Mi Carino - Risky Love

by Sienna Mynx

  “No, I’ll do it.” Marcella said. But she didn’t move. Sam shrugged and left. Susan stepped in front of her forcing her to look her in the eye. “You sure?”

  “Yeah,” Marcella forced a smile. “I can handle it.” She sucked in a deep breath and walked out. Garrett’s laughter filled the air. He spoke in Spanish to Diego, grinning hard in his face. Flirting. Marcella knew Garrett, and his love of Latin men. Diego looked mildly uncomfortable. There was relief in his eyes when they finally landed on her. In his hands was a large bouquet of white roses.

  “Hi I’m Susan, remember me.” Susan walked up and extended her hand.

  “Yes I do. I’m Diego Andes, pleased to meet you again Susan,” he said taking her hand and kissing her knuckles politely. Diego’s eyes returned to Marcella’s. She hadn’t seen him in nearly two weeks. She didn’t want to see him. Now she knew why. Dressed in a dark grey suit and black wool coat, he looked shaven and rested, together as always. He probably hadn’t lost a minute of sleep since she’d gone. Thought he could stroll in and collect her as if she was just property. She hated him as much as she loved him. It made her sad.

  Susan stepped aside. The path was clear to her. Diego took measured steps toward her with the flowers in his hands. “I tried calling you but you changed your number.”

  Marcella didn’t speak. She forgot how.

  “Can we…can we talk….alone? These are for you.” He handed her the flowers. She accepted the long stem white roses, looked at the large bulbs, inhaled the floral perfume then looked back into his eyes. “I want you to go.”

  “Marcella.”

  She shook her head no, dropped the flowers at his feet. “I want you to stay away from me. Do you understand? Don’t ever come here again.”

  Susan, Garrett, and Sam watched in silence. Her rejection was cool and precise. “Goodbye Diego.” She turned and started to walk away, feeling stronger with each step she took away from him.

  “I’m leaving,” he said to her back. “I’m going home. I had to see you before I left. To know if…if it mattered.”

  “It doesn’t.” she answered sadly then climbed the stairs to the upper level of the gallery. She was halfway up when she heard the soft swish of the door. She looked back in time to see the door close. He was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  “Marcella?”

  “In here!” She put on a brave face for her friend. Susan cursed and shoved at boxes forcing her way in.

  “Shit girl you not leaving until next week…must you pack everything?”

  “It’s being shipped ahead. And yes I must.” Marcella chuckled.

  Susan grinned. “So you’re going to Paris. To open the gallery, this is so great. I can’t wait!”

  “You can’t wait?” Marcella chuckled; she picked up a sweater and began to fold it. Susan sauntered over dropping her purse. “I’m coming too. Garrett is taking us all. That’s the surprise. But don’t tell them I told you.”

  Marcella shook her head. They could always count on Susan to ruin a secret. She looked up at her friend. “Well that’s great. It was kind of scary going by myself. But it’s kind of exciting too. I just want a fresh start. I need one.” She mumbled.

  Susan sat down and looked over at her. Marcella avoided her stare. Diego’s name was now forbidden between them both. Two months later she would just remember the good times with him, and forget the rest. At least that was her plan.

  “I spoke to Lance.”

  Marcella’s eyes flipped up. “What?”

  “I know you don’t want to know about him, and I swore to not…”

  “Stop it. Don’t push Susan. Respect my feelings on this one. Okay.”

  “Okay, jeesh.” Susan rose from the bed. “I gotta pee.”

  Marcella barely heard her. She kept folding and refolding the same sweater. Finally she threw it. Why did life continue to throw her curve balls? She felt cursed at times. Though she had so much to be grateful for.

  “Marcella?”

  She sighed and turned. Susan stood at the bathroom door with the EPT wand in her hand and the box it came in. “You’re pregnant?”

  Marcella sighed.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She sat down. “I’m not dealing with that now. Just throw it in the trash.”

  Susan walked out, hurt and concerned. “What do you want to do? Diego leaves today. Lance told me he waited Marcella, he was waiting for you to change your mind. He’s been asking about you, he wants…”

  “I don’t care what he wants. It’s over between me and Diego. The man didn’t know how to treat me; do you think he would know how to treat a kid? Besides he’d probably think I got pregnant on purpose. His view of women…I can’t change Diego, and I can’t take him the way he is.” She covered her eyes. She hadn’t told her mother or anyone the news. After what her mother shared and the truth of her conception, she had no idea how to feel about this pregnancy. “It’s done.”

  “But Marcella!”

  “No. It’s done. I got to get out of here. Go somewhere and start over. You understand. Susan? Do you understand? Don’t tell Lance or anyone.”

  Susan sat next to her. “We’re going to have a baby? Shit I don’t know what to do with a kid.”

  Marcella shook her head. “It’s not your kid, you won’t have to deal with it.”

  “Bullshit. Now I got to move to Paris too. We’re doing this together. You look after the kid and I’ll look after you.”

  Marcella turned into her arms and hugged her. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  ***

  The limo drove out toward the jet stopping just feet away. Diego stared out of the window. He listened as Lance called in his flight plan changes. He listened and waited.

  “So we aren’t going back to Colombia?”

  “No.”

  “Europe?”

  “London, then maybe France, but I won’t be returning to Colombia.” Diego’s eyes slipped over. “Did you speak to her friend?”

  “Susan?” Lance chuckled. “Yes, she’s a tasty one. I like her.”

  “I’m talking about Marcella!” Diego snapped.

  “Oh, um, yes Susan said that Marcella doesn’t want to see you. If you want we can pick her up. Bring her.”

  “No. The lady’s made a choice. I’ll have to live with it.”

  “Marie has called. She wants to speak with you again. She’s staying at the Hilton and says it’s her health.”

  Diego sucked in a deep breath. “I made a choice, Marie will have to live with it. Now let’s go. I don’t ever want to see this city again.”

  He opened the door and climbed out. Even he found himself surprised at the hope he carried. That she would take pity on him and come back. That she would find something redeemable in him. He had no clue how to make that a reality without forcing his will. Maybe letting her go was the only gift he could give her. She deserved to be happy. Diego climbed the ladder to the jet and looked back out over the runway once more. Sucking in another breath and exhaling slow he let go.

  Epilogue

  “Mi cariña … Sin ti no soy nada.”

  Content she pressed her face into his chest once more rubbing her body up against him, inhaling him. The mingled heady smell of his clean male scent and the vanilla bean crisp of the melting candles posted around their bed unfurled in her nostrils stimulating her senses. Love and desire for her man was a potent thing. It made her blood sizzle in her veins until she was burning up with fever, fever for him.

  “Marcella,” he said, the ‘e’ silent as her name rolled off his tongue thickly wrapped around his heavy accent. “I never meant to hurt you, every time I touched you it was out of love, my needs, it was always about you. Do you believe?”

  She would have answered yes, but there was no time. Her head lifted and his descended, her reply dissolved in his kiss. Marcella’s hand slipped over his broad muscled shoulder up to his neck as the kiss sweetened. There she felt his vir
ile little pulse beating along the strong bronzed column of his neck, matching the beat of her own heart.

  And his touch!

  No man knew how to touch her as he did. He caressed her skin with soft sensual strokes—shivery sensations trailed from his fingertips. His mouth was fiery hot and his kisses deeply persuasive as he rolled her to her back and came on top of her. She was overcome by the righteous feel of his hard body pressed into her, the masterful artistry he employed with his tongue as he licked the roof of her mouth, sucked her lips, and kissed her into bliss. Suddenly he drew back. The rapt breathing from them both was the only sound between them, for a long pause. Then he spoke in that familiar deep needy voice. “You are so beautiful nena… amazingly delicate and beautiful. Our baby is our love, no? I love you both.”

  Then he entered her. His thickness probed, stretched her channel for his deep plunge. She dug her nails into his arms to anchor herself to him. Lifting her legs to his hips and locking them around, she moved and he went deeper nearly bringing tears to her eyes.

  It was thrilling, so delicious was his drilling, her heart went into distress, then stabilized into a manageable rhythm before going into distress again. Her lashes fluttered shut—perfect arcs against her cheeks. She heard him groan in intense pleasure as she worked beneath him with a tightening of her thighs around his waist, and clenching of her throbbing channel around his expanding, hammering cock.

  “Hacer el amor.” He grunted in her throat, almost begging her to make love to him in return. And she did. She would constantly until neither of them could stand it. But as usual her skills were never a match for his. He controlled their straining urgency to both let go. And although every stroke was the sweetest, most electrifying torment, urging him on to harder, faster thrusts, he would pause in between and wait for her taut body to shiver with need then punish her some more.

  Her lips, bruised from the hard kisses, now burned for more. His head lifted but she grabbed both sides of his face and captured his mouth, sweeping her tongue inside, clinging to him. His loving was taking her under, punishing and rewarding her over and over with deep penetrating hip bangs. She acquiesced downward into spirals of ecstasy that exploded with the force of a supernova in her pelvis. Marcella melted in a puddle of sweat, sex, and orgasmic tremors, under the breaking waves of his pleasing her. She whimpered…cried… begged for more…

  “I love you so much Diego.” She stuttered between gasping breaths. It felt good to say it.

  “I love you more nena.”

  Because he could say it in return.

  The light filtered in through the drawn curtains warming her face, sending beams of color through her closed lids. Marcella turned over to the warmth, smiling, trying to hold on to the feeling. The feeling of him. But the dream always ended the same, moisture between her legs, her vagina aching, her heart bleeding and her mind reeling with the thoughts of the ‘could-have-been’. He wasn’t there. She was alone.

  “Diego.” she sighed.

  It would take time, Susan said. Sure, it should take time since she felt so much for him so fast. But this was ridiculous. It had been weeks since she saw him. Shouldn’t it hurt a little less? Her eyes opened. She lay there staring at nothing, remembering everything. She remembered their chance meeting at the restaurant and her stay at the beach house. She remembered every single time they made love, and every time he drove her to tears. She grew tired of remembering.

  It would be nice to forget.

  Marcella blinked at the dimming rays bleeding through the curtains and spilling sun over her bed. Outside was a new city, new opportunities, a new life. She wanted to join it, and stop with her remembering. The man in her dreams didn’t exist. He was too broken, too crippled by the cruelties heaped on him as a child. Maybe if it was just her she’d risk it. Try to fix him. Heal him. But it wasn’t just her. It was her and their baby. She wanted this baby desperately, his baby. Her mother’s sins were always to the front of her mind. Diego never mentioned kids. Would he think she did this on purpose? To trap him? When she called her mother she warned her not to make her mistakes. Marcella still wavered on what exactly to do. But the news of a baby had her mother bubbling with excitement. Marcella considered spending a year in New York after the baby was born, to make sure her child had them both. It was an option.

  Marcella sat up and pressed the ball of her palms to her eyes. Each day she ventured out with an iron will to not think of him. Then at night her mind would betray her, taunt her with dreams that would never be. He wasn’t that man. She knew that fully. Men don’t change, no matter how much you wished it. Sucking in her first morning breath she rose from her comfortable mattress, stacks of pillows, drawing back the sheet.

  “You up?”

  “Yes.” She said with a yawn. “I’m up.”

  “Morning sickness?”

  Then it happened. Her stomach surged and she gagged on reflex. With eyes bulging she nearly fell to her knees running from the bed. She hit the bathroom floor in time to puke hard and strong. She could hear Susan chuckling as she entered the room. Damn it, she was fine until she said the words.

  “You think it’s funny, it’s not!” Marcella smiled flushing the toilet.

  “Girl you are so damn predictable, even your kid works on a time watch.” Susan checked hers. “We need to eat. I’m going downstairs to the bistro for croissants before we take the Metro in. Join me.”

  “Yeah, I need to get myself together if you don’t mind.”

  “I’m learning French. How’s this…Bonjour!”

  Marcella waited for the rest. Susan grinned. “How was it?”

  “Is that all?”

  “Yeah, good right?”

  “Susan get out. I need to shower.” She laughed rising to her feet. Susan winked and closed the door repeating bonjour over and over as she walked out of the room. Marcella looked herself over in the mirror. When would her baby bump form? There wasn’t a hint of it so far. In fact she had lost four pounds. The doctor said she was five weeks. She couldn’t wait to be round and swollen with her little one. She was happy. She was strong, and she was about to take on two great adventures, her life was what it should be.

  “Bonjour!” she said to herself. “Time to make the donuts.”

  ***

  There were few people. His hands clasped behind his back, he walked slowly down the cranberry carpeted aisle. To the front, stacked, were hundreds of tiny wine colored votive candle jars flickering tiny flames. Behind was an organ, pulpit, choir stand. The ceiling above reached nearly thirty feet, with intricate detailing that covered the beams along the walls. But his focus remained singular. A magnificent placement of stained glass, red, purple, green, blue, and yellow arranged a depiction of the Virgin Mother Mary and the baby Jesus. Mother and child, he couldn’t tear his eyes from it.

  Diego stopped. His hands dropped to his sides, his eyes lowered to the flickering candles. Taking a match stick, he dipped it into an existing flame then sparked another, making the sign of the cross before him. His eyes slowly closed, His free hand went inside of his trouser pocket and removed a very worn and delicate set of rosary beads. They belonged to Ana. She held tight to them when he found her, dead. He had to pry them from her small fingers.

  Kneeling he kissed them and held them in both hands, his elbows resting on the partitioned separation between the congregation and the men of the cloth. He wasn’t a praying man. In fact he hadn’t spoken to God since the day he saw his father butchered. He cursed God when his baby brother’s bloated body washed up on the shore, and swore vengeance when his sister took an overdose to escape the horror of what she had become.

  Revenge came at a price. Seeing Marie and finally taking from her, opened all those barely healed wounds. The nightmares were back, he could barely sleep without thinking of his siblings, and dreaming of Marcella.

  “Have you found her?” he said to the shadow behind him.

  His head slowly lifted, eyes opening.

  “She is
no longer in the states.”

  The words were like a flaming tip arrow into his heart. His fingers curled around the rosary and his hand clenched. “No longer in the states?”

  “We’ll have her soon.”

  It had barely been a month, where did she go? Rising slowly he didn’t turn to Lance when he spoke. “We leave London as soon as you know where she is. Do you understand?”

  “I have to ask…”