Chapter 11 - Angela

I was against the wall, my legs wrapped around Marco’s hips, feeling my whole body being pressed between the wall and his, yet it still didn’t seem to be enough.

There was a need inside me, crying out, begging for more. But at the same time, a voice in my head screamed, reminding me that I wasn’t raised like this.

“What are we doing?” my voice came out broken as I turned my lips away from his, catching my breath again.

“You want me to stop, little angel?” he asked, holding my gaze and sending a wave of heat rushing through my body. “Just say the word and I’ll stop.”

I didn’t know what to say. Part of me screamed to go on and find out how far he could take me — what he could make me feel with those touches, with his mouth.

Yet the rational part of me screamed to put an end to it and walk away, reminding me that I had to respect myself, just as my mother taught me.

But in the end, I found myself shaking my head, giving him the green light to continue.

Marco kept his eyes on me and lowered his mouth to my neck, pulling a gasp from me when his lips closed around my skin, sucking lightly and sending shivers down my spine.

He let go of my ass, managing to keep me pinned in place only with his body trapping mine against the wall. His hands slid up my bare thighs in a firm grip, marking my skin until they were between my legs.

Then I felt his wide hand covering my intimacy, and my sanity screamed in alarm.

“Stop!” I gasped, suddenly remembering that I was naked under the robe.

Marco lifted his face, purposely dragging his lips against my skin until our foreheads met and our eyes locked.

“Are you trying to test me, little angel?” his ragged breath brushed against my lips, showing he was just as affected as I was. “Were you waiting for my fingers to cover your hot, damn wet pussy just to make me stop now? Do you have any idea how wet you are against my hand? If I move one inch, my fingers will slide into your folds.”

“I didn’t…” I bit my lip, sighing as I moved in his arms and accidentally rubbed against his hand.

He squeezed my thigh, his fingers digging into my flesh as he cursed under his breath and stopped me from moving again.

“This is torture, Angel,” he murmured, his lips brushing against mine — and I was overtaken by the impulse to grab his face and kiss him again.

My tongue slid against his the way he had done before, igniting my body as he showed me what a real kiss felt like.

I felt his hand leave the center of my legs and return to gripping my thigh, surprising me completely. I didn’t expect him to restrain himself and stop just because I’d asked.

Men weren’t like that — especially not a man in the mafia, with all the power he had. I definitely expected Marco to touch me again, trying to convince me to give in to him, or to claim that I had given him permission first.

He didn’t care to stop touching me and kept kissing me, our bodies still pressed together as he devoured me.

“Marco!” The shout from the other side of the door made us stop.

He pulled away, gasping, and stared at me. I couldn’t even imagine what was running through his mind as he looked at me in that state — breathless, cheeks burning, lips swollen from his kisses, the robe twisted on my body showing too much skin.

“This better be important, Nero!” he warned, his tone sending a chill down my spine with the sudden change in his mood.

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t,” came a muffled voice and whispers outside before his brother spoke again. “We have a problem!”

“Fuck. I’m coming!” Marco growled, holding my body against his before walking to the bed and placing me there. “I’m sorry, angel. We’ll have to continue this conversation another time.”

I was still dazed and didn’t know how to react — I just nodded and watched him walk away. Marco gave me one last look before leaving, and the erection clearly marked against his dress pants made me blush at the thought of what the others in the hallway might think.

But I had other things to worry about. I needed to figure out what had gotten into me to act that way — so uninhibited, so hungry for his touch.

I wasn’t raised like that. I didn’t behave that way. What would my mother think of me if she knew what had just happened — if she saw me moaning and rubbing myself against a man who wasn’t my husband, a man who was, in fact, our enemy?

I brought my hands to my mouth, imagining the shock she would have — the shock I should have had. But instead, I felt hot just remembering that moment.

One single day away from my father’s control and this is how I act? Is this the real me — the way I behave when no one’s watching, free from all the rules? Is this who I truly want to be?

I don’t know how long those questions circled in my head, but at some point, I fell deeply asleep. Maybe it was the exhaustion, the emotional rollercoaster, or a mix of everything that had happened since I found out about the wedding.

The truth is, I slept deeply — and when I woke up, there was no one in the room. The place was strangely bright, and I wondered how much time had passed. It didn’t make sense for it to be so bright outside... unless I’d slept an entire day.

I got up, ready to look for someone, scolding myself for not bringing my phone or at least a watch to the wedding.

As soon as my foot touched the floor, pain shot through it — the swollen, purplish ball of my foot told me it wasn’t a good idea to walk, but I wasn’t going to stay in bed until people decided to show up.

I put on one of the dresses Melissa had left there and didn’t even look in the mirror before leaving the room. I couldn’t help but glance at Marco’s door, wondering if he was inside, but forced myself to keep walking as best as I could.

I crossed the long hallway, and when I reached the stairs, I almost gave up — the steps seemed endless. But I forced myself to go on. If I wanted to be strong and learn to fight and shoot like any man in the mafia, I had to toughen up and show strength.

When I reached the last step, I heard noise — voices upon voices coming from outside the house — and I went straight there. If there was a meeting or a gathering happening, I wanted to listen. From now on, I needed to know everything — my mother’s and brothers’ lives depended on it.

I leaned on the walls, walking quickly and dragging my injured foot, ignoring the tears of pain welling in my eyes — my focus was on the people outside.

But nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. A group of three men were speaking urgently while others, wounded and bloody, were receiving what looked like medical treatment.

The rest listened intently, as if it were the most important news in the world. I was paralyzed, staring at all that blood and chaos, forgetting everything else around me.

Then my eyes found him. Marco was among the injured men. He was shirtless, and I could see blood running down his abdomen and arm, which was being treated at that very moment.

An impulse took over me — I wanted to run to him, to know what had happened, even though something inside me screamed that my father had to be involved.

I was on the last step when I put weight on my injured foot, lost in thought — and fell before I could grab the railing.

“Angel!” I heard his shout the instant my knees hit the gravel, pain spreading through me. “What the hell are you doing out of bed?”

I looked up as his voice came closer, and I saw him right there, ready to crouch down.

“Stop — I’m fine! You’re the one who’s hurt!” I yelled, trying to stop him from bending down. Even though his men were already at my side, it was Marco who grabbed me by the waist and lifted me back to my feet.

His expression was pure pain. We were close, and I could see the hole in his abdomen and the gash in his arm. Yet he still looked down at me, his gaze falling to my bleeding knees.

“Why didn’t you call someone to help you? Look at you, walking on that foot.” He raised a hand, and his men quickly grabbed my arms, ready to take me away. “You’re going back inside and waiting for the doctor.”

“No! Absolutely not! Let me go!” I shouted as he turned, his men trying to lift me. I shook my body, fighting against their grip. “I said let me go, damn it!” I yelled, drawing everyone’s attention — including Marco’s, who stopped a few steps ahead.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded as I limped toward him.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on!"