Loving Vicente

IX

VICENTE’S POV:

Walking into the hospital, I felt panicked. Heading to the elevators and pushing the floor, I wait anxiously. My mind is fuming at the thought of a man putting his hands on my woman. The elevator dings, indicating it was my floor. Stepping out, I glance around hastily. Finally spotting Anna, I walk towards her.

"Where's Daniella?" I ask, my voice laced with concern. "She's in the bathroom." She answers, a distant look in her eyes. I had known Anna for the last four years, she had become like a second sister to me. Pulling her into a friendly embrace, I comfort her. "I'm so sorry Anna." Anger boils up, but I push it down for the sake of Daniella.

Right now, this is where I needed to be. Releasing Anna, she sits back down. Taking a seat next to her, I pick at my nails. I didn't know what to expect. "Vicente?" I hear her gentle voice call out. Shooting to my feet, I scan her full length.

Taking her face in my hands, I run my thumb over her bruise gently. Her eyes were rimmed with tears. Leaning her cheek further into me, rage flashes in my eyes after examining her. I was going to find those bastards, even if it cost my last breath.

After dropping Daniella and Anna at home, I drive to the warehouse in a blind rage. Calling up my men, I tell them to stay alert. I needed to make a game plan. There was only one person who would've called that attack, and I had a bullet with his name on it. Pulling into the warehouse, I storm inside. A few men lingered around, playing cards.

They sat to attention seeing me walk in, I ignore them. Making my way straight to our guns, my father's second-in-command, Luis, comes bounding into the room. "Que estas haciendo?" (What are you doing?) He spits out. "I have a business to handle Luis. No, me digas nada." (Don't tell me anything.)

Luis grabs me by the collar, pinning me against the wall. Anger rips through my chest, he was wasting my time. "You can't go out and start a war, Vicente. I won't let you. Not over that bitch." As soon as the defiling word left his mouth, I spit right in his face. He releases his hold on me. "f**k you," I say. He lets out a heavy sigh. "Your father will not be happy about this." Is all he mumbles out as he walks out the door.

All my mind could think about, was the bruise that stained her perfect skin. Her red, tear-stained eyes. Picking up the duffel bag full of weapons, I head back to my car. Sending the location of a popular spot the rival cartel hangs around to my men, I start the drive.

My anger was at its peak and I was out for blood. The drive there dredged on. Burning through cigarette after cigarette, my mind raced. I couldn't believe this 5'2 brunette could get me to become so filled with rage, it was something I had never experienced.

The feeling was all-consuming. When I finally arrived at the spot, I circled slowly. Counting how many men were around, I assess my best path. My phone vibrates with a text, and my group ready to go on my cue. Taking a deep breath, I step out of the car with the duffel bag slung over my shoulder.

With a quick text, we slowly start closing in on their warehouse. Bullets fly around me, I take out one of the shooters. As the bodies drop outside, we kick open the doors revealing more rival members. They were outnumbered by us and didn't stand a chance.

DANIELLA’S POV:

Waking up the next morning, my face was throbbing. I head into the kitchen and grab a bag of frozen berries to place on my bruise. Sitting at the table surrounded in silence, I spot a radio nearby. Flipping between the stations, I receive nothing but static. Finally stopping on a decent sounding one, I listen to the words coming out. It had seemed to be the news. As I'm turning it up, Anna comes into the kitchen. "Good morning." She says. Smiling at her in response, I focus back on the radio.

Anna lets out a low gasp, catching what the announcer had said. "What happened?" I asked, my voice filled with curiosity. "He said... Over fifteen men were found shot to death this morning." My eyes grow wide, her words leaving a sinking feeling in my gut. I rush over to my room, ripping my phone off the charger. Dialing out Vicente's number, I listen to the line rings out. When I get his voicemail, panic sets in. Hitting the redial button, I pace around my room awaiting his answer.

Sobs escape my lips as I think about the possibility of him being dead because of me. After my tenth call, I finally see his name flash across my screen. "Vicente? Are you OK? What's going on?" My questions come out rushed, sounding panicked. "Daniella." He says roughly. "Take a deep breath, I'm fine." I go silent, calming my breathing. "What happened?"

He doesn't say anything right away. "Trust me when I say, everything was handled." That was the only thing he spoke on the matter. Fear chills my bones, almost making me contemplate our relationship. But when I think about what those men did to my uncle, anger quickly takes its place. He killed for me. The thought sends shock waves through my body.

A feeling of desire slowly sets in, it sounded crazy but I couldn't help it. "Daniella?" He asks softly. "I'm here Vicente." He asks to meet me tonight, and after agreeing we end the call. I lay back on my bed, thinking about everything that just happened. I knew it was wrong, what he did. But I'll admit, the lengths he was willing to go to send a pool of heat to my stomach.

Later that evening, Vicente had pulled in at the end of the driveway. Instead of making him wait for me to come out, I text his number and tell him to come inside. Moments after, I hear his engine shut off and a door slam. Rushing into the bathroom, I do glance over.

My curly brown hair hung low down my back, my white dress clinging to my body like a second skin. Hearing his knocks, I rush around to the kitchen making sure everything was in place. Anna had gone to the hospital to stay the night and let me use the house so I could make Vicente dinner. It was cheesy, I know. Nerves rise to my stomach as I reach the door. Opening it, Vicente stood tall in front of me. His face clean shaven, his dress shirt tucked in with a few buttons undone.

A bouquet of tall, beautiful, red roses sat in his hand. I drool over the sight of him, forgetting to invite him in. He lets out a low chuckle that snaps me back in place. "Like what you see Hermosa?" He asks in a low voice. Craning my neck to look at him, we don't break eye contact once. Shaking my head softly, I feel us pulling together slowly embracing in a kiss. It wasn't over the top, just a gentle kiss that said how much we missed each other.

Stepping aside, I let him in. When he spots the low lighting and the candles placed on the table, his face fills with shock. "Did you do this for me?" I nod my head, yes, placing the food from the stove on the table. He takes a seat, keeping his eyes on me as I flit about the kitchen grabbing drinks and utensils. My mother taught me how to cook, I still had plenty of room for growth but knew more or less.

Placing his food on his plate and taking a seat next to him, he looks over. Planting a lingering kiss on my lips, he thanks me and begins eating. I felt nerves dance as I await his approval. "This is so good, who taught you how to cook?" He asks. Telling him stories of moments in the kitchen with my mom, he listens with a smile.

Adding onto my story, he tells me how disastrous of a cook his mom was. I laughed while he recalled a memory of her burning cookies. The night was wonderful, spent with genuine conversation. When the food was long cleared from our plates, we sat on the porch admiring the sunset.

"What are we going to do Daniella?" I hear Vicente ask. A troubling look crosses my face, "About what?" I reply. He lets out a heavy sigh, pulling me closer to him. "When you leave, what are we going to do?" I bite my lip, contemplating his words. We had yet to discuss this topic, avoiding the inevitable. But the truth was, my trip was ending in two short months. Looking back up to Vicente, I feel tears prick my eyes. "I don't want to lose you," I say softly.

He rests his head on mine, rubbing my arms in a comforting way. "I'm yours, Daniella. I'm not going anywhere." He says reassuringly. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I keep my tears at bay. When Vicente left later that night, I lay in my bed and cried. Cried because I knew my parents would never approve, and cried because I let him invade every crevice of my heart. After a while, I finally drift to sleep. Sadness clung to me, making me feel heavy.