"I really wanted him to marry Sienna! Because I know she would be a better wife for Gio, but she's still too young, so it had to be the eldest! It's all so wrong!"
I chewed on my food despite the difficulty, trying to block out what I was hearing. Sienna here, Sienna there. Sometimes, no matter how much I loved my sister, I couldn't help but envy the attention Papa gave her. Maybe if Sienna had been the one to marry, I wouldn't inherit anything from him. Now, the company would belong to me alone because I was the one married to the man who claimed to save it.
"If Gio decided to annul your marriage, you won't get a single cent from me, Millie. Remember that!"
There were many grounds for annulment, and I knew our marriage wouldn't easily be voided. But with the influence of the Locatelli family, perhaps he can accomplish difficult tasks in the eyes of others.
After breakfast, I went into my room. I dressed and prepared. It seemed like my husband would arrive at any time.
We've been married for a month, but I still don't know him very well. Aside from knowing he's passionate in bed and his name, I know nothing about him. He's a complete stranger to me.
"Ma'am Millie, Sir Gio is here," our housekeeper announced.
Gio entered my room, and just like our first meeting, my heart raced with nervousness when I saw his cold eyes fixed on me.
We were left by the house helper, who closed the door to give us some privacy.
Gio was staring at me as if I were shrinking under the intensity of his gaze. There was no life in his eyes, and you could feel the violence simmering beneath his surface.
Should I greet him? I must make sure he doesn't contemplate leaving me. Even though I didn't want this marriage and felt nothing for him, I had to maintain it for our company's sake. He's the one who will save our business.
"How have you been?" Gio finally broke the long silence. His voice remained cold, as if he was reluctant or forced to speak. He surveyed the entire room, his fingers gliding over some nearby furniture.
I gulped and took a deep breath, thinking about how to respond to him, even though his question was straightforward. "I-I'm good. How about you?" I stuttered. This is what he does to me; when he's around, I'm afraid of him.
I heard many rumors about him way before the marriage. That's why, at first, I begged my father not to marry me off to him. I thought he might double the abuse my father inflicted on me. I grew up in an abusive household; I can't deny that.
As for Gio, they say he doesn't back down or show fear. He brings down anyone who crosses him. He erases anyone who opposes him. He's heartless, devoid of compassion and conscience. It's evident in the aura he's exuding right now. He's very authoritative.
He stared at me after hearing my response. Anger flashed in his eyes, intensifying my unease. I couldn't tell if I actually saw the anger in his expression or if I was just imagining it.
"Why are you still living with your parents?" He raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to me. "We have a house. Why did you choose to stay here?"
I furrowed my brow at his question. Why is he asking me this now? He left me without a word, and now he's surprised I chose to come back here.
"I stayed there for a few days, but..." I trailed off.
I wanted to bring up the topic of the pictures I saw of him with another woman, which my father had shown me, but I also realized I didn't really care. It's not that I was hurt, to be honest; I didn't feel anything. What bothered me was that most people assumed he'd leave me. Or I'm only thinking that he won't.
I had many questions about Gio. One of them was where he went during the time he left me. Who was the woman with him? Is he going to divorce me?
Despite all these thoughts swirling in my head, I couldn't voice a single one.
"Pack your things, we're leaving." Gio turned away from me, about to leave the room when I spoke again.
"Where are we going?" I asked him.
He glanced back at me and rolled his eyes. His expression conveyed impatience with my seemingly pointless question. I pressed my lips together. "We're going home, where you should've been living all along."
I was taken aback by his words. He was too aloof, and I guessed he'd be difficult to get along with. He was the kind of person you had to immediately understand what he meant because he didn't like repeating himself. He was hard to read. I could only hope that he wasn't abusive. I'm done being a battered daughter, and I don't want to be a battered wife.
Several maids entered my room and immediately started packing my belongings. Everything was neatly placed into a few suitcases that I would be taking with me. It felt like they didn't want me to come back here.
I noticed Gio leaning against the door frame, watching me. I avoided his gaze because I didn't feel comfortable.
"If you're done packing her things, you all may leave now," Gio said with authority.
The maids hurriedly organized my belongings and I watched them, trying to avoid the piercing gaze of the man near the door. The maids left quickly.
Gio walked toward me, and with each step he took, I felt my saliva go dry. I took a step back for no apparent reason.
Gio was too intimidating and terrifying. His presence alone was enough to make me tremble with fear. Even with clothes on, you could still feel it.
Lost in my thoughts about him, I didn't realize he was already standing right in front of me. I attempted to move away from him, but Gio grabbed my hand. In one swift motion, he laid me down on the bed.
"L-Let me go," I whispered softly. I felt weak, just because Gio was here.
"You told me never to ask you again, but am I allowed to kiss my wife? Am I allowed to have sex with you right now?"
I was stunned by his consecutive questions. I thought of this as my duty as a wife, so I nodded. As long as Gio didn't hurt or beat me, I would allow him to use my body.
Gio kissed me after seeing my nod. I let out a faint moan due to the intensity of his kiss.
I tried to push him away to catch my breath, but I felt weak. Was I really weak, or did I just not want him to stop even though I was running out of breath?
"I'm mad at you," he whispered amidst kissing my lips. He kissed me shallowly, intoxicatingly. It felt like I was drinking alcohol with every touch of his lips, and I lost myself in it. "I know you don't want this marriage, but can you at least act like you're pleased and happy to see your husband after not seeing him for a month?"