Hello! How is everyone doing! I know this has been a very long wait... I sense some of you are upset. I'm so sorry. Truthfully, apart with my busy schedule, I've gotten lazy and discouraged. I almost didn't want to write anymore... but I realized that my writing isn't for everyone and many fans are so loyal to the Novela and I'm sorry that my writing offends some of you. In my defense, English was my first language and my way of expressing strong, dramatic emotions is through crass/selectively appealing and sensual words...and it is a lot easier for me to write in English. Though I was discouraged, I managed to reread through my works and fix a couple of things that were way out of line. (Don Martin's colorful language to be exact. I thank that considerate guest for bringing that to my attention!)
Also, about this chapter, I've been challenging myself on how to make it appealing and sensual. Let me know in the reviews if it needs to be changed or even come up with some suggestions. I'm not only writing for myself, but for you guys :)
Anywho... Happy Reading!
(I do not own this Novela!)
Chapter 44
The moon was full and bright that very evening. Franco and Sarita decided to take advantage of it while their siblings took their personal matters back to their own private rooms.
The two basked in the cool moonlit air, savoring each other's company as if nothing else in the world mattered. However, Sarita was instilled in her own thoughts, her worry for her mother's holy matrimony to the disgraceful Fernando Escandon rattling her. To be frank, it slightly peeved Franco.
This escape was for their own pleasure. He understood how much her mother meant to her, but he needed her to understand that she was her own woman. She was free from whatever hold her mother had on her. Gabriela chose her own path, as dreadful as it may be. Sarita and her sisters should do the same. Especially Sarita.
Especially her.
Out of her two sisters, Sarita had been glued to her mother's side from the very beginning. Always following her mother's orders and keeping her interests aside to please Gabriela and the rest of her family.
He admired her loyalty to her family. That's one of the many things he loved about her.
Sarita was passionate and so honorable, but it pained him to see just how much her loyalty is being taken advantage of by someone who is supposed to care and support her no matter what.
Franco couldn't understand how a mother could do that to her own children, particularly to a woman as obedient and loving like Sarita.
He felt her arm intertwine with his as they walked, his thoughts rambling away on how Sarita still cared for someone who isn't caring for her wellbeing.
"Definitely every cloud has a silver lining." Sarita said, steering Franco away from his thoughts.
"Why do you say so?" he asked her, instantly knowing where she was going with this conversation.
"Because despite all of this madness about my mom marrying Fernando, we're all here together in Santa Clara."
"It was about time!" agreed Franco, earning a tender smile from her. "I was anxious to have you close without having to hide from everybody."
He heard her giggling next to him, eliciting a smile from him as they continued on with their nightly walk.
She began to laugh wholeheartedly, allowing Franco to distill their pace so he could stand in front of her, taking her small hands in his while he admired how beautifully her eyes lit up. He smiled down at her, strictly enamored by her fiery brown eyes that resembled the twinkling stars that shone above them.
If only she knew just how striking she was to him.
Damn, he loved this woman.
"You know something?" asked Sarita, her bell-like laugh fading.
"What?" answered Franco, staring intently into her eyes, stopping himself from claiming her right then and now.
"I am happy too." she admitted to him. "I'm very positive that my sisters wouldn't trade us for the world. Just like Oscar and Juan."
She smiled up at him, her eyes still radiant as her smile.
"There's no doubt about it." Franco told her, and this time he regretfully didn't return the tender gesture, for in his heart he sensed a slight emptiness. "But there's a difference…"
Sara's smile faltered a bit while her eyes dimmed with concern.
"They are certain about their futures…" he tried to explain, his hopeful blue eyes boring into her fiery brown depths. "Sara, let's analyze this for a moment… Oscar and Jimena are married, Juan and Norma have my nephew and they're all ready to live peacefully, but…you and I have absolutely nothing sure."
Franco bit his tongue when he saw her eyes lose their radiance at his honest words. At that moment, his heart began to ache. He loved Sara, he knew he did. If there were a world without her, he wouldn't want to exist. Sarita had proven more to be than what he deserved. In fact, he battled with himself on how he couldn't have laid his eyes on her sooner, despite the hatred and the ongoing feud they've once had for one another. The past didn't matter and he knew this… now that the two had fallen madly in love and would do absolutely anything to keep each other safe from harm's way.
Sarita was everything he'd hoped for.
She was so precious, loyal, sweet, and a force to be reckoned with.
Where else could he find a woman like her?
Despite her feral and tempestuous ways, Sarita was one of the rarest women he'd ever encountered, for her heart was pure and filled with so much love he'd never imagined to have, particularly for a man like him.
"You may be right, Franco." she said to him, her tone rather morose as she looked down to their conjoined hands. "But you need to know that things have gotten so complicated and even more so with my mom."
Franco sighed, feeling rather impatient and immensely peeved at the mention of her mother. His mind damned her mother for such complications. Because of Gabriela, Sara and her sisters were distraught and even distracted when it came to their own peace and happiness.
After all this time they'd spent together and even shared themselves intimately with one another, Franco would have thought Sara would stray away from her mother's affairs and focus on herself. He was wrong.
As much as he admired her tremendous heart, Franco found it to be a burden. Gabriela dismissed her own daughters' needs and their safety to be with a vile man who detested them. She may have abandoned her three daughters, but her daughters won't abandon their mother. It wasn't right. He needs Sarita to finally see the bigger picture and focus on her own needs, so as he stared into her eyes, Franco was determined to steer her away from her worries and solely focus on their current situation.
"Your mother is enjoying her honeymoon, Sara." he reminded her, as painful as it is for her. "I think it's best if we fix our situation."
He felt her hands tremble in his as he stared into her eyes, which began to slowly gleam ever so slightly.
"I'm dying to be with you, Sarita." he confessed to her, his heart nearly melting when her eyes twinkled so beautifully up at him.
"I'm dying to be with you too." she admitted to him, her fair cheeks tinted so delicately in that precious pinkish hue while kissing him softly on his lips.
"Then what?" whined Franco, fighting his urge to collect her in his arms, his impatience running thin when she pulled away.
"We shouldn't be so impulsive either, Franco." she reasoned with him, sensing his need. "We don't have to rush it–"
"Well, I don't have patience, Sarita—"
"We have to remain calm." she strongly affirmed, her fiery brown eyes serious. "Because we have to be completely certain of what we're going to do. If we want to be together and share our lives forever, we can't make a mistake."
She smiled at him, rather smug with herself and Franco just blinked at her, knowing deep down that there is some truth to her logic.
And then it hit him.
This little woman definitely had a strong head on her shoulders. There's no doubt about it. If he were to spend the rest of his life with her, he sure as hell knew she would always find a strategic way to find reason throughout any form of mishaps and complications.
Sarita Elizondo was definitely a force to be reckoned with.
A damn little pistol.
Franco sighed and lifted his head up to the heavens.
"Okay, why did I have to have the most organized one of the Elizondo's?" he teased, feeling her annoyance when she tore her small hands away from his hold. "Does anyone know?"
He looked back at her to find her glaring at him, her brows furrowing delicately while her lips pouted adorably, her full bottom lip enticing him. She seemed so frustrated with him and all Franco could do was admire her, that slight fury igniting from her enchanting brown eyes nearly sent chills down his spine.
He wanted to laugh, but withheld from doing so. She was so precious and truly adorable whenever she got mad. She was so tiny and still kept her temper despite the love she had for him. Franco, in a million years, would not withstand such temperament, for it used to bother him in the past. Loving her and seeing her this way, Franco would always see her temper as an endearing quality. Sarita was such a delight and absolutely captivating.
"What?" she snapped at him. "Is there something wrong with that?"
Franco chuckled and began to soothe her temperament by grasping her hips and pulling her to him, remembering the first time he ever kissed her and how she tried to fight him off that very night. His Sarita was something else and he wouldn't trade her for anything or anyone else.
"No, of course not." He told her, now cradling her face with both his hands. He calmed her down by placing a simple yet tender kiss on her enticing full lips. "I adore you just the same."
He pulled away, but his hands still cradled her face. She was calmer now and smiled up at him, her fair cheeks tinting adorably while his fingers traced little patterns on them.
"Listen to me, Sara." Franco said, his voice filled with emotion. "I'm very worried about you going back to your ranch when your mother and Escandon come back."
Sara's smile slowly faded, reality now dawning in her eyes when Franco brought up her mother's marriage to the man that tormented her.
"I don't know…" Franco went on, "my stomach is turning knowing that you'll be close to him."
"I know–"
He cut her off, sensing her discomfort but he couldn't help himself. This was about her safety and it strictly mattered to him, knowing that she would be living with the man who dared to physically abuse her.
"Sara, you two had a lot of arguments and I know for a fact that he won't ever give you a break."
"Yes, I know it won't be the best situation, but you need to understand that I can't be selfish, Franco." she reasoned, caressing his face with the tips of her fingers. "I have to think about my mom. I must have patience and wait for my sisters to make sure that my mom won't be in danger with Fernando. You get me, right?"
"Of course I do." he answered her, his heart hammering with worry at how her eyes shone with such love and adoration for her dismissive mother. "All I want is for you to not get caught up with anything that could happen, please, Sarita. Everything is about to change now that Escandon will be in charge of everything."
"Don't worry." she assured him. "I know how to handle myself."
Franco took her word for it, but in his heart, he knew something horrible would happen if she and her sisters returned to their mansion. He sincerely hoped she knew how to handle herself. She may be a pistol, but she was still a woman, a petite one at that. He deeply despised Fernando Escandon, because that man is bound to do whatever means necessary to harm her and her sisters.
After their late night walk, the two returned to their private bedroom. Franco laid in bed, his wide blue eyes fixed on the bathroom door, where he heard the clear sounds of pelting water. He waited patiently, his plain button up shirt discarded neatly on the nightstand beside the bed.
His thoughts were raging as he continued staring at the bathroom door, which was completely closed and locked while Sarita took her nightly shower. He smiled to himself, knowing that Sarita would never change. She would always be the discreet little woman he knew her to be, but the sheer memory of her laying beneath him, ravaging her in ways no man had ever dared to, never would escape his mind.
The things he would do to her now that they were finally alone prolonged an indescribable fire within him.
He needed to cherish her tonight.
He needed to show her how much she meant to him and clearly how much he missed her.
The need to brand every flawless portion of her sanity skin and soft curves with his mouth, nearly had him salivating.
He yearned to wrap those shapely toned legs around him as he claimed her, relishing her warmth consuming him like before.
He yearned to hear her tantalizing moans and sighs of pleasure…pleasure he could only give her.
Most of all, Franco needed to reclaim those lost precious moments of tranquility, which was stolen from him after he first made her his. He needed to hold her throughout the night, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, reassuring her that she would never have to worry about anything harming her for he would always be there to cherish and protect her.
His thoughts came to an end when he saw the bathroom door open and Sarita coming out in nothing but a thin white bathrobe. She smiled nervously at him, her fair cheeks adorably flushing when she caught his tender gaze.
Franco returned the sweet gesture while he climbed out of bed to approach her. Her blush deepened when his fingers toyed with the front of her robe, slowly untying the belt.
Her own little hands covered his own, discouraging him from disrobing her. She looked up at him and he couldn't help himself but cover her lips with his own. He sighed against her lips, savoring her warmth and undeniable softness while his arms wrapped around her waist, drawing her flush against him.
He heard her moan when he deepened their kiss and her arms went around his neck, her small and ample breasts pressing against his bare chest. His hands began to wander to the small of her back, his mind cursing the bathrobe that hid her completely from him. He heard her gasp in the midst of his fervent kisses when his hands grasped the thin material of her dreaded white bathrobe, forcing her more to him enough to feel how badly he craved her.
"Franco.." Sara sighed, Franco's ravenous lips still teasing hers. "Franco…not yet…"
Franco couldn't reply, for his mind and body were still acting on its own accord. The need to make love to her was becoming truly unbearable.
Sarita was insatiable and Franco knew he'll never be sated once he made her his again.
His tongue and teeth gently kneaded her lush bottom lip, eliciting a small moan from her. His hands released its grasp on the back of her robe and began to wander north. He tore his lips from hers and proceeded to feast down her chin, to her jawline, and finally to the side of her neck, where he knew how easily he could make her tremble and mewl.
"Sara…" he whispered, lethargically trailing his lips up and down her neck, feeling her shiver with abandon. "I need you.."
His hands dawned upon her own, which still remained locked around his neck. He slowly slid them down her arms until the tips of his fingers reached the tops of her shoulders.
"I want you…" he continued, his lips still worshiping the sensitive flesh below her ear while his hands slid between their bodies until he found the belt of the front of her robes. "I love you…"
He felt her body tremble against his when his hands strategically untied the front of her robe, unveiling her perfectly small breasts to him.
"I love you, Sara…" he whispered as his lips began to trail languorous kisses back to her awaiting lips. "You're mine always…"
He felt her succumb to his now gentle kisses while the tips of his fingers grazed the delicate swell of her hips. He dug his fingers onto them while bringing her more to him, the bare feel of her sending waves of pure ecstasy throughout his every being. His arms wrapped around her waist and he groaned into their now heated and passionate kiss, feeling her beautiful small round breasts pressing up against his bare chest.
The need to possess her was overwhelming, but the need to please her and show her how much she meant to him was even more dire.
His hands began to roam up her small waist, his fingertips trailing along her spine as his lips kneaded hers ever so passionately and hungrily. She trembled delicately in his arms, feeling his wandering hands tracing lethargic patterns along the silky fair skin along the small of her back.
His hands began to rise up a little higher, expecting more of her satiny flesh on the tips of his fingers…instead, he felt a slight roughness just along the middle of her back and her right shoulder blade.
What in the–
He touched those parts again, utter confusion enveloping him when he felt the pads of his fingers trace along what felt like long raised, marred flesh.
Did she have that there before?
Just then he felt her tense and she instantly removed herself from his embrace, retying the front of her robe while turning away from him. Franco snapped out of his enraptured stupor and stared at her in question.
"Sarita?" he rasped, his mind now reeling with so many questions regarding what he felt on her back. "Sara?"
She didn't answer him and still kept her back to him. Instead, he saw her clutching at the front of her robes, her shoulders slightly shaking while her cheeks reddened in utter humiliation.
"What's going on?" he asked, his voice calm but demanding as he tried to reach out for her. "Explain to me what that was, Sara."
She stepped away from his reach and darted across the room to where she stood in front of a large dresser. He watched her opening one of the drawers and pulled out what seemed like an old fashioned white nightgown.
"Sara, please talk to me." Franco begged, growing worried with her abrupt silence.
She finally looked at him and Franco could swear he felt his heart breaking in half at the unshed tears welling in her dark brown eyes.
"Sarita, please."
Her mouth opened slightly as if to finally say something to him, but instead she remained silent as her small hands gripped the nightgown in front of her for dear life.
"Sarita, I need you to speak to me, please."
She shook her head fervently at him, a couple of tears springing down her cheeks. Again, Franco felt his heart breaking, this time, into thirds, seeing her looking so small and completely vulnerable.
What was she hiding that she did not want him to know?
Franco took tentative steps towards her, silently pleading for her not to flee from him again. Thankfully, she didn't. Instead, she stayed where she stood, tears freely pouring from her eyes while she continued clutching her nightgown in her hands.
He finally approached her and stood right in front of her. She wouldn't look up at him, but stood completely still. With a careful hand, Franco lifted it to touch her chin. With his fingers softly curling beneath her chin, he lifted her head up to look at him.
His heart broke into four pieces seeing the shame, guilt, and even sorrow swimming in the dark depths of her watery eyes.
"Sara, talk to me," he repeated to her, his fingers now cradling the side of her face, gently wiping new droplets of tears that fell on them. "What happened to you?"
"I-I lied, Franco." she finally spoke, her voice so weak and timid. "Please forgive me."
"Lied about what, Sara?" he asked her, his worry intensifying. "What is it, Sarita?"
She remained silent again but quietly, with a trembling hand, she placed the nightgown on top of the dresser and both her hands settled on the front of her robe. Franco noticed her little hands trembling even more when she slowly undid her belt.
"You're bound to see them anyway…" she sadly whispered more to herself than to him when her robes started to fall at her feet, her head bowing in shame as her trembling hands made to cover her bare breasts.
Franco eyed her curiously, a sense of dread piling onto his shoulders watching her nervously turning around in front of him.
Franco's eyes widened in horror at what she demonstrated when she finally bared her back to him. He instantly swallowed the bile rising to his throat the moment he saw what he had felt on her back.
What the hell happened?
There were scars… horrendously long deep red gashes branding the middle of her back, specifically along the base at the back of her neck, a couple on her right shoulder blade, and even some just above the column of her spine. They appeared to be healing, but rather slowly, and he instantly remembered those past few days where she would grimace in discomfort while adjusting herself with company. The one that truly caught his attention were the marks on her shoulder blade. They seemed to be healing slowly unlike the rest of the others.
Where could she have gotten these?
Most importantly...who could have done this to her?
His heart was pounding profusely as his hands slowly raised and carefully touched the back of her shoulder, feeling her tense uncomfortably and even heard her let out a silent cry.
"Oh, Sarita…" he whispered, his voice slightly breaking while his eyes watered. "What happened? Who did this to you?"
"I'm so sorry…" Sara sobbed, her shoulders slowly hunching over while Franco's hands examined her healing scars.
"Who could have done this to you?" he went on, carefully allowing his fingers to trace along the deep red gashes at the base of the back of her neck.
His mind began to reel and soon enough more memories began to resurface.
He remembered her absence. Her absence plagued him with so many horrendous ideas of what could've happened to her that fateful day he was discovered with her by her mother and that asshole Escandon.
He remembered her mother's fury and Escandon's sneers.
He remembered Sarita, looking so horrified and so small like he's never seen her before when she begged him to leave her.
He remembered asking and begging her sisters for any signs of Sarita's wellbeing.
He remembered finally seeing her…so unusually like herself.
So weak. Pale. And terribly anxious. Especially when it came to her mother.
While he continued to observe her scars, Franco knew that the answer was perfectly clear. He had been right all along.
That mother of hers was a monster. A deranged one at that.
He remembered the relief he felt when he finally saw Sara after her excruciatingly long absence, but feeling so alarmed at her weak state, practically pleading with her for the truth.
"Did your mother punish you or laid a hand on you?"
He remembered her eyes staring at anything but him, denying the severity of her own mother's abuse.
Seeing these scars riddled along her once untainted fair skin, Franco didn't know what to do or say.
He remained speechless, but his mind began to rattle with vengeance towards the one person who was supposed to care, nurture, and love her no matter what.
Gabriela.
He knew this was her doing.
What kind of a mother would do this to her own child?
How could she have done this to Sarita?
Her own daughter, who had always worshiped the ground she walked on.
He felt Sara hunch her shoulders more, which began to tremble as more uncontrollable sobs began to take over her while Franco's fingers still traced along the healing scars on her back.
If his heart could break into more pieces, it can. He felt it shatter, knowing he can't replace that pain Sara had to endure by the furious hands of Gabriela.
For Sarita denying her abuse, Franco knew it wasn't to hurt him, but to protect him and her abuser. An abuser who happened to be her own mother, whom Sara still loves with all her heart.
That hurt him even more.
Sarita's heart was so pure, especially towards someone who had savagely scarred her.
Those thoughts of revenge that rose within him suddenly began to fade once his arms wrapped around her, pulling her to him as his lips tried to soothe the healing scars at the back of her neck, shoulders, and along her spine. He held her to him, muttering nothing but sweet words to her, promising her to protect her from any more harm.
He was angry, there's no doubt about it, but in truth, he was mostly angry with himself.
He shouldn't have left her that day, but he did, and this was the outcome.
If he hadn't left or forced her to leave with him, she wouldn't have to endure such an unnecessary and horrific punishment.
All the while Sara cried in his arms, Franco soothed her, pouring his own heart to her, for he knew it was his fault she had to be abused in such a way.
"You have no right to be sorry, Sarita." he assured her, his lips nurturing the scars on the back of her neck. "The fault was mine. Please forgive me, Sara…"
He felt his own eyes watering as he held her tighter to him, her bare scarred back pressed against his chest while his hands gently covered hers. He felt them tremble when his lips soothed the healing scars behind her right shoulder.
"I should've stayed to protect you…" Franco whispered, guilt eating at him while his own tears shed. "That won't happen again, Sara…I'm so sorry…"
He continued whispering his apologies whilst holding her until her sobs began to die down. He heard her let forth a shaky sigh and her hands escaping beneath his. Slowly and tentatively, Sarita turned around to face him and nervously tilted her chin up to look at him.
Franco stared into her eyes, which were brimmed with despair and shame. He felt his heart still breaking into more tiny pieces, knowing just how painful this must've been for her to finally reveal. Slowly, as if to not alarm her, he lifted his hands and cradled her face. His thumbs gently wiped the drying tears from her delicate rouged cheeks before bestowing a chaste but tender kiss on her lips.
Her shaky hands covered his own this time as Franco's lips lingered on hers. He felt her bottom lip quivering within each soft peck while fresh new tears streamed down her cheeks.
"I'm-I'm sorry I lied…" she whispered as Franco lavished her with more sweet and tender kisses. "I-I didn't want you to know…I was so scared, Franco…She's still my mom."
Franco distilled his kisses and stared intently into her eyes, his heart smoldering with such tenderness and love for the small young woman in his arms.
Despite her lie, Franco knew deep down she didn't mean any harm, especially towards him. He knew her reason to hide her abuse from him wasn't in vain. Sara, like her sisters, still loved her mother, even though she had set her own daughters aside for the enemy. He knew she was only trying to protect her…
Apart from Franco, her family meant the world to her and their safety mattered to her.
He remembered the threat he had given Gabriela when he finally sought the chance to see Sara after her prolonged absence. Sara's shocked and worried expressions troubled him, allowing him to believe that something may have happened and he was determined to make Gabriela pay.
Seeing those horrible scars sprawled on her upper back and the sorrowful guilt embedded in Sara's eyes, Franco couldn't think or do anything else but love and protect her.
The threat he had made to Gabriela subsided for he knew Sara's heart was in the right place. Although damage had been done to her, Sara remains loyal to her mother. And who was he to stop her from loving Gabriela?
"Sarita…" he began to say, his fingers lightly caressing her reddened cheeks. "You have nothing to apologize for."
She opened her mouth to say something but Franco placed a single finger to her quivering lips.
"All that matters now is that you're safe here with me." he told her, his shattered heart mending with all the love he could possibly have for her. "But promise me something, Sarita."
Sara nodded slowly, her eyes still watering while he continued to cradle her face in his hands. Franco leant his head down to hers, his forehead gently touching hers.
"Please don't keep anything like this from me again." he said to her, his voice slightly breaking. "I don't know what I'd do if anything else were to happen to you. Promise me that, Sara."
Franco wiped another falling tear when her eyes met his. She bit her bottom lip and nodded her head again.
"I promise." she whispered to him, her hands raising up to cover his own, which still cradled her ravaged cheeks ever so softly and tenderly. "I promise you, Franco."
With that, Franco descended his lips onto hers, closing the small gap between them. His hands traveled down to her sides and wrapped around her waist, drawing her more against him as his lips kneaded hers with all the love and protection seeping from his every core.
"I love you, Sara." he whispered against her lips and down her neck while his hold tightened around her waist. "No one will ever harm you again."
He felt her shiver delicately in his arms once his lips grazed the sensitive skin below her ear and his hands traveled up the small of her back, his fingertips gently brushing along the soft fair flesh. Once his fingers reached one of the scars along her spine, his heart pummeled but yearned to soothe and relieve her from her abuse. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, feeling his eyes sting with upcoming tears of his own.
He shouldn't have left her alone.
Well... here comes the verdict! Please let me know if this needs to be changed! Thank you!
Ps: I know Sarita is a bit softer in this chapter, but so was Franco. I was focusing on their previous pains, particularly when Sara was distraught and in shock by her mother's vicious punishment while being completely bedridden for quite some time. I figured I play into that part of her pain. As for Franco, I needed him to soften and understand Sara's silence on her abuse, for he did threaten her mother.
Again, let me know if this chapter needs to be changed! I promise I won't be discouraged!
Thank you! You all are amazing! Next chapter will be steamier! I owe this to you all! Aaaand how about that encounter in season 2? I was all in my feelings!
