THE BRIDE - By Shaxee
You only need a few people to effect a kidnapping. -Robert Bourassa
Marco Orsini’s POV
“Marco! Per favore…Marco. Put me down.”
I ignored the woman in my arms as I walked towards the lobby where my car was waiting. I disregarded the curious stares being thrown in our direction by the people inside the lobby. We played this stunt not so long ago. I am used to it.
“Marco…” Francesca almost begged. “Put me down. Do not let us embarrass ourselves like this.”
I deposited her in the passenger seat of my Ferrari. She glared at me with such fervor.
Oh, how beautiful she is when she’s maddeningly angry with me. “You are a certifiably crazy person.” She informed me, opening the door. “Matteo is on his way here. I need to give him a tour around the city. I promised your grandmother.”
I placed both of my hands on the car’s door to prevent her from going out. I grinned at her lovely face. I want to kiss her senseless in broad day light.
“Matteo can give himself a tour around the city without your help, darling.”
“Marco!” My Francesca warned, her eyes snapped with fire.
“That has no effect on me, love.” I told her playfully as I went around to the driver’s seat. “I am abducting you.”
“Are you out of your mind?” The ice queen asked disbelievingly. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I pulled out my sunglasses and wore it to conceal my eyes from the sun.
“Ah, my straight-lace teacher finally swore out loud.”
“Marco…” Francesca warned again as we joined the traffic of Rome. “Stop this car now. What will your Nonna say if she hears about this stunt you pulled again?”
“Ah, yes Nonna.”
I pulled out my mobile phone and dialed my grandmother’s number. A few rings later my sly grandmother sounded on the other line.
“Nonna, it’s me, Marco.” I looked briefly at the woman by my side that was glaring at me insolently. “I just want to tell you that Francesca wouldn’t be able to tour Matteo to the city, after all. Why? Because she—ah, she has diarrhea.”
I place back my mobile phone inside my pocket when I felt a sudden pain in my arms.
“Diarrhea?” She asked indecorously punching my arms repeatedly. For a petite woman like her she has a strong punch. “I don’t have diarrhea, you moron.”
“Stop it, woman.” I said, defending myself from the onslaughts. Dio!, such a wild cat. “Do you want us to have a freak accident on the road?”
“Why did you lie to your grandmother?” Francesca asked when she stopped hitting me. “And where the heck are we going?”
I shrugged as I fixed my eyes again on the road. “You’ll love it there, sweetheart.”
“Stop calling me that.” She said vehemently, her eyes filled with fury.
I frowned at her briefly. “You don’t want ‘sweetheart’ as endearment? Which would you prefer? Perhaps, ‘darling’ suits you better?” I heard her visibly take a deep breath.
“Marco…”
“Yes, darling?” I raised an eyebrow to her direction.
I held back my laughter when I saw her reaction. Annoying Francesca Marcolini was really my favorite past time.
“I’m starting to have a migraine just talking to you.” The pretty widow muttered to herself, rubbing her forehead.
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