To be honest, losing the phone was nothing. She could always ask Alberta or any of their guards to get her a replacement whenever she wanted.
However, she was waiting for a critical phone call. What if Alejandro suddenly remembered that he had a daughter who was waiting for him to explain everything he was up to?
'Dream on!' She rolled her eyes.
Soon enough, she reached the hilltop where her treehouse was. She was still frowning when she dropped her bag on the ground and gave the whole place a slow once-over. She wanted to make sure that there wouldn't be anyone present when she vented her frustrations.
She then knelt in front of her bag and pulled out a bottle of chardonnay. She opened it and drank straight from the bottle, like a superb drunkard.
Getting her fill, she slipped the wine back into her bag and then pulled out a speaker. She started angrily pressing on its buttons as if she were trying to poke holes in it rather than turn it on.
After setting the speaker, she walked on tiptoes to the same spot under the tree where she always danced. She arched her back, lifted her arms, and then bent her knees delicately. In a second, her slender body took on the perfect dancing posture of her mother, one leg forward, chest out, stomach in. To top it off, she hardened her face, completing her stance.
She didn't wait long until the loudest, most scornful music that she had heard played again. It was her mother's favorite sonata and, at the same time, the only music piece her father had written in his entire life. It was an angst-ridden rhythm— fast, angry, and deliberately unsteady. It was a complete irony to its title "To My Beloved," or like how her father wrote it on the back of his torn-up music book —Alla Mia Amata.
The music was a puzzle to her, but she had learned to love it as it was Alejandro's piece. Why would her papa dedicate a piece of music to her mom that sounded like he wanted to kill the piano? It was supposed to be a love song.
Love songs should be played softly and gently. More so, love songs shouldn't be danced to the way Margaux was madly moving. Her steps were rapid and powerful as she absorbed the anger of every heavy tone. She was in tune with the rhythm.
She was already panting, and the music was already nearing its end when Margaux's aggressive moves suddenly stopped.
She furrowed her brows and then abruptly turned to the tree behind her. She felt odd. It was as if someone was looking at her. However, she saw none.
'Am I just hallucinating?' She chuckled at her thought, then added, 'Geez! What happened to my alcohol tolerance? I can't be drunk, right?'
She then wiped her face with her palm and walked towards her speaker.
She turned the music off, pulled out the bottle of wine again, and then slung her huge bag onto her shoulders.
Being careless, she almost tipped off her balance when her bag pulled her down. Who said that carrying a pillow, blanket, bottles of mineral water, and a handful of canned goods was easy?
After balancing her luggage, she reached for her speaker and drank a mouthful of her chardonnay. She loved how dry it was as it passed through her throat.
She then started climbing the spiral staircase of her treehouse. Her steps were creaking, but she didn't care. She planned to sleep here and drink the whole night away. She was even smiling when she said, "I bought Carlo-Rossi, Mom! Can I sleep in? Guess what? Your husband hasn't come home to us yet—shit!"
Margaux's last word tore through the silence of that place when the wooden step under her feet broke without warning.
Her eyes immediately closed in terror as her body crashed down. She was only a few inches away from hitting the ground when her arms, fortunately, found something sturdy to cling to and grasped tightly.
The only thing heard after that was the sound of a chardonnay bottle breaking to pieces, demonstrating how her head could have ended up the same.
Stupefied, she wasn't sure how many seconds she had remained clinging to that sturdy thing while thanking her luck. Her eyes were still tightly shut as she hugged that sturdy thing when she heard an emotionless command.
"Let go."
She hitched a breath.
"I said let go, Margaux."
Forced to move, she slowly lifted her face from being buried in that strong thing and gawked upon meeting a pair of cold eyes.
"Amber?" she blurted in shock. She wasn't even given a chance to recover when Rome suddenly removed his arms from supporting her waist and let her fall!
With a painful thud, her butt hit the ground, and she ended up catching it all at once while wincing. What Rome did was just outright brutal! Was that the proper way to treat a lady like her?
Infuriated, she turned to him abruptly and opened her mouth to cuss. She had prepared the spikiest words for him to express how her buttocks twitched. However, he was already gone even before she could utter a single word.
"W-where did he go?" Margaux felt terribly confused while looking left and right. How could she end up alone when Rome was just there a while ago? Worse, how could someone escape and move that fast?"
...'FUCK!' ROME HAD TO STOP running when he felt something wet and warm run down his side.He gritted his teeth and then leaned his back against a nearby tree. He was already running for breath when he lifted the side of his shirt a little and clutched at his soaked bandage.
He knew it. Catching Margaux earlier made his wounds bleed.
"Cara mia!" he yelled inside his head, trying to ignore the blinding pain. Then, as if it were not enough, he cursed himself again for losing control.
Sure, he was just like any normal man with needs. However, he was in the middle of a mission, and he couldn't just let himself turn stupid over and over whenever he saw her.
He only had fifteen minutes to do his duty for tonight. He didn't have his whole life to fantasize about how beautiful she was in her white dress as she danced. This was clearly not in his plans. More so, this route he was running on was not his original route.
It was all that mad music's fault! When he heard it, he knew exactly what he had to do—leave. But then the music was just too loud, and he got curious about it.
He ended up walking towards where it was coming from. Then he saw Margaux, and everything suddenly turned into slow motion.
She was alone, dancing. The way her skin glowed under the bluish moonlight and how her soft hair stayed everywhere when she turned captivated him in an instant. She stole his breath away. She looked mythical — enchanted even!
Then she noticed him behind the tree, and she stopped. She climbed the hollow, ugly, battered-looking treehouse. Then, the next thing he knew, she was already screaming. Thus, his reflexes acted even before he could think.
"Fancullo!" Rome cussed under his breath again.
A split second of feeling her warm body against him, and his manhood was already wanting to tear out of his pants! He couldn't forget her breasts. That very same pair that he sucked on relentlessly last night. It instantly burned him when she fell on his arms, and her softness flattened against his body, molding itself to him. Was he really that sexually frustrated with her?
He shook his head and thought that he just needed to rest his mind.
He let himself cool down a little behind that tree and tried his best to focus and mentally recover.
After a while, he forced himself to move again, ambling at first until his speed accelerated. Then he turned to the darker side of the woods and continued running.
He passed over dozens and dozens of trees without making any sound at all. His steps were accurate and well-trained. He was a tall man, but his shoes didn't even make any noise as the dried leaves crushed under his weight. He was just like a ghost— eerie, deadly, and silently beautiful.
It didn't take him long to reach an eight-foot-high wall that marked the end of the villa's territory. As if the blockage didn't bother him at all, he just gave it a calculating once-over and then cocked his head.
He then walked a few steps back, focused his sharp eyes on it, and then, without any ado, charged towards the high wall without giving a damn. The next thing the trees there witnessed was how a perfectly trained spy swiftly jumped off, leveraged his arms on the top of the wall, and landed on both feet soundlessly on the other side.
He winced in pain when his wound ached again, but just shook his head about it.
His face remained emotionless as he scanned the dark dirt road just outside the villa's high wall and stopped upon seeing a very manly red Hummer with a beautiful woman sitting on its hood.
It was his car, and the woman was Lucille, his secretary.
Feeling his stern gaze, Lucille turned in his direction and then brightly smiled. She drew a deep huff on the Capri cigarette she was holding and then jumped out of his car's hood, completely disregarding how sophisticated and professional-looking she was in her pencil skirt and business coat.
She walked like an automatic doll towards his car's passenger seat, opened the door for him, revealing two of his favorite gun cases, and then greeted him in her heavy Italian accent.
"Welcome back to the world of the living, il mio giovane maestro. I brought your toys."
MARGAUX'S BACK BOUNCED against her bed after she made a free fall. She remained to stare at the ceiling for a while, as if waiting for something to appear there. Letting out a breath, she then pursed her lips while thinking, ‘Who the hell are you?’She had wasted her whole day surfing all the social sites she knew about: Facebook, WeChat, Instagram, etc.Her curiosity about Rome was ticking inside her like a time bomb. Still, she didn’t have the guts to ask him questions directly either. Instead, she opted to stalk him online, hoping that there was any information about him readily available. Her efforts ended up being useless. Finding anything about Rome was like finding a needle in a stack of hay— it was like the man didn’t exist at all.Rolling to her belly, Margaux reached for her laptop and started typing again. She badly wanted to know him. Moreover, find out about his connection to her father.She typed his name on the search engine for the nth time and waited for a few seconds
A FEW MINUTES AFTER she argued with Rome, Margaux found herself sitting in their living room. Her mind was a mess. She thought that both Rome’s and Alberta’s reactions were weird. However, she didn’t want to deal with them now that Greg was here."What are you doing here?" She spat, giving the man before her a disdained look.She had always known Greg to be a neat-to-the-dot type of guy. Thus, she almost didn’t recognize him when she came into their living room. He was outright messy today— a wrinkled shirt, a tired face, and unruly hair. No wonder Rome called him garbage."I came for you." Greg’s voice was low when he answered. He then pushed the box of roses across the coffee table toward her.Following the box with her eyes, Margaux faked a laugh and then turned back at him. "Aren’t you supposed to save those for my burial?""What the hell are you saying?! You’re my girlfriend, Margaux!" Greg’s fist banged on the table between them. Then he stood up and started pacing back and fort
ROME WAS ALREADY ON HIS WAY BACK when his body stopped pacing in the air vent. He then shook his head a couple of times when Margaux's name started ringing in his head... again.He was still annoyed with the woman, and he was trying to minimize his contact with her. However, how could he do that if he couldn't even think of anything else but her?Just a glimpse of Margaux shouldn't be that bad, right? He has no plan to do anything more than just look at her anyway. He should be okay— he better be. 'Darn.’ Rome was still frowning when he turned to his cara's room. He had no words to describe the need taking over him, but it was more than enough to keep him moving through that tunnel.He was eerily quiet when he stopped by the mesh-covered opening just above Margaux’s room. It had been forty minutes since he last checked on her. Trying to sense what she was doing, he closed his eyes and focused all his attention on what was going on inside her room.'Holy fuck?’ Rome’s eyes fluttered i
"SO WHATS THIS GAME CALLED? Who Wants to Be the Next Corpse?" What Alberta said made Margaux briefly pause from sipping her coffee. Shifting her attention to the older woman occupying the main seat of their table, she frowned, then turned to the man who was silently eating breakfast across from her.Romes calmness about the situation was unnerving. How could he act so casually while Alberta was pulverizing them both?Margaux raised an eyebrow and stared at him even more sternly. It was never in her wildest expectations that Rome would suddenly look up at her and catch her glaring at him.'Shit!' She quickly bowed her head and went back to drinking her coffee. Then, covering the embarrassment that made her blush, she straightened her back and continued eating her meal."What’s wrong with you two?!"Margaux’s and Rome’s plates shook when Alberta hit the table with her hand. And as if it wasn’t enough, the old woman began banging the table successively, causing their utensils to dance t
MARGAUX'S MOVEMENTS WENT WILDER as the music continued. The club was having a rave party tonight, and everybody's emotions were on fire!The lights were blinking, and the smoke covering the place felt like boring holes in her lungs. The floor was swaying, and she could smell the mixed scent of different bodies squeezing with her while dancing through the ear-deafening music.It was dizzying to the hilt, but she wanted it! She needed it!After a few more minutes of power dancing, Margaux started feeling tired. Drunk and a bit high on trip, she pushed whoever was blocking her way. She didn't care about who or how big the body was or if what she did hurt anyone.She was half-witted when she managed to reach the bar and sluggishly hang herself on the smooth table. She gave a sluggish smile to the bartender, then raised four of her fingers. "I nyid my third shot.""Madam, that's your fourth.""My third!" she snapped, with a sudden change in her tone. Her eyes were droopy when she raised on
ROME SIGHED before pulling out the keys from Margaux's bra. He was clenching his jaw painfully as he stopped himself from dipping his fingers back into the soft place where they were.He was trying to be cool when he scooped her from the car's hood and dumped her carelessly on the shotgun seat. She flinched with a slurred cuss, but he deadpanned her and slammed the door on her beautiful face.'God, she's torture, he thought before marching around the car and slumping into the driver's seat. His feet weren't even heating up on the gas yet when he forcefully stepped on it and made the car jet out of the parking lot.He drove like a madman. Everything he saw that night was red. The veins on his wrist were even warning him to burst with how he had been controlling himself. ‘I'll do a killing spree next time you dance in public like that—’"Pull oveh.""Shut up.""Pull oveh Sheven Eleven!"He kicked the brakes without warning and heard a loud thud on the dashboard. His frustration was writ
OPEN FIRE. That was how it was as soon as the hotel door closed. Margaux's grunt was halted when the man before her immediately kissed her mouth. Not a scream, nor even a word. Nothing at all. Just..."Ohh..." she moaned inside his mouth when he bit her lower lips. He was kissing her so aggressively, and all she could do was hold on to the arms caging her.He was a mad kisser—a goddamn expert. And even if he was painfully crushing her lips, she couldn't help but want him more.Her body was reacting to him like iron filings to a magnet. She couldn't help but glue herself to him and mimic how wild he was claiming her. When his bare palm crawled from her waist up to her breast, her body instantly arched to give him more of her, unquestioning and unashamed.He grinned against her mouth, and she drunkenly smiled back with her eyes closed. She pressed her breast harder against his palm. 'Damn! This feels so good...'"Who owns this breast, woman?""My husband." she moaned when he began rolli
IT HAD BEEN TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES since she opened her eyes and found herself dead on the spot. It was a glorious death, though— lying in the middle of a Victorian four-post bed, blankly staring at the expensive chandelier, and being surrounded by a satin bed sheet that must have cost a fortune. The room simply fits a queen. It was just unfortunate that the queen gracing the place was none other than the 'Queen of...' "Scum!" Margaux muttered the word a little too loudly before trashing the comforter above her. Her hands immediately caught her head when it ached. Dizzy is good. Being disoriented is good. But that was only until the initial hangover subsided. She bit her lip when fragmented memories of last night flooded her. More so, upon noticing the wedding ring that was left on her finger. She let out an empty laugh. 'He already ran away! He must have run as if AIDS was after him upon seeing you this morning. Were you really expecting him to wait for you to wake up? You're nothi