Chapter 4 A FUN MARRIAGE.
\~~~RAINA.
The house I am in has to be the most gorgeous house I have ever seen. No, it is not just a house. It looks like a castle, something out of an old story, like those in a medieval time. It is tall and grand, with stone walls and wide stairs that make you feel small when you walk through. Everything inside shines, from the marble floors to the gold lights hanging from the ceiling.
I literally forget my worries for a second as I take in my surroundings, but the sound of approaching footsteps snaps me back to reality and I turn my head and see Luciano standing by the stairs, and then the group of women walking toward us.
All dressed in black uniforms, they bow in unison to Luciano before turning to me.
“Welcome, Mrs. Moretti.”
Mrs. Moretti.
My breath hitches as the older woman whom I assume to be the butler speaks.
“Show her to the room,” Luciano’s voice comes out and I look at him.
He is looking at me and for the first time since I’ve met this man, I wish I could read what is going through his head.
His eyes linger on me slowly, traveling down my body and instantly, all that fills my head is the way his hand has caressed my bare thighs and how it has done nothing but burned me.
I swallow hard as he walks over, placing his hand on the small of my back. His touch moves in a slow, deliberate glide before he murmurs close to my ear,
“A fun marriage we are about to have, sunshine.”
God. I used to think I loved pet names in relationships until this man said one. Now I would do anything to slap the word out of his mouth.
He gently pushes me forward, then gestures to the older woman to lead the way.
Slowly, I followed her up the stairs. She walks gracefully, despite the white streaks in her hair showing her old age. After walking past several doors, she stops in front of one and opens it.
“Please, go in,” she says with a polite nod.
I step inside and immediately know whose room it is.
It screams Luciano.
Every detail is cold, sharp, and too perfect. The color scheme is monochrome grey, and the furniture is sleek and modern but lifeless.
I am a bright person. I barely own anything black, and somehow I just know I will never survive a day in this room.
Wait. I am supposed to stay here too?
Of course, we are married but with a man like him, I expect separate rooms.
“This is your room with the boss,” the woman finally says, breaking my thoughts and I nod slowly.
“I will leave you to settle in. Your clothes are in the closet over there. And, I’ll come inform you when lunch is ready,” she says and then turns to leave.
Talia has sent over her luggage since the previous day.
And then again, I wonder why she has absconded when she has prepared perfectly for this day.
Oh, Talia, I hate you right now.
“Mrs. Moretti,” the woman’s voice pulls me back and I blink rapidly, trying to hold back tears.
“Uhm?” I hum weakly.
“Do whatever he asks of you… please,” she says in a whisper that I almost don’t catch.
There is a flicker of pity on her face and then a warm smile quickly replaces it.
I know she is talking about Luciano and before I can ask her what she means by that, she has exited the room.
_______
The clothes in the closet don’t look like me at all, but I settle for a black silk dress anyway.
It is my fourth time calling my mom and second time calling my dad but no response comes from either.
Luciano hasn’t entered the room since we arrived and I only have my head to thank for it. In fact, I wouldn’t mind if he suddenly went on a business trip and arrived the next ten years.
A soft knock comes on the door and it pushes open. It is the butler.
“Lunch is ready, Mrs. Moretti.”
I don’t say anything, and only stand up, following her.
I swear I stop breathing for a whole minute the moment I step into the dining room and Luciano is there.
Sitting perfectly still at the center of the table like a sculpture. He is still in the same outfit as earlier, only now his coat is gone and his black shirt sleeves are rolled up, revealing his strong arms.
He didn't look at me, didn't even say a word as I took a seat beside him.
I force myself to speak. “Good afternoon,” I murmur softly.
No response.
So, I just drop my head to look at the meal in front of me.
It is a grilled chicken salad and I nod my head at how delicious it looks.
No longer sparing him another glance, I pick up my fork and start eating.
The longer I sit there, the harder it becomes for me to swallow as I can feel his eyes on me, heavy and unrelenting, and still, I don’t raise my head or even reach out for water.
However, suddenly, he pushes a plate over to me and I raise my head to look at him, and then the plate.
“You like peanut butter bagel,” he says casually, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
My fingers tighten around the edge of the table. I want to scream, ‘When did I ever tell you that?’
But instead, I stay quiet.
It seems like a nice gesture, right?
My husband is sweetly handing me a plate of peanut bagel because I like it, so it is supposed to be heartwarming, right?
I mean, it would have fucking been except I don’t like peanut butter.
I am allergic to it.
A drop of it could kill me in minutes if I don’t get help immediately.
I would die if I ate it.
It is Talia who fucking likes it, not me!
And when I look up at Luciano again, I swear…
He is smiling.
God, this man knows.
He knows I am not Talia.