⊰ Marcel ⊱
The wedding reception is in full swing, the mix of music, laughter, and clinking glasses floating in the atmosphere. As I walk through the crowded room, my arm wrapped possessively around Mercy’s waist, I can’t help but feel a sense of pride. She’s a vision in white, her eyes sparkling with happiness as she leans into my side.
For a moment, I allow myself to forget who and what I am outside this place and simply bask in the joy of the moment. But it doesn’t last very long.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Rick weaving his way through the crowd, a stern look playing on his face. My stomach tightens, knowing that if he, my right-hand man, is here instead of out there taking care of business in my absence, something’s wrong.
I plant a kiss on Mercy’s temple, murmuring, “I’ll be right back, doll. Just need to take care of something real quick.” She nods, her smile faltering sli
I sit in front of the vanity mirror, my gaze flickering from my reflection on the mirror to Alessandra’s as she carefully removes the delicate pins and flowers from my hair. The room is quiet, save for the occasional clink of hairpins dropping onto the wooden surface. It’s the same luxurious bedroom where Valentina and Alessandra helped me get ready just hours ago. In the quiet of the room, my mind drifts to the scene that unfolded earlier—Catalina’s threat, the way Marcel’s body tensed with an anger that hardly seemed restrained. I know he’s out there now, talking with Guillermo, Santiago, and Levi, planning God knows what. And here I am, waiting, kept in the dark, as usual. “You’ll get used to it, you know,” Alessandra says softly, as if she could read my thoughts. “The secrets, the not knowing. They don’t involve us until they’re desperate and need something from us.” Us…as in the women. Right? I can’t help but scoff, a bitterness lingerin
The hot water cascades over our bodies as we stand in the spacious shower, steam billowing around us. Marcel’s hands roam over my skin, his touch igniting sparks of desire that course through my veins. I close my eyes and lean into him, my head tilted back, letting the water soak my hair and run down my face. Marcel’s lips trail kisses along my neck, his teeth grazing my earlobe. “My wife…” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “You’re mine, Mercy.” Wife… … Why does it sound so sexy coming from his mouth? Without warning, he turns me to him, pressing me against the cool, tiled wall. The feeling of the cold ceramic against my heated skin sends a shiver down my spine. His hand comes up to my face, his thumb brushing across my slightly parted lips. The intensity in his gaze takes my breath away—a hunger that threatens to consume me whole. His hand snakes down to my neck, grasping it firmly. “All mine,” he growls,
With the vibrator wand in my hand, I draw a shaky breath as I press the power button, the device vibrating at its lowest setting. With nothing guarding me below, I hesitantly bring my knees apart, spreading my legs just far enough to place the wand between them. My eyes snap up to meet Marcel’s as I reluctantly lower the vibrator to my aching sex, my hand balling the bed sheets into my fist as I press it against my clit. A soft gasp parts my lips, my chest rising sharply. My toes curl, my back arching involuntarily as the wave of pleasure shoots through my core. Through the cloud that quickly hazes my vision and fogs my mind, I watch as Marcel brings his unoccupied hand up to his chin, his index finger brushing his plumb lips. His eyes darken in a lustful beam as his breathing quickly grows uneven. “Marcel…” I moan hopelessly, struggling to keep my eyes open in the midst of pure bliss. I feel myself at the edge of an orgasm, one push away from falling over th
⊰ Marcel ⊱ Soft rays of morning light peek around the blackout curtains, casting a warm glow across Mercy’s sleeping form beside me. I prop myself up on one elbow, taking in the sight of her—her dark hair fanned out against the pillow, full lips slightly parted, long lashes fluttering against her cheeks as she dreams. My chest swells with an overwhelming surge of love and contentment. Last night was perfect, better than I ever imagined. The way she gave herself to me, trusting me with her body and heart…it’s a precious gift.Sheis a precious gift I’ll cherish forever. Careful not to wake her, I slip out of bed and pad into the bathroom, thoughts of our passionate wedding night still burning under my skin. The memory lingers for a moment, but it doesn’t last very long. As the hot water of the shower cascades over my body, washing away the remnants of sleep, my thoughts shift to the declaration of war Catalina made o
This can’t be real… I sit on the cold bathroom floor, my back pressed against the locked door, and my knees pulled up to my chest. In my hands, I hold the pregnancy test, its two unmistakable lines staring back at me like a cruel joke. Positive. It’s fucking positive. I want to laugh, cry, and scream all at the same time. This can’t be happening… Not now. Not like this. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath as I try to calm the storm raging inside me. It could be false, right? Don’t people get false positives all the time? … It’s the nocebo effect. I’m probably manifesting my own symptoms. … No. You’re in denial. I’ve been ignoring the signs for weeks now—my missed period, the constant exhaustion, the way my body feels like a stranger to me. I thought it was all because of the wedding and the stress that came with it, but I’m
It’s been a week since the four plastic sticks confirmed that I’m pregnant, a week since my world changed. A week since Marcel and I stood on the edge of this new life, the reality of our future pressing down on us, challenging us. And in that week, I’ve hardly seen him at all. He’s been around, fitting in and out of the house at odd hours, always with his phone pressed to his ear or his head buried in paperwork. But he hasn’t beenpresent, not in the way I need him to be. Not in the way I crave with every fiber of my being. I tell myself it’s just the stress of stepping in his father’s place as head of the family empire, but there’s a small, insidious voice in the back of my mind that whispers a different story—a different story that twists a knot in my stomach. Maybe he’s been avoiding me. The thought tugs at my heart, and with it goes my appetite. I push my dinner around my plate, suddenly growing nauseous. Next to me
I eye my fork as I absently push the scrambled eggs around my plate, the sound of the clinking mixing with the sound of my breathing as I sit at the dining table alone. It’s been two days since Marcel shut down my idea of going back to school—two days of us not saying a word to each other. We’re like parallel lines, destined never to meet, stretching further apart with each passing moment. But as much as I’d like to cling to my righteous indignation, I know today is not the day to be stubborn. Today is the day I face the reality of the life growing inside me, the day I take the first step in my journey to motherhood. I push back from the table, my chair scraping against the floor as a sigh parts my lips. The sound is unsettling in the stillness of the morning, and for a moment, I pause, half-expecting Marcel to appear in the doorway. He doesn’t. It dawns on me with a twinge of sadness that he’s probably holed up in his office, dealing with the
The black and white image on the ultrasound printout is seared into my mind as I stare out the window of Marcel’s truck. Eight weeks. That tiny flickering heartbeat, ourlittle bean, has been growing inside me for eight weeks. It’s surreal, knowing that a new life is blossoming within me, a perfect blend of Marcel and myself. A small smile tugs at my lips despite the lingering tension between us, a flicker of warmth spreading across my chest as I absently rub my thumb over the glossy paper. The doctor’s reassurances still echo in my ears—everything looks good, right on track. I’m pulled out of my thoughts as Marcel suddenly flicks on the turn signal, pulling into the drive-thru of a smoothie shop. I shoot him a questioning glance, and before I can mutter a sound, he says matter-of-factly, “You hardly ate this morning. You need to eat something, especially now.” How did he… … Mauricio. I can’t ev