Chapter 74 I Want to Kiss the Man Who Has Always Loved Me

Elena Garcia's POV:

Francesco was all pumped up because Marco gave him the nod.

"Now I get what you meant earlier. Guys never really forget their first love. It's like a diamond in their memories, always shining brighter than the rest." Francesco shot me a wink. "Elena holds that special place for you, right? I'm dying to know, how did you two first meet?"

I was stumped. "I can't quite remember. Did I meet Marco in Chicago?"

My memories of Chicago were a jumbled mess, mostly sad. Even though I grew up there, it felt like old furniture in a dusty warehouse. Maybe one day I'd miss it and dust it off, but I definitely didn't want to see it every day.

The best memories were with Rosa. Everything else was blurry, not something I wanted to dig up.

I guessed that was just how the brain protected me from sad memories.

"So, did I get it wrong?" Francesco looked at Marco.

"No, you got it right," Marco confirmed.

Marco turned to me. "We knew each other in Chicago, but it was pretty one-sided. I never really introduced myself, maybe told you my name once, but it wasn't serious."

Francesco looked surprised, and I felt a mix of excitement and unease. Part of me was thrilled about Marco's secret crush, but another part was a bit freaked out.

I had to admit, I cared about Marco more than I thought.

Francesco asked, "But Elena doesn't seem to know. Marco, you never told her?"

"No, I was scared she'd get a bad impression if she remembered how I looked back then," Marco said honestly. He reached out and held my hand, looking at me.

Marco continued, "Francesco, you were the one who took me away. You saw how messy and weak I was. I didn't want Elena to know about that."

"You're scared she'll be disappointed? I don't think Elena's that shallow," Francesco said, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Worried about a bad impression? Marco, your mafia ties are probably a bigger deal than your messy past."

Francesco's words took me back to the first time I saw Marco at the Garcia Manor. I thought he was handsome, but finding out about his mafia connections changed everything.

But Marco's worries mirrored my own, making my discomfort with the past fade a little.

Marco's words also made me feel a bit guilty. I couldn't recall meeting him in Chicago as he said.

"So we really met a long time ago?" I asked, curious and excited.

Marco nodded. "Yeah. But you probably don't remember me much. The first time I saw you, you and your foster mom helped me when I got beat up by some thugs. After that, you helped many times."

Marco continued, "But you and your foster mom were always helping others. I wasn't sure if you remembered me."

He pulled out a handkerchief from his chest, handling it gently and placing it in my hand.

Marco added, "The last time we met in Chicago, you gave this to me. Maybe it'll help you remember me."

I recognized the handkerchief right away. It was from my foster mom, Rosa. She loved collecting and sewing handkerchiefs when she was young, but there weren't many left.

The handkerchief Marco placed in my palm was one Rosa had given me when I was a kid. It had our initials embroidered on it.

I remembered that I had given the handkerchief to a homeless boy along with some money.

"Is it you?" I said, my eyes wide with surprise.

"Yes, it's me." Marco winked, realizing I finally remembered him.

He had smiled so much today, his eyes squinting slightly, full of sweetness. He held my hand and kissed it through the handkerchief. "Does this disappoint you? About my past, or about me now?"

"No!" I quickly denied it.

That skinny boy was still in my memory. I didn't remember his face; it was always dirty, covered by clothes, or marked with injuries. But I remembered his eyes, those wolf-like eyes.

Those eyes were exactly like Marco's, which explained why he felt so familiar.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, but then I realized Marco had already explained why.

I felt a mix of emotions—moved, sweet, and a bit sad for Marco's late explanation. It wasn't an angry sadness, but a kind of pity-filled sadness.

"Wow, I guess I should leave you two alone. After lunch, I'll make a smart exit," Francesco said with a smile.

I didn't care that Francesco was still there. Too many emotions were surging in my chest, far more intense than when I woke up from my dream this morning.

I said with affection, "I want to kiss you."

Marco looked a bit stunned. "Now?"

I nodded. "Now!"

Leaving the elder at the dining table, whether it was rude or not, Marco and I didn't care.

He held my hand, and we quickly walked back to the room. On the way, Hanna greeted us, surprised, and asked if we had an urgent matter and if she could help.

"Help us stop anyone who wants to disturb us," Marco answered.

After entering the room, he couldn't wait to kiss me. "Elena, I'm so happy. Elena, I love you."

"Focus, Marco." I bit his lower lip, but unlike in the morning, it wasn't to stop him, but an invitation.

Marco's breathing was rapid. We kissed like we wanted to devour each other.

I pushed him onto the bed. He sat on the edge, and I spread my legs, facing him, sitting on his lap, holding his face.

"Say you love me," I commanded.

"I love you," Marco said.

I felt Marco's heavy breathing and his fast heartbeat. His heart was about to jump out of his chest because of me. I felt a strong sense of satisfaction.

I touched Marco's back, grabbing his shirt. It must have been wrinkled by now.

Marco's hand touched my waist, rubbing my back. Desire rose between us.

I felt Marco's erection, its presence strong even through his suit pants.

But Marco, with a red face, still didn't make any inappropriate moves.

At that moment, he acted like a gentleman, but I didn't want him to be a gentleman now.

I pushed him down, then straddled his waist, watching his cheeks turn red because of my actions.

"Elena?" Marco called.

"Shut it." I took a deep breath.

I looked at Marco, confirming my inner thoughts. Unlike the unease with William, I truly wanted to make love with Marco.

My soul was craving him, the man who loved me deeply.

I whispered in his ear, "Marco, can I?"

Marco covered his face, and I saw his red ears. Then he suddenly got up, flipped me over, and pressed me onto the bed. He lowered his head, looking at me with eyes like a wolf hunting, making me shiver and burn.

In a low voice, Marco said, "Don't ask me such questions. I should be the one asking you."