Chapter THREE

 LUCY

My mind raced back to when I first stepped into the church.

       As I walked up the aisle with Dad, I couldn't stop thinking of the heart-stopping gorgeous man waiting for me on the altar. I gawked at how he stood confidently in his custom-made Italian luxury bespoke blue navy tuxedo with satin peak lapel. He was 6'3 ft tall and heavily built, with straight, glossy, and black hair that has been properly brushed up to highlight his chiseled features and hard and assertive ice-blue eyes. I couldn't help but adore his well-trimmed short boxed beards. Tension filled me as Dad handed me over to him reluctantly. I noticed how my heart had started beating unsteadily because I was about to become HIS WIFE. 

          Back to the present, I sensed as he drew nearer to where I was. I schooled my expression to depict that of a happy and loving wife. It's too early for anyone to start detecting the problems in our union. God knows I have been avoiding him since that earth-shattering kiss. How could I have responded shamelessly to the same man who considers me a manipulative gold digger? During our first dance as a couple, I didn't bother looking at him and was immediately put at ease when the music stopped. I saw how he regarded me with sardonic looks on different occasions. After the dance, the cheers and claps made me wonder if people were blind to the point where they couldn't notice, we both weren't comfortable with each other.  

 I saw him walk up to me and curled his arms around my waist, drawing everyone's attention. Desire surged through me, as I felt the heat from his sexy body burn me like a lump of hot coal.  I turned around to face him. He gently pulled me further into his arms, against his chest, and he kissed me fiercely. He pulled away with a suppressed moan, as I took note of the applause that took off in the hall. 

        He whispers as he leaned forward, in that sexy Italian tone of his, "it's time to leave, Tesoro Mio. Our flight leaves in less than an hour."

         To mask the incomprehensible panic that rose within me, I replied, smiling, "give me a few minutes to say goodbye."  As if he hadn't heard what I said, he remained by my side, refusing to release my hand which he engulfed in his. 

          After bidding my friends goodbye, he led me toward the elevator. I wondered what was with him playing the perfect husband. My gaze fell and lingered on him for a long time suspiciously.

          His brow rose sardonically, as he said "to what do I owe this charming look?"

         I gasped. My face colored as we step into the elevator and closed its' door.

"I don't appreciate you kissing me anyhow and anywhere you like." I blurted out. 

        "Is that so? One would have thought you wanted me to. It was just as though your eyes were begging for me to kiss that luscious, voluptuous mouth of yours." He answered squarely.

           Anger flared in my eyes as I let out an exaggerated groan. "You are unbelievable." I shouted, then continued, "I  seriously don't like you touching or kissing me. The only time we are allowed to kiss or come close to each other is when Maria is watching. Please learn to keep your hands to yourself." I hissed.

         His eyes hardened as he moves close to me until there was no longer space for me to escape. He tilts my face up to his, as he said "I don't take command from anybody, and certainly not you, my darling. As long as you remain, Mrs. Lucy Aurelio Vivaldi, I would kiss and touch you as my wife. If you don't want to, then you can request for annulment this minute." 

          "You aren't the boss of me. Being your wife doesn't take away my freedom and self-will. You won't be touching me if I don't want to. Unless, of course, you decide to force yourself on me." I spat out angrily.

          My words felt like a whip on his soul. He slanted me an angry look, his eyes filled with lasers. He voice out, dangerously, "I have never and would never force myself on any woman. Why should I? when I can get any woman I want? You aren't even as sophisticated and experienced as the women that crave my attention every day."

        "You are...."

 He cut off my words, then carried on.  "I can see your opinions of me are low and disgusting. To make myself clear, I don't go about raping unwilling women. I only go for women who signify interest to share my bed." He retorted less gently.

          I let out a humorless laugh, before saying "as if your opinions of me are pleasant. And last I remember, I haven't signified interest so keep your hands and mouth to yourself."

        "You will. Soon, you will beg me to take you." He replied arrogantly. As the elevator reached our floor, he continued, "get dressed and come back downstairs in 20mins". He strode out of the elevator without waiting for my reply or looking back.

         I childishly stuck out my tongue at him as he walked away, before I said,  "I'll never beg you to take me. I don't even like you." 

        Twenty-five minutes later, I saw him striding towards us. I was standing with Maria, my Dad, and with other guests, waiting for him to arrive. I hugged and buried my face in my Dad's shoulder, trying to hide my tears. Even for just a few days, I was going to miss him.

          I heard Aurelio sigh and mutter, "always so dramatic." 

          Just then, his driver pulled up the limo into the driveway. He hugged his mamma too and shook my father's hand. " Don't worry about anything, she's in safe hands." He reassured my dad as though he thought he needed it. Just like most men, Dad finds it very difficult to express what he truly feels. I understood it took a lot of effort on his part to say those things to me earlier. 

          "Make sure you take care of each other and stay safe." Maria winked.

           "We will Maria. Love you all." I said tearfully.

            "Now go, before I get all soft and become emotional. Enjoy Mauritius on my behalf." She choked out. 

             He opened the limo's door and helped me settle in the car, then shut the door. As we pulled away, we watched everyone wave at us. 

I remained unusually silent throughout the ride to the airport. I knew that my silence infuriated him at some point. Why should he care if I remain silent or not?

       He took out his briefcase, bought out some documents, and began to work. I watched him work with indefatigable energy, even after we boarded the plane to Mauritius. I didn't know when I dosed off.

          I woke up to him staring at me, with a strange expression swirling around his icy blue eyes.

         "What do you want to eat? You've had nothing to eat since we started this journey. I also took note of the fact that you didn't eat anything at the reception."  He blurted out, aiming to divert my attention. He signaled to the steward to come to take my order.

         Still struggling to fathom what just happened between us,  I said weakly, "I'm not hungry. I don't think I can stomach anything."

          Shaking his head in disapproval, he ordered a cup of warm black coffee and sandwiches for me, after that he said "You need to eat something." He paused to check his gold wristwatch,  and continued, "we are going to be on the plane for another six hours. So get all the rest you need after you've had something to eat."

         I wanted to rebuff his concern for me but decided against it. I was surprised that his concern warmed my heart and lightened my mood. He wasn't that bad. I thought. I've seen his relationship with Maria and Vincenzo, and how he loves and cares for them. Why doesn't he like me? Why was he always mean and cold to me? I wondered. 

        I was grateful that he had insisted I eat because I was indeed hungry. The steward handed me the food he ordered, and I ate it wholeheartedly not minding his presence.

        "Have you ever been to Mauritius? " I uttered impulsively.

I observed, he was shocked that I willingly brought up a conversation. I almost cursed myself, when I realized he was taking time to answer me.

         "No, but I heard it's a beautiful country. Mamma won't stop talking about it." He answered. Eventually dropping the documents he was working on to face me.  

           I chuckled,  "I know right? Maria kept talking about its' beautiful landscapes, talcum white sand, clear warm turquoise blue water." I said happily.

          His eyes warmed toward me, and he let out a lavishly elegant and refined smile. "I'm sure I can recite her experience in Mauritius by heart. My father took her there for their honeymoon and tenth anniversary. " He disclosed.

           "I was surprised when she told me to make a list of where I wish to visit there. I wasn't expecting us to go for any honeymoon since our union isn't real." I revealed. 

           "It's real to her and everyone else. What's the harm in enjoying some free time in a beautiful place." He said.

            I let out a short sarcastic laugh. "says the man, who is practically a workaholic." I paused, gazed at him full-length, then continued "we all wonder how you manage to stay healthy."

            He smirked, raising his black eyebrows sardonically before shifting his eyes to my full, crimson lips. "Careful cara," he leaned towards me, and went on, "if you don't want me to take you on this plane, stop giving me that look."

            I blushed in embarrassment, then choked out, "I don't know what you talking about." Moving away from him.

            "Ohh tesoro, you know what I'm talking about but don't worry, I'm sticking to my promise," he said teasingly.

             "Stop calling me that when you don't mean it. Plus I don't remember any promise" I gasped, striving to catch my breath because he was invading my space. I needed to focus on our conversation, rather than my need to touch and kiss him.

              He chuckled amusedly as if he knew I was fighting my desire. "The promise that  I won't take you unless you beg me to"

            "Never! I would do no such thing" I muttered bravely.

              "If you say so" he winked. He picked up the documents and resumed working. Just like that, he put an abrupt end to our conversation.