Chapter 4: Wooing His Bride.

Archer's POV

I’m having breakfast at precisely the moment the flowers I sent to Ruby are being delivered. I’m enjoying a simple breakfast and wondering how long it will take before Ruby calls me. A smile creeps onto my face as I recalls what I wrote on the note I sent to her.

“To the mysterious lady who swept me off my feet before I even knew she was mine. I fall asleep and wake up with thoughts of you. I eagerly await the day you will be mine. Yours, Archer.”

I’m not sure if revealing the depth of my feelings is a wise move, but I don’t want Ruby to feel alone in this connection between us.

My last experiences with women have led me to believe I’m incapable of developing attachments to them. With Ruby, though, it’s entirely different. The intense emotions I feel for her prove I’m capable of deep feelings.

As my phone rings, I hurry to answer it. “Hello.”

“Archie, how have you been?”

“Jordan?” I ask as I take a seat on the bed.

“Yup. Do you have any other sexy friends? How’s Milan treating you? Have you met the princess yet?”

I groan and lean back on the bed. “Milan is fine as always. Yes, I’ve met the princess,” I reply.

“Give me the gist then.”

I spend the next few minutes tell Jordan how I met Ruby and how it’s been going so far.

“You want to marry her?” Jordan inquires.

“Yeah, I do,” I confess.

“Then that’s good,” Jordan replies. I can imagine him nodding with a serious look on his face.

“Take care, bro,” I say.

“You too, bro,” Jordan ends the call.

Jordan Alexandrou has been my friend since our teenage years, and he feels more like a brother than just a friend. His family has accepted me and looked after me like a son. I remember the nights I’ve spent at Jordan’s house when my father was in a bad mood. Jordan has a reputation as a playboy, but he’s actually a softie.

The phone rings again, and this time, I check it to see that it’s Ruby.

“Hello.”

“Hey,” the sound of her voice is like a sweet melody in my ears, and I don’t want to stop hearing it. “I got your gift.”

“Do you not like it? Women like flowers, right?”

“I loved it,” she assures me. “But...”

“What?” I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to hear a negative response.

“The flowers were so lovely. I don’t think I can repay you for this gesture,” she sounds worried.

“It’s a gift, princess,” I say.

She gasps, “thank you, it truly was amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it,” feeling like a king.

“Are you kidding? I love it,” she responds.

We both stay on the call, just listening to each other breathing, neither of us wanting to end the call. After a moment, I break the silence.

“Do you really want to repay me for the flowers?” I ask.

“Yes,” she whispers softly.

“Then, would you mind showing me your town?” I ask tentatively.

“Oh, okay. I wouldn’t mind,” she almost sounded disappointed.

“Great. Thanks,” I reply.

“But it can’t be today. I’ve got things to do today, and I can’t change my schedule.”

“Don’t change it on my behalf, we can do it another day,” I promise her.

“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bye,” she hangs up.

Waiting patiently for Ruby the next day, I put my affairs in order. I hear the elevator bell ping, and the door opens. Having left instructions with the reception to allow my fiancée up, I wasn’t surprised to see her. I’m excited, though, even if my face doesn’t betray me.

She’s let her hair down. The last two times that I’ve been in her presence, her hair was in a ponytail in the bar and an elaborate hairdo for dinner. I grin thinking about how I messed up her hair after dinner.

She’s wearing a flowery linen dress, cute sandals, and her pretty toenails, painted pink, are peeking out of them. I raise my eyebrow at the huge handbag, though.

“You look good,” I compliment truthfully. My hand itches to touch all that slick, smooth, shiny hair. I tighten my hands into fists.

“Thank you.” She steps forward, eyes darting left and right, taking in the suite. I shove my hands in my pocket and just look at her. Ruby puts down her bag on the couch and approaches me, where I am still standing close to the window.

She stands close to me and leans up to kiss my cheek, blushing.

“Thanks for the flowers,” she whispers shyly.

I grin, “Did you just peck me?” I’m genuinely amused. I can’t remember the last time I received a kiss on the cheek from a woman.

“A kiss to thank you for the flowers,” she confirms.

“Princess, I don’t know who’s been kissing you, but that sure as hell ain’t a kiss. I’m sure you can remember what a kiss feels like from our last two encounters,” I tease her.

She narrows her eyes at me, letting me know she can see what I’m doing. Then she rolls her eyes and places her hands on my shoulders, pressing her lips to mine, and heat flares.

Her lips touching mine is like fuel to fire. We burn together. Her lips are warm against mine, silky heat. She slants her lips, and I open up for her. Sensations rocket through me, and I growl.

Gone is the reserve and control that had me fisting my hands in my pockets. I put my hand on her hair now, turn, and press her into the window, our bodies touching from chest to knee.

I keep my hand on her face, willing myself not to go further. But I’ve never been this into a woman before, and everything about my bride-to-be rocks me to the core.

“Christ,” I break the kiss, pressing my forehead to hers. “We can’t do this right now.”

She’s breathing as heavily as I am and holding my wrist. “Yeah. We don’t want to be late.”

I chuckle. “I’m not worried about being late. I just don’t want to have your dad force you into marriage with me because I broke your hymen.” She gasps, and I run my thumb on her lower lip.

“And trust me, princess, a few more minutes, and we would be lying on my bed doing just that.”

She swallows. “I guess it’s good we stopped then.”

I step back, and she brushes her dress down.

“So, where are we going today?” I ask while trying to regain control of myself and my erection.

“Um, I’ve got it all planned,”

Ruby really did plan everything. We spend a week together, going from one tourist site to another.

We visited the Duomo, the Cathedral of Milan, and I was blown away. The views from its lofty spire were memories I’ll treasure forever.

The way the light filtered through the stained-glass windows, the priceless artworks within—it was amazing. Then we visited other sites like the Castello Sforzesco, where we were privileged to view some artworks by famous artists. We also graced the fashion district, Quadrilatero della Moda.

Midweek, we take a stroll in the Navigli district before dinner. It’s peaceful and cool along the waterways. We held hands like any other couple and watch the sunset together.

I’ve never been patient enough for a leisurely stroll, but I want to spend time with her, and staying with her is no hardship at all. Watching the way her face lights up when she talks about herself, her family, and the people who have worked for them for so long is worth it. I find myself telling her about my father and my absent mother, whom I never had the chance to meet.

I later figure out the reason behind Ruby’s big bag; it holds a camera and, according to her, some essentials. The bag ends up with me as I worry it’s too heavy for her. We take pictures of our time together and the various sites.

At the end of our long week together, I meet Ruby downstairs on a Sunday. Apparently, our finally destination was somewhere of great importance to her.

When we arrive at the place, it’s a simple building with the sounds of children coming from within its walls.

Ruby smiles softly and leads me to the door, opening it. Immediately, small heads turn toward us, and then they scream and run toward us. I almost place myself in front of Ruby to protest, but I notice she goes to her knees, and the first child to reach her flies into her waiting open arms. Then they all pile on her. I can hear her laughter and can’t help but smile.

The children, whom I initially thought were in the thousands, turn out to be just around twenty to thirty. They look to be between the ages of two to eleven. They all ask Ruby questions at the same time, and she patiently answers each one of them.

Then one of them turns to me, and the rest follow, observing me quietly.

I can see Ruby trying to hold back her laughter. Then the oldest, who must have been the appointed leader, turns to Ruby.

“Signorina Ruby, who’s he?” he asks politely.

Ruby looks at me with gleaming eyes, strolls to my side, and holds my hand. She blushes. “He’s my boyfriend.”

Ruby introduces me to the owner of the orphanage, Julia, and the various workers. My heart swells every time she calls me her boyfriend, and I promise myself it won’t be long before she calls me her husband.