All Chapters of Be Careful With My Heart : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

(Pamela)..YOU KNOW that feeling when you're in the middle of a deep sleep, and something or someone begins to irritate you till the point that you're have no choice but to wake up.Exactly. In my case, it happens to be a familiar tune being hummed under someone's breath, just out of rhythm enough to irritate me awake. I blink against the thin curtain of sunlight pouring through the window, my brain still foggy and trying to register where I am.Right. Not in NYC but in a master suite somewhere in Bali, far far away in Asia.The memories from last night come crashing back in bits and pieces: the exclusive dinner at the restaurant close to the beach, the little argument with Massimo both in and out the villa, building the pillow wall together and sleeping on opposite sides, someone leaking a video of us together with a different narrative. It just never ends, does it?The hum continues , a little louder now this time, as if to remind me of the reason why I woke up in the first pl

(Massimo)..IF SOMEONE HAD told me that during my fake honeymoon, I'll have a fake photoshoot where I'll pretend to bond with my fake wife on camera to prove our fake love to the world, I would have simply laughed in their face for such an unrealistic scenario. Yet here we are.Bright Tuesday morning, the sun beating down on our backs and the heat slowly creeping up our necks as the day warms up.Me, half naked, dressed only in my swim trunk with my torso bare for everyone to see and admire. Not that I minded very much. I'm a man who has been working on my physique ever since I was a teenager and after many years of hard work, I was beginning to reap the fruits of my labour and show it off as well.I can’t say the same for Pamela though. Her face failed to hide her discomfort as she was putting on a skimpy bikini, which only drew more attention to her curves and waistline.Specifically, my attention. I'm not the type to fawn over a woman’s body type or figure, but Pamela stepping

(Pamela)..THE SOUND OF the live Indonesian music drifts across the resort's beachfront terrace, and I find myself drawn to it like a moth to flame. After spending the entire day cooped up in that room trying to avoid Massimo and his insufferable smirks, I need this.The evening air is warm against my skin as I step outside toward the restaurant where Massimo had taken me too. I've changed into a flowing sundress, nothing too fancy or too excessive. My intuition is right. Just like yesterday, the live band is set up near the beach, just right to the restaurant. The traditional Balinese dancers move gracefully to the metallic drumming and singing and once again, my heart is warm and fuzzy. I don’t know why but watching the live band and the dancers fascinates me so much.I recall Massimo ruining the moment yesterday in his exact words: “It's nice to see that you're capable of laughing at something as ordinary as a bunch of dancers."Like I was a robot who did have any emotions! Wha

(Pamela).."I'm protecting our agreement," he says coldly. "Nothing more.""Romantic or emotional attachment between the parties is strictly prohibited," I recite, watching his reaction carefully. "Remember? That works both ways, Massimo."Something flickers across his face that's too quick for me to read properly."This isn't about attachment," he says. "This is about maintaining appearances. Something you always seem to forget.""I haven't forgotten anything." My voice rises slightly. "I know exactly what this is. The question is, do you?"We're standing close enough now that I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands have curled into fists. There's something electric in the air between us, something that has nothing to do with fake marriages or business contracts."I know," he says quietly, "that you agreed to certain terms. Terms that don't include making friends with photographers who invite you to private cultural events.""It's a live band performance. There's

(Pamela)..MASSIMO IS TRYING hard not to laugh at me. "You okay?""My pride is bruised, but I'll live." I stand up in the chest-deep water and wipe the streams of water from my face. "That was your fault, by the way.""My fault?" He's definitely laughing now, his deep throaty laughter that has him shaking and slapping his chest. "How is that my fault?""You distracted me, you idiot.""But I was just standing here.""Exactly."The word slips out before I can stop it, and suddenly we're both very still. The laughter dies in his eyes just as fast as it had come, to be replaced by something darker and more intense.We're standing close enough that I can see the water droplets that are caught in his eyelashes, close enough that I can make out the exact shade of his storm-gray eyes. It doesn’t help that the space between us feels electric."Pamela," he says in a dangerously low voice."Yeah?" My voice is shaky."We should probably head back."He's right. It's already getting dark and we