Chapter 5 Unraveling control

Warning: Explicit content

I couldn't sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes, she was there. Mom.

I saw her in the kitchen, laughing. Her soft voice calling my name, her arms reaching toward me... but no matter how fast I ran, I could never reach her. The world around me turned to ash, the ground cracking open beneath my feet.

And then, I was drowning.

Falling into endless black water. Air ripped from my lungs, my screams muted in the deep.

I jolted awake, gasping, drenched in sweat. My chest heaved as I sat up in bed, my sheets tangled around me like chains. I touched my face-wet with tears.

I hadn't even realized I was crying.

Dragging myself toward the bathroom, I flicked on the light and stared into the mirror. My reflection was a ghost. Pale skin, wild curls, swollen eyes. I didn't recognize the girl looking back. Not anymore.

Get it together, Lucía.

My throat felt like sandpaper. I needed water. I stepped quietly out of my room and padded down the hall barefoot. The house was silent as I headed toward the kitchen, but as I passed one of the hallways, I noticed a soft golden light spilling from a slightly ajar door.

Curious, I leaned closer. Through the gap, I saw Marcelo.

He sat behind a desk, shirt sleeves rolled up, one hand raking through his dark hair while the other held a pen. His brow was furrowed, jaw clenched in focus.

Even in stillness, there was a kind of energy around him-controlled chaos. Dangerous beauty. He looked powerful, predatory. His forearms flexed as he sorted papers, muscles moving beneath his skin like coiled wire.

I stood there too long. Something about him pulled me in like gravity.

"I know it's you, Lucía," his deep voice cut through the air.

I jumped, pulse skipping. My first instinct was to run, to vanish into the shadows again. But my feet didn't move.

Instead, I pushed the door open a little wider and stepped inside.

"I just came down to get water," I said, voice lower than usual. Why was I explaining myself to him?

He looked up, and his eyes locked on me-slowly dragging over my body in a way that made my skin tingle and burn all at once. His gaze lingered for a second too long.

"I see hydration requires spying now?" he smirked. His tone was dry-teasing. Almost playful.

"I wasn't spying," I snapped, feeling heat rise in my cheeks.

I was. Shamelessly.

His eyes drifted down again-this time not so subtly. I followed his line of sight and realized the silk nightgown I wore clung to my skin in all the wrong ways. The cool air had made my nipples peak, visible beneath the thin fabric.

Shit.

"My eyes are up here," I said, folding my arms across my chest.

"I'm aware," he replied evenly, and turned back to his papers.

What the hell?

I stood there, stunned.

He just ogled me like I was some glossy magazine cover and then dismissed me like I was nothing.

The arrogance. The restraint. The control.

The room thickened with silence. Charged. Tense.

I felt it between us-the pull. The dangerous magnetism. The kind that blurred anger and desire, hate and hunger.

I moved closer. Something reckless in me stirred.

If he wanted to play detached, I'd shatter his control. I stepped up to his desk and leaned forward just enough for the silk fabric of my gown to shift.

"I do need something," I said, voice sultry, deliberate.

He looked up again. His eyes-those piercing brown eyes-darkened just a little. They flicked down to where I leaned forward.

I saw the hunger. I felt it.

His hand, previously writing, stilled.

He stood. The chair scraped back, and I froze as he came around the desk-slow, deliberate steps like a lion stalking prey. I stepped back until my back hit the wall. Cold bit into my skin through the thin silk.

He stopped inches from me, so close I could feel his heat.

His breath. His energy.

The tension in the air snapped taut.

His voice was barely a whisper, but it wrapped around me like smoke.

"What do you want, Lucía?"

I didn't answer. Couldn't. My breath caught as his fingers brushed my bare thigh-just barely. My knees wobbled.

"You think this is a game?" he murmured. "You want to play with fire, mi reina?"

I wanted to scream at him.

I wanted to run.

But part of me-some part I hated-wanted him to keep touching me.

His fingers trailed higher, pausing just below the hem of my gown.

"I could ruin you," he whispered against my skin. "Break you so gently you'd thank me."

My eyes fluttered closed. A shiver ran through me. My body betrayed me-I leaned in.

His hands gripped the back of my thighs and he slid them to the small of my back, pulling me flush against him. I gasped at the hardness I felt.

Then his hands explored more-tracing the line of my spine, brushing the silk strap from my shoulder. My heart pounded so hard I thought he might feel it in his hands.

He dropped the strap revealing my breast and hard nipple.

"Fucking beautiful," he said lowly. Then suddenly-without warning-he swept me off my feet.

I gasped as my ass met the cold surface of the desk, the papers scattered beneath me as Marcelo's hands slid firmly around my thighs, pressing them apart just enough to fit between them.

Before I could process anything, his mouth was on my nipple-hot, hungry, relentless.

A sharp gasp tore from my lips as he kissed and teased with slow, deliberate torment. His breath was warm, and the way he used it-tracing, tasting, claiming-made my whole body tighten in response. My head lolled back, breath shallow, chest heaving.

I couldn't stop the sounds falling from me. His name was tangled somewhere between my sighs and the moans that echoed softly through the dim room.

My hands buried in his hair as he devoured me like he was starved and I was his only salvation. Every flick of his tongue sent sparks straight to the core of me, until my thighs clenched instinctively and a deep ache settled low in my belly.

I was dizzy. I was drunk on him.

But just as the heat began to climb to something unbearable-just when I felt myself start to fall completely-he stopped.

Then he stepped back.

His expression shifted.

The warmth vanished. The cold returned.

And then he said it.

"Don't fucking act like a whore."

Silence.

The words hit like a punch to the gut. I froze. My heart dropped so fast I thought I'd vomit.

He didn't even look sorry.

Rage. Shame. Humiliation. It all exploded inside me. I shoved past him, yanking my strap back up as I went.

"Fuck you, Marcelo!" I screamed, voice cracking. "You're disgusting. I hate you-I despise you!"

I ran.

My bare feet slapped against the floor as I tore through the hallways, back to my room. I slammed the door shut and collapsed to the floor.

The tears came fast and hard. I didn't even try to stop them.

I had let him in.

For one moment, I let my guard down.

And he crushed me.

I curled up, arms wrapped around my knees, rocking slowly as sobs racked through me.

"Stupid, Lucía," I whispered to myself. "Stupid, stupid girl."

I hated him.

I hated myself for reacting to him.

But most of all-I hated how he made me feel like I didn't know where my body ended and his control began.