Chapter 7 

Emily - YEARS AGO

Time... that was all I needed lately, and the one thing I wasn’t getting.

Between prep school classes, the start of the school year, and all the stress of “what am I going to major in at college,” I was falling apart. So, sorry everyone, but I was going to have a good time this weekend.

I hadn’t been to a party in months, but tonight I’d decided to go. With my parents out of town and Fernando away at college, everything was easier. I was finally in my last year of high school and deserved a little fun.

I was dancing in the middle of the living room at John’s house, trying to let out all the pent-up energy and get rid of the stress that had been eating me alive.

“Look, I’m hooking up with Maicon tonight, so Vitor’s all yours,” Bete shouted over the blaring music, catching me off guard.

The guys were bringing drinks, and glancing at Vitor, he wasn’t someone who caught my eye, but he wasn’t bad either. I was still obsessed with the Greek god, aka Marcos, but I needed to get over it. Guys my age who found me desirable and beautiful were like Vitor; Marcos was too busy with college girls.

As I danced and drank, I didn’t think about anything else—just felt the energy of the music and let myself go, downing whatever they handed me.

Until Vitor grabbed my hand and started pulling me upstairs. I had no idea where we were going, but at least Bete was with us.

The music on the second floor was much quieter. I only started to realize what was happening when I saw couples making out and definitely hooking up in the rooms.

I wasn’t really going to do this with Vitor. He might be cute, and I’d love to kiss him to clear my head, but I wasn’t going to lose my virginity at some random party with a guy I felt nothing for.

Even after months buried in studies, I still thought about Marcos and that almost-kiss we had.

“Hey, kitten, come here,” Vitor said, snapping me back to reality and pinning me between his body and the wall.

He took my lips desperately, his hands gripping my waist as he pressed himself against me. Instead of sparking any desire, he was making me uncomfortable.

His lips forced against mine, his tongue wild, swirling in my mouth with desperation.

“Vitor... no...” I tried to speak, but he shoved his tongue back in before I could form a coherent sentence. His hands were everywhere as I tried to push him away. “No!” I shouted when I finally managed to wrench my lips from his.

“Come on, you’ll like it, kitten,” he said, coming at me again. His hand grabbed my breast in a painful squeeze, and damn it, I whimpered.

I looked around desperately, searching for anyone who could help. He bit my neck, and that was it—I was about to scream when his mouth covered mine again, his hand sliding down my thigh, trying to lift my dress despite my struggles.

“If you lay one more finger on her, I’ll have to smash your face,” a deep voice I hadn’t heard in weeks growled. Vitor backed off slowly, boredom in his eyes, but he wasn’t stupid enough to pick a fight with Marcos, who was twice his size. So he just walked away.

“Marcos, what’s your deal? She wanted to have fun.”

“She’s not having fun! Let’s go now, Emily.” There he was again, acting like a protective brother, and it made my stomach churn. He wasn’t jealous of me; he just wanted to keep any guy away, like he did with Bianca.

“I’m waiting for Bete,” I grumbled, crossing my arms.

I’d make a scene if I had to. As grateful as I was that he’d saved me from John’s awful kisses, he wasn’t going to make me look like a kid dragged out of parties by adults.

Come on, I was eighteen. He couldn’t keep treating me like this.

“Ugh. Carlos, can you handle getting that lunatic out of here?” he asked his friend.

Best friend, actually. Carlos was the town cowboy. He lived on a nearby ranch and insisted on dressing like one, with those hats, tight jeans, and boots.

“Right now,” Carlos, nearly two meters tall, said as he barged into the bathroom where Bete had gone and came out with her over his shoulder, screaming.

How long had they been watching us to know where she’d disappeared to?

“So? You want to leave like that, or are you coming quietly?” Marcos wasn’t kidding about carrying me out. He’d done it before when I got into a fight last year.

I stomped past him and ran out of the house. Before I could get far, he caught up, grabbed my hand, and led me to his old pickup truck.

I took a deep breath, even angrier, as he started the engine and drove toward my house.

I stared out at the scenery, squirming with the urge to yell at him. If Bianca were here, she’d convince him to let me stay until the end of the party. Why the hell did she have to be with her mom this weekend?

“You need to stop this,” I started, trying to keep my voice low.

“And you should be at home,” he muttered, his dad voice coming out. “What do you think your parents would say if they knew what you were doing? It’s obvious they’re not in town, or you’d be home like a good girl.”

“To hell with your good-girl nonsense. I’m not like Bianca!” I was already shouting. He could get under my skin in two minutes, for better or worse.

“Or like Elizabete!” he shouted back. “I really don’t know how you two can be friends. She’s not good for you.”

“And you? Why don’t you stop playing the good guy? Your sister’s not here, so you don’t need to keep up appearances!” I yelled back. He wasn’t going to insult Bete without looking at himself first.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He was pissed, but in the next second, his expression shifted from anger to embarrassment. That’s when I got completely confused. “I don’t look after you for appearances or to look good for my sister, for God’s sake, Emy!”

“I know what you’re going to say—that you see me as your sister—and I’m tired of it. I’m not your sister, Marcos, so get over it!” He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm as he pulled into my driveway, but before he could park, I jumped out of the truck. “I might not want to be a good girl some days,” I said and ran inside.

What I didn’t expect was that he’d follow me and come into the house. Marcos had never set foot in my house, not even when Mom invited him for lunch. He always made up some excuse.

“You didn’t want to play the bad girl with John,” he challenged, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t know anything. I’m home now, bodyguard, you can go!”

But he took off his jacket and flopped onto the couch, looking way too comfortable and showing he wasn’t going anywhere.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll stay.” I froze as soon as he said it. Universe, what kind of joke is this? “Let’s talk about John and what you were planning to do with him.”

I couldn’t keep doing this, I realized. He’d be all relaxed while I’d be there, calculating every step, every word, so I wouldn’t seem childish around him.

Emily, you need to put an end to this!

“No, Marcos! You can’t stay here!” I exclaimed, jumping away from him. “I can’t take this anymore. We need space. That’s it!” I sounded like a complete lunatic, shouting nonsense and waving my hands in the air. He stood up, getting closer and closer.

“Want to be a bad girl, Emy?” His low voice sounded sexy, sending a wave of heat through my body as he kept approaching and I backed away.

“Didn’t you hear anything I said? Space...” I whispered, until he grabbed my hands and pulled me toward him.

“I can’t stay away from you. As much as I want to, I can’t.” My eyes widened at those words. “So no, Emy, I can’t give you space.”

The first time he got this close was when he kissed my forehead, but today it didn’t seem like he was just going to kiss my forehead like he always did.

And he did it—he pressed his lips to mine, leaving my head spinning. This was wrong in so many ways, and yet I wanted more.

As soon as he raised his hand to hold my face, I clung to his torso, making sure he wouldn’t pull away.

His lips moved softly but firmly over mine, savoring without rush. His tongue asked for entry, drawing mine into a sensual dance. Marcos seemed to be making love to me with that kiss. I was more screwed than I’d ever been!

“You can’t do this and... then act like nothing happened,” I murmured against his lips, remembering his crazy behavior. I wouldn’t be able to forget this.

“Not even if I wanted to,” he whispered, and kissed me again. His tongue played with mine, he sucked my lower lip, and I moaned against his mouth.

His hands slid into my hair, pulling it to tilt my neck further. The kisses grew more demanding and frantic until we ended up falling onto the couch. But even with his bad-boy reputation, I knew I could trust him.

“Is this okay with you if we keep going?” he asked, his body hovering over mine, propped up on his elbows against the cushions.

He looked at me with such sincerity in his eyes, and I might’ve been wrong, but I could see he felt something for me.

That’s when I realized I was truly in love with Marcos Almeida. I nodded

and pulled him toward me, wrapping my legs around his hips.