Fight Me Little Pearl

Chapter 1

Chapter One

FRANCESCA

T his is a sham.

A freaking deception.

We are desecrating the house of God.

These are the wild thoughts running through my mind as my grandfather, Nonno Franco Barbieri, walks me down the aisle. The ancient cathedral is bathed in a soft golden glow from the sun’s rays streaming through the stained-glass windows. The lofty pillars are decorated with thousands upon thousands of fresh flowers flown in from all over the world. Of special note is the magnificent Madagascan purple orchid arrangement behind the priest.

The wooden pews are packed with dignified people dressed in shades of pastel. Their hushed whispers of anticipation rise into the air and mix with the soft strains of music from the choir standing at the back of the altar.

Nonno and I approach the altar with small, demure steps. Nonno’s back is proud and erect as he calmly walks me up the aisle, while I feel as if my whole life is falling apart and my stomach is churning so violently, I’m sure I’m going to be sick right here in front of everybody.

I lift my eyes and surreptitiously glance on either side of me.

I recognize almost none of the faces I see on my left, but on the right are the happy smiling expressions from my side of the family. Except Mama, who is sitting in the front row, clutching her pink Dior bag. Through my lacy veil, I see the strain on her face. She’s the only one whose smile isn’t wide enough to break her face in half. She is the only one, other than me, who is truthful enough to admit that this marriage is a shameless sham.

As a little girl, I dreamed of the perfect wedding. My great-grandmother’s Romanian gypsy blood runs in my veins, so I saw myself in a big, white, meringue-style wedding gown. My veil was so long it trailed for yards behind me as I walked up the aisle sprinkled with wild flowers to wed a dreamily handsome prince who would cherish me forever.

My wedding is a caricature of my innocent dream.

And I will never forgive all the people who made today a reality.

Especially the tall dark man waiting for me at the altar.

You see, everything is exactly the way I dreamed it: the breathtaking beauty of the church, the decorations, the gorgeous reception that I know is going to steal everyone’s breath away. My pearl-encrusted dress is the price of a three-bedroom house in a good neighborhood. Yes, I deliberately chose one that is so exorbitantly expensive my bridegroom will be forced to understand that I’m either rebelling against him, or he has made a terrible mistake and agreed to marry the worst kind of spoiled brat that ever walked this earth. But all that trouble I went to was for nothing. The bastard is so wealthy he did not even notice.

I think you get the picture by now.

Everything is perfect except for the man.

Valentino Barone.

Instead of standing with his back to me like every other freaking bridegroom, he breaks tradition and stands facing me. Over six feet tall, his hands clasped in front of him, he watches me with a laser-like focus. But his stare is dead, like the man himself. At first, the desolation and lack of life in his eyes scared me. Now it infuriates me that I will be shackled to him without reparations for the rest of my life.

No, this cannot be.

I find myself totally unable to accept that we will be husband and wife even as I am led towards the altar.

Incredible, right? Foolish? Asinine?

Maybe, but I have to hold on to the hope that there has to be a way out. I have accepted the fact that unless there is an act of God, a sudden tornado, or a terrible earthquake, I will lose the battle today and be forced to marry him… but one battle doesn’t make a war. An unconsummated marriage can be annulled. I refuse to stay married to Valentino.

Not when I am in love with Thomas!

We reach the end of the aisle, and Nonno gives me over to Valentino. He takes my hand, and I expect worms to automatically begin crawling under my skin. But no! Through my ivory-colored silk gloves, his touch burns, searing my skin until it feels as if the fabric will melt underneath his fire. When he releases my hand, I drag in a breath and rub the spot where he had held me.

It’s okay, I console myself. Of course, his touch will burn.

He might look like an ice-cold, heartless sculpture, but he is the devil himself. What bothers me though is the strange, undeniable pull between my thighs when he touches me. I tell myself it is simply nerves and fury. But I’ve been nervous and furious many times in my life and never felt such a thing. Must be a bride thing. All brides must experience this.

I push the bothersome thought away just as the music stops and I turn my attention to the priest who descends to the dais.

“You may lift the veil, Don Barone… and look at your bride.”

The hall quietens. For a moment, Valentino remains frozen and I stare at him in surprise. Then he steps forward, grasps the hem of my antique lace veil and raises it over my head. I see the involuntary widening of his eyes. As the priest officiates the ceremony, Valentino pins me with his gaze. I’m astonished by how expressive those dead gunmetal eyes can be when they want.

He is not hiding the mockery in his eyes as his gaze boldly roams over my face and body. We met only once before, on the day Nonno decided I was to marry Valentino to save our family’s fortune and secure the protection of the Barbieri clan. When Nonno called me to his office to meet Valentino, I had put on quite a show. It was my one and only chance, an act of desperate defiance and rebellion. It was all I could do at the time and I had done my very best. Too bad it had not worked. The madman that Valentino is, he didn’t have the good sense to reject me as his bride.

I still cannot believe it because I had truly gone all out to appear as undesirable and unattractive as possible. My plan was to make myself look like a societal outcast with a serious drug problem. Surely, no man in his right mind would want to marry such a woman.

I wore a gothic bat costume. I repeat, a gothic bat costume. My fingernails were painted black and I had cleverly sourced the ugliest pair of clunky black boots online to complete my outfit.

With the cunning use of mascara and eyeliner, I’d made my eyebrows look thick and heavy. Purple eyeshadow, blue lipstick (couldn’t find green), a clip-on silver septum ring, and an impressively large fake scorpion neck tattoo. The coup de grace, a SLUT tattoo on the apple of my left cheek. I had more or less gone all Barney with a serious drug problem on him.

Nonno’s face was a laughable mixture of shocked, horrified and disgusted when I clumsily entered in my bulky boots, but the cold monster had lazily shrugged, smiled, and agreed to the contract. Smiled!

I was, and am still heartbroken, but I’m trying with all of my heart to fight away the despair.

“Don Barone, please repeat these vows after me…”

As Valentino recites his vows, the mockery in his eyes intensifies. “…to love and to cherish, till death do us part. And thereto, I pledge to you… my faithfulness.”

Oh, the liar!

“Miss Barbieri,” the priest says. “Repeat these vows after me.”

I say my vows slowly, silently asking God for forgiveness because I’m being forced to lie through my teeth. This is wrong. Valentino has no desire to be faithful to me, and I definitely won’t be to him because my heart belongs to someone else.

I think of Thomas and my heart aches. I wonder if he is here right now… watching as I am given to someone else. It amazes me how he can stay quiet. I would have shot Valentino dead on the spot if our roles had been reversed. I am considering doing it for him. If push comes to shove, I’ll have to take my destiny into my own hands.

“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the priest says with a beatific smile. “You may kiss your bride.”

Kiss! That’s not compulsory. I know it’s not. Absolutely we do NOT have to kiss.

I try to look away so my bridegroom will have only my cheek to graze with his vile lips, but that madman locks his gaze with mine so I am frozen into place like a deer in headlights, and steps towards me. My heart stops. I’m surprised he has no qualms about kissing me and once again this frustrates and annoys me.

Why? Why? Why?

When he knows just how much I loathe him. He knows just how much I am against this whole ridiculous charade. We should have just performed a simple ceremony at the registry office.

His fingers touch my neck lightly as his face moves closer to mine. And I suddenly realize that perhaps we are all just slaves to our bodies because at his touch my blood betrays me. It ignites and runs like liquid fire beneath my skin. As I gasp with shock at my reaction, he swallows it into his mouth. I am supposed to be repulsed as his warm lips close over mine for a brief yet never-ending second, but instead… a hot flush of desire rolls from the top of my head to the soles of my feet.

I might have been able to ignore the brief sweet ache of desire earlier, but this one cannot be ignored. I wish with all my heart, I could, but I can’t.

Valentino steps away, aloof and coldly unaffected. And I hate him even more. Damn him! How dare he make me feel these unwanted carnal desires while he feels nothing?

But even as I hate him, I understand why.

I may be young and naive, but I’m not blind.

Valentino Barone is not just attractive, he’s lethally magnificent. His face is perfectly chiseled like a piece of marble crafted by an old master sculptor. It’s a kind of look that makes you want to throw caution to the winds and do dangerous things. Punching him or riding him are two options.

Surprisingly, I don’t think it is just the allure of his face that pulls me to him like a moth flying to its fiery death. Sure, it lures me in, but the ultimate appeal is in the man himself. There’s an aura of darkness and mystery around him that is like nicotine. It sits inside its little box, modestly covered in foil, and calls out temptingly: Just one drag. One hit. Once. A little try. What can it hurt? But like I said, I’m not stupid. I can very clearly identify it for what it is: a trap. And this is why I must never let myself get any closer.

This fake kiss on the altar is the only show of affection this man will ever get from me. From now on until he lets me go, I plan to make his life a living hell.

“ Congratulazioni! ”

People shout and throw confetti at us as we walk toward the exit. I don’t bother smiling. They should all know without the shadow of a doubt that this is against my will. But no one seems to notice or care though. Outside the church, I’m quickly swept away by laughing friends and family. They are all excited that I’ve married into the powerful Barone family, to the head of the family.

I feel very betrayed by their pleasure and excitement.

“ Bravo !” My cousin Louisa is suddenly in front of me with a cheeky smile. She’s a few years older and takes me drinking sometimes. “Your husband is very handsome,” she says. “I wish I had a man like him.”

“I wish you had him,” I respond, meaning every word.

The smile clears off her astounded face. She’s about to say something when Mama appears beside us.

She stares intently at me but addresses my cousin. “Louisa, your mother requests your attention.”

As Louisa hurries off, Mama sighs heavily. “Bite your tongue, Francesca. Do you really want your cousin to have your husband?”

“I don’t care who has him. I don’t want him.” The full extent of my vitriol comes out now that I’m talking to someone with whom I can be my true self. “I hate him.”

“Francesca.” My mom touches my face affectionately. “Most marriages in our world start this way. But you will see. You will fall in love with your husband.”

“Never!” I declare. “He’s just like Papa. I don’t know how you were able to tolerate pure evil for so many years, but I cannot! I just cannot.”

“Francesca, please trust that no matter how dire our situation is, I would never have agreed to let you marry a man who is like your father. I did my due diligence on Valentino when your Nonno first mentioned him. He’s not as bad as you think he is. He is hardworking, loyal, fair, and a good provider. All the things that make for a good husband and father.”

Mama lowers her head and I instantly feel guilty.

I don’t want her to worry about me when I’m away, and the more I voice my unhappiness the more she will. She’s had to worry too much in her life, and I don’t want to be an additional burden. I’m about to tell her not to worry about me when I see a lone figure standing outside the bubbling crowd. Unlike everyone else who is dressed in luxury and splendor, he is dressed in simple clothing.

My heart soars.

Thomas.

“Excuse me, Mama.” I kiss her cheek and push through the crowd to where Thomas stands.

He sees me coming and forces a smile onto his face. “I’m sorry for crashing your wedding, Francesca. I just had… had… to… to come and see you.” His nervous gaze flits around the garden, and my heart bleeds for him.

“Thomas-”

“Francesca,” he says, and his voice breaks. “This hurts so much.”

“Thomas, I’m so sorry.” I shake my head. “I’m in hell as well.”

“I know,” Thomas says. “But I saw him kiss you, and I couldn’t help but feel like a complete loser. He’s handsome, wealthy, and has everything a woman could want.”

His sandy hair falls onto his forehead. If I am brutally honest, compared to Valentino Thomas looks like a squeaky clean, wet behind the ears, frat boy. But after witnessing the devilish life men like Valentino lead and the evil they wreck, a kind and compassionate activist like Thomas is the man my heart will always choose. I met Thomas in college, and even though my father had warned me before his death that I could never marry an ordinary man, I continued to keep Thomas in my life.

Because Thomas is the direct opposite of evil.

He chooses to remain poor because he refuses to work with corrupt organizations, and I couldn’t admire him more for being so noble and upright. He stands for truth and goodness. Given the violent circumstances of my upbringing, it is what I believe in too. What use is money when it is ill-gotten?

“Francesca,” Thomas says passionately. “I wish everything was different, but I have to accept that you are lost to me…”

I stare at him in shock. He is giving up? So easily? Why? I know having to see me marry someone else is horrible, but he knows I have no choice. It is a marriage in name only and I have every intention of getting out of it as soon as humanly possible.

I expect him to say more, to change his words, but whatever he is looking at behind us seems to completely choke him up. He has also become white as a sheet and appears frozen with fear. I swing my head around to see the object of his terror.

Valentino is standing behind me, hell in his eyes.