Maximo pushed his way toward the pair who had been talking. Irritation tightened in his chest. Carolina had given him another reason to be annoyed, and now he had to deal with strangers.
"Excuse me," he said, stopping in front of them. Both women turned at once. The mask gave him away, and they instantly knew who stood before them. Around the village, people whispered another name for him. They called him "The Monster."
"Yes, sir?" one of the women replied, her voice unsteady.
"I caught part of what you were saying. I'm looking for my wife. She has brown hair and honey-colored eyes. She's about medium height, and she just arrived here."
The woman glanced at her companion before she said, "There is someone like that at the bookstore." He gave a quick nod, then turned and headed that way.
The village was small, and there had only ever been one bookstore. That much he still remembered.
As he made his way down the street, people turned to stare. Their whispers followed him, low but constant. He hated every second of it.
Back then, he only visited the farm from time to time, so most people never got a clear look at his face. Years had passed since his last visit. When he returned after everything changed, someone caught sight of him without the mask, without anything to hide what he had become. After that, the story spread fast. People said a monster had taken over La Preciosa farm.
Once the bookstore came into view, he crossed the street without slowing. The moment his hand touched the doorknob, Carolina's laughter drifted through the door.
That sound only made his anger rise.
If she was sick, then she should have been in pain, not laughing like nothing was wrong.
Inside, Carolina stood close to a man with brown hair and dark eyes, talking as if she had no care in the world. From what Maximo could tell, the man looked about the same age as him.
Recognition hit him at once. That man was the one who had seen him.
When she noticed the man at the counter shift his stance, she turned toward him. The light in her eyes faded almost at once. Maximo tightened his lips, then moved straight toward her.
Once he stopped in front of Carolina, his height made the difference impossible to ignore. He stood close to two meters tall, while she barely reached 1.61 meters and remained seated on the low sofa. The way he towered over her made it seem like he might overwhelm her just by standing there.
"So, you're done enjoying yourself?" he asked, his tone edged with irritation.
Carolina narrowed her eyes at him.
"That woman still thinks she can look at me like that?"
"No. You can leave and come back another time." She waved her hand in dismissal and turned her attention back to the man she had been speaking with before Maximo arrived.
His eyes widened at her response. Without holding back, he reached out and seized her arm.
"Mr. Castillo!" the man who had been laughing with Carolina called out as he stepped closer. Maximo shot him a furious look, but it didn't shake him. "Please, your wife injured her foot. You need to be more careful with her."
"And who the hell are you?" Maximo shifted his gaze toward him, his expression hard.
"My name is Bastian Lozano. I own this bookstore, and—"
"What is my wife doing here, standing so close to you?" He turned sharply toward Carolina. "Do you even know this man?"
"I do," Carolina answered in a calm tone.
It took him a moment to process that.
"Since when?" he asked, his patience slipping. She had never been to Aguas Lindas before. There was no reason for her to know anyone here. Had they met online? Had they been talking before? Had she planned to meet him before the wedding, or after?
Her gaze shifted toward the clock.
"I can't say for sure... maybe a few hours? That's what it felt like."
For a brief moment, confusion replaced the anger on Maximo's face. Then surprise flickered across his expression. It didn't last. Once he understood she had been playing with him, the anger returned just as strong.
His attention dropped to her foot, wrapped in bandages.
"So you hurt your ankle?"
"I did, but I'm fine now. Still, thanks for asking... Oh!"
Before she could react further, he had already moved. One arm slid beneath her legs, while the other supported her back. In one motion, he lifted her off the sofa. After that, he turned his head toward Bastian.
"I appreciate you helping my wife," he said, his voice tight. "We'll be leaving now."
Without waiting for a reply, he carried her out with steady steps. Carolina held onto his neck, and neither of them ignored how close they were.
Once they reached the car, he opened the passenger door and set her down carefully. He secured her seatbelt, then walked around and got into the driver's seat.
Silence lingered as they left the village behind. The moment the streets disappeared from view, he finally spoke.
"What exactly were you thinking? Walking around here by yourself?"
"I wanted to look around," she answered.
"You went alone, Carolina? Why didn't you wait for me?" he asked, irritation clear in his voice.
"You told me not to come looking for you. And I don't see how exploring the town counts as something urgent."
He drew in a slow breath. She had thrown his own words right back at him, and she seemed satisfied with it. He might have thought he could control everything she did, but she had no intention of letting that happen.
"Carolina, you're really pushing me right now."
"You're the one who gives unclear instructions. If something goes wrong, that's on you."
"Did you come all the way here on foot?" he asked.
"I did."
For a moment, he glanced at her, then returned his focus to the road ahead. A breath slipped out of him, heavy with frustration.
"Carolina, you don't even know this place. You have no idea who lives here. Something could've gone wrong, and you wouldn't have seen it coming. And on top of that, you started talking to someone you don't even know."
She pressed her lips together. He wasn't wrong. She hadn't thought about it that way. In her mind, a small village meant safety. With so few people around, anyone who tried something would be easy to identify. Still, admitting that out loud wasn't something she planned to do. Besides, there was no way he hadn't noticed how Bastian had acted.
"Then next time, tell your employees to drive me," she snapped. "And as for Bastian, he treated me well. You could learn something from that."
A short laugh escaped him, sharp and filled with disbelief.
"So now this is my fault? You wander around like nothing can touch you, and somehow I'm the problem? And now you're calling me a bad husband?"
"Of course I am," she replied. "That farm belongs to you, doesn't it? And yes, you've been a terrible husband."
"Careless, bold, disrespectful," he said, hitting the steering wheel to drive his point across.
"If that's how you see it, then divorce me," she replied with a shrug, as if it meant nothing at all.
She never saw it coming when Maximo slammed the brakes. The sudden stop threw her forward slightly, and she stared at him like he had lost his mind.
Without a word, he stepped out of the car and dragged a hand through his light hair. Under the sun, the strands caught the light and looked almost golden.
A moment later, he moved around to her side. The shift in his presence sent a cold feeling down her spine. He pulled the door open and unfastened her seatbelt.
"What... what are you doing?"
Instead of answering, he lifted her into his arms and set her down on the hood of the car. He guided her closer to the edge, then positioned himself between her legs.
"Yes."
Silence followed. He reached for her hair and pulled just enough to make her tilt her head up. It didn't hurt, but it forced her to meet his gaze. His green eyes held a sharp intensity.
"You like taking risks, don't you?" he said, leaning in. "You like putting yourself in danger?"
Heat spread through her body as he drew closer.
"I do," she answered, though uncertainty lingered in her voice.
His hand settled on her leg. He traced a slow path upward, his touch steady as it moved higher. By the time his hand reached the edge of her underwear, her breathing had already changed, and her lips parted slightly. When his fingers finally brushed against her, a soft sound escaped her.
"Tell me what you want, Carolina."
