Manuel

I felt very worried watching Enzo swimming in the ocean. As his bodyguard, it was my job to keep him safe. But Enzo was more than that to me—I loved him like my own son. Every time he went into the water, I got scared that something bad might happen. What if the strong waves pulled him away? Or worse, if a shark came too close? I would be devastated if anything ever hurt him. His safety meant everything to me. I watched him closely, not just because it was my duty, but because I wanted to protect him.

That little rascal was at it again—deliberately swimming farther and farther away from me. "Enzo! Get back here right now!" I shouted, my heart pounding in my chest. But he just laughed and kept going, his jet-black locks disappearing beneath the cresting waves.

Each time he dove out of sight, fear gripped me tighter. Didn't he understand how easily the ocean could take him? I was supposed to protect him with my life. If anything happened to him... I couldn't even bear the thought.

"Enzo!" I screamed again, panic cracking my voice. But he was gone, the waters growing eerily still. Oh God, no. This couldn't be happening. I thrashed forward, diving blindly, resurfacing in frantic circles. "Enzo! Enzo!"

Just as I was on the verge of breaking down completely, I felt a tug on my leg. There he was, those mischievous eyes sparkling up at me. Relief flooded over me, quickly replaced by white-hot anger. "You think that's funny, scaring me like that?" I roared, grabbing his shoulders roughly.

Enzo's smile faded as he saw the terror written all over my face. "I... I'm sorry, Papa. I didn't mean to frighten you that much," he whispered, his voice soft with regret. His words pierced through my anger, and I pulled him into a tight embrace, cursing how easily he could break me.

As Enzo's muscular body moved smoothly through the shining waves, I couldn't help but be amazed at how he had grown into such a strikingly handsome young man. His jet-black hair glistened with drops of saltwater, framing his good-looking face. And those dark brown eyes—so deep and captivating, just like the Spanish nobility he descended from. His olive skin glowed under the sun's rays, the perfect reflection of his Hispanic heritage. Watching him now, so confident and strong, brought a proud smile to my face. Yet, I couldn't forget bathing that energetic little boy all those years ago—how his squirming little body would splash water everywhere as he tried to escape the tub, his infectious giggles filling the room. Those were the moments I cherished, savoring every second with my cheerful little prince. Now he's a man, but to me, he'll always be that mischievous child I raised since he was 2 years old.

Without warning, I pulled Enzo into a tight embrace, my body shuddering with emotion as the waves lapped around us. "My boy, my son," I whispered, unable to believe this was the same rambunctious child I had raised.
"You know I would die for you without a second thought," I murmured, tears stinging my eyes.

I remembered when I first started this job at 20 years old. To my surprise, my new "boss" was actually a 2-year-old toddler named Lorenzo. The first time I held him, I felt something special inside. Enzo had been crying for his mama, who had died tragically. Without thinking, I hugged him close and let him cry on my chest. From that moment, I felt fiercely protective of him.

Gerardo wanted to toughen him up, saying a son shouldn't be babied. But at night, I would secretly let that scared little boy sleep on my chest. The way he snuggled up to me for safety and comfort—those were the best moments of my life. You're my son, only mine.

Enzo

After spending a lot of time in the water, Papa finally pulled me out.
"But I want to stay in the water longer," I protested.
"That's enough for today," he replied, and we sat back down on our chairs. I noticed our other bodyguards also coming out of the water. They looked relieved to be done swimming too.

Papa started drying my hair with a towel, playfully messing it up. I couldn't stop laughing as he made my hair go everywhere, water droplets flying all around.
"It'll dry on its own," I said, trying to fend him off.
"I don't want you getting sick because of wet hair," he insisted, continuing to dry my hair with the towel. I didn't move because, honestly, it felt good.

Once he finished, Papa sat down on the chair next to me. We both looked out at the beach, watching the people still playing in the water and the seagulls flying overhead. It was peaceful, just sitting there together.
"This is nice," I said, breaking the comfortable silence.
"Yeah, it is," Papa agreed, a content smile on his face. "I'm glad we got to do this, Enzo. Spend some quality time together, just the two of us."
I nodded in agreement.

"Excuse me, could you take a picture of us?" Four women, who looked like they were in their thirties, approached Papa and asked.
"Sure," Papa said, taking a quick photo with one of the women's phones while still sitting on his chair.
"Oh, thank you so much! So, are you from around here?" the woman in the red bikini asked.
"Yeah, we are," he replied, smiling politely.
"Is this your brother or...?" another woman in a yellow bikini asked, gesturing towards me.
"No, this is my son," Papa clarified, and the women looked surprised. They exchanged glances before turning back to him, their eyes wide.
"Your son? Wow, you must have started young!" the woman in the red bikini exclaimed.

"Oh, how old is he?" another woman asked, looking at me with curiosity.
"He's 18 now," Papa replied, placing a hand on my shoulder.
"Wow, you look so young to have an 18-year-old son!" the woman in the red bikini exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise.
"Well, I was 18 when he was born. I was a teen father," Papa explained, a hint of pride in his voice.
I couldn't help but smirk at the women's reactions.

"You two look really handsome. Do you mind if we take a photo of you two?" another woman asked, already lifting her phone to snap a picture without waiting for permission.
Papa reacted quickly, covering me protectively and blocking the camera.
"No, no, no..." he said firmly, his body shielding mine from the lens.
The women looked at us with confused expressions, clearly taken aback by Papa's sudden change in demeanor.
"Why not?" the woman with the phone asked, surprise evident in her voice.

I noticed the other guards approaching the women, speaking quietly to them, though I couldn't hear exactly what they were saying from where I stood.
"Let's go inside," Papa said, and before I could respond, he was already guiding me firmly toward the hotel. Great! 😣

With no other option, I had to follow Papa's lead and head back to our room. As we walked, I could feel my frustration growing. All I wanted was a simple beach day.
"Papa, why did we have to leave so suddenly?" I complained.

Papa looked at me intently, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and disbelief.
"Are you serious, Enzo? They tried to take a photo of you without permission," he said, his tone serious.
"But you didn't let them," I pointed out, trying to downplay the situation.
"Yeah, but they might have taken one secretly. Regardless, I have to prioritize your safety, or else your father and brothers will have my head. Don't forget, you're Gerardo Perez's son," he said, looking away as if acknowledging something he didn't want to admit.
"If I were your son and not actually his, I wouldn't have to worry about anything, would I?" I said.

Papa's head snapped back, his eyes wide with shock, as if I'd just struck him. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Instead of responding, he pulled me into a tight embrace. I could feel his heart beating rapidly against my chest, and I knew my words had hit a nerve.

Manuel

I understood why Enzo was annoyed that we had to end our beach day early, but as his bodyguard, keeping him safe was always my main concern. When those women tried to snap a picture of us without asking first, it made me furious.

I felt angry and disrespected. How could they not understand that it's incredibly rude and inappropriate to take photos of someone without their permission?

The whole point of picking a hotel with a private beach was to let Enzo relax and have fun without worrying about people watching him or any potential threats. But even in a place that was supposed to be safe, we couldn't completely let our guard down.

Now, as I watched Enzo sleeping peacefully after the day we'd had, my heart softened. We had a great dinner, then came back to our room and watched cartoons until he started getting sleepy. Now, he's all tucked in, breathing steadily, lost in sleep.

Watching him like this, it's hard to believe how much he's been through. Ever since he was little, his life has been marked by trauma, and he's often struggled with nightmares that left him scared and upset. It breaks my heart to think about all the nights he's spent tossing and turning, unable to find peace even in sleep.

But tonight, it's different. Tonight, he's sleeping deeply, his breathing soft and steady. I can see his chest rising and falling slowly with each calm breath.

I quietly approached Enzo's bed, my steps soft and careful not to disturb his peaceful sleep. As I got closer, I marveled at how serene and innocent he looked, like a little baby without a care in the world. His dark eyelashes fluttered gently, and I felt a wave of love and protectiveness rush over me.

I couldn't help myself. I softly brushed a few strands of hair off his forehead, barely touching his skin. Without thinking, I bent down and placed a gentle kiss on his brow, my lips lightly grazing him. He didn't stir, completely lost in his dreams.

As I looked at him, memories of when he was just a little boy flooded my mind. I remembered how he used to snuggle up to me at night, his small body seeking comfort and safety in my arms. A part of me longed to get into bed with him, to wrap him in a tight embrace like I used to when he was younger.

But I knew I couldn't. Enzo wasn't a baby anymore. I could almost hear Louis' stern voice in my head, telling me, "Don't treat him like a baby, Manuel. He's not a baby." Louis was right. Enzo was growing up, and I had to respect that—even if every fiber of my being wanted to cuddle him close.

He might not be a little kid anymore, but to me, he'd always be my precious baby boy. My whole world and my heart.

I carefully fixed his blanket before going to my own bed. For once, Enzo didn't wake up crying during the night like he usually did. It seemed like getting out of the house and experiencing something different, instead of being cooped up at home, was helping his mental well-being.