Monster in Disguise

20. Catalina

Catalina

C osima takes me to a nearby table where a few other women in their thirties and forties are. They don't seem too pleased to see me. I become a little self-conscious when they just ignore me and start talking with one another.

I purse my lips and paint a pleasant smile on my face. I'd wanted to come here, so now I have to be strong and show them they can't bully me.

"Is that your son?" one of the women asks Cosima, pointing towards a drunk man.

"He's my stepson," Cosima grits her teeth.

"Oh, I forgot about that. What, with them being so close in age." Another woman joins in and jokes. I remember reading about their family, and that Benedicto Guerra has two sons by two different mothers. I'm assuming they are alluding to the fact that Benedicto had married Cosima barely a few days after his first wife had died.

"If only he saw me as his mother." Cosima feigns a sigh and proceeds to recount how hard she's tried to be a mother for Michele. "But he just hates me."

The other women start comforting her in an obviously fake manner, and I have to ask myself what I'm doing here.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to go to the restroom." I give them a tight smile and go towards the exit.

Inside the restroom, I turn on the faucet and splash some water on my face.

"I can do this," I look in the mirror and tell myself. I need to be strong...

Hard to do when I've never been in a situation like this before.

I take a deep breath, and I'm about to leave when the door bangs open, the drunk man from before striding inside.

"This is the women's restroom," I tell him, thinking he's just made a mistake.

"Is it?" His lip curls in a cruel smile. He advances inside, closing the door behind him.

"You should leave," I say with a little more conviction. I don't have a good feeling about this.

When I see that he's not moving, I decide to get out myself.

"Easy, there," he says mockingly, his fingers digging into my flesh.

"Let me go!"

"Now, why would I do that?" His manner is casual, but I can't help the shudder going through my body.

"Let go!" I try to get my arm out of his grasp, but he shoves me into the wall, crowding me.

"You know who I am, don't you?" His mouth is too close to me and I can smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Michele Guerra," I answer, moving my head to the side.

"Hmm." He pinches my chin between his fingers and turns it forcefully towards him.

I try not to show the fear I'm feeling. Instead, I look him in the eyes, all the while searching for the panic button Marcello had given me. It's a small device that will release a deafening noise if activated. He'd been so worried about our presence here that he'd thought about everything, bless his heart.

His fingers are rough and bruising on my face, but I try not to cry out. My hand is in my bag, searching for the panic button.

"Is this how you got my cousin? With this innocent look of yours?"

I don't reply.

"Answer me!"

I purse my lips.

"Bitch!" His movement is so sudden I can barely react. His hand shoots out and wraps itself around my throat. Instinctively, my arms go around his hold, trying to loosen the grip. My purse drops to the floor, all the contents spilling out.

No!

"Let go!" I groan, my hands kicking at his chest and face. He seems amused by my efforts, and he smirks.

"You poor thing," He coos derisively. "I wonder if one night between your thighs is really worth dying for."

Still choking me with one hand, he starts pulling at my gown with the other.

No! Not this! Not again!

My heart is racing, my mind almost blanking. Tears gather around the corner of my eyes.

"No, please. Don't do this to me!" I beg him, trying to push him off me.

He doesn't budge.

The back of his hand connects with my cheek so hard I'm seeing stars. I struggle to keep my balance, and he's once again tearing at my dress, his fingers skimming the inside of my thigh.

No!

I don't know what happens next. I start yelling like a banshee, limbs flailing and kicking.

I won't go down! I'm not letting him do this to me!

He seems momentarily surprised by me fighting back, but it's short-lived. He thrusts me towards the sinks, and my back hits the steel.

I reel from the pain.

He's struggling with his belt when the door opens, and some women gawk at us.

"Help..." My voice is hoarse as I try to call out, but they just giggle and leave.

No!

"You really think anyone's going to help you?" He mocks me as he holds me down.

He's trying to pull the dress over my hips when I see my chance. With as much force as I can muster, I bring my knee up and hit him. He groans, stumbling back and releasing me. I don't waste any time running out of the bathroom.

I need to find Marcello. I need him.

Just thinking about the what-if has me hysterical, tears running down my face.

I reach the ballroom and I desperately look around, trying to spot my husband.

And then I hear them.

Slut

Whore

Tart

My hands are trembling, but I try to hold my head high.

Everyone's talking about me, and what those women think they saw in the bathroom. How I'm so cheap I'm willing to lift my skirts for any man.

So many feelings threaten to overwhelm me – panic, embarrassment, fear.

But then I see him.

We make eye contact and I can finally breathe again.

He's here.

His eyes move around my body and I can only imagine what he's seeing... the state I'm in.

Marcello runs towards me and tugs me to his chest, holding me tight.

"What happened?" His voice is low and gruff.

"He... He tried..." I start. I can barely speak, but I tell him everything.

His hands tighten in my hair. The warmth emanating from his body makes me relax... He's here, that's all I need to know. When I'm with Marcello, I just know I'm safe. As he holds me, people continue to run their mouths, calling me all types of names.

I'm so embarrassed for Marcello. What must he think of me?

"Don't listen to them." His voice is for my ears only, and the pain in his eyes mirrors my own.

He drapes his blazer over my ruined dress and takes my hand, ready to leave.

But it's far from over.

Like the Red Sea, the crowd parts to reveal Franco, looking extremely smug.

"You see, everyone? You see how she's trying to ruin men? She's a Jezebel, I tell you. Driving good men to their doom!" Franco targets me directly, almost shoving his finger in my face.

Marcello places me behind him in a protective gesture.

"That's what you did to my son too, didn't you? You seduced him and then you fucking killed him. She's a murderess, everyone! A murderess Jezebel!" Why is everyone so against me? What did I ever do to them? I look around, and all I can see are accusing faces... hear derogatory words.

I close my eyes briefly, trying to escape the pressure building inside of me. But why do I bother? They've already branded me a whore and a murderess.

"I didn't!" I find my voice, surprising even myself. If they want a scandal, they will have one. I'll just state the truth.

"He was a pedophile... He was touching my daughter." People are quiet all around at my confession, but then Franco laughs.

"Aw, really? Like mother like daughter then. She's starting young."

I take a step back, my mouth hanging open in shock. He... Did he just... Tears are running down my face at this point. How can he say that?

I'm so shocked I barely register Marcello leaving my side. I immediately look for him, needing his presence.

He's maybe two steps away, his hand on a fork.

With inhuman speed, he flings the fork towards Franco, sharp side forward. Both the aim and the force must have been incredible because the fork embeds itself into Franco's right eye.

Everyone is staring in horror at the unfolding scene.

Franco is wailing in pain, clutching his bleeding eye. His knees give out, and he's on the floor, his body quivering.

Marcello looks at him without an ounce of empathy in his gaze. The change is so sudden, I can hardly believe my eyes.

I've never seen that expression on his face before. He turns slightly towards me and gives me a comforting nod.

What is he doing?

Marcello casually takes a glass of red wine from a nearby waiter and swirls the liquid inside.

"What did you say? I didn't hear you?" He plants himself in front of Franco and stoops down so he's on the same level.

"What did you say about my wife?" He asks again, his voice hard and unyielding.

Franco, like a fool, doesn't know when to stop.

"That she's a lying whore. And I bet her daughter's the same."

"Is that so..." Marcello narrows his eyes at him. "Should I remind you that the daughter in question is also my daughter?" Him claiming my daughter as his warms my heart in a way I'd never thought possible.

He doesn't wait for an answer as his hand grips the end of the fork and pulls hard. In one fluid motion, the fork comes off, together with Franco's eye. The blood pools down his face, and his screams echo in the room.

Marcello swirls the fork up in the air, looking at it with a bored expression.

"Anyone else have anything to say about my family?" He turns to face the crowd and dares anyone to say something.

There are hushed voices in the background, but no one outright intervenes. In a shocking gesture, Marcello drops the eye into his wine glass. He tips the glass up.

"Cheers," he says before downing the contents.

Some women are passing out, others are heaving and emptying the contents of their stomachs. Even some men look a little bit yellow in the face.

But no one says anything.

Marcello stops again in front of a bawling Franco and tells him something that I can't quite make out. Whatever it is, it's making Franco look even more ill than before.

"Did you say anything? I didn't hear you," Marcello says out loud.

A bloody Franco, still on his knees, does his best to crawl towards me.

"I'm sorry." His head is hung low, his voice laced with pain.

"Still didn't hear you," Marcello echoes, and Franco grits his teeth.

"I'm sorry." This time it's loud enough for everyone to hear.

Benedicto emerges from the back of the crowd, clapping.

"Bravo!" He shakes his head in admiration. "Bravo!"

He takes the glass still housing the eye from Marcello and comes towards his brother.

"What did I tell you, fratello ?" He makes a tsk sound.

"How... how can you let him do this to me?" Franco stammers, his face taut with shock.

"I didn't. You did." He shrugs and then flips the glass so that the eyeball falls out on the ground.

Franco immediately makes a go for it, but Marcello is one step ahead of him – literally. There's a soft sound as the eye gets squished under Marcello's shoe, and Franco becomes hysterical.

I don't even have time to process as I'm being whisked away by my husband.

"What was that?" I whisper in confusion. The entire episode had been... I'm simply shocked.

"I may have implied that he can get his eye reattached, if some conditions are met."

"He can?" I ask in wonder.

"Not anymore."

We get inside the car, and the entire ride home, Marcello doesn't let go of my hand.

As he drives, I sneak glances at his profile, and I fall for him a little more.

For some people, his actions may seem too cruel, but for me, they meant the world. No one's publicly stood up for me before.

Marcello doesn't know it yet.

But he's just become my guardian angel.

The moment we make it home, he swoops me into his arms and takes me to my room.

"Shh, don't speak," he whispers in my hair as he lays me down on my bed, his wild eyes assessing my torn dress and my bruised flesh.

He turns his back to me and goes into the bathroom. I can hear the sound of water, and I think he's drawing me a bath.

"Marcello?" I ask tentatively.

He reemerges, coming towards me slowly. With an anguished look, he falls at my feet and puts his head on my lap.

"I'm so sorry. You have no idea how sorry... It's all my fault," he cries, his voice full of emotion.

My hand goes to his hair, and I slowly run my fingers through it.

"It's not your fault, love. It's not." How could he have prevented that man from assaulting me? In the women's restroom of all places.

"What you did for me... how you defended me." I shake my head, my eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "No one's ever done that before. No one's stood up for me like that. And because of that, you're my hero," I tell him tenderly.

"I'm no one's hero," he speaks after a brief pause. "Hero... me," he gives a dry laugh. "If you only knew..."

His hands come around my middle, and he hugs me.

"So sorry," he keeps mumbling.

We stay like that for a while, and I revel in the warmth of his body next to mine. I feel safe... so safe. Taking me in his arms once again, he enters the bathroom, placing me next to the almost-filled tub. Marcello looks conflicted as his gaze moves from me to the tub and back to me.

"I..." he starts but shakes his head. "I'll be outside." He visibly swallows before turning to leave.

"Wait, please!" The words are out of my mouth before I can overthink it.

"Stay." I don't know where this courage is coming from, but as I look into his eyes, I know I can do this. I can show him my most vulnerable self.

With shaky fingers, I pull at the side zipper of my dress and shimmy out of it. I'm now standing only in my bra and underwear. Marcello's gaze darkens as it moves over my form, and a shiver goes up my spine.

I can do this!

Before I chicken out, I stretch my arms behind me and snap the clasp of my bra, letting it fall.

"Lina," Marcello groans, and my cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

With what courage I have left, I quickly take off my underwear and climb inside the tub.

The scorching temperature of the water gives me goosebumps, and I grit my teeth at the painful heat.

It doesn't take me long to get accustomed to the water. I gaze up and see that Marcello is still standing in the doorway, his eyes fixed on me.

"Can you help me?" I lift up a sponge and hold it to him. I don't know where this is coming from... this forwardness... but I don't want him to leave.

He comes towards me, folding the sleeves of his shirt. When he's next to the tub, he kneels down and takes the sponge from my hands.

He lathers a good amount of liquid soap onto the sponge and then starts to tend to my arm. His movements are slow, the feel of the sponge soft on my skin.

He moves up to my collarbone, and I have to swallow hard at the sensation. I sneak a glance at him, and he's not unaffected either. Marcello tends to both of my arms before getting ready to move to my back.

I grab his hand, suddenly remembering what he's about to see.

"It's not pretty," I whisper, but slowly turn my back to him.

I'm afraid of his reaction. I can't see it, but I can tell he's shocked by his immediate intake of breath.

"Lina..." his voice is soft, his breath almost touching my skin. Then I realize how close he is to me.

"Mar..." I trail off when I feel his lips on my back, right where my scar begins. He starts tracing the contour of the scar with his lips, and my eyes tear up.

"You're beautiful, Lina. So, so beautiful." His voice is like a balm to my heart. There's this warmth... I don't think I've ever felt like this before. This emotion, bigger than life, expands in my chest and seeks to get out. I tense, painfully gripping the edge of the tub.

Dear Lord, what is this feeling?

The sponge touches my skin again, and Marcello continues with his ministrations. By the time he's done, I'm breathing hard, and I don't know whether it's from the steam in the water or...

He brings me a towel and helps me out, cocooning me. He takes me back to the bed.

"Thank you. For this." He takes my hand and brings it to his lips for a light kiss.

As I look into his eyes, I find myself hypnotized.

"Don't leave. Stay with me, please."

"Lina, you have no idea what you're asking."

"I do... I want this. I want you."

For the first time, I want to be in control of what happens with my body. And God, do I want him. He's all that's kind and good, and I don't even know what I've done to deserve him.

He's simply everything.

My fingers caress his cheek, and I lean forward to lay a kiss on his lips, wanting to show him how much I want this.

"Are you sure?" he asks me, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nod.

"Please."

His hand comes up my neck, and he cups my jaw, drawing me into his kiss. I part my lips to allow him inside, my tongue seeking his.

I fall back on the bed, taking him with me. My towel's hanging open, and I try to fit my body to his, wanting to feel closer.

His hands start tracing down my ribcage, and I shiver from the feather-like touch.

"Do you have protection?" I suddenly remember to ask. I know he's said he wants children in the future, but I don't want to assume he meant in the near future.

He lifts his head for a fraction, his pupils so dilated his eyes are almost black.

"No." He pauses. "But I'm clean. I haven't been with anyone in over a decade." His words surprise me. I'd never imagined a man like Marcello would be celibate for that long. But given his problem with touch... I see how that might impact things. And it makes me feel incredibly honored he's sharing this part of himself with me.

"Me neither," I reply. "I've never made love before." I blush at the words and instinctively lower my head in embarrassment. Technically, I can't even say I've had sex before... not with how my first and only time went, or how little I remember of it.

"Hey." He tips my head up. "I've never made love either. I may have been with others before, but it wasn't... my choice." A small grimace appears on his face. "So this is a first for both of us, okay?"

"Okay." I barely breathe the word out before his mouth is on mine once more. He kisses me for what seems like forever before he moves up, trailing kisses all over my face – my nose, my temples, my forehead.

"I can pull out. I know there is still a risk but..."

"No, don't. I want you, all of you." I want to be his, and I want him to be mine. Any children we may have would be nothing but a blessing.

His expression softens at my words, and he regales me with the most precious smile I've ever seen. My heart is about to burst in my chest.

With a determined look in his eyes, Marcello lifts himself up and swiftly removes his shirt. My gaze lingers on his exposed torso, taking in the defined muscles and smooth skin that I had tried so hard not to stare at before. But now, with permission, I can admire him to my heart's content. He takes my hand and gently guides it onto the plane of his stomach, urging me to explore further.

My fingers tentatively trail over the hard ridges of his abdomen, tracing the curves and dips with fascination. His skin is warm and firm under my touch, a stark contrast to my own softness. Just as I begin to gain more confidence, he stops me and presses a tender kiss to my knuckles before guiding me back onto the bed.

His lips are everywhere, igniting wave after wave of sensation throughout my body.

A whimper escapes my lips when he reaches my breasts, skillfully teasing and sucking at one nipple while gently massaging the other with his hand. Is this how it's supposed to be done? The thought quickly disappears from my mind as he continues to play my body like an expert musician. Every touch elicits a response from me, driving me closer to the edge.

But then he goes lower, leaving a trail of kisses down my stomach until he reaches the apex of my thighs. Heat rushes through me as his breath fans over my most intimate place. I shiver in anticipation as he carefully parts my thighs to accommodate his shoulders, bringing himself even closer.

"Marcello!" His name on my lips starts as a question, but as his tongue meets my flesh, it ends on an exclamation.

A mixture of scandal and intrigue floods through me as Marcello groans against my skin, his tongue sending waves of pleasure through my body. Every touch, every kiss, feels like a miracle as I gasp and writhe beneath him.

"You're my fucking miracle," he rasps, his words igniting a fire within me that only he can quench. My hands find their way into his hair, urging him on as he continues to explore every inch of my body with slow, deliberate movements.

With each nibble and suck, he brings me closer to the edge until my limbs start to spasm in pure bliss. And then it happens—an explosion of sensation that leaves me gasping for air. My eyes are wide open in wonder.

I think I heard angels sing!

As I come down from the high, my hands are still gripping onto Marcello's arms for support. As I catch my breath, I can't help but ask.

"What was that?" I huff out, feeling both exhausted and amazed at the same time.

"The most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life," he replies with tenderness in his eyes.

He moves back from me, his body glistening with a light sheen of sweat. With fluid movements, he raises himself and undresses, peeling off his pants and underwear to reveal his naked form.

My cheeks flush with heat as I instinctively try to shield my eyes. But Marcello's touch on my face is gentle and reassuring.

"We can stop if you want," he offers, sensing my reaction.

But I shake my head vehemently. No, I don't want to stop. It's just... the first time I'm seeing him like this.

Slowly, I force myself to look at him. It's Marcello. My beloved Marcello. There's nothing to be afraid of. I focus my gaze on his chest, taking in every ridge and muscle, before letting my eyes wander downward towards the v of his stomach and finally settling on the hard length between his legs that twitches eagerly in my direction.

"That... can't possibly fit!" The words escape my lips without thought, horror evident in my widened eyes. I know how this works, and there is no way that thing will fit inside of me. Memories of the painful experience last time flood my mind, and I unconsciously start to back away.

But Marcello is quick to reassure me. "It will fit, I promise you." He takes my hand and guides it down between my own legs, pressing it against the slick folds already damp with arousal. "Feel how wet you are for me?" His fingers replace mine and begin stroking up and down in a mesmerizing rhythm.

I can feel the embarrassment rising within me at how easily he can make me wet with desire, but his next words erase all thoughts of shame from my mind. "You're so soaked, you're going to take me in like you were always meant to, Lina." His voice is smooth and commanding, and I can't help but nod in response.

In a trance-like state, I open my arms and legs to him, inviting him closer. He covers me with his body, his hardness pressing against my center.

"Relax, don't be afraid," he whispers in my hair, brushing his fingers along my cheek in a soothing gesture.

I swallow down my anxiety as his words wash over me. "I'm not afraid... Not with you." And in that moment, I trust him completely.

Never with you.

As he enters me, a wave of pleasure washes over me. He surges forward slowly, stretching me bit by bit, and there's no pain, only the feeling of being filled and completed by him.

I wrap my legs around his back, pulling him closer and tilting my pelvis to take him even deeper inside of me. The sensation is incredible.

"Fuck!" He mutters, his voice strained with desire. "You feel so good, Lina. You're mine," he rasps against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "You were made for me, angel. Only for me." He pauses, fully seated in my body, as we both relish in the moment of being connected.

"Tell me I can move," he pleads, his voice laced with urgency and need.

"Please!" I urge him, wrapping my arms tightly around his back and pressing our chests together. The added friction ignites a delicious fire between us as we begin to move together.

My hands roam over his back, and I can feel some indentations that mirror my own. But before I can dwell on it too much, he retreats and then thrusts back into me.

A moan escapes my lips at the delicious sensation.

"I never knew..." I start to say but am cut off as he groans and kisses me hungrily. Our bodies continue to move together in perfect rhythm.

He picks up speed, and I feel something building inside of me. It's similar to before but somehow different.

"Ah!" I cry out as he moves one hand between us, lightly stroking my clit. The pleasure intensifies, and I find myself clenching onto him as everything overwhelms me at once.

"It's too much," I gasp.

"I've got you," he whispers, knowing exactly what I need as he continues to move his hand between my legs.

And then it happens, the most intense release I've ever experienced. He comes too, filling me with a warm liquid before he collapses on top of me.

"Fuck!" He curses and quickly rolls us over so that I'm on top of him. "I didn't crush you, did I?"

But all I can focus on is the tenderness in his eyes as he looks at me with love and adoration. And I know in that moment that we are perfect together.

"Perfect... so perfect," I murmur, feeling completely fulfilled in every way.

My lids feel heavy, and the safety of knowing Marcello is by my side lulls me to sleep.

So perfect...