DAVIDE’S POV: Mackenzie’s eyes suddenly well up with tears. She’s really very emotional. Imagine getting affected by my story without having even met my late wife? “I gotta go,” she says, sniffing while drying her tears that are menacing to fall down. She walks away from me, barely having enough strength to thrust her legs. I wanna stop her, but she might lose her control again and end up arguing with me if I do. So I let her leave, and in a few seconds, she’s out of the door. A sigh escapes me when I inadvertently slant my view to my applicants’ resumes still sitting on my desk. Mackenzie has forgotten them and I don’t wanna follow her, especially now that she’s battling her issues with her emotions. Besides, it’s been more than twenty-four hours since the last time I had my time alone. I close my eyes as I recline the back of my head to my chair, while permitting my most horrific memory to haunt me once again. Then, my late wife’s name skates out of me in a murmur, “Dhalia.”
MACKENZIE’S POV: My eyes swell and burn while my head aches. The last thing I wanna do is encounter Mr. Davide again. With tears uncontrollably gushing down on my cheeks, I head to my assigned bedroom downstairs, then grab my readily-packed bag and rush towards the main doors. “Mackenzie?” one of the maids, Esther, says. “Are you okay? What happened?” I sniffle several times, before being able to respond. “I’ll be leaving. I can’t work here anymore.” “But you can’t just leave,” she protests. What the hell? How dare she stop me from leaving? I wipe my tears with the back of my hands and narrow my eyes at her. I’m flooded with frustrations and I don’t wanna aim those frustrations at her. After making her feel that I don’t appreciate her response to me with my intense stare, I walk past her. To my surprise, her footsteps, along with mine, echo. “Mackenzie,” she says. I keep thrusting forward, ignoring her. Still and all, she also keeps pressing on. “In more than a day t
‘I’ll try my best to change if you stay.’ Mr. Davide’s words continue to linger in my head hours after hearing them. What does he mean by that phrase? Should I interpret it the obvious way - is he implying that he’s willing to let me into his life? Or is there an unconventional interpretation of it, which I could only understand if he explains it himself?I curl myself below the thick blanket as the chills from the unknown darts back-and-forth in my spine. My wounds, that Esther treated, are worsening by those chills. I’m supposed to be leaving, right? Leaving and going to a place where Alpha Primo and his men would never find me is the best thing that I should do. I know in my heart that I can’t kill, which means I can’t fulfill my mission anymore. Therefore, I accept that I’ll never be worthy of the ‘Luna’ title. But here I am, stuck in the bed while considering Mr. Davide’s words, as if agreeing to him will make my situation any better.When my head aches more, I rest it on th
I run my fingers across Mr. Davide’s rippling abs while gently rubbing my cheek against his hard, buff chest. I giggle inwardly as I repeat his ‘I love you too, Mackenzie’ in my head several times. I thought Alpha Allen’s rejection was the end of my happy days, little did I know that it just set me free to introduce me to my second-chance mate. “By the way,” I say, lifting my gaze to his face. “You’re gonna show me something earlier, right?” He caresses the top of my forehead with the tip of his nose, before answering, “Yeah, I remember, but I don’t wanna get up yet. I just wanna spend the rest of the day with you.” “Okay,” I say, still giggling. I’m not gonna protest against something I also wanna do. We lay relaxed and hushed under the thick blanket, cuddling each other’s body, admiring each other’s company and listening to each other’s harmonious heartbeats. Destiny took our lovers from us. He lost Dahlia from a lycan, I lost Alpha Allen from… well, a fellow lycan. But des
The radiating sun gloats itself in the high blue sky, while the rattling and hissing noises of cars that occupy almost the entire paved streets reverberate.Mr. Davide takes me to one of Manila’s famous avenues for shopping. A smile has permanently stuck on my face ever since I hop down from his two-seater Ferrari. Soon after, my delighted eyes roam with my thrilled legs as we get closer to our destination - the arrays of luxury brand shops that exhibit themselves in a long and massive property at one side of the road. Mr. Davide ushers me to one of the stores - ‘Chanel’. The store’s interior is in a white and black color palette and is decorated with glass stands and glass racks of clothes, bags and shoes. Almost immediately after entering Chanel, a couple of its employees in black uniforms welcome us with smiles on their faces and sparkles on their eyes.“Mr. Ocampo, it’s nice to see you again!” one of the employees says.Again? So that’s why everyone is so happy when they saw Mr.
We’re already in Mr. Davide’s Ferrari with bags of Chanel products he bought for me concealed on its trunk, but the reflection of my lycan on the store’s mirror plus the employee’s words about Mr. Davide’s previous women being in that same store as me still bother me. “Are you okay, Mackenzie? You’ve been very quiet,” Mr. Davide says. Of course I can’t tell him about my secret, but what I can discuss with him is the disconcerting fact that he brought me to the same store where he also brought his s.ex slaves. I shouldn’t be starting this conversation, but it’ll eat me alive if I don’t hear an explanation for it. So I’d rather have an argument with him than to feel disturbed during our entire trip. I say, “I found out that you also brought your s.ex slaves to that same Chanel store.” He’s hushed, shifting his gaze between me and his Ferrari’s front glass. His jaw is also tensing, but he’s trying to relax it every second or two. His silence creates a far stronger unbending air b
Mr. Davide’s private jet takes off from the airport at around lunch time. The view from up top is breathtaking and the most noteworthy out of all nature's offerings are the featureless clouds that hug the crystal-blue sea and the miniature-like islands that are floating from across that sea. Oohs and aahs keep bolting out of my mouth. Goosebumps keep vibrating on my skin. I’ve never imagined that I’d get to ride a private jet let alone see this jaw-dropping bird's-eye view of Manila. The man, who I initially thought would give me the worst days of my life, is the one who’s actually offering me the best days of my life! “Thank you!” I say as I sling my eyes to Mr. Davide. “We’re not yet in the most exciting part,” he replies as he raises his glass of red wine to me. I lift my own glass of red wine and say, “Cheers!” The rims of our glasses clink as we make a toast. I take a sip on the wine. Its luscious, prominent tannins, moderate acidity and dryness perfectly complement its
The sun is already high when Davide and I head down to the hotel’s beachfront. He has his button-down polo that exposes his buff chest and his knee-length shorts that exhibits his long, muscular, hairy legs. While I’m in my two-piece Chanel swimsuit that’s hidden underneath a white, long flowy cover up dress. Davide doesn’t release my hand from the time we step out of the penthouse until the time we arrive at the beach. He’s really doing his best to make me feel that I’m a girlfriend and not some kind of entertainer to him, which I really, really appreciate. We settle ourselves in one of the series of lounge areas a few meters from the sea. The lounge is a low, wooden platform, which has two beach beds that’s covered in white mattresses, a glass table and a transversely arched canopy. As I’m comfortably sitting on one of the beds, Davide pulls out a bottle of sunscreen from the tote bag I brought with me. He then waves it in front of his face and asks, “Do you want some?” “Sur