Crowned In Blood

Chapter 13

13

Catalina

I woke to the sun streaming through my curtains. I blinked, clearing the sleep from my eyes, then reached for my phone and balked. It was after 10 AM. I'd never slept so deeply or so late in my entire life.

I swung my legs over my bed as memories of last night came back slowly, the men, Marco breaking into my house, how scared he was. How I'd asked him to stay.

I'd slipped up last night. I hadn't wanted to be alone. I was so tired—tired of fighting, living each day with my guard up, and pushing myself to survive.

I wanted to exist, to experience joy, happiness, peace, and I refused to let anyone take that chance away from me. But something in me broke last night. Something that simply couldn't be repaired in the same ways I'd gone about fixing myself before.

I desperately needed rest, to feel safe, just for a night. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been able to lay my head down on my pillow and not force myself to stay alert.

I always strained to listen for any out-of-place sound, peered around every corner waiting for a monster to jump out and attack me. Because in my experience, there was always one waiting for me somewhere.

They came in various forms—Simon, Fernando, my sense of failure and unworthiness—but if I wasn't careful, my demons would drag me under, deep into their depths, and I would never be the same.

But Marco was the light, my light. I should have asked him how he knew my address or about the attack, but I didn't. I was just happy to not be alone, to have someone that at least acted like they were on my side for once.

His presence made me feel protected. He beat away my monsters last night, helped me lock them behind bars, gave me the reprieve I needed. That was enough, that was more than enough. It was a blessing. But where was he?

He hadn't gone to bed beside me. The sheets were perfectly tucked in, and his scent wasn’t in the room. I didn't hear any sounds in the house either. But I knew he'd stayed. I knew him well enough to know he'd never let an opportunity pass him by.

I closed my hand around the knob to open the door and investigate, but paused. What if he was asleep in the living room? And if he was, how were we going to talk about him staying the night? We had to, right?

It felt strangely good to be pinned between him and the wall last night. His warmth, his firm muscles. The strength in his body as he trembled from the fear of losing me gave me a rush. Had anyone ever reacted that way to me before? Had anyone ever begged me to stay with them and cared about my safety?

I felt so cared for, so loved when he cradled me as though I'd break, that my walls had fallen down and I'd bared a piece of myself to him. It wasn't just that I'd let him in this time. I wanted to stop pretending just for a night, to see what it would be like to be honest with him about what he was starting to mean to me…

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. Even if he was here, nothing had technically happened between us. We could just talk about this like adults and go back to how we were before.

But did I want us to? Unfortunately, even though I knew it was stupid, I didn't.

I yanked the door open with a huff, then quietly crept to my living room. My senses told me he'd left, but I couldn't help the disappointment that came over me when I found out he truly was gone. The only clue that he'd spent the night was a small shift in the pillows and blanket he'd neatly arranged on the couch.

Running my fingertips over the blanket, I imagined him asleep underneath it. Then I pulled it up to my nose and inhaled. Cedar, vanilla, sandalwood, and musk, scents that were slowly beginning to feel a lot like comfort and home.

A small ping of jealousy zipped through me that this had been the last thing to touch him and not me.

I just got jealous over a blanket. Clearly, I've lost my fucking mind.

But I still couldn't help but smile. Marco could have taken advantage of me multiple times last night, but he didn't. Instead, he'd been caring, considerate, protective.

He truly liked me, at least a little bit. His flirting, gifts, and constant attention weren't just a game, there was at least something there. But I still didn't understand why. What did he see in me? What could he possibly gain from doing all of this? And why did those questions hurt my heart so badly?

I shook my head again and walked into the kitchen, where something smelled absolutely incredible. On the counter were two plates—salmon eggs benedict and a side of brioche-stuffed French toast—two of my favorites. It was even still warm.

A chuckle escaped me. I could see Marco buying the food with that smug smile of his, knowing I'd enjoy it, then slipping out of my house right before I'd woken up. It used to infuriate me that he was always right about me. But now, I was just grateful.

When had everything changed?

I ate breakfast, then called the office to let Olivia know I'd be in later, but she informed me Marco had already alerted her, but hadn’t explained why. I filled her in, then hung up.

Why am I not upset at him for invading my space? He had no right to call Olivia or tell her anything, yet all I felt was a sense of appreciation. He'd taken care of it for me, and I was starting to realize that was something he did regularly.

I finished breakfast, got ready, and as I left the house, I checked for a message from Marco, but he hadn't sent one.

That isn't like him. I could text him first … no.

I never had before, and even if I'd had the courage to, I wasn't sure what I wanted to say. With a sigh, I shoved my phone into my purse and drove to work.

Stopping by the farmer's market, I picked up some coffee and muffins for Olivia. She deserved at least that, an extra-long lunch, and a bonus for how well she took care of things and kept my schedule on track.

A flower cart with a bouquet of yellow tulips caught my eye, reminding me of the one Marco had given me recently. A mixture of golden sunshine that reminded me of his smile. I couldn't stop myself from reaching out to grab them, but as I did, a hand wrapped around mine.

I recognized those long, strong fingers, the tattoos peaking at the cuffs of his sleeves, the scent. The firm body that pressed against my back.

“Hi."

I tilted my head up to look at him. He smiled, but it was different—jittery, nervous even.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.” Even though my words were sarcastic, I couldn't muster up my normal snarky tone. Maybe it was because he was so close to me, or maybe it was because of the sudden relief that washed over me when I saw him. It shocked me, but I'd missed him.

The florist appeared and Marco grabbed a second bouquet of the tulips and paid for both. Then he took the muffins and coffee I'd been holding.

When we broke away from the crowd, he spoke to me in a soft tone. “I was nervous you might be mad at me.”

“I'm not. Thank you for breakfast, and for calling Olivia.”

“Did I overstep?”

He had, but I grinned at him. “Just don’t make it a habit."

The tension left his shoulders and when he smiled at me again, it reminded me of the sun.

We walked to my office in comfortable silence, and when I got up to the top floor, I took the muffins and coffee and handed them to Olivia. “Thank you for taking care of everything today. Why don't you head to lunch and take an extra hour?”

Olivia beamed, but still asked, "Are you sure? Do you need anything?"

I smiled and waved her away. "No, not at all. Go enjoy yourself and we'll catch up when you're back."

She grabbed her purse and the coffee, and waved bye at us both, then Marco and I headed into my office.

Marco switched out the flowers for me while I put away my belongings. Then he plopped down into his usual chair. “Tell me about this gala we’re attending tonight.”

"I've donated a large amount of money to a non-profit for domestic violence and child abuse victims, the Center of Gentle Love and Hope, and recently finished a clinic for them. I'll be presented with an award tonight, but the gala is mainly to collect donations for staff, additional centers, and re-homing their victims." I took a deep breath. "That will generate a lot of PR for me, which means my father will also attend.”

Marco's eyes narrowed, and a tic started in his cheek. "And what are you planning on doing to him when you get him alone?"

His anger fed my own and when I spoke, it was in a low voice. “I need to talk to him, see what he wants.”

Marco frowned. “It feels like he’s getting off too easy. He tried to kidnap you, Catalina. You could’ve been hurt,” he bit out.

I sighed. “It’s the only move I have. Meeting him privately is too risky. He'd bring his guards, and since eight men weren't enough, I'm sure he'd double or triple it."

Fire raged in Marco's deep brown eyes, but I ignored it.

"I also can't bring along any of my men to support me while we meet. He likely wants access to my familia or to drag me back under his thumb. That's a risk I'm not willing to take," I said with more force than I meant to. But my familia could never know what I'd been through, that I was once weak and abused, or else they'd never look at me the same.

My gaze flickered to Marco's. There was a time when I feared the same with him. I never wanted him to see me as less than or incapable. But after last night, I knew he wouldn't. I couldn't explain how or exactly what he'd done to convince me, but the feeling was there with absolute certainty.

Clearing my throat, I continued, "That means this has to happen at a PR event where there's security and I'm in the spotlight. He won't do anything there until the event is over, and he wouldn't be able to bring a large group with him. I'll have the upper hand this way, no matter what he tries.”

Marco clenched his fist, his knuckles whitening, before he slowly relaxed with a sigh. “What time should I pick you up?”

I gave him a small smile. “The gala starts at 7 PM, but I'd like to get there a little early.”

“Okay."

I squeezed my hands in my lap, gathering my courage. “Do you want anything?”

He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“You’re doing me a favor by coming with me and you’re not getting anything out of this. Do you want something in return? For helping me?”

"You're wrong," he said with a soft smile, but his voice almost sounded sad. “I’m getting a night out with you, by your side. That’s more than enough for me.”

A dozen questions came to my mind, because that didn't make sense to me. But I was starting to understand that when it came to Marco, there wasn't much that did.

The venue buzzed with chatter and laughter as Marco checked our items at the door while I glanced around looking for Simon.

"Is he here?" he asked.

"Not that I can see."

Marco nodded, then placed his hand on my back. The warmth of his palm felt like a brand on my skin, causing me to shiver.

"Are you cold?" he whispered in my ear.

"Not at all." I kept my voice level, refusing to look back at him. I knew if I did, that stupid, infuriating smirk would be on his face.

Marco guided me to our table and pulled out my chair before taking his own. The tables filled around us and finally, I spotted Simon.

At 7 PM, Naya took the stage. She gave her introduction and the speech she'd prepared for why she'd created the non-profit and how needed and important it was in our society.

Then her eyes found mine, and she nodded. "With that, I'd like to present this award to Catalina Salazar. She's helped more women and children than she'll ever know, and without her donations and support, we wouldn't be where we are today."

An applause roared around me, but I ignored it as I stood and stepped to the stage. Helping people who had been in a similar situation as I had was the least I could do. And I had more than enough money to do it.

I didn't think I deserved anything. It was one of the few things Naya and I fought over. She constantly told me I deserved to be praised for my efforts and the incredible impact I'd made on other people's lives.

"Thank you," Naya whispered softly, kissing my cheeks as she gave me the award. She smiled, and the kindness that shone in her eyes made me choke up, because it was all a lie.

Naya looked at me like I was a saint. But would she still feel that way if she knew where this money came from? That it was built on the blood, deaths, and stolen innocence of so many men, women, and children?

It left a bad taste in my mouth. Standing at the podium, I felt like a fraud. But when Marco's eyes met mine, the rest of the room faded away.

His lips spread into a soft smile, and each clap of his hand was purposeful, out of sync with everyone else's, and it slowed my heartbeat. He inhaled and exhaled. My body heard his silent command and followed his breathing. Then he tipped his head in a nod and it was over.

The exchange lasted all of a few seconds, but in that time he'd managed to yet again save me from the monsters clawing their way to the surface.

I gave my practiced speech while Marco scanned the crowd. His gaze touched on every entrance and exit, every security guard, and the location of Simon and the men around his table.

He's doing this to protect me. If anything happens, he'll know exactly where we should go.

I'd done the same; the platform was the perfect vantage point and excuse. But knowing how much attention he paid to me and how he valued my safety filled me with a warmth that refused to leave, even after I'd finished my speech and sat back down beside him.

The band resumed, and after dinner we left for the more communal area. Marco stayed by my side as several people approached us, more interested in my status as a senator's daughter than the event itself. But I made sure to always steer the conversation back to the non-profit.

I grew tired of it all. It was exactly why I hated events like this, but I needed to stay just a little longer.

Marco's fingertips danced along my spine, drawing my gaze from the dining hall where I was waiting for Simon to exit. "You look absolutely bored out of your mind," he whispered into my ear.

"Is it really that noticeable?" I'd need to adjust the look on my face and my attitude if that was the case. Even though I was using this event for my advantage, I didn't want to ruin anything Naya had built.

"Not to anyone else but me," he said in a low voice.

I side-eyed him, and his mouth tipped up into a smirk.

"Would a glass of champagne help?"

"Yes, please."

He squeezed my waist, then walked off to grab our drinks.

Simon entered, laughing with one of the attendees.

Finally.

I approached him, slipping into my old role with ease. The smile on my face was warm, welcoming, and entirely fake.

We exchanged kisses on our cheeks, then he held my hands. "I was just telling these gentlemen how proud I am of you."

Bullshitting as usual, I see.

"Thank you, Father."

He waved to a man beside him. "This is?—"

"My apologies.” I bowed my head. “I'm being called over there, but we'll catch up later."

"Of course we will," he said, his smile never reaching his eyes.

I returned to where Marco had left me, only to find him speaking to two women. His back was to me, but I could see the women's faces. They were interested in him, and it bothered me far more than I could have ever expected.

Marco was an attractive, charming man. He was funny, intelligent, and he carried a type of charisma that oozed confidence. He could have anyone he wanted. And for the first time, I realized that while he'd been showering me with attention, he could turn it to someone else at the drop of a dime.

I didn't like that thought at all .

Shooting her wouldn't be enough. I wanted to gouge her eyes out with the knife attached to my thigh.

It wouldn't take long. I'd be on her in five seconds. and it wasn't the first time I'd removed an eye from its socket.

It left a bloody mess, but it would be so satisfying. Just karma for her coveting something that belonged to me.

But he wasn't mine. He wasn't my anything. What even were we? Allies? Friends? Confidants? Co-workers? Every word disgusted me, because it wasn't what I wanted. None of them were enough.

What I wanted was him, deeply, completely, in a way where he could never be removed from me. I wanted him injected into my veins, into my soul. I wanted his infuriating smiles, flirtation, voice, touch to only be for me .

Freedom used to be my only dream. It was the goal I fought for, the reason I'd powered through and survived. Then, it became my familia, their protection and my duty to them. But somewhere, hidden in the darkest part of my heart, where my deepest fantasy and truest desires laid, was Marco. He'd infiltrated that space, and I couldn't get him out if I tried.

One of the women laughed a little too loudly, trying to put her hand on Marco's arm, but he turned, dismissing her attempt entirely.

I couldn't have that happen.

Another woman could not touch him, ever .

I walked up to him, and his eyes softened when he saw me. His lips, which were in a frown before, slowly curved into a blinding smile for me .

He completely left the woman there, her mouth open at how quickly he'd forgotten her. Then he handed me my flute of champagne and wrapped his arm around my waist, settling his hand on my hip. Only then did he seem to relax, and I couldn't help but grin behind the glass.

When the women left, he sighed. "You came at the perfect time. That woman was persistent, and I was only putting up with her so she wouldn't cause a scene."

"Are you sure you weren't just desperate for attention?" I meant to say it in a joking manner, but it came out hard and cold.

He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "The only woman I want paying me any attention or by my side is you ."

Goosebumps danced along my skin and I cleared my throat. "We'll be meeting Simon later."

"Good," he said, rubbing my waist.

"You can remove your hand now, you know."

"I do, but I won't."

I tilted my head. "Why not?"

"Because the same jealousy you had when I was talking to those women is the same way I've been jealous of every man who gets to lay eyes on you tonight."

I opened my mouth to say something, but the intensity in his eyes stopped me. He wasn't joking. He looked deadly serious, like he was barely holding himself back from slaughtering everyone in the room.

The gala wound down, and Marco and I began to make our exit. As we approached the doors, two of Simon's men stopped us.

"Your father is waiting for you," one of them said, his voice gruff and emotionless.

I exchanged a glance with Marco, who tightened his grip on my waist. Everything was going according to plan.

We followed the men, our footsteps echoing against the marble as we turned into one of the previously locked rooms.

Simon stood there, a smug smile plastered on his face.

He stepped forward, and to my complete surprise, he ignored me.

He extended his hand towards Marco. "Mr. Torrino, it's nice to see you again."

Marco's jaw clenched. Tension radiated off him, filling the air with malice.

He stared at Simon's outstretched hand like it was something rotten and diseased.

"Why aren't you offering your hand to Catalina?" Marco said, his voice low, dangerous.

Simon chuckled. "Come now, we both know who holds the power here, and it isn't her."

Marco's body tensed, fury coiled around him, like a snake ready to strike. But before he could do anything, a bubble of laughter escaped my lips.

It started as a giggle, quickly growing into full-blown laughter. The dumbfounded look on Simon's face only made me laugh harder.

When I finally sobered up, I shook my head. "Some things never change, do they?"

I smirked, meeting Simon's gaze. "So, you tried to kidnap me to what? Get Marco's attention, thinking he'd taken Fernando's place?"

Simon's face darkened, while Marco's arm around my waist tightened.

I shrugged one shoulder. "Sorry, Dad , but I'm the leader of the Salazar Familia now. And I hope you understand that whatever deals you had with my late husband—whom I killed, by the way, similar to how I killed your men—are null and void."

"What?" Simon shouted. His face turned beet red, only adding to my delight. "You will re-establish those deals immediately!"

I raised an eyebrow. "And why should I?"

"Because I have access to the ports," he snarled. "I can get material across them unnoticed."

My humor left me completely, the air in the room growing heavy, like I was trying to breathe in cement. "What material ?" I whispered.

Simon twirled his hand in the air. "Anything from stolen art to illegal substances."

A chill ran down my spine. "Did you ever traffic people?"

He shrugged, as if it wasn't inhumane, and he had every right to do whatever he wanted without suffering a fraction of the consequences. "I wouldn't know. It wasn't my job to know. I provided the containers, and I got them out to sea. That's it. Now?—"

"You never checked?" I yelled at him. I wanted to claw his face, shred his skin until there was nothing left so he could feel even a hint at what those that had been trafficked had.

Marco's voice was cold as ice. "No, he didn't give a shit. I'm sure he was paid for his discretion ."

"Handsomely so," Simon confirmed with a smirk. "Which is why I want to continue the arrangement. I waited for over six months for my last payment, and you owe me money." His eyes flashed dangerously, then he brushed his blazer, as though this entire conversation was nothing but a blight on his day. "I want my 10% cut plus interest."

Rage coursed through my veins. My father gave Fernando access. He was how Fernando got whatever, whoever he wanted, in and out of this city without anyone's notice. He benefited and had been doing so for years, and he didn't care who he hurt along the way.

I knew he was a greedy bastard who would do anything to get what he wanted, but seeing it, witnessing his nonchalant attitude when he could have contributed to the agony and torture of dozens, maybe even hundreds of people, was a new realm of evil.

My voice dropped low. "You can take your 10% plus interest and shove it up your vile, disgusting ass."

"How dare you!" Simon roared.

He raised his hand to hit me. But before I could strike him first, Marco did.

He punched him. The sound of knuckles hitting bone sent a satisfying crunching sound through the room. Simon's men moved to intervene, but I whipped out my gun.

"If you take one step, you'll end up just like the rest of your dead friends."

They looked at each other and froze in place as Marco beat Simon to a pulp.

"Did you really think I was going to let you put hands on my woman?" he snarled. "You hurt, mistreated, and abused Catalina all her life. You should have treated her like she was your world, your entire universe, but you didn't!"

He kicked Simon in the ribs who curled into a ball, trying to protect himself. But it was no use as Marco continued to kick and stomp on his head.

"Every day, Catalina has to fight through the trauma you inflicted on her, and instead of giving a damn, you're trying to hurt her again. You're worse than a fucking rat."

Marco bent down, grabbing Simon's collar, holding his limp torso off the ground. "If I had it my way, I'd drown your ass in the East River," he growled. "The sole reason you're alive today is due to the grace of your beautiful daughter." He pointed at me, his eyes never leaving Simon's bloodied face. "And if you want to stay that way, you'll learn to pay her some respect."

Marco let him go and Simon fell back onto the floor, hard. "Because if you don't, I will hunt you down, and I will take great pride in killing you."

As Marco stepped back, his eyes met mine. The fury and rage that had consumed him moments ago was replaced by a gentleness that made my heart skip a beat.

I tilted my head towards the door. "Let's go home."

He nodded, and as we turned to leave, I glanced back at Simon's men. "I assume I don't need to tell you not to try anything, right, boys?"

They nodded nervously, but I kept my gun trained on them as we left.

The drive back to my house was silent. I kept replaying Marco's words over and over in my head. The way he beat Simon was so satisfying, so incredibly attractive, but I was worried about the repercussions.

Simon could afford to be sloppy because he had the power of the law and government on his side. He also liked to make friends in high places. And I didn't want any of that to come down on Marco's head.

Simon wouldn't leave Marco be after the way he had beaten him, especially in front of his own men. Pride was everything to my father, and Marco had just shown how little of a man he really was.

But knowing Simon was likely involved in the trafficking and had benefited from it meant that when I was living with him, I had too. And that made me sick to my stomach.

Marco parked in my driveway and turned to me. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "Not for beating him. He deserved that, but for losing my temper when you needed me."

I shook my head. "Come inside. Let’s get you cleaned up."

Taking his bloody hand, I led him into my house and had him sit on a kitchen stool. Then I grabbed the first aid kit from the bathroom. Soaking a makeup remover pad in alcohol, I gently cleaned the blood splatter from his face.

Marco remained tense, silent as I worked.

When I finished, I moved to his hands, brushing my fingers over the lingering dried blood. "You didn't have to do all of that," I murmured.

His eyes met mine, intense and unwavering. "I did. I wasn't going to let your father hurt or insult you, not ever again."

A small smile tugged at my lips. "You're constantly surprising me."

His brow furrowed. "How?"

"You beat the absolute shit out of my father for me," I breathed, gripping the towel so I didn’t lose my nerve. "And you also seem a little too comfortable calling me yours. Your woman, your Catalina."

He said nothing, and his silence made my heart rate quicken, but I still had to know, had to ask. "Do you mean it? Calling me yours?"

Marco's gaze softened as he looked into my eyes. He brushed his thumb against my cheek. "Yes."

The single word sent warmth through me, flooding my entire body. My heart felt impossibly light. That one word made me feel wanted and cherished.

But then I remembered my father's response and the single, terrible truth within it. "Would you still want me to be yours knowing that it's possible my father helped traffic innocent women, and I benefited from his misdeeds?" I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady.

He brushed my cheek before grabbing my chin and lifting my head, forcing me to look at him. "There's never a moment where I wouldn't want you to be mine."

There was no hesitation, no doubt, and he looked so sure that I found myself sinking into this fantasy. One where I was worthy of him, where I could be with someone like him.

"Does that mean you're mine as well?"

A dazzling smile spread across his face. "I'd be honored to be yours, if you'd take me."

Yes! Please. I want you to be mine, more than you know.

But I didn’t answer him. Instead, I focused on cleaning his hands, because in the end, that dream could never become reality.