Chapter 44

so long."

"I hate you!" I say louder.

"That's hot," he grins against my lips.

I can feel his thrusts become more unsteady as he comes closer to the end.

"Say my name, Zara. I want to hear you moan out my name while I fuck your pussy. I want to hear you while you cum for me,"

My instinctive reaction is just that as I feel myself coming closer and closer to erupting into flames. "Fuck me harder, Alejandro." I throw my head back against the wall, my breathing unable to keep up the speed of things. "F-Faster, Alejandro. I'm so c-close."

He picks up his pace as he pounds into me harder, hitting every inch of my sweet spot. My back arches in utter bliss as my body shatters into indulgent pieces.

I feel him fill me up while grunting, "Fuck." I come undone against his chest as he drops to the floor with me in his arms. He cleans up both himself and me, though now I don't have underwear because he quite literally ripped it off me. I watch as the anger that was very much present in his eyes has practically vanished, replaced with his usual undetectable expression, where you're not sure what he's thinking.

I frown, "I can't believe you ripped that off me. I can't go around without wearing something underneath."

He raises a brow and then looks at the torn cloth on the ground. "Would you like to wear my boxer briefs?"

I giggle softly and shake my head. "No, it's fine. I would hate to see your junk hanging around all night," I say as I pull my leggings back on.

Alejandro settles me against his chest as he pushes my hair away from my face, his thumb caressing the corner of my lips. Suddenly, he stops to pull me closer.

"What's this?" He asks, resting his finger near my mouth.

My heart stops. He wasn't supposed to see the bruises. Philip will have everyone massacred if Alejandro causes a scene.

"It's nothing," I answer. "It must be from the way you aggressively kiss me all the time."

He grabs my arm and pushes back the sleeve of my dress, revealing the fading bruises. "Zara..."

I didn't want to cry, but I couldn't help it. Not only did it physically hurt being tortured, but it also took every bit of mental strength not to completely fall into insanity. I don't cry out loud, only allowing a couple of tears to pass through.

"They beat me for almost a week," I say quietly. "They used whips, chains, belts, and fists to try to get information out of me about you."

"Zara, I..." He's speechless as his eyes capture more of the wounds and bruises around my legs and arms. He leans down and kisses my cheeks. Then, he softly kisses the bruises on my arms, trailing down, not missing a single spot before moving onto my legs. His hand gently caresses over my ankle all the way up. He brings his arms around me, wrapping me into his chest. He nuzzles his head at the crook of my neck, his warm breath sending tingles down my back.

"I'll kill them," the fury is slowly creeping back into his tone. "I'll burn those motherfucking bastards alive for this."

"Oh? So, I'm still useful to you even if I've been tainted by someone else?" I repeat back his words to him, the ones he said to me in front of Elijah.

"Whether he touched you or not doesn't matter to me," his words take me by surprise.

"I take back what's mine, one way or another."

What does that mean? Why does he act like this and confuse me further? Why does he make me want to run away with him but stab him in the heart at the same time?

After a bit of silence, I decide to say something that I didn't feel like was necessary to say but I will anyway.

"He didn't touch me—neither Philip nor Elijah."

"I had a feeling from the way you let me fuck you," he smirks.

"Ha-ha, very funny," I say sarcastically while rolling my eyes.

"How did you manage to keep them away?" He asks out of curiosity.

"I said I'd either bite their dick off or gut them with a butter knife if they do anything out of line," I tell the truth.

Alejandro throws his head back, letting out a burst of deep laughter. He kisses my forehead and whispers, "That's my girl."

"I'd bite yours off too if you try any more of your funny business on me," I mumble.

"Clarify funny business," he says, raising a brow.

"No more trying to take me whenever and wherever you please, especially not in public," I state.

He brings his lips to my ear, touching it ever so slightly, "Don't tell me the idea of me fucking you in public doesn't excite you,"

"It doesn't," I answer flatly. But a small part of me agrees with him, the thrill of getting caught excites me a little—just a little. Oh my, he's really messed me up.

"Oh? I think your body disagrees, no?" He says while playfully dragging his index finger down my thigh.

"Shut up," I say as I feel my cheeks heat up.

I'm surprised no one has tried to use the washroom yet. In fact, the music hasn't been playing for a while now that I think about it. There's this eery silence outside, I don't hear a single person.

"Alejandro?"

"Hm?"

"Do you hear that?"

He raises a brow. "No—" He pauses, realizing what I meant. "Stay here, don't move."

"No," I grab his wrist to stop him from standing up. A sudden fear arises within me, I'm afraid we'll be separated again. I don't want to be alone; I want to see Yasmeen again and he's my only ticket to her. "Take me with you."

He looks at me, weighing his options, and nods. He pulls out a dagger from inside of his suit and hands it to me, "Knives seem like your thing."

- - -

Y A S M E E N

The light reaches my eyes as I squint them, groaning. Not wanting to wake up, I snuggle further into the blanket until I feel a slight stinging slither across my arm. All the memories of my violent night come flooding through my mind as I notice I'm patched up. Though there isn't much pain in my body as there was before, the subtle aching left behind is still present as I try to sit up. I don't recognize the room or any part of my surroundings.

Another part of that day pops up uninvited into my mind: If you keep this up, Ms. Yasmeen Yasin, the next time I see you, I'll have you pinned against the wall fucking you senseless. A blush creeps up my cheeks, heating up my whole entire body. If this man doesn't marry me after this, I might just die from heartbreak.

The door opens softly, and I jump out of fear of another attack or something.

"Sorry, Ms. Yasin, I didn't mean to frighten you," the woman has a stethoscope around her neck and my body relaxes a bit. "I'm your doctor, just here to do a daily check-up. I'm happy to see that you're conscious."

"Hi!" I greet her. "How long was I unconscious for?"

"It's been almost 72 hours I believe," she says, and my eyes widen. "Do not fret. Though your injuries were deep, they weren't life-threatening or too serious. They have been taken care of very carefully. You should be on the better end of things since you slept off most of the harsher parts."

"Ah, I see. Thank you so much," I express gratitude for her help. "If you don't mind me asking... where am I?"

"Mr. Wang's apartment," she answers. Is this his room? No, there's no way would he let me rest in his room. "He's the one who has been tending to you for the last few days." She giggles slightly, "He's a stubborn and possessive man. He refused any overnight nurses, instead took over the responsibility of taking care of you himself."

I smirk. "Is that so? Are you sure it was him?"

She smiles, realizing that to me, it sounds out of character for him to do such things. "I'm quite certain."

She checks up on my injuries, making sure everything is going smoothly. She asks me to keep taking my medication on schedule and eat my meals on time. She also warns me to not do too much moving around for a couple more days so my wounds wouldn't reopen. I thank her once more as she leaves me by myself again.

I look around the room and see that it's similar to mine. Half of the room is covered in floor-to-ceiling windows instead of walls. I can see the city skyline from the bed, it's quite relaxing. My heart stops as I notice portraits of Marcus hung around the room. They're all artistically professional photos scattered around on the walls. God, he looks utterly, breath-stopping handsome in them.

"Self-obsessed much?" I shake my head smiling to myself. I slip off the bed and grab my scarf that was hanging off the arm of a chair in the room. Before putting it on, my nostrils are filled with the scent of washing detergent. He washed it, I think to myself. If he keeps this up, I'll forge his name on a marriage certificate for us.

I run my fingers along the large and small portraits of him that are hung in the room. Some showing only the bottom half of his face, some showing off his extensive collection of tattoos on his body, some of when he had long hair, and some of his current, shorter style. There's even a picture of himself sitting in his closet, shirtless with his pants pulled down way too low for my eyes to linger for long. I quickly look away, feeling embarrassed. My hand rests on a picture that looks recent where he's dressed in all black with his hands covering his face. He tends to not show his face in almost all the pictures displayed here. I wonder why...

My fingers trace the outline of his face as I suddenly feel a presence right against my back. I smile knowing exactly who it is,

"Good morning, Marcus."

He doesn't answer, instead, he gently places his hand on the back of mine, which is still resting on the picture. His gesture takes me by surprise, and I stop my hand from tracing the picture any further. He takes my hand and switches it to the picture of him shirtless, sitting in the closet.

He leans down close against my ear.

"Like what you see?" His voice is low and rough, making my mind go into a frenzy.

The hand that was on top of mine now interlocks through my fingers, suddenly pushing my palm against the picture as he presses his chest against my back. And there go my legs, feeling like complete jelly. I'm going to end up at a mental institution because of how mad he drives me.

"When do I not like what I see?" I ask back while he uses my hand to trace down the picture, across his naked chest until he stops at the torso. My breathing quickens, it's just a picture, it's just a picture, calm down! The fact that I know that I'll unfurl and fall apart in these hands and I don't even care because that's how deep I've fallen into it.

I quickly step away, realizing if I let this go on, I wouldn't be able to stop it. "Thank you for taking care of me for the last few days. And now, I'm going to assume you're utterly in love with me," I tease.

He smiles, just a little, just enough for me to want to jump with joy. "You're better off thinking I hate you."

My smile drops. All this back and forth between us is truly damaging, this isn't good for either of us; especially, not good for me.

"Marcus..." I call out his name quietly. "Pick a side. Either this will work, or it won't, please pick a side."

After a bit of silence, he answers whispers,

"I did. I already chose a side."

"I'm going to need you to explain what side you chose because your actions aren't matching your words."

"I'm just a douchebag, just like Elijah said," he sighs. "I do things for my own pleasure, nothing more, nothing less."

This makes no sense; it makes no damn sense at all! He should just stab me right through the heart if he plans to keep this up. "Kiss me," I say thoughtlessly.

His eyes widen, "What?"

"Kiss me," I repeat myself.

"I will not," he declines.

"Why? You didn't seem to have any problems kissing me when you announced that you hated me," I say defensively.

"Because..."

"Why, damn it!" I shout at him, letting my emotions slip out. "Why!"

He steps closer, trapping me against his body. He lifts my chin, so I'd meet his gaze. His eyes are softer but just as sad.

"Because if I kissed you now, there's no way in hell I would be able to make myself stop until I've tasted every part of you."

There it is again. He's confusing me, leaving me baffled and bewildered. "Then, marry me. Stop this madness and just let yourself be happy."

He rests his hand on my cheek and I unconsciously place my hand atop. "You know damn well that I can't have you, you can never be mine. It's wrong, we're wrong." He leans down closer until our noses touch. "I disappear away from you, I push you away, I hurt you repeatedly, hoping that this all goes away, hoping you go away yet... yet I crave the taste of your lips constantly." He caresses my bottom lip with his thumb, his breathing quickens just a bit. "I wonder what I could do to kiss these for the second time and then, again, and again, and again until our lips are sore from each other.

"The thoughts of you cloud my days when you're not around. I wonder if you're happy, if you've been taking care of yourself, and if you eat on time. I think of what would happen if I lost you, if I never get to see you again, or if you never want to see me again. So, I'd rather push you away, watching you from afar rather than losing you completely." Our lips are so close that they're almost touching, almost. "But the Heavens know how desperately I need to feel you, to touch you, to hold you; how desperately I want to listen to you tell your ridiculous stories, to hear your laughter, to see your eyes light up when you see me. But it won't work with us because I can't trust myself to love—"

I pull him by his shirt and kiss him. I kiss him long and hard until the tears that ran down my cheeks start staining my shirt. I pull away, noticing the hint of disappointment in his eyes. "Shut up, Marcus. You can't say things like this and expect me to walk away from you."

"Yasmeen..." He searches my eyes for any sign of regret but there's none, I know there isn't. "Fuck," he mumbles as he pulls me in for another kiss, hungry for more.

"Someday, I will end up fucking you against this wall if you keep tempting me like this."

"And I will gladly accept the offer if you put a ring on this finger," I grin, holding up my left hand, and wiggling my ring finger.

He grabs the hand and places a lingering kiss on the back. "Just give me some time, my little dove. I just need some time to organize my thoughts."

I blink, not believing my ears. "Say that again,"

He raises a brow. "I need some time to organize my thoughts?"

"No, before that," I say.

"Give me some time?"

"No, after that," I say. "What did you just call me?"

"My little dove," he says carefully.

"Oh my God," I gasp. "I did it. I finally have a nickname and a cute-ass nickname at that."

"If you two are done, I'd like to announce that I'm leaving for Italy tomorrow," a voice interrupts us. "Marcus has your things packed; we're departing first thing in the morning."

I groan, "Alejandro, pick a better timing for your entrance, will you?" His words then dawn on me. "I'm coming with you."

"No," he states in a way that allows for no disputes.

"Alejandro, if you don't take me with you, I'll buy the tickets myself and fly there," I say stubbornly.

"You're not coming," Marcus says. "You've already been caught up in this mess and I won't allow further problems for you."

"None of you get to tell me whether I can go or not because that is my best friend on the brink of death, and I have more right over her than any of you do!"

Alejandro sighs in defeat. He knows I'm stubborn as hell and I'll find a way to get there with or without him. His eyes are cold and distant as he looks directly at Marcus. "Whatever this is, Marcus," he points at me and him, "better not cause any distractions. Remind yourself of your loyalties and who you belong to."

Marcus immediately takes a couple of steps away from me, making me frown. "Yes, Boss."

Suddenly, Elijah's words float around in my mind: "His loyalty to Alejandro is a chain that is near impossible to break. Even if you manage to have him, he'll always prioritize the Boss over you, always."

My heart clenches slightly, afraid of what would happen if we were put into such a situation. However, no matter how much it would hurt if he chose Alejandro over me, I must understand that I'd do the same. I'd choose Zara over Marcus; sure, I'd hesitate, but at the end of the day, she's all I've had for so long.

Alejandro forms his hand into a tight fist. "If Philip wants a show, we'll bring him the whole fucking circus."

• • •

Z A R A

I grip the dagger close to me, the sharp edge pointing outwards. Walking closely behind Alejandro, I notice the hall is empty. Oh, this can't be good.

"Where is everyone?" I ask quietly.

Alejandro gestures for me to stop by putting his arm in front of me.

"Well, well, well..." Philip's voice echoes throughout the room. "Zara, my princess, I asked you to stick to the plan, didn't I?"

I whip my head around the room, trying to find the location but to no avail. "I did follow the plan. It was Alejandro who followed me out. You could've just taken him out while he was busy with me."

"You're always trying to be a smartass, aren't you? Nonetheless, I supposed I cannot deny that you have made this a little easier." Philip finally emerges from behind one of the pillars and Alejandro adjusts his target. Philip only smirks. "You will put that gun down, Mr. Genovese. Your fiancée will voluntarily come with me or else..."

"Or else what? You'll kill me?" I ask, stepping forward. "Go for it! I'm all yours to kill."

"Stay back, Zara!" Alejandro warns.

I look at him with a blank expression, and he looks back at me with slight pity. He knows I'm not the same person he took all those months ago. He knows I haven't been acting the same for a while now. I stopped resisting his advances, I stopped flinching at his every touch, I stopped acting cheery, and I stopped acting gently. I'm sure he noticed that I stopped being the Zara he once knew a long time ago, but it didn't dawn on him until now.

"Aw, Mr. Genovese," Philip mocks Alejandro, "you don't have a hold on your women anymore? Must be frustrating to not be able to command someone around."

"Shut the fuck up, Philip," Alejandro sets his jaw, holding back every inch of his anger. Then, he looks back at me, frustration flaring in his eyes, "Listen to me, Zara. This is not the time to start acting up."

I don't look back at Alejandro as I walk toward Philip. "I'm not acting up," I say to him. "I'm just doing whatever I want to do."

I reach Philip and he leans down to whisper, "You chose well. I was seconds away from having your precious Yasmeen and your parents murdered."

I don't react, I know he's not bluffing. I know he's holding the people I love over me so he can exact his revenge without having me mess it up for him. Why else would I voluntarily choose Philip?

"Good girl," Philip says out loud, grinning. "Now, Mr. Genovese, I'm a generous man. I am not as cold-hearted of a bastard as you so, I will give you 24 hours to hand over my father's assets. I don't want to see a single cent missing." He gestures for me to walk with him, and I do. Just as we walk past Alejandro, Philip stops. "I'm sure you're wondering what will happen if I don't receive what I asked for on time. Both your wife—yes, I know the two of you are married—and your baby will end up on the receiving end of my anger."

My body freezes, did he just say a baby? Alejandro looks at me, the betrayal on his face is ever-so-present mixed with confusion and rage. But I don't know what Philip's talking about.

"Oh! I forgot to say. Congratulations on soon becoming a father, Mr. Genovese." The most sinister smirk appears on his face. My legs feel numb as I try to follow Philip out without uttering a single word.

Once we're inside the car, I burst. "What the hell was that? Whose baby were you talking about?"

"Oh? The doctor who checked up on you didn't inform you of the news?" I don't know if he's being serious or just mocking me.

"I'm actually surprised the baby has survived after everything that was done to you," he says rather insensitively.

"Congratulations Zara, you're going to become a mother."

My whole world feels like it has come crashing down. My hands hover over my stomach as I feel every bone in my body melt from utter shock. All those times I felt nauseous and sick, they weren't from anxiety or fear, they were pregnancy symptoms. With my mind being all over the place, I never even thought of considering this option.

This is the worst possible time for a piece of news like this to hit me. I can't do this, not now. I'm already walking on eggshells around Philip, but one wrong move could bring an end to two lives instead of one now. I stare out the window of the car, thinking about what I can do next, but my mind comes up with nothing. All I can hope for is that Alejandro can get us out or else I really will have to say goodbye to this world.

• • •

I didn't believe Philip, but I couldn't deny that I was showing symptoms. Philip hasn't lied to me about anything, in fact, he tells me too much sometimes and it concerns me. It's as if he says these things because he knows he'll dispose of me afterward.

A doctor came by to hand me my official report on my positive pregnancy. As I stare at the paper, an overwhelming sense of happiness and sadness takes over me. I sit on the bed, gently patting my stomach.

"I'm so sorry, little one. I didn't know this is where we would end up or else I would've..." I pause, "What would I have done?" There was nothing that I could've done. It was selfish of me for wanting to bring in my own bundle of joy in such a corrupt world. I should've thought this through, I should've been more careful. But I just wanted a baby so bad...

"Congratulations, I heard the news," Elijah says while leaning on the door frame.

"I see you still haven't learned how to knock," I say but the edge in my voice is no longer there.

"You're worried about the wrong knocking, seeing that you got yourself knocked up by a man who brings nothing but trouble to your doorstep," he says while rolling his eyes.

"And apparently, you have the balls to mock me when you're always acting like some bastard's whore."

"Touché," he mumbles as he stands up straight. "You won't survive, you know?"

I look up at him furrowing my brows.

"What?"

"You won't survive either way. If Alejandro does bring Philip what he wants—which is already something you shouldn't count on—Philip will kill you anyways."

"And who said I'll allow him to kill me?"

He raises a brow. "You're acting like you have a chance against him. Don't give yourself false hope, princess."

"False hope is what kept me alive for so long and I will count on it to keep me alive further," I mumble.

"You weren't like this when we first met," he comments.

"And?" I raise a brow.

"You were kinder, gentler. Very soft-spoken," he says.

"Just say how it is, I was weaker, vulnerable. Very foolish." I roll my eyes.

"I suggest you try to enjoy the little time you have left because from my calculations," he lifts up his wrist to look at the time, "you have a mere 12 hours left and Alejandro hasn't even bothered to contact Philip."

He walks out, leaving me more anxiety-ridden than anything. Alejandro wouldn't abandon us, would he?

"Yes, he would," I say to myself. If this disrupts his way of living in any way—which, it does—he will completely abandon us. And right now, I have a feeling he's not coming back. "I have to do something myself. I have to figure out how to live—"

There's a knock at my door. Since someone actually knocked, I know it's neither Elijah nor Philip.

"Come in..." I say carefully.

The door opens and my jaw drops, "Frank?!"

"I'm here to take you back home, lady," he has a small smile on his face.

Maybe Alejandro hasn't completely abandoned us.