Oops, I Accidentally Adopted A Mafia Boss

WARNING: This story contains mature, sensitive, and explicit content. Reader discretion is advised.

SASHA ROSARIO'S POINT OF VIEW

A year ago, a man with no name and no memory knocked at my door. I called him Angelo, gave him my spare room, watched him fold himself into the narrow gaps of my life until there was no space left he hadn't filled. We loved like divers surfacing for breath-each touch a current pulling us closer, each word a gasp we'd been holding too long.

Then he was gone.

One morning the sheets were cold as river stone, his things wiped clean from every shelf and hook, and I've waited since. Ache lives in my bones now. Love does too.

So why am I curled in the back of a van, blindfold tight enough to press shadows into my eyes, my shoulder grinding against metal as we bound over potholes wide enough to swallow a jeepney whole? I've spent thirty-two years trying to tend to the world around me-feeding strays from my own plate, slipping money under my neighbor's door when her water bill is late, saying my prayers even when the words taste like dust.

Why did I have to be the one pulled from the crowd on Market Street?

"Please-just let me go. I'll pray for your souls to the Lord Himself. Rosario's my name-you know what that means? I'll hold my rosary up to the sky and He'll hear me clear as church bells on feast day." My voice wavers while my mouth stretches into a grin, shoulders pressed flat against the cold wall.

Laughter rumbles through the van's metal frame, deep and rough as unpolished wood. I bite my lip until copper coats my tongue. Alright. The holy card routine isn't moving them.

God above. I've been good. Am I really about to end up in some back-alley room, carved apart for parts?

"You need to shut your mouth, Miss. I don't like noise."

His voice settles low in my chest-smooth as melted chocolate, gritty as gravel under bare feet. "Wow. You could narrate romance films for a living. You're way too pretty to be snatching people off sidewalks." I force a chuckle, though sweat is already slicking my palms against my jeans. "Want me to pray for you to get a screen test instead? Hehe."

A fist slams against the wall beside my head. Metal rings out sharp enough to make my teeth throb. I flinch so hard my shoulders climb to my ears. "Jesus Christ! Don't touch me-you'll answer for this when we stand before Him!" My threat is thin as broken porcelain. More laughter follows.

"Then shut it. You talk too much. Wanna die right now?"

I shake my head until hair tangles in my mouth, the taste of coconut shampoo and raw fear thick on my tongue. Who wants to die young? I curl into the corner, knees tucked to my chest, and strain to make out words between the men up front.

"Damn, you sure this is who the Boss asked for?"

"Looks nothing like his usual type, man."

My brow furrows under the cloth. "Hey! What boss? What 'type'? I'm gorgeous-thank you very much!" I puff out my chest, even though no one can see me. "Though my organs are probably shot all to hell. So just let me go, yeah? Hehe."

"Didn't I tell you to be quiet?!"

I yelp and squeeze my eyes shut behind the blindfold. "Okay! Okay!"

Ugh. Why can't I keep my mouth shut? If I die here, it'll be because my tongue moves faster than my brain can think.

"You don't question the Boss. This woman is exactly who he wanted."

Exactly who he wanted?

They're going to be in so much trouble when their boss sees they grabbed the wrong girl. I'm just a woman with a heart too big for her ribs-and a few bad habits-not whatever prize they're hunting for.

Time crawls by before the van rolls to a stop. The engine cuts out, silence heavy as wet wool over everything. Hands haul me up, rough but not cruel, guiding me forward by my arms. I drag my feet until a gentle push sends me stumbling.

You've got this, Sasha. Same as stepping off a crowded bus.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

My hands are free. I tense every muscle, ready to bolt. Did they really think I'd let them slice me open?

Please. I'm God's favorite troublemaker. I was born to survive.

I huff a quiet giggle, slowing my pace until I can match the rhythm of their footsteps behind me.

One.

Two.

Three-"RUN!"

The word tears from my throat before thought can catch up. I rip off the blindfold and spin to find them stumbling, eyes wide with shock-then lunging after me.

"AUGH! LORD ALMIGHTY-GIVE ME HIGH STAMINA! AHH! STOP CHASING ME! AHHHH!" I scream at the top of my lungs, my legs pumping hard over dirt and grass toward a tall iron gate.

"Hey! Get back here!" That deep voice thunders behind me, close enough I can feel the vibration in the ground.

I glance over my shoulder-he's eating up the distance fast. "NO! I'M NOT READY TO DIE! YOU WON'T GET A SINGLE USEFUL THING OUT OF ME!" I shout before leaning forward and sprinting harder.

I burst through the gate, gasping so hard my chest burns like hot coals-only to see a sleek black car bearing down on me. My feet won't stop; they fly over the ground like they have minds of their own.

God. It's all up to You now.

Can I outrun a car?

Yes. Yes, I can.

The vehicle doesn't slow. Fine. I'll just leap over it. Easy. Hehe.

But as I tense to jump, my foot catches on a loose stone. I crash to the ground, my face scraping against gravel until skin goes raw and stinging. The car's front tire stops one inch from my forehead-I can feel heat rolling off the rubber, can smell burnt asphalt and rain-soaked earth.

My head throbs. The world blurs at the edges, colors bleeding together like watercolor on wet paper. Exhaustion pulls me down like water filling my lungs, and everything goes black.

DALLIUS ALEXANDRONOVICH SERGEVEV'S POINT OF VIEW

"I told you to bring her unharmed. It seems your ears still need attention-you nearly let her be run over."

I stare at them, shoulders set, hands folded at my waist. I want them to feel the weight of it-every ounce of my anger, every promise that carelessness where she's concerned will not be tolerated.

"Hey. Easy. It wasn't on purpose-she's wilder than a street cat." Percival, my second-in-command, holds up his hands, a half-smile on his face.

I let out a sharp breath, my gaze cutting across each man in the room. "The next time this happens, you'll be lucky if only your eyes remain intact." I turn and grab the leather vest I'd tossed over a chair, the material cool and heavy in my hands.

"Where is she, Percival?"

"She's in the guest room... and..." He trails off, and my brow creases.

"And what?" I press, but he only shakes his head and laughs.

"Just see for yourself, Boss."

I click my tongue and stride down the hall, my boots silent on the marble floor until we reach the door. When I push it open, I freeze.

Chaos. That's all the room is.

"Percival... am I imagining this? Are those men crying?" I say it low, my eyes fixed on three of my guards huddled on the floor in a circle. They stare up at a chair in the center of the room. Sasha is tied to it, blindfolded again.

"Nope. What you see is real."

My attention locks on her. I clench my jaw as I look at her-her shoulders are sharper than the last time I held her, her hair shorter now, pulled back in a messy knot.

"W-Who even is your boss, huh? Don't you feel bad for me after I told you about my life?" Her voice trembles, but I can hear the fire underneath-the same spark that made me stay long past the week I'd planned.

"You're still so stubborn," I murmur under my breath.

"I'm just a simple woman-or I used to be. I drink too much, smoke too much, and live on soda more than water. So trust me-my lungs are tarry, my liver's stubborn, and my kidneys are probably tired of my nonsense."

"Pfft." Percival chokes on a laugh.

What in the hell is happening here?

"I know organs cost a fortune these days. Can you tell your boss he'll get nothing out of me?"

She hasn't changed. Not one bit. The woman who'd given me a name that was everything I am not. Angelo. Gentle. Kind. A lie I'd let her believe so Percival could finish our work in her country.

I'd planned to stay seven days. Instead, I'd lived in her small house for months.

"And if he wants my heart..." She pounds a fist against her chest, the sound solid and true. "It's already broken. Smashed to pieces since my hot-I mean, handsome-boyfriend left me without a word."

I can't stop the smile that tugs at my lips.

What am I going to do with you, Sasha?

How will you react when you learn that one year ago, you accidentally adopted a mafia boss?

We've got a long road of chaos ahead before we find our way to anything close to a sexily ever after.

Will you stay? Or will you run from me again?

SASHA ROSARIO'S POINT OF VIEW

I was cocooned in sleep when a peculiar sound tugged me from my dreams.

What is that racket? Is a dog howling at the moon?

With a groan, I hauled myself upright, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and tossing aside my thin, well-worn blanket.

Good grief-are we having a death in the neighborhood? That mutt is making enough noise to raise the dead.

But any lingering drowsiness evaporated the moment I swung open my cottage door. My eyes widened, and a startled shriek escaped my lips.

"AHH! Burog! You little pervert-are you really trying to mount that poor dog right in front of my house?!"

Heat flared in my cheeks as I gaped at my pint-sized mutt, Burog, going at it with a dog easily twice his size. For such a tiny creature, he possessed a surprising amount of stamina.

"Shoo! Get out of here, you horny little pest!" I waved my arms, attempting to shoo him away-thankfully, they hadn't locked together yet. Burog backed off with a disgruntled huff, clearly annoyed by the interruption. The poor guy-his legs were so short, he could barely reach his target.

"Inside!" I commanded, and he trotted after me without a fight, his tail drooping slightly.

I sighed, rolling my eyes heavenward. What a way to start the day. My dog really is one of a kind.

I was about to retreat inside when a chorus of moans and breathless whispers drifted over from my only neighbors-a young couple, Junior and Andeng, who lived alone in the cottage next door.

"Junior, please! Not now-it's too early. Sasha might hear us!"

I froze in place, a groan building in my throat. Here we go again.

"Come on, Andeng-you left me hanging last night-"

Oh boy. Junior, you're wearing that woman out!

"Enough! We've gone five rounds already-I can barely stand!"

I grimaced, understanding all too well what I was overhearing, and clapped my hands over my ears in a futile attempt to block out the sound.

That's my neighbors for you-Junior and Andeng, barely older than me. No kids yet, they say-Junior wants to keep his wife all to himself first. Must be nice, right? Joke! Hehe-I've got no plans to get married anytime soon. I can barely keep my roof from flying off in a storm as it is.

My simple cottage sits right by the shore at the far end of the island. Yep-I live on an island, which is why I've got sun-kissed skin and curves to match. Andeng and Junior are my only neighbors out here; everyone else prefers to stay closer to the boat terminal, since we're miles from the main landing spot.

I've been on my own since I was seven, when my parents left me with my paternal grandmother, Lola. I never learned why they took off, but I stopped caring long ago-nothing will change the fact that they abandoned me. For ten years, Lola taught me everything: how to gut a fish, how to string shells into necklaces, how to survive with nothing but grit and determination. She passed away when I was seventeen, leaving me truly alone-though having neighbors now is a blessing. Before them, I was the only soul on this stretch of beach.

My jaw tightened as I hurried inside to start cooking rice, the rhythmic soundtrack of my neighbors' passion still echoing in the air.

"O-Oh! I told you to wait until later, J-Junior!"

Could you two at least have some mercy on a single woman?

I washed the pot and then headed back outside to gather dry branches and firewood, my attention drifting back to Burog. He was sitting patiently at my feet, looking up at me with those big, soulful brown eyes.

"What now? Don't tell me you're jealous of them." I raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. Burog's name-meaning "rough"-was a total lie. His fur was soft as silk and always impeccably clean.

He nudged his head against my leg, and I narrowed my eyes. "Jealous? Seriously? If you dare knock up any of the dogs in the next village, I'll tie you up and throw away the key. We can't afford puppies, you hear me?"

I huffed in exasperation, and he whined softly before settling down, sitting still. He must have understood that I meant business.

"Good boy." I patted his head and then turned back to fanning the fledgling fire.

Even my dog is plotting to start a family. What about me?

I've got my head on straight, even if life is tough. And I'm not bad-looking either-but being poor doesn't leave much room for romance. Marry another poor guy? No way! If I'm going to settle down, it'll be with someone handsome-foreign, maybe. Rich!

I nodded to myself, liking the sound of that audacious dream. Once the fire was hot enough, I went back inside to measure the rice and set the pot to boil.

This is my usual morning routine: wake to Andeng and Junior's amorous escapades, cook breakfast over an open fire, then walk the beach to watch the sunrise paint the sky with vibrant colors. The view out here is breathtaking-you can see mountains rising from the water on the next island over. Living by the sea isn't easy, but if you know how to work it, you'll never go hungry.

I glanced at Burog, still sitting faithfully by the fire with his tail wagging expectantly.

"Don't move, and bark if the rice boils over." He woofed once in acknowledgment and settled back down on his haunches.

See? Well-mannered... until he spots a female dog in heat. Then he's faster than lightning and just as single-minded.

I grabbed a woven basket and headed down to the sand to hunt for shells-enough to string together a few necklaces or bracelets to sell later at the market.

"HAAAA!" I stretched my arms wide, closing my eyes to breathe in the cool, clean air. The rhythmic crash of waves against the shore was music to my ears, a constant reminder of the beauty that surrounded me, even in my humble existence.

I had no idea what time it was-my clock had broken ages ago. I only knew the hour when I asked Andeng and Junior, since they had phones. I couldn't afford one yet; food and necessities came first.

The sun hadn't yet broken the horizon, so the air was refreshingly cool, perfect for walking barefoot along the beach. I kept my eyes fixed on the sand, scanning for shells with smooth edges, unique shapes, and bright, eye-catching colors.

After almost an hour, my pockets were overflowing with treasures, and I'd also managed to scavenge a discarded plastic bag to hold the rest of my finds. When I returned to the cottage, Burog was still faithfully on duty, guarding the fire. He barked once as I approached, and I rushed to take the pot off the flames before it boiled over and made a mess.

"Crap. Nothing to go with this mountain of rice." I ran a weary hand through my tangled hair with a sigh.

My meager stock of dried fish was completely gone. Looks like it'll be plain rice with a pinch of salt for breakfast this morning.

Such is life when you're poor, I mused with a shrug. You make do with what you have, and you never take anything for granted.

I scooped myself a generous bowl and was about to reach for the salt when the cottage door-or what was left of it-burst open with a loud, splintering crack.

I jumped back in shock, flinching at the unexpected noise, then winced as the already damaged door splintered further and crashed to the floor.

"Oops... sorry." Andeng stood sheepishly in the doorway, holding a steaming bowl in her hands and rubbing the back of her neck with an apologetic air.

Timing is everything! What've you got there? I thought, my stomach rumbling in anticipation. I beamed at her, ignoring the broken door for the moment-food came first, repairs could wait until later.

She stepped inside, still looking a little embarrassed. "Junior traded for some bonito yesterday when a fishing boat came in. I made a simple soup with it."

My mouth watered. "Yes! This completely cancels out all your noise pollution from earlier!" I eagerly took the bowl and set it down on my rickety table, grinning as her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink.

"Sorry about that, Sasha. Junior just gets... carried away sometimes."

I waved her off with a dismissive laugh. "Don't worry about it-I'm used to you two by now. One bowl of delicious soup fixes everything!" I winked at her and dug in with gusto, offering her some in return, but she politely shook her head and perched gingerly on a chair that looked as though it might collapse at any moment.

We both burst into laughter, the tension in the small cottage immediately dissipating. Then, after a moment of comfortable silence, she leaned forward conspiratorially. "So-you really have no plans to ever get married? Not even a little?"

I nearly choked on my soup, the unexpected question catching me completely off guard. I thumped my chest, desperately trying to clear my airway as she handed me a glass of water. I gulped it down, gasping for breath.

"Don't scare me like that, woman!" I wheezed, patting my chest in an attempt to calm my racing heart.

She simply shrugged, her expression unapologetic. "What's so scary about marriage, anyway? You're acting like I told you a ghost was standing right here in the room with us."

I let out a long, theatrical sigh. "Everything about marriage freaks me out, Andeng. And my answer is still a firm no-I'm definitely not marrying a Filipino guy!" I declared with a defiant note in my voice, and she couldn't help but make a comical face.

"So you are still holding out for some handsome foreigner to sweep you off your feet, huh?"

"Duh! Look at me-I'm gorgeous, aren't I?" Okay, so maybe I was a little full of myself, but I knew I had looks. I just didn't have money, and in this world, money often seemed to be the only thing that truly mattered.

Andeng laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I know you're beautiful, Sasha, but how are you ever supposed to catch a prince if you're stuck here on this island? You'll never find your ideal man unless you actually leave!"

She had a valid point, but I stubbornly waved it off, refusing to let reality intrude on my fanciful daydreams. "God will provide! I swear I'll snag a hot foreigner one day-maybe even tomorrow, when you wake up!" I joked, even though I knew deep down that it was virtually impossible.

But hey-maybe I am God's favorite, I mused with a secret smile. Stranger things have definitely happened, right?

By sunset, I was hard at work at the biggest dried fish factory in the village, where I'd been cleaning and sun-drying fish for as long as I could remember. It's simple, back-breaking labor, but five hundred peso (approx 10 dollars) a day was enough to keep me fed, pay the bills, and keep a leaky roof over my head.

"Sis Sasha! Look-pretty?"

I turned to see my boss's bright-eyed daughter, Bella, who was all of ten years old. She was beaming proudly as she held up a bracelet fashioned from shells that I'd collected that very morning.

"Wow-this is absolutely beautiful, baby!" I exclaimed, genuinely impressed by the intricate design.

"It looks just like the one Marimar wears on TV! You'd look so pretty wearing it, Sis Sasha."

I didn't know who Marimar was, but I smiled and took the bracelet, admiring the way the colorful shells caught the light. It fit my wrist perfectly, as though it had been custom-made just for me.

"Now give it back so we can sell it at the market tomorrow, okay?" Bella giggled, reaching for her creation.

Her family sold the jewelry that I made from the shells I gathered, and I received a small percentage of the profits-money well-earned for the hours I spent combing the beach.

I was waiting for Aling Minda, my boss, to hand me my daily wages when she walked over with a large plastic bag clutched in her hands.

PS: 'Aling' means Auntie in English

"Here you go, Sasha, sweetheart. A little bonus, as a thank you for all your hard work-we hit our quota today, over three hundred pieces of dried fish!"

I clapped my hands together with delight, a wide grin spreading across my face. "You're the best boss in the entire world, Aling Minda! No wonder you're my favorite."

She laughed, clearly pleased by my enthusiasm, and handed me my wages and the bag of dried fish, which I accepted with a huge smile and a heartfelt expression of gratitude.

I crawled into bed just after ten o'clock, settling onto my thin woven mat with two makeshift pillows stuffed with old, discarded clothing. When you're poor, everything gets reused and repurposed.

I closed my tired eyes, trying to drift off to sleep before my amorous neighbors began their nightly routine. The single lightbulb in my cottage flickered erratically, threatening to die at any moment-I'd definitely have to remember to buy a new one at the market tomorrow.

My entire living space was just one small room-bed, kitchen, and living area all rolled into one cramped space. It had been built for two, back when Lola and I had lived here together, sharing our lives and our dreams under this humble roof.

I was almost asleep, my body beginning to relax, when I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching outside. My heart hammered against my ribs-the footsteps were heading straight for my door.

Door? What door? I remembered with a jolt that the one Andeng had broken earlier was still lying in pieces on the floor.

Panic shot through me like a jolt of electricity as I sat bolt upright, grabbing the heavy wok from my small stove-just in case I needed to defend myself against an intruder.

My pulse thundered in my ears, almost deafening, as I stared at the empty doorway, straining to make out any shapes or shadows in the darkness. Then, without warning, a shadowy figure stumbled inside-a man, his clothing soaked with blood, his once-white shirt now stained a horrifying crimson. He clutched his stomach, his pain-filled gray eyes staring blankly ahead with an expression of utter despair.

"W-Who are you?!" I yelled, my voice trembling despite my best efforts, holding the wok up like a weapon, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

"H-Huh...? Who am I?" His voice was deep and raspy, cold as stone, and utterly devoid of emotion. I couldn't tell if he was angry, confused, or simply beyond caring.

"Yes! Who are you?! I'll bash your head in with this if you try to do anything!" I shouted, my hands shaking uncontrollably. Oh my God-what if he's an monster-like some sort of freaky beings? A blood-sucking monster come to eat my organs?! I'm not even pregnant! I don't have a husband, so how would I even have a child for it to steal?!

My heart was racing so fast that I thought I was genuinely going to have a heart attack right then and there. Where were Andeng and Junior? Couldn't they hear me screaming? Weren't good neighbors supposed to look out for one another?

Then, the man let out a short, broken laugh that sounded like a sob caught in his throat. "C-Crazy woman," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Before I could react, his knees buckled, and he crumpled to the floor in a lifeless heap.

I crept forward slowly, my fear warring with my curiosity. I grabbed a glass of water from my makeshift table and splashed it on his face, but he didn't stir. I leaned closer, cautiously studying his features. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and ragged.

Then, it hit me with the force of a physical blow.

"H-Holy crap... he's a foreigner!"

I stared at his sharp, chiseled jaw, his high cheekbones, his pale skin-features so different from the men on our island. And then, I heard my own voice echoing in my head from earlier that morning:

"God will provide! I swear I'll snag a hot foreigner one day-maybe even tomorrow, when you wake up!"

Oh Lord... did you just drop him from the sky?!

SASHA ROSARIO'S POINT OF VIEW

"Sasha! I'm telling you, he's the answer to your prayers-"

"What prayers? I wasn't exactly wishing for a husband to magically appear-ouch!" I shot Andeng a glare, rubbing the spot on my head where she'd just flicked me.

"Why are you yelling? I'm standing right next to you!" she retorted, frowning.

I sighed, resisting the urge to scream again. My heart was still pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I hadn't been able to move a muscle until Andeng and Junior arrived. I'd even been shocked to see Junior in just his boxers, clearly interrupting some husband-and-wife bonding time.

Who wouldn't be rattled after letting out a scream that could rival a slaughterhouse?

Because, seriously! Who wouldn't be terrified when a bloody, yet undeniably gorgeous, man suddenly collapses in your living room?

"Who do you think he is, Sasha? Junior's taking forever. We need to clean his face to see if he's really as hot as he looks." We'd sent Junior to fetch water from the well nearby since my water drum was empty.

I groaned. "How would I know, Andeng? He just barged in and then demanded to know who I was. Maybe he's escaped from the loony bin?" My voice still trembled with lingering fear and confusion. I was struggling to process everything.

"I'm back, honey!" Andeng and I both turned toward my doorway, or rather, the gaping hole where the door used to be. Junior strolled in, carrying two buckets of water.

"You took your sweet time!" Andeng complained, playfully punching him in the side before standing up.

I couldn't help but smile at their antics. But the smile quickly faded as I remembered the unconscious man lying in front of me.

"Start cleaning him up, Sasha. Do you have any extra-large clothes lying around? Junior can lend your... future husband something to wear."

My face scrunched up at Andeng's words. I wasn't sure what bothered me more: the thought of cleaning this stranger's body or her calling him my future husband. I stared at her, my expression twisted in disbelief.

Andeng put her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow. "Well? I can't exactly clean him up myself when I have a gorgeous husband who would get jealous."

"As if! You have a husband who gives you a taste of paradise every night. Why would you even want to touch another man?" Junior's voice dripped with mock outrage as he stomped outside.

His wife burst out laughing. "Oh, fine. You clean him up and figure out where his injuries are. Use that first-aid kit, and be careful. He might be a cobra ready to strike." She winked suggestively. "Good luck, Sasha. I need to go and comfort my super-hot husband!" She giggled as she headed out the door. "Try not to fall in love, okay?"

I sat there, stunned, staring into space, my eyes wide. I ran a hand through my hair, tugging at the strands in frustration.

"Oh, Lord, why is this happening to me?" I muttered, desperately trying to maintain my sanity.

After a few moments, I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. I glanced at the bloody man in front of me, trying to muster the courage to move.

"Come on, Sasha. It's your fault if he dies because you're being such a drama queen." I whispered, trying to scare myself into action.

My eyes widened. "It'll be more expensive and more of a hassle if he dies! I'd have to find a place to bury him and pay for a mass. Ugh!"

I couldn't help but slap myself lightly on the cheeks. "Get moving, Sasha Rosario! You're just cleaning his body."

I took another deep breath, grabbing my old, cracked basin. I poured the water Junior had fetched into it, grateful that I'd boiled some water earlier, so it was lukewarm.

My hands trembled as I unbuttoned his blood-soaked white long-sleeved shirt. My jaw dropped at the sight revealed underneath.

"H-Heavens..." Why was my voice so weak? I couldn't tear my eyes away from the hard, sculpted abs of this man! There were plenty of shirtless fish porters outside - but this was different!

Reality crashed back when I felt something trickle down my leg. My eyes widened as I looked down.

"Oh my god, what am I doing?" I nearly slapped myself again. I'd been drooling over this man's abs!

Seriously, Lord! Please, I'm a good person. It's not my fault that this guy has an otherworldly body.

I squeezed my eyes shut and took another breath. I calmed myself as my hands began to tremble again. If I was shaking earlier because of fear, now it was because of sheer... excitement. I could feel my face burning as I wrung out a white cloth to wipe his body down.

I couldn't help but swallow hard as the cloth made contact with his skin, trying to hold my breath.

Fresh wounds and older scars became visible as I wiped away the blood. I bit my lip, examining his upper body.

I was momentarily lost in happy thoughts. Why was I experiencing this delicious moment? Was I going to die tomorrow, so God was giving me a little preview of paradise?

I shook my head, snapping myself back to reality. I treated the fresh wounds, mostly around his stomach and chest. They were deep, but I didn't think they needed stitches, so my basic first-aid skills should be enough.

Finally! My first-aid training was actually coming in handy. I was going to save someone's life.

Next, I moved to his face. I could have slapped myself for focusing on his body first. Why hadn't I cleaned his face, which was covered in blood?

Like before, I held my breath as I gently wiped his face. My hands trembled slightly less this time, but I was still struggling.

I gasped when I saw a large scar over his left eye, stretching down to the middle of his cheek. It looked fresh and swollen, so I quickly treated it.

As I tended to his injuries, I couldn't help but wonder what had happened to him and how he ended up here. Judging by his features, he wasn't Filipino. He was paler and had smoother skin than anyone I knew. I couldn't help but envy his high, sculpted nose, perfect for pinching. And his long eyelashes, which I could admire now that he was unconscious. He had thick, well-defined eyebrows.

He was incredibly handsome, even with his eyes closed. My earlier fear had blinded me to his beauty.

I couldn't help but gaze at his face. I'd never seen anyone so attractive.

Was he a gift from the heavens? Maybe God had sent him to me. Or perhaps he was an angel who'd fought demons and fallen to earth.

My mind raced with possibilities, but I knew the answers would only come when he woke up.

"Sashaaa! I brought the clothes-holy crap?!"

I jumped, startled by Andeng's sudden, loud shout. I dropped the cloth I was holding, staring at her, my eyes wide.

"W-What?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

She covered her mouth, her eyes wide as she stared at the man lying next to me.

"H-Holy hell?! Your husband is hot, Sasha!!!" she shrieked, making me cover my ears.

She flitted over to me like a hummingbird on speed. "Girl, his abs look delicious. How was your first touch? Are they hard as a rock?" She asked playfully, and I just rolled my eyes.

"Is your brain broken, Andeng? I don't have a husband-"

"Just now, when you helped him?"

I glared at her. "Stop being so imaginative. He might strangle me when he wakes up."

"Why would he strangle you?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. He has a lot of scars. Maybe he's a murderer who'll suddenly lose it when he sees me."

The woman burst into laughter. "Oh, Sasha. You're too much of an overthinker. What if he's just athletic? Maybe that's why he's so sculpted." She poked me in the forehead. "And besides, there's a chance that he has amnesia. If the waves dragged him here, he probably hit his head on the rocks."

I winced at her ridiculous ideas. "You've been reading too many of those books, Andeng. That kind of thing only happens in movies."

She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "What if I have the gift of prophecy?" She grinned. "What if he wakes up with no memory, Sasha?"

I paused, considering her words. I shook my head, dismissing the thought.

"Stop it, Andeng. Go back to your husband. He's probably pouting by now."

"As if! You just want to be alone with Mr. Hottie." She teased, making me roll my eyes.

"Oh, and don't forget to clean his whole body, okay?"

I frowned, so she raised her eyebrows suggestively. "Everything, Sasha. The whole body! Who knows what you might find in his briefs? There might be a fish hiding in there, right?"

My mouth fell open, unable to believe what she'd just said. She simply laughed before skipping out the door, calling out a goodbye.

My face burned at her words, and my gaze drifted to the lower half of the man's body.

I looked up, squeezing my eyes shut. "Lord, please, I don't need another black mark on my record."

There was a bulge right in the middle of his trousers. A big bulge. I wasn't born yesterday. I knew what that was.

I felt like an idiot, kneeling over him with my eyes closed. Why was I kneeling over this man in the first place?

My face flushed as I realized our position.

"Idiot! You're such an idiot, Sasha. What are you doing?" I muttered, unable to believe my own thoughts.

I calmed myself, deciding to take action. I half-opened my eyes, cautiously reaching for the zipper of his trousers. I felt like a pervert peeking through a window, only seeing half the picture. I even found myself pouting, my hands trembling as I did this.

Oh, Lord. What I'm doing isn't a sin, right? I'm just trying to help.

After a moment, I fully opened my eyes, realizing I was making things harder than they needed to be.

I resolutely tugged down his trousers, which were also stained with blood and torn. It was difficult since he was lying down, and his legs were heavy.

When I finally managed to pull them off, my gaze landed on his remaining garment. I swallowed hard, seeing how prominent his... package was.

D-Do I really need to undress him further? Even that?

I bit my lip, hesitating as I looked at his briefs. I was about to decide against it when I noticed the blood seeping through the fabric.

My eyes widened, and I found myself hovering over him again. Without another thought, I pulled down his briefs. My jaw dropped as a large, thick snake stood proudly before me.

"Merciful heavens!" I gasped, staring at his manhood, which was standing erect in front of me.

"S-So big." Wow, this was the first time I'd ever seen a man's... thing -and it was this big?!

I was still kneeling over him, completely mesmerized, forgetting why I'd even taken off his briefs.

That's when everything went crazy.

He suddenly surged up, grabbing my waist with both hands.

My heart stopped as our eyes met. His gray eyes, intense and captivating, stared straight into mine.

I only regained my senses when I felt something hard pressing against my core.

"W-What-are you awake?!" The blood drained from my face.

"Who are you?" He asked, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. His gaze seemed to threaten me, so I panicked and gave the stupidest answer possible.

"M-Me? I-I'm your wife." I stuttered.