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It must have been an hour or two later when Marco awoke. Again, his adventure with Emma had left him feeling so satiated that he didn't awake to the sound of footsteps boarding his yacht, nor did he hear them making their way to where he and Emma laid entwined on the deck's floor.
“Holy shit! Now that's the most incredible piece of ass I've ever seen,” Marco awoke to his brother's loudly whispered observation. And while he might have been unconscious only seconds before, he was on his feet in an instant, ready to inflict huge amounts of pain on his brother for his comment about Emma.
“Don't you ever talk about her that way--I mean never!” Marco snarled in the most vicious tone Dominic had ever heard from his brother.
“Wow, no disrespect intended. Just look at her, bro--it's not my fault that she's drop dead gorgeous. And I ain't the one that’s got her sprawled out naked on my deck. But, man--I wish I was!”
Marco gritted his teeth against a slew of vulgarities, and reached for a blanket to cover Emma's body from Dominic's view. He grabbed his jeans and slipped them on before gently picking her up and laying her down on the lounge chair. He motioned his brother toward a nearby door to avoid disturbing her sleep.
Moments later, Emma awoke. She moved to stand when she heard voices coming from just beyond an open door a few yards in front of her.
“The shipment's due tonight and you know you gotta be there, Marco,” she heard an unfamiliar voice say in a whispered tone.
“Yeah, I know, Dominic.” She recognized Marco's whisper. “But don't you ever get tired of this life? The lies, the violence? I don't want to be in the mob, and I damn well don't relish the prospect of taking over for our father and leading it someday.”
Oh, God, Emma thought incredulously. She couldn't have heard that right. Did Marco say the “mob” – like the mafia, like organized crime? She was speechless. How was she supposed to respond to that? Right...she wasn't supposed to respond, because she was supposed to be asleep, not listening to the conversation taking place inside.
“In truth? Yeah, Marco--I am tired of it. The way I saw you looking at that girl out there--I'd give up every drop of luxury and power in a second to have that. But that doesn't mean shit, does it? You can't just tender your resignation and move on with your life in this line of work, can you?” Emma heard the unfamiliar voice respond. “And this thing you’ve got going with that girl. You gotta stop it now, Marco. What are you gonna do? Keep telling her you're going off on business trips? Hide your guns in your sock drawers? Tell her you make your fortune from selling stocks and bonds?” Dominic prodded.
“I get it, Dominic. It was never supposed to be like this. She was just supposed to be a good fuck, but God, I feel wrong even saying that now. Something happened. Emma's so much more than that.”
“So do her a favor and get rid of her before she ends up getting hurt, Marco,” Dominic cautioned.
“Yeah, I know--you're right. But I don't know if it's that simple anymore,” Marco responded sorrowfully. “Tell you what--let's just worry about tonight. You run ahead. I'll get cleaned up and I'll meet you there in 20 minutes.”
Dominic nodded and walked out the door. He stopped at the lounge chair where Emma had laid back down, pretending to be asleep. “You wouldn't mind if I took one more little peek, would you, Marco?” Dominic teased, reaching his hand out toward Emma's blanket. It took every ounce of strength she had to remain still--and what did Dominic mean by “one more peek?” Marco's growl was animalistic. Even though he was teasing, Dominic knew better than to persist. He hopped off the boat and headed down the dock as Marco breathed deeply to regain his composure.
Emma didn't know at first whether to continue to fake her slumber or to let Marco know she'd been wide awake. She wanted to run as far away from this boat as she could, but she also wanted to confront the man who had been lying to her all these weeks. She made the slightest, imperceptible movement and Marco's sharply honed instincts were on to her. He knew she was awake, but he wasn't sure just how long she'd been that way. He took a tentative step in her direction. “Emma...” he started. Once she realized she couldn't fool him, she sat up slowly, as she contemplated how to proceed. Since Emma was never much for deception, she decided now wasn't the time to start.
“Is it true, Marco?” she queried as her voice caught in her throat.
“I've done what I've had to do, Emma. This life, it isn't a choice for me. When you're a nobody in the Family and you want out, you might get away with it. But when you're the son of the Don, you can't just walk away,” he explained, pleading with his eyes for her to understand.
Oh, God. This couldn't be. Marco wasn't just some made man, he was THE man--or at least the man next to THE man--and he was going to be THE man one day. How could I love a man completely tied up in organized crime? Wait--where did that come from--“love?” It was suddenly too much. She hadn't put a name to her feelings all these weeks, and to do so now, in the midst of a veritable crisis...Emma had to run.
Her bra and thong were strewn across the deck, but as she reached for them, she remembered that Marco had torn them in his haste to have her. She spotted her dress and lunged for it, throwing it on quickly as the blanket fell to the ground. Her naked body was visible for just a second, but it was more than enough to catch Marco's eye. He clenched his fists in an attempt to restrain himself; now was certainly not the time.
“I can't be here Marco. I can't sit by and wait for something terrible to happen to you, and I would never wish for any harm to come to you because of me. I cannot be involved with a man who...who...does the things that you must do. Oh, God, how I wish it could be different, but I can't be with you in the life that you live,” she cried out painfully.
And then she was gone, running from the yacht, from the docks and all the way back to the refuge of the home she shared with her friends. Once there behind closed doors, she collapsed onto the floor in misery and sat there with her knees curled up to her chest, staring off into nothingness. She wouldn't cry; she refused to cry, but tears escaped from her eyes against her will. The house was empty so there she remained sobbing for the better part of the day.