by Montes, EL
Marcus stormed through the kitchen door. His shoulders were broad and rapidly moved up and down with his heavy breathing. His arms were slightly bent and secured on the side of his body. His hands were closed in tight fists, and the veins on his hands and arms were visibly seen from a distance. His face was red and damp with sweat. He glared at Romeo with an arched eyebrow and a straight face. This was the angriest I’d ever seen him. I just couldn’t understand why he was so upset with Romeo. Lou was the one that deserved the evil look. Within three steps Marcus was by us, pushing me aside; he leaned over Romeo, pressing his hand against the side of Romeo’s face.
Yelling from the top of his lungs, he let him have it. “What the fuck were you thinking?” One hard smack across Romeo’s face forced him slightly off his chair. I jumped.
“Marcus!” I breathed, shocked by his behavior. What’s gotten into him?
He ignored me and continued to grill Romeo. “Huh?” Romeo lowered his head and began to cry.
“I’m sorry…” Romeo choked.
“You’re sorry? You’re sorry! I told you, Rome! I fucking told you to stay away from this shit…but you wouldn’t fucking listen, would you? Then you bring him to my house! Where my niece and my girl stay?” Veins popped out of his forehead and neck as he poked his middle and index finger into Romeo’s forehead with each word, “HOW COULD YOU BE SO STUPID!” Marcus yelled the last insulting word so loudly spit flew all over the place.
Sniffing a few times, Romeo tried to control his weeping. “I promise I’ll pay you back every dime.”
Marcus leaned up, pressing his hands on his hips. “Pay me back? It’s not about the money, Rome!” His arms flew wildly in front of him. After a few seconds of silence, he placed his hands back on his hips. “I didn’t want you in this shit …” Marcus lowered his head and brought one hand up to his forehead, rubbing small circular motions with his fingertips. It calmed him a bit, and he lowered his tone. “Do you want to end up like your brother? Like my father …”
Romeo burst into hard sobs, shaking his head. His body began to tremble with his cries. “No!” He moaned.
It felt like forever before Marcus spoke again. He stood over Romeo, watching him break. I was a mess in quiet tears by the island, watching the entire episode, stunned. Finally Marcus kneeled before Romeo. Sighing heavily, he looked up at him. “I spoke to Lou, you’re out … he’s not giving you any more work. I need you to promise me that you’ll focus on school and live life the way you’re supposed to live it. If you can promise that, we’re even. Can you do that?”
Romeo nodded.
“Okay, I can’t send you home like this. I’ll call your mom and tell her you’re staying with me for a couple weeks. I’ll make up some shit about shadowing me at the firm. Take the room on the third floor and get yourself cleaned up.”
Both of them straightened and hugged in a tight manly embrace. Romeo muttered something while they were locked together. Marcus patted his back and assured him everything would be okay. It only lasted a few seconds, and Romeo flew out of the kitchen with his head lowered and went up the stairs. It took a moment for Marcus to compose himself. He looked everywhere else before looking at me. I watched as he put the first-aid kit away and pushed the chair back underneath the table. He also sprayed down the table with sanitizing spray and wiped it. It was his way of avoiding a breakdown.
When he reached the point where it was okay for him to acknowledge me, he didn’t say anything; instead he walked over to the island where I was. Burying his head into my collar bone, he sighed. I wrapped my arms around his neck. Pulling me in by my waist, we didn’t say a word, just sheltered each other, feeling safe and relieved. The only thing that came to my mind was, “What is he thinking right now?” He always wanted to know my thoughts when he could sense I needed to talk or if he didn’t know how to comfort me.
Marcus tells me how he’s feeling when it involves me. He never holds back in telling me how much he loves me, and how much I have changed his life. He never talked about how he felt regarding the stress and the emotional conflict working for Lou brought. He kept everything all bottled up. I was afraid one day he’d explode, and when that day came it might be on the wrong person.
He took my hand in his grasp, and we silently make our way up the stairs. I stopped in front of Elle’s room. When I entered, she was lying on her bed, arms behind her head, watching a movie on her small flat screen. I felt terrible for how I acted earlier, and at that moment I realized the reasons behind Marcus’ outburst. He never meant any harm; he was just simply trying to keep me away from witnessing terrible circumstances. I apologized to Elle several times, and she assured me time and time again that it was okay. I promised to take her shopping the next week at the mall for a girls’ day as a way to make it up to her; she quickly approved.
Marcus went ahead to his bedroom while I spoke with Elle. After she and I made amends, I left her room. When I entered Marcus’ bedroom, his back was facing me. He stood over the nightstand. Empting his pockets, he placed the items on the nightstand. Walking up behind him, I wrapped my arms around the middle of his stomach. I squeezed tightly against him, and he sighed lowering his head and rubbing the back of my hand with his fingertips.
“Talk to me, Marcus,” I pleaded, using the words that so easily worked on me. I pressed the side of my face on his firm back. He eventually turned in my arms and faced me as I still held him tightly. His hand gently cupped my face, and leaning down, he planted a small, tender kiss on my forehead. The feeling of his soft lips sent a warm sensation through my blood. My body instantly relaxed, and I closed my eyes.
“I can’t do this anymore, Mia,” he whispered.
My eyes shot opened. “Do what?” I searched his face. He can’t do us anymore? The job, the stress, the second life, what can’t he do anymore?
“This … Look at me. I’m slowly breaking … with a baby on the way and you … the thought of either of you hurt or even …” He didn’t finish; he didn’t have to.
“Marcus, then leave … why are you still involved with the Sorrentos? Just leave.” I begged. Hoping and wishing he could, I wasn’t sure why it was so hard to walk away. Did he owe Lou Sorrento something? Was it money? I was sure he could pay him off with all the money that he had in the vault.
“You don’t understand; I can’t …” His hands firmed against my face.
“Why don’t you talk to me, Marcus? I thought we were a team here. How can I possibly know what’s going on up here?” Pointing a finger to his temple, I said, “If you don’t let me in, I’ll probably never understand.”
He didn’t say anything as always. He just stared at me for a long time as if holding back something he so desperately wanted to say. Instead of using his lips to talk, he forced them onto mine. Keeping my eyes open, I watched as his eyes were tightly shut. This was his way of coping? To fuck his way into forgetting? I wanted to be angry with him, to smack him away and tell him we needed to talk, that sex wouldn’t solve his issues, but he grew hungry and twirled his tongue along mine. His slight moans made the pit of my stomach twist with sensation. Giving in, I closed my eyes and allowed him to take over. The moment I relinquished myself to him, he forced me onto the bed.
Aggressively he ripped my clothes off as he stood by the edge of the bed. He watched me with his wicked glare as he threw his clothing to the floor, and my breath hitched at his violent stare. I wasn’t scared. No, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. Instead I was extremely turned on by his instant need to take his frustrations out with wild, hair-pulling, lip-biting, moaning, groaning, crazy, incredible sex.
No, I didn’t mind at all. I allowed him to bruise my hips with the firm grip he held at each thrust. I allowed him to hungrily bite my lip till we tasted the metallic flavor of blood as my flesh slightly tore. I allowed him to ball a fist in my hair as he cried out my name when our bodies joined.
He was in control. I wanted him in control, and he needed to be in control.
****
He shifted his leg onto my upper thighs. My bladder felt completely full, and the pressure of his heavy weight made it feel as if it were going to explode. Scooting over a few more times, I managed to break free. He grunted then smacked his lips twice before returning to his loud snore.
Standing by the bed, I admired his beauty as he slept peacefully. He was lying flat on his stomach with only the right side of his face showing. His hair was an adorable mess, his lips were partly open, and his shoulders rose, evenly matching his breathing. His right hand was inches away from his face, his right leg slightly bent, while the left side of his body lay completely straight under the sheets.
His well-built back teased me as it flexed and perfected each muscular line as he inhaled and exhaled. Instantly I became aroused again…even his back turned me on. What the hell was wrong with me? I could’ve stood there and watched him for hours. He was a stunning piece of art, and he was mine.
Sighing in contentment, I forced my eyes away. I felt a slight cramp from the full bladder. Tiptoeing, I made my way to the bathroom and gently closed the door behind me. I stopped and giggled at my bare reflection in the mirror. My hair was a tangled mess, and my lips were swollen and bruised. Pressing my fingertips against my sore lips, I laughed to myself, remembering what we’d just done a few hours ago.
The thought was rudely interrupted when I felt a pull on my bladder again. I hurried to the toilet. After I finished, I wiped myself. My body trembled at the sight of bright red blood on the toilet paper. Oh my God! What’s wrong with me? Is this even normal? I wiped again: more blood and some cramping. I need to call Dr. Lee.
Chapter Twenty-two
With shaky legs, I managed to slip on a cream silk nightgown and headed for Marcus’ office. I remembered leaving my cell phone on his desk after speaking with him about the money for Lou. I didn’t want to wake Marcus in case I was completely overreacting. This could be normal. I think I read something somewhere…I think. Oh God, please make sure my baby’s okay. I can’t lose my peanut. Protectively I wrapped my arms around my belly, somehow hoping that if I shielded my baby, he’d be okay.
Taking a seat on the plush leather chair, I located my cell phone. Scrolling down, I found Dr. Lee’s telephone number. It was late, a little before midnight. I knew he said that if I left a message stating it was urgent he’d contact me immediately. Dialing his number with the office phone on the desk, I waited for the beep at the end of his greeting. “Hello Dr. Lee, this is Mia Sullivan. I feel this may be an emergency. I’m bleeding, not heavily but a little more than just spotting. Please call to advise me on what I should do. Thank you.” Hanging up the phone, I sat there tapping my foot against the bottom edge of the wooden desk.
Should I wake Marcus and have him take me to the ER, or should I patiently wait for Dr. Lee’s call? It hadn’t even been five minutes yet, and I was dreading the waiting game already. I almost gave in when I remembered the folder! I pulled it out from the drawer and stared at the name before opening it. It was a regular-sized file folder. It was pretty thick with documents. Why would he keep a folder on me? The tab had a label with all caps printed M. SULLIVAN. Maybe it contained work information, but, then again, it wouldn’t be kept in his home office.
When I opened the file, the first document was an eight-by-ten photo. It was a distant image of two men. It looked like they were talking in a park. The next document was the same two men in the park, but it was a closer image. I couldn’t make out the other man, but I instantly identified Marcus. He was wearing his all-black suit, and the collar from his shirt was white. Since it was a profile picture, I couldn’t tell if he was wearing a tie. He was standing slightly hunched over, one hand pointing in another direction and the other pointing at the man. Marcus uses his hands a lot when engaged in conversation. I could tell by his posture that he wasn’t angry; he was telling a story of some sort.
When I turned to the next picture, my heart dropped. I was wrong, oh yes, very wrong. The image of the two was closer, and I made out the second man instantly: his familiar golden brown hair, his fair complexion and handsome profile. His eyes were familiar as the skin on the side of his temples wrinkled when he laughed. The brown leather jacket I bought him for Christmas two years ago was snuggled comfortably against his athletic build. This file was not on me; no, it was on Michael, my brother. Slowly I stood from the chair, grabbing the documents and pressing them against my chest. Walking around the desk in disbelief, I instantly felt faint, dropping to my knees. The documents I held fell before me.
Images of my brother and Marcus, laughing, talking, patting each other on the shoulder were spread all before me. There were documents of meetings at a warehouse, transcripts of conversations between the two, between other mafia groups, regarding drug and gun deal arrangements. Overwhelmed by it all, I was engulfed by tears, allowing drops to fall over the papers lying before me. Marcus not only knew my brother but they were friendly with one another.
My brother couldn’t have been involved with the Sorrento’s mafia family. He was an undercover detective…wait! He was an undercover detective! Did Michael have an assignment to go undercover with the Sorrentos? If that were the case, then he was closely watching Marcus as well. Was Marcus involved with my brother’s death?
“There you are … I was looking all over …” Marcus walked through his office door. I snapped my head up when I heard his voice. He was staring at me curiously. His lips twitched to a slight crooked grin. “What are you doing on the floor, Mia?”
My chest moved rapidly as my heartbeat began to pick up pace. I tilted my head, watching him … no, he couldn’t have been involved with Michael’s death. Shaking my head, I stared at him again. He took a few steps towards me, I flinched, and he froze at my reaction.
His now worried face searched mine, trying to find what could have possibly caused me so much pain. His eyes wandered from me to the documents. He cocked his head at the papers spread on the floor and inched over to them. Bending, he hovered over the pieces and picked one up to eye level. His eyes grew larger as his lips spread apart.
Marcus brought his eyes back to me. My eyes pleaded with his. He didn’t explain anything—just stared in shocked at the information I’d just found. My hands were clenched against my chest. I tried to speak, but my tongue felt dry. He reached for me, but I pulled back. “No,” I managed to spit out through the hoarseness of my tone. He cringed at my refusal. “No,” I said again. “No. No. No. You lied to me, Marcus!” Shaking his head, he shifted to his knees so that we could be at eye level. “Yes, you lied to me! How could you? You knew Michael this entire time? Did you know about me before we met? Did you know who I was that night at the club?”
Blowing out a deep shaky breath, he shook his head. “No, Mia … I didn’t know who you were.” Licking his lips, he looked down at the documents spread underneath him. “I did lie to you when you asked me the day we drove to the airport if I knew Michael … when you said your brother was a detective. I should have caught on, but when you said his name and your last name I put it all together.” He tried to reach for me, and I pulled back again, falling on my behind. “I’m so sorry, baby …”
“You do not get to call me baby! I’m not your baby … I’m nothing to you!” A noise of pain released his lips as his shoulders and head dropped. “Did you kill him?” My demand brought his watery eyes back to mine.
“No!” He shook his head violently, disgusted that I even thought it.
“Were you involved with his murder, Marcus?” I slowly began to rise, standing over him wanting answers.
“Mia, no!” He pleaded, his hands reaching up to grab my waist.
I smacked them away. “But you know who killed him, don’t you?�
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Exhaling deeply, he closed his eyes. Biting his lips, he gently nodded.
“It was Lou, wasn’t it?” Just speaking his name out loud pissed me off. Slowly my rage began to build. When he gently nodded his head again, I reached my boiling point. “You go and work for him almost every other night, and then you come home to me?” my trembling voice slowly began to pick up in volume, “knowing, he killed my brother!”
Unable to breathe, unable to think, unable to make sense of anything, I smacked him. I was so angry with him. It hurt me to know this entire time he was lying. Everything, every emotion I felt, every single pain I dealt with since we met, I took it out on him at this very moment.
Balling my fist, I swung at him, and continued to punch him over and over: hitting his face, his chest, and his shoulders—anywhere that was visible. Dropping to my knees inches away from him, I continued to pound on his chest, and he let me. He didn’t move, didn’t try to get away, and didn’t even flinch. It was as if he knew he deserved every inch of the pain.
“Why Marcus? How could you do this to me?” My wrist gave out, and in a slower motion I lightly punched his chest one last time before burying my face into it. Sobbing, I tried to find a normal way of breathing, but my cries were uncontrollable. Wrapping his arms around me, his weeping overpowered mine. “I’m so sorry, Mia, I never meant to hurt you…I never meant to…fuck, please forgive me.” No, I couldn’t, not this time.
“I hate you, Marcus … I hate you so much.” Those words hurt us both. Though that was what I felt at that moment. So I pulled away from him; I couldn’t look into his eyes. Quickly standing, he hovered over me. I pushed him away. Walking over to his desk, I grabbed my phone.
Grabbing my wrist, he begged me not to go. With the blood pulsing through my veins, my rage quickly boiled. Turning to face him, I shoved the palms of my hands against his chest. I was surprised by my own strength. Although he was bigger than me, I forced him to stumble back a few steps, landing on the wooden desk. He managed to balance himself, but he didn’t move. His sorrowful eyes were staring into mine, pleading. Those eyes that I once fell for, that I trusted, that allowed me fall under his spell. Those eyes now only fill my stomach with such vile disgust.