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⊰ 6 ⊱ Bound by Fate
Sitting in the back of Guillermo’s infamous black SUV, I ball my hands into loose fists on my lap as my gaze traces the all too familiar countryside blurring past us. Somehow, even though I’m in a car with two other people, the empty seat beside me only serves to remind me of the shitty turn my day has taken.
This is ass.
Just a few minutes ago, I was standing in the main entrance hall, stupid enough to think that I was about to be free after the awkward breakfast with Marcel’s family. Valentina had spent the entire meal scolding Marcel for getting me pregnant out of wedlock, while also assuring me it wasn’t my fault.
“Saldívar men are womanizers,” she said with a knowing look on her face. The entire time, Marcel was biting his lip, trying not to laugh while Guillermo’s piercing gaze never left me. Despite the uneasiness twisting in my gut, being by Marcel’s side offered me a sense of comfort.
Then, just when I thought I wa
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The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 8 ⊱ Come What May
Today is the day. I’m getting married. I stand before the full-length mirror, my heart racing as I take in the sight before me. The woman staring back is almost unrecognizable, a vision in white lace and delicate embroidery. My hair is swept up in an elegant updo, adorned with sparkling pins and fresh flowers. The makeup artist worked magic, enhancing my features and making my hazel eyes shine. It’s my wedding day, and despite the nerves that flutter in my stomach, I can’t help but feel a sense of awe. Valentina and Alessandra flutter around me, making final adjustments and offering words of encouragement, their excitement evident in their cheerful Italian chatter. I take a deep breath, turning my head to look out the window of the one of many luxurious bedrooms of Alessandra’s and Santiago’s multi-million dollar lake house. It’s a stunning venue that takes my breath away every time I glance at the glittering water and lush greenery.
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The reception is a whirlwind of music and dancing, the grand tent filled to the brim with well-wishers and revelers. As Marcel and I make our way through the crowd, accepting congratulations, I can’t help but feel a sense of awe at the sheer extravagance of it all. Waiters weave through the guests, offering trays of champagne and hor d’oeuvres, and I find myself reaching for a glass, my mind still hazy from the joint Levi and I shared earlier. But before my fingers can close around the stem, Marcel’s hand closes around my wrist, his grip firm. “Careful, baby doll,” he murmurs, his voice low. “Remember, you’repregnant.” My cheeks flush, realizing my mistake, and quickly snatching my hand back. He’s right. I can’t afford to slip up, not here, not now. With a tight smile, I grab a glass of sparkling cider instead, the sweetness cloying on my tongue. As we make our rounds, I can’t help but feel a sense of pride at the way Marcel commands th
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⊰ 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, ishereinstead of outtheretaking 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
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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
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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
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