Maria De la Cruz POV

“Wow,” Emilio muttered, shaking his head slowly, “Wow.”

I knew I’d crossed a line with my words, but I didn’t have time to care. Not now. Not with Carlos breathing down my neck.

What I and Emilio had was mutual, I didn't mean to but him with my words.

I didn’t want to hurt him. God, I didn’t want to hurt him. But I needed him out of the way, just for now.

This mess I was in was already more than I could handle, and the worst part? I couldn’t tell him a thing. Not one damn thing.

“You changed,” he said, like he was making an observation that couldn’t be argued with. “The minute Carlos walked into your room, you changed.”

I shook my head quickly, too quickly. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about, Emilio.” My voice wavered, and I hated how it sounded — it was obvious inwqs lying.

Because I was.

“It’s just… it’s been a lot. Your father’s death, the will—”

“When did you start worrying about things you never gave a damn about?” Emilio cut me off as he took a step closer to me.

“Tell me, Maria. Or should I call you something else now? Stepmother, maybe?”

“Please, Emilio. Stop.” My voice broke on the last word, and I hated that too.

But he didn’t stop. He took another slow step forward. With his eyes glued on me completely.

“No, tell me, what do you want, Maria?”

As he took a step forward to me, I took a step backwards.

“Tell me what Carlos said to you,” Emilio demanded.

“Seriously, it’s nothing, Emilio. I told you already.” My back was almost against the wall now. I could feel it coming. “And besides, you shouldn’t even be in my room.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

Emilio was the love of my life and I couldn't control myself around him, even when his father was alive. We just couldn't resist each other.

I swallowed hard, stepping back again, but my back hit the door with a soft thud.

Damn it. I hadn’t realized I’d run out of space. My heart was beating too fast, too loud in my chest.

“Everyone, the… the mansion,” I stammered, struggling to fill the growing silence between us. “It’s still a mess after the will reading.”

He didn’t move, but his eyes stayed on me, “You haven’t answered my question,” he said quietly, taking another slow step toward me.

“Tell me, do you want me to leave?” Emilio asked again.

I didn’t move. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

He took one more step, closing the gap entirely. I pressed my back flat against the door, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

He stood so close I could feel the warmth of him, the quiet hum of his breathing matching the erratic beat of my heart.

“So…” His voice was low. “Are you going to open the door and run out?”

I didn’t answer. My hands stayed at my sides, my fingers twitching against the wood.

“Maria,” he murmured, and there was something about the way he said my name,

He lifted his arms, bracing them on either side of my head, caging me in.

“Tell me you want me to leave.” This time, he tilted my chin up with his fingers. “Tell me and I'll leave.”

I couldn’t say it. I wouldn’t say it.

We stood there, locked in a stare that burned hotter than anything I’d ever felt. I hated him at that moment for seeing me so clearly, for knowing me so well.

His eyes flicked to my lips. Don’t do it, Emilio.

But he did.

Slowly, so slowly, he tilted his head, and I swear time stopped. His breath was so warm against my cheek.

He didn't kiss me immediately, his lips just kept on hovering just a heartbeat away from mine with my eyes closed.

For a moment, I thought I’d stop him. I should stop him. But then his lips finally touched mine, soft and searching, like he was asking me for something without saying a word.

That was it, I gave in.

I moved closer to him, my body clapping with his as I felt the hard, steady thump of his chest as I titled my head and kissed his soft lips.

His fingers threaded through my hair, tilting my head to deepen the kiss.

“Tell me you want me to leave, Maria,” he said again, his breath brushing against my swollen lips.

His eyes searched mine, waiting for an answer I didn’t have.

But I stayed quiet.

Because we both knew the truth.

I didn’t want him to leave.

Not tonight. Not ever.

This was going to be harder than I thought. So much harder.

His lips were on mine again, and this time, there was nothing soft about it. No patience. No hesitation.

The kiss grew wilder, deeper, as if we were both drowning and trying to breathe each other in.

His hands were everywhere. Warm palms sliding down my back, rough fingers pressing into my waist, pulling me closer.

My own hands tangled in his hair, twisting and tugging, messing it up as if claiming it for myself as he groaned into my mouth.

Click.

The sound was faint, but I heard it — the sound of a key.

It was Emilio. He placed his hands behind me as he locked the door.

Our adrenaline was on a whole new level. The world beyond this room no longer existed. Not Carlos. Not the will. Not the disaster waiting for me.

Just him. Just us.

We didn’t make it far. The bed was only a few steps away, and we crashed into it with Emilio's shirt pulled over his head and my dress sliding down.

“Emilio,” I breathed, not sure if I was calling for him or warning him. My nails raked down his back as his lips trailed along my neck, warm and wet.

He didn’t slow down. Neither did I.

I gripped the bedsheets so tightly that my fingers ached as I moaned.

“I love you, Maria De la Cruz.”

I loved him. God help me, I loved him. More than I should. More than I was allowed to.

But I couldn’t say it. Not now. Not with everything hanging over my head. Not with Carlos's threat.

“Emilio, stop,” I gasped.