Carmen woke up to a headache pounding against her skull. Her mouth was dry. Her limbs felt heavy. And her body… ached.
Not just any ache. The kind of ache that made her stomach turn. Slowly, she blinked awake, her eyes adjusting to the dim morning light filtering through the curtains.
That’s when she noticed it. The luxurious sheets. The masculine scent of cologne.
A slow, steady breathing beside her. Her heart dropped. Her body went rigid. And with a sinking, horrifying realization—
She turned her head. Marco was lying beside her.
His bare chest exposed, one arm lazily draped behind his head, a satisfied smirk pulling at his lips.
Carmen’s blood ran cold. She threw off the covers so fast, she nearly fell off the bed.
“NO. No, no, no—” she stammered, scrambling away from him.
Marco chuckled, completely unbothered. “Morning to you too, sweetheart.”
Carmen’s stomach twisted. She looked down at herself. No clothes. Just a sheet wrapped around her body. She let out a choked gasp, her face burning.
“Tell me we didn’t,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Marco grinned, stretching lazily.
“Oh, we definitely did.”
Carmen felt like throwing up. She grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at him.
“YOU SON OF A—”
Marco caught the pillow with ease, laughing. “Relax, Carmen. It wasn’t that bad, was it?”
“BAD?!” she screeched, gripping the sheet tighter around herself. “THIS IS A NIGHTMARE!”
Marco propped himself up on one elbow, watching her with amusement. “You weren’t calling it a nightmare last night.”
Carmen’s face turned scarlet. “Shut up!” she snapped.
Marco smirked, dragging a lazy hand through his hair. “I mean, if you really hated it that much, why were you moaning my name—”
Carmen launched another pillow at his face.
“I WILL KILL YOU!”
Marco laughed, dodging the attack.
“I’m just saying, sweetheart, you were very—”
“DON’T. FINISH. THAT. SENTENCE!”
Carmen wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw herself out of the nearest window. How the hell did this happen?!
She was drunk. That was the only explanation. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Ever.
Marco, still smirking, leaned forward.
“You know, you can just admit you liked it.”
Carmen glared daggers at him. “I’d rather die.”
Marco sighed, shaking his head.
“You say that, but your body was telling me somethi—”
“MARCO!”
Before she could rip his head off, a small voice suddenly broke through the chaos—
“PILLOW WAR!”
Both Marco and Carmen froze. They turned toward the door. And there stood Matteo.
His big, bright brown eyes staring at them with pure excitement, a pillow clutched tightly in his little hands.
Carmen’s heart dropped.
She yanked the sheet higher, feeling like she was about to have a stroke.
“Matteo!” she gasped. “What are you—”
“I heard yelling!” Matteo grinned. “So that means… pillow fight!”
Marco chuckled, completely unfazed.
“You got it, buddy.”
Before Carmen could even react, Matteo launched the pillow at Marco’s face.
It hit him square in the jaw.
Carmen gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth—before she burst out laughing.
Marco groaned, rubbing his face.
“You little traitor.”
Matteo giggled wildly.
“Mama! Your turn!”
Carmen, still horrified, barely had time to react before Matteo threw another pillow.
She yelped, catching it mid-air.
“Baby, wait, we need to—”
“Pillow war!!!” Matteo screamed, charging forward.
Marco, being the terrible influence that he was, grabbed a pillow and swung back.
Matteo dodged, laughing hysterically.
Carmen, despite her humiliation, felt her lips twitch.
Marco was grinning, Matteo was giggling, and for a moment—
It felt normal. Like they were just a family having fun. Like there wasn’t a storm looming over them. Like last night never happened. Carmen sighed deeply, deciding to just let it go.
For now.
She grabbed a pillow, smirking at Matteo.
“You think you can win against Mama?”
Matteo gasped dramatically.
“Oh no! Mama’s joining the war!”