Chapter 4 HIS PROPOSAL
All twenty four years of my life, I had never pictured myself dining at the same table for no good reason with an Italian who seemed fearless with an extremely intimidating presence that requires one in their toes for a cause that was not business.
Back in New York, I rarely had any business or casual dealing with an Italian, not because I didn't want it or they never showed up at my doorstep, but I was deeply invested in not making them associate for my family's business.
But in the end, I shot myself in the foot. Suddenly, I could vividly remember how I had insisted on having my wedding in Italy. The same country I try not to involve with her citizens.
Dylan had been against the idea for the longest time, but I was adamant about my decision. It all started when I received a blissful intel about how beautiful my wedding will go down in history if I had the ceremony held in Sicily, Italy.
But it was more than wedding bells, fabulous constructs, elegant city halls, crazy pizza batter and sauce, and their impeccable pasta dishes— it only brought me closer to what death and torture might be.
Only if I had listened to Dylan's objections, maybe, just maybe we would still be together. A slight snicker escaped my throat as I thought about all of this.
It has always been me. I was the one who made this happen, it was my fault all of this was happening.
As I placed all the blame on myself in my thoughts, his voice brought me back to my reality, my thoughts fading away like dew in the sun fast.
“Is the food not to your liking, Nessa?” Rafael had asked, dropping his fork and knife carefully beside the porcelain steak plate that hosted his steak.
In a minute, I got really mad at myself as I could feel a warmth in my chest. I knew what it was. He has just called me Nessa and I found it extremely lovely and his voice made everything seem calm.
I couldn't bring myself to admit this. How the abstract he had made out of my name pulled waves within me. I was embarrassed by my own thoughts and how I kept reacting to his subtleness.
The next minute, I felt extremely nauseous. What exactly was I thinking of this man? I hated his gut so much that I couldn't describe it with words.
His existence alone stirring up a wave within me was extremely disturbing. How can one make me so confused and safe at the same time? He wasn't even doing too much, he was just there— existing and I knew that was the problem.
His existence.
For me to be at peace surreal, he has to be scraped out of my life entirely, but first, I need to source some information about him. After all, he had promised to talk about Dylan.
I fumbled with my emotions, slicing into my steak while my face showed no mercy at the slab of meat.
I could feel his gaze squarely fixed in me, but I didn't bother to look up for once. I wondered what was going on in his mind and why he was so interested in me at that moment.
But the man Santiano Rafael Devereaux was a difficult module to tackle. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't read his thoughts. He was very good at it, managing his emotions and reactions that you wouldn't have the slightest clue what was going on in his head.
That was dangerous. Dangerously dangerous to me as I needed to know exactly what he was thinking to beat him at his own game.
Finally slicing off a mouth sized cut of my steak, I opened my mouth to eat. Of truth, I wasn't interested in the meal, I just wanted to dance to Rafael's tune for a while because it seems my cooperation puts him at ease.
“So, tell me, why have you brought me here?” I finally asked, grinding the steak in my mouth in a chew.
My eyes were rolled dead at him, not a blink, not a dazzle of fear and intimidation within them.
He stared back at me for a long while until I felt really uneasy. I squeezed my hands into a ball as the minute continued to tick by. My eyes were slowly creeping into doubt as I could barely manage to keep eye contact with him.
What was I thinking? That I could win a war against this man whose entire existence pronounced him as fearless? What do I think I have up against him? The simple thought that I could use his emotions towards me against him?
Was I even sure that was real? Or is it being nurtured based on my assumption?
Everything then went silent around us, everyone that I could feel the sync of my heartbeat strike with the wall clock. The clattering and movements of the house chefs seemed to have never been in existence as we both stared into what seemed like the fabric of our souls— perhaps, the gates of our destruction.
I got distracted for a bit as his hand crawled towards the little table napkin, closing up the distance between himself and I and taking a slow move towards my face.
With a gentle subtle swipe, he wiped something off the corner of my lip. It was a sauce stain, apparently from the steak, but how he had handled that never pulled me into a curb of embarrassment which I found extremely appalling.
His actions didn't put me on my toes, but his next words gave me up into a train of unsettled emotions that I couldn't describe.
With a gentle look resting within his eyes, he opened his mouth to speak out those words without a crack in his voice, not a dazzle of doubt with his demeanor.
“We should get married, Vanessa.”