Guillermo so that Marcel could kiss me—really kiss me—and I’d need something to really sink my head into to distract myself from all the shit happening outside of the walls of the lab. Who woulda thought? After thoroughly conducting my root cause analysis, 2 days ago, instead of picking up the courage that I seemed to have dropped the moment I walked out of that dining room, I cowardly asked Frank to relay my message to Marcel: the project will be complete in 3 days, which has now turned into 2 days because I’m wrapping up now. It seems that the wires that I didn’t connect would’ve only been essential if the signal sent from the remote hadn’t been picked up by what I like to call ‘plan A’, because yes, like the type A planner that I am, I had installed a back-up to the back-up of the back-up in case there was a defect in any of the essential parts of the d
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 31.5 ⊱ Collateral Damage
⊰ Marcel ⊱ I eye the golden-brown liquid as I set the half-empty decanter down on the coffee table, hearing it clink against the glass surface. With the round stopper, I secure it atop the decanter before turning to face the room with a half-full glass in my hand. The dim light casting down from the parlor’s chandelier casts shadows that seem to cling to the edges, and it feels as though it’s suffocating me as my gaze lands on Catalina who sits across from me, her presence as commanding as ever. With the burden of the imminent conversation weighing on my mind, I’ve prepared myself, knowing there’s too much at risk if it doesn’t go as planned. With each step I take toward the leather armchair I often find comfort in, the glass in my hand feels heavier than usual. I lower myself to the empty seat as I take a sip, the sensation of the liquid burning a path down my throat hardly noticeable now, four glasses later, as my gaze flickers to meet Cata
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 32 ⊱ Edge of Envy: Part 1
I sit at the foot of the bed, cross-legged with a bag of powdered sugar donuts resting between my bent legs and my gaze fixed on the sunset beaming through the large windows across from me. Shortly after being escorted back to my room, I took a long, hot shower, slipped into a pair of soft black leggings and an oversized red hoodie, pulled the window drapes back, and found the perfect spot at the foot of the bed to watch the sun away. Sad girl hours… I sigh softly as I bring another mini donut up to my lips, shoving it whole in my mouth. The white powdered sugar stains my thumb and index finger, reflecting the corners of my lips as I chew thoughtfully. He’s probably fucking her right now. The mere thought of Marcel entangled with that woman, Catalina, is unsettling in ways that I wish it weren’t, and if it weren’t for the tablespoon of sugar on my tongue, the bitter taste in my mouth would reflect the painfu
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 33 ⊱ Blurred Lines: Part 2
Standing here, in the middle of my bedroom, eyeing Marcel as he stands before me with his hand still tucked into the pocket of his charcoal gray slacks, my blood runs hot in my veins, my jaw clenching as his eyes glare into my own. I arch a brow, my voice darkening as I ask, “Are you done?” He narrows his eyes on me, but before he can mutter a sound, I interject, sassing him, “Because if you are, I’d like to finish what I was going to say.” He scoffs, shaking his head angrily as he growls, “I don’t need to hear it. You want all of the benefits of being with me without having to make any commitments, because you don’t know what you want. You never have.” My eyebrows furrow, the anger boiling inside of me spilling over as I yell, “That’s not true! You don’t even —” “It’s not?” He raises his eyebrows, laughing at me, taunting me as he muses, “Well, that’s a first.” Screw. You. Marcel. I’m at the verge of telling him to g
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 34 ⊱ Bound by His Will: Part 3
I trust him. I do.As I sit here, cuffed to the bed, half-naked, and vulnerable, I trust that Marcel won’t cross lines that I don’t want crossed; however, I can’t stop the sliver of doubt from tainting it, tarnishing the better part of my excitement into fear as he kneels on the bed, before me, hooking his fingers into the hem of my leggings and underwear and stripping me naked.Instinctively, I bring my knees together, wanting to guard myself. Almost instantly, his eyes snap up to meet my own, his gaze darkening, a silent reminder thathehas rules and I’ve just broken one of them.I shouldn’t have done that…“Marcel..?” His name eludes me, the softness in my voice hardly masking the undertone of my anxiety. My heart beats wildly in my chest, hammering at my throat as his hands find my knees, and in one swift motion, he pulls my legs apart, my clit exposed and aching for
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 34.5 ⊱ Sacrifices We Make
⊰ Marcel ⊱ Stepping out of the shower, the steam and fading scent of soap cling to me as I pull the bathroom door open. Wrapped loosely around my hips, a pair of gray sweats is all that separates me from the cool air of my bedroom. I pause at the doorway, my gaze flickering from the charcoal gray rug on the floor to the bed sheets reflecting the black painted walls. Just beneath them, Mercy lays sound asleep, her breathing steady and even, and a peaceful expression resting on her face. The sight of her, the epitome of what I’ve fought to have, fills me with a deep, resonant satisfaction. After taking her, making her mine, we sat at the dinner table, and in silence, I admired her. No matter how many times I have her, I’ll never stop loving the way her cheeks light up, embarrassed, every time she catches me watching her. Now, having her here, I plan to never let her go. I won’t ever let her go. This bedroom—my bedroom—is now
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 35 ⊱ Torn Between Worlds: Part 1
My body shivers beneath my soft pink sweater and blue jeans as I cross my arms just beneath my breasts. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch the familiar black SUV pull up beside the one Marcel, Frank, Rick, and I have just emerged from. Just before Guillermo and his men step out of it, another one, identical, parks beside us, and this time, I can’t help but turn to look, watching Levi and Santiago step out of them wearing an unreadable look on their faces. My heart skips a beat at the sight of Levi, uneasy and bitter that this is where we stand now. All this time, everything we’ve done, and somehow, here we are, standing beside the men who discarded our parents and tore us apart. I suppose it was inevitable. It was eitherthisor death. I just want to get the hell out of here. I hug myself tighter as the cold winter air flicks my loose hair to the side, feeling my skin breakout in goosebumps. My eyes gloss over the target
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