Chapter Eighteen

Luca's words stab me in the chest, and I feel like I can't breathe.

My big brother, the person who is supposed to protect me, has just deserted me in Mexico. And Enzo didn't step in or disagree with him either.

They both looked furious. I don't think I've ever seen them that angry, at least not at me.

A part of me does think I deserve the anger coming from Luca, and I knew that if they ever found out I slept with Marco they would be beyond angry with me, but at the same time, it took them over a week to come and get me.

And besides, I was attracted to Marco before all of this stupid business was going down.

How dare Luca accuse me of doing all of this to steal his deal, like I don't have any of my own feelings or a life of my own.

My brother can be an asshole, but since we lost Nonna, he's become even more of a dick.

Our whole family dynamic has been lost since Nonna died, from Luca and Emelia's drama to Enzo's exhaustion, and now this kidnapping situation.

But never did I think that they would be able to leave me behind in the house of someone they knew could kill me easily, and who wouldn't hesitate to do it anyway.

I watch them both leave and see the headlights go back down the driveway.

I can't take the emotion welling up inside of me, so I turn and run up the stairs, back into Marco's bedroom.

Throwing myself onto the bed, where half of this mess happened, I let the tears stream down my cheeks, the sobs escaping me in loud and choked gasps.

Things downstairs nearly reached boiling point, and watching both Marco and Luca with guns pointed at their faces made my heart skip a beat.

I did realize that I was worried about both of them equally, which doesn't help how I feel now.

I'm crying partly because of what just happened downstairs, but also about being stuck here, being so confused about how I feel about Marco, being kidnapped from the wedding, even the wedding itself.

I've never been a big crier, but I've held it all in for long enough—this was the last straw.

I've used up all my strength. Being abandoned here now is more than I can take.

At least before Luca and Enzo arrived in Mexico, I could think about going home whenever things felt like too much.

Now I have nothing left to look forward to. I just have the unsure thoughts of what Marco will do with me now.

I don't hear Marco come into the room, my sobs are too loud, and I have my face buried in a pillow.

But I do feel his hand on my shoulder and eventually, his arms scooping me up to sit on his lap.

I put my hands in front of my face so that he can't see my puffy eyes and leaking nose.

"I'm sorry, Grazia. That is not how I wanted this to go," he whispers into my ear and I try my best to calm my sobs so I can reply to him.

"It's not your fault," I say to him, wiping away the tears that won't stop falling.

He passes me a tissue from next to the bed, and I blow my nose. "But I can't help feeling like it's mine. I was the one who flirted with you at the wedding, and took you up to my room. Then I walked around naked and seduced you while my brothers were trying to rescue me. And now I'm not even sure if I wanted to go home with them, but I'm also scared of staying here, and I don't want to die."

The words are spilling out of my mouth a little too fast, and before I know what I'm saying, I've blabbed every thought in my head.

Marco doesn't seem to react, though, he just pulls me closer and kisses my forehead.

At first, I'm not confident in this rare show of affection from him, and I stay stiff in the corded muscles of his inked up arms.

But he's rubbing my back and holding me tight, and it's the kind of comfort that I need right now.

I wrap my arms around his neck and squish my face into his shoulder, crying even harder as he holds me.

"Buenos días," Marco greets me cheerfully from the terrace, where I meet him, carrying my coffee that was shoved into my hands by the very sweet, but very serious housekeeper.

It's colder today, and it looks like it might rain, even though the sun has come out between the clouds.

I wouldn't mind some wet weather to match the damp coldness inside my mind.

"Buongiorno," I say, squinting my eyes at the bright light compared to the dark house.

I sit down and look at the food on the table.

It's untouched, which makes me think that Marco had it made and laid out for me.

The spread of what looks like an omelette, salsa, avocado slices, and a type of bread, looks lovely.

However, my appetite just isn't showing up this morning. I take tiny bites of what I can, and then give up and finish my coffee instead.

This house is just as peaceful as the beach house, and there are people coming in and out constantly.

I wonder if Marco was the one who decorated this house, because the style is very homey, which is so far from what I would have expected from a Mexican cartel bachelor.

The more I see this side of Marco, the more I believe we really could have had a real friendship—maybe something more—if this whole kidnapping situation hadn't gotten in the way.

"I need to take you back." Marco's abrupt statement shocks me, my mind forgetting about the food completely.

Does he mean back to the US? Has he given up on his plan?

I did wonder for a second last night if Luca pulling out of the deal meant that Marco would finally follow through on his threats to kill me.

I don't say anything, so he continues, "I don't know exactly what is going to happen with the deal, but I do know that it is better for you to be at the beach house. We will leave after lunch, I have some work to do before then."

My stomach sinks. The beach house is not where I want to be right now.

Even though I felt a small bit of sadness when I thought I was leaving for good, this house seems like a much better place for me right now.

It's been so good to be out, have more freedom, and be able to interact with real human beings.

The thought of going back and being locked up makes my chest hurt.

"Do…do I have to?" I ask him, already knowing the answer, but wanting to at least try and hold onto some of the freedom I've been given.

"Could I not just hide away here? It looks like there are plenty of guards in this house, and I swear I won't try to escape. The beach house is just so quiet and lonely…"

Marco shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Grazia, but that won't work. Too many people know this location. If your brothers have stayed in Mexico and they're thinking about some sort of rescue mission, this is where they will come."

I sigh, giving up the fight.

If Marco has made up his mind that the beach house is where he's going to keep me, then I have no choice but to go.

The rest of my morning goes by in a blur. I don't leave my room much, and I skip lunch entirely.

The housekeeper tries to come and fetch me, but I pretend I'm asleep.

By the time Marco shows up to take me away, I feel like I'm no longer fully present anyway.

Back at the beach house, Marco moves around getting the place comfy for me while I stare out the window in a daze.

The sound of waves crashing is familiar, and the gentle hum of the ocean is a sound I've come to love, but I don't want to be here.

I want to go home.

I know that yesterday, I was thinking about never leaving this place, and now that I can't leave, I feel suffocated all over again.

Nothing in my mind makes sense anymore. I'm exhausted.

We have a quick dinner standing in the kitchen, neither of us talking much. I still don't feel like eating, so when Marco isn't looking, I throw my food in the trash and pretend I've eaten it all.

Marco offers me tea and I take it into the living room to drink while he sets up the bedroom.

It feels odd to have him running around the house, tidying it up and taking care of me, but he seems to be doing it so naturally.

I finish my tea, put my cup in the sink, and go find Marco in the bedroom.

"Your bed is ready," Marco says, pulling back the covers for me to climb in.

He's dimmed the lights and closed the curtains already, making sure the room is perfect.

I get into the bed and lay my head down on the pillow, feeling empty and drained.

Being here doesn't feel good, and knowing that this might be where I am destined to stay for the rest of my life—however long or short that might be—feels even worse.

"Marco…" I say to him softly, hesitating to utter the next words, "will you stay with me?"

I don't think I can get my mind to quiet down enough to fall asleep if I'm left alone.

This beach house is just too quiet and secluded for how I'm feeling right now.

He has every reason and right to say no, but there is no one else right now that can make me feel less panicked, and if I'm going to get any sleep at all, I need to feel safe, even if it is just for a second.

He hesitates, standing near the door and looking at me. I imagine he's trying to weigh the pros and cons in his head.

"Okay, I'll stay here tonight, but you do need to get some sleep," he says to me and I wonder if he's worried that I only want him to stay because I want to have sex with him.

If so, he's got it completely wrong.

I couldn't bring myself to have sex with him now at all, but I do need to feel less numb, and somehow having him here is a comforting feeling.

As he strips down to his boxers and gets into bed next to me, the warmth of his body helps me relax.

I don't move up too close to him, so that he still has his space, but I reach out and hold his strong arm with my hands, feeling myself already close to sleep.

Maybe my brothers were right to leave me—falling in love with Marco is an unforgivable act.