Fight Me Little Pearl

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

FRANCESCA

V alentino glances from me to Thomas before saying just one word

“Leave.”

“Oh, okay.” Without even a glance at me, Thomas scurries off like a frightened rabbit.

“Thomas!”

“Thom-”

“Say his name one more time, and he’ll be dead by morning.”

The half-spoken name freezes in my throat. I turn fully to face my new husband. Our gazes clash. Angry blue versus deadly gray. My automatic response to him has always been flight not fight, but this time the pain that rips through my heart makes me stand my ground and say exactly what I want to.

“One of these days, while you’re busy killing other people, I hope you kill yourself!”

He doesn’t retreat. There is a strange madness in his eyes as he closes the distance between us. His fingers are cool as they stroke my neck softly. I swallow hard. I can’t blatantly push his hand away. All eyes are on us and if he’s anything like my father, he will not take kindly to being embarrassed in front of his whole clan. It would be stupid to test him while the killer in him roams his eyes. For the sake of the welfare of my family, I decide to exercise caution. I will fight him in private.

I inhale sharply as he tightens his fingers, not enough to hurt but enough to send a message. I get it. Loud and clear. He leans his mouth so close to my ear, I feel the warmth of his skin. My breath quickens.

“The car is here. We’re leaving,” he says quietly.

“What about the reception?”

“Sorry. Don’t feel like one.” He was clearly not sorry at all.

I gulp. “But… the cake…”

“I’m not a fan of red velvet cake or lemon icing,” he says flatly.

My jaw drops. The fact that he knows a little detail like that shocks me. He has not been part of the planning of the wedding or consulted about anything because he had instructed my grandfather to hire the best wedding planner in town and expressed a desire not to be involved in the process.

With his hand on the small of my rigid back, he leads me towards a sleek black car. The engine is running and a uniformed chauffeur nods and opens the passenger door closest to us. I look back to see Mama standing next to Nonno. She is surprised to see us leave. The people who don’t know the itinerary as intimately as she does are cheering and clapping. Tears spring to my eyes. I stop abruptly before the open car door. Our gazes meet. Fire and Ice.

“Where are we going?” I ask mutinously.

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

“What about my dress? I have to change out of it.”

He looks down dismissively at my gown. “Why? A dress worth a quarter of a million dollars should be appreciated by as many people as possible.”

Well, well, he does know how much my dress costs. I stand my ground. “I’d like to say goodbye to my mother.”

“You spent your goodbyes on that freckled maggot,” he says. “Get in the fucking car.”

My heart drops to my stomach at his nasty tone. How dare he call Thomas a freckled maggot? His freckles are charming. One fingernail on Thomas is worth more than all of Valentino. I want to spit at him, but people are watching. I don’t want to make a scene and embarrass my family so I pick up the big skirt of my dress and throw myself into the car, hating him even more for preventing me from saying goodbye to my mother. A call will have to suffice. Valentino climbs in from the other side, and suddenly, it feels like the large interior of the vehicle has become too small. I feel suffocated in my beautiful dress.

I shift to the end of the seat and press myself against the door, but it’s not far enough from him. As the vehicle moves away from the church, Valentino removes his jacket and loosens a few buttons of his dress shirt. As more of his chest is exposed, I turn my head away so fast I almost twist my neck.

We do not speak until we reach the airport. Everyone is looking at me in my bridal dress. If he thought he could embarrass me in this way, he was wrong. I hold my head up high and sweep across the floor. In half an hour, I’m seated in his private jet. Apparently, we’re on our way to Paris for our honeymoon, another notch in the number of scams we have run today.

Honeymoons are for real couples, not people like Valentino and I.

The air hostess’s eyes show surprise to see my attire. I smile blandly at her as if it is the most normal thing to board a plane in a big bridal dress. Once we are airborne, he opens his laptop and immediately becomes immersed in it. Infuriated by his attitude, I rip my silk gloves off and toss them on the little table in front of me.

“I’m going to the toilet,” I announce.

He doesn’t look up.

Bastard!

I stomp huffily towards the toilet and stare at my reflection in the mirror. I’m in such a rage I feel like breaking something, but I take deep calming breaths and by the time I get back to my seat I have made the decision to act as cool as he is acting.

I spend the rest of the flight unable to relax in my pearl-encrusted bodice, but pretending to be totally engrossed in the pages of random magazines.

Food and drinks are served and still, the bastard ignores me.

“Your dress is beautiful,” the air stewardess serving me says.

“Thank you,” I reply quietly, my eyes sliding towards Valentino.

Even though he is looking down I can see his lips curl upwards mockingly.

Bastard!

Many painful hours later of me staring with unseeing eyes at the pages of magazines I have no interest in, the journey is finally over.

We are met at the airport and driven to a beautiful old hotel full of faded grandeur in the middle of the city. By now, my dress is a crushed mess and I’m sure I look terrible, but Europeans must be of a different temperament because everyone we meet pretends everything is perfectly normal.

A bellboy dressed in a blue and gold uniform ushers us into the most opulent suite I’ve ever seen. It is almost a mini palace with tall ceilings, luxury stone decorations, gilded mirrors, and two stupendous antique chandeliers. There are massive bouquets of flowers everywhere and a bottle of champagne on ice awaits on the low coffee table.

While Valentino speaks on the phone, I head to the bedroom. I can’t help but admire the exquisiteness of it all. I touch the rich curtains and sigh with pleasure. I don’t know the exact extent of Valentino’s wealth, but it’s rumored that his riches multiply so quickly that he himself cannot know what he is worth.

The door closes behind me and I jump. I whirl around to see Valentino walking into the room, his shirt is unbuttoned halfway down his chest. It’s incredibly obvious what he wants… But every cell in my body screams, NO. The inevitability of sex with him has haunted me from the very moment I was ‘persuaded’ to wed him, but now that the moment is here, I am convinced I would rather die than sleep with this monster.

“I will not share a bed with you.”

The room rings with my words. His dangerous eyes move towards me, and I begin to tremble, but I hold my head high.

“Why not?” His voice is calm and his posture relaxed. I hate how unaffected he seems, how in control. How damn unflustered.

“Because I will not.” I glance haughtily at the king-sized bed. “I won’t-”

“You won't what?” Valentino saunters toward me, like a predator toward its prey.

He stops in front of me, and to my shame, once again, my body completely and utterly betrays me and reacts lustfully to his presence.

“I won’t have sex with you,” I spit, staring into his expressionless gunmetal eyes. “I… I find you… repulsive.”

“Repulsive?” A corner of his lips tugs upwards. “That’s a rather strong word, my little pearl.” He takes another step towards me, caging me against the wall. I can hear my heart going wild in my chest, and I fear he can hear it too. Suddenly, he touches me. One hand sliding into my hair to angle my head while his other hand roams my dress, eliciting responses I never knew my body to be capable of.

“Especially,” he continues silkily, “when I can see the way your body reacts, when I can smell you.” He sniffs the air critically. “Hints of honey, musk and laurel. Fresh, but a little too virginal. Needs seasoning to reach a complete flavor profile.”

I press myself against the wall. “You’re a horrible man!”

To my shock, he drops his head and captures my mouth with his. I gasp, and he slips his tongue into my mouth and tastes me. His tongue hooks mine, pulls it into his mouth and sucks it. This kiss is nothing, nothing like the chaste kiss back in the cathedral. Pleasure spreads like wildfire through my body and I think the kiss will go on forever, but the moment a moan drops from my lips, he pulls away putting several feet between us.

I am astounded.

Ashamed and breathing heavily, I catch his gaze, expecting to see mockery. Instead, his eyes are full of rage, which quite frankly, I do not understand, I am the one who has been assaulted here.

“Enjoy your solitude, Madame. I’m sure I’ll find a willing body elsewhere in the city of love. Bonne nuit .”

I am struck dumb as I watch him walk out of the room. For a full minute, I’m too astonished to do anything, then I fall on the big lonely bed. Good God! My heart is beating so freaking fast I must surely be at risk of a massive coronary attack alone in Paris.