THE BRIDE - By Shaxee

Chapter 22 

The perfect date is the one where anything and everything goes wrong, but at the end of it, all you want is to see them again. -Dylan O’Brien

Francesca Marcolini’s POV
I glanced at my wristwatch. Two minutes before 8 a.m. and ten outfits I’ve had fitted to find the perfect one, finally I am ready with my date with Marco Orsini.
I marched down to the elevator to wait for him outside my penthouse building. Oh God, if I didn’t know better I would assume that I was nervous about this date.
I could do this, I reassured myself. It’s just a date. But as I went out of the lobby and saw the familiar figure waiting outside I knew what lie it had been.
“I’m ready.” I said a little breathlessly.



Marco turned around to look at me. My breath had been knocked out from my lungs by his appearance. Yesterday he gave the impression of being a campaign ad model. Today he wore white t-shirt, dark jeans with matching black leather jacket, he looked more like a devil biker than a billionaire businessman. He’s such a daredevil.
His gaze boldly traveled through my body. I want to scream at his scorching stare.
“Get changed.”
“I beg your pardon?” I asked indecorously, looking down at my prim dress. As far as I am concerned there is nothing wrong with my choice of dress now.
“Get changed.” He repeated his earlier command, tucking his arms in the middle of his chest. “It’s not appropriate for what we will ride.”
“Huh?” I said with a frown. “I don’t understand.”
He gestured at the sleek motorbike parked nearby. “That’s our ride.” He said. “Go and get changed into some jeans if you have any.”
 
I grimaced. Now I need to change again after spending a lot of time picking up this dress.
“Where’s your car? I thought you said we are going on a date that I owe you?”
“We are going on a date.” He said with a dashing smile on his face. “But we’ll do it my way. I don’t do romantic dates, darling. But I assure you this will be fun.”
I am not still convinced. Though, I have to admit that I agree with him that he wasn’t the type of guy who does romantic dates. That’s why maybe I am intrigued by what he had in stock for me.
With a snicker, I march back to the penthouse building and nearly run to the elevator and go back to my apartment. I changed to my most casual clothes with a pair of jeans, blouse and a butter colored jacket but I kept my killer heels.

“I’m ready.” I told him again after a few minutes.
He eyed me again from head to toe and whistled quietly. “Not bad.”
I tried to stop the grin that wanted to escape from my lips.
He walked to where he parked his bike, got the helmet and placed it on my head. God, it’s so heavy. “Come.” He said, pulling me to the motorbike. “Have you ever ridden a motorbike before?”
I only managed to shake my head. I saw him smile privately like he was enjoying a private joke. He rode the motorcycle with suave while I did it awkwardly.

He grabbed both of my hands and locked them around his middle. I could feel the hardness of his washboard stomach.
“I’d hold tight if I were you, my Francesca.”
Is that supposed to be a warning? But before I could ask my question out loud he purred the engine and it gave birth to a throaty roar.
 
I squeaked a little when it sprang to life. I held tightly to him as we fled to the highway. The wind swept by me with our speed, I closed my eyes to my blurred scenery.
We’re going too fast as if the demons of hell were after us. It was downright scary.
“Scared?” I heard him ask with amusement in his voice.
I would snarl at him if I wasn’t this petrified. “No!”
“Then you’d better hold tight, my love.” He laughed. Then he accelerated the speed even more.I could swear we were flying by now.

After half an hour praying to the Almighty for our safety and swearing that I will not ride this kind of thing again. Finally, after like an eternity the motorcycle stops.
“We’re here.” He said, while he removed my helmet.
I breathed the fresh air again. I had never appreciated life until today. “Where are we?” I asked, eyeing the car parked not far from us.
He tossed something in my direction which I caught halfway awkwardly. “Are you surprised? I am going to teach you how to drive.”
“You are what?” I stared at him in bewilderment.
He ran his hand through his hair. My hands itch to do it myself.
“Come, we still have long day ahead of us.”
I reluctantly walked to the waiting car. My knees are shaking. I had never driven before; this is the first time I will seat in the driver’s seat. But I will confess I am tremendously excited about this.
“Don’t blame me if I scratch this car.” I told him when I slid into the driver’s seat. My heart pounded loudly in my ribcage.
He grinned. His dark eyes gleamed with delight. “A scratch will not hurt, darling.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I said as I started the car.

Marco Orsini’s POV
“Dio! Goddamnit, woman!” I shouted while holding the dashboard and the side of my chair like they were my lifeline.
I had never felt so terrified in my life before but I am sure as hell experiencing it right now. I don’t know what madness had possessed me to think that I could teach Francesca Marcolini how to ride.
“Turn right!” I screamed, thinking that I am not far from my death. “Slow down, for god’s sake!”
“Don’t shout!” She said loudly while still driving like a drunk—no, even a drunk driver drives more cautious than her.

“Oh, my goodness. I am going to die today.” I muttered to myself, halfway from confessing all my sins. “You do realize that when I die thousands of employees will be affected?”
“Will you just shut up?” Francesca glanced at me briefly. “You are making me more nervous!”
“Eyes on the road, woman!”
“I said, do not shout!” She retorted back, still driving like a maniac.

“You are hopeless.” I told her truthfully, as I watched in horror our car zigzag on the road. “The Italian government will never give you a license.”
“This is just my first time to drive.” She said defensively.
“I was not this bad when I first held wheels.” I informed her confidently. “If you are trying to kill me. You are doing just fine.”
 
“Funny, Marco.”
“It’s true.” I clutched my leather seat tightly. “Stop the car.”
“What…?” She glanced distractedly towards me. “What did you say?”
“Stop.The.Car.”
She steps on the brake abruptly which made us bounce in our seats.
I removed my seatbelt and slid out of the passenger’s seat.
“Get out.” I told her when I stood outside her door. “This is enough. I have had enough of your death defying drive.”
“How harsh.” She grumbled as she moved to the passenger’s seat. “Where are we going now?”
“Eat.” I said briskly, driving off the car swiftly. “I think I just lost ten years of my life.”

Francesca Marcolini’s POV
“Where are we?” I asked as soon as we arrived at the elegant restaurant.
“Hi, Marco.” A strikingly beautiful woman greeted him with a warm smile. An unexpected jealously filled my heart. I was stunned by it.
“Hello, Sharon.” He greeted back, I nearly stagger. Who is she in his life? The camaraderie between them was evident.
“Marco!” A little girl who was about six years old came out from the kitchen and ran into his open arms. “Marco.”
“How are you?” The delight on his face was noticeable as he scooped the little girl in his arms. Is she his illegitimate daughter with this woman? I could feel the tears threaten to escape from my eyes. I don’t know why.

“How are you, Brianna?” He asked the little girl while he kissed her cheeks.
“I just ate cake inside.”
“Really?” Marco asked animatedly. “Do you have some for me?”
“Yes!”
“Brianna.” The woman said kindly. “Go back to the kitchen. Marco has a visitor to entertain.”
The little girl did what she was told.

“Is he here?” Marco asked the woman.
“Yes.” Sharon answered, glancing in my direction. “I’m sure he will be happy to see you.”
“Come, Francesca.” He pulled my hand and went straight to the kitchen. “No. she’s not and Brianna is not my child.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
He looked at me dryly. “I could see from your expressive eyes, Francesca. She’s my stepmother and that little girl is my baby sister.”

I stared at him in astonishment. Is that true? I didn’t know that his father remarried.
“Father,” He called the elderly man who was busy cooking.
“Marco!” The man beamed into a smile as he hugged his son affectionately. “It’s been a while, figlio.”
I just stood there watching them exchange pleasantries.
“Who is this pretty lady with you, Marco?” His father asked with sparks in his eyes. Marco drew me forward for his father’s inspection.
“Father, this is Francesca.” He performed the introduction. “Francesca, this is my father, Alessandro. The owner of this restaurant.”
“Hello, sir.” I murmured shyly.
 
He surprised me when he enveloped me in a warm hug. “Hello, child.”
“Father, I will use your private kitchen.”
“You will cook?” His father asked a little surprised.
“You can cook?” I asked in unison.

He threw me a heart-melting grin. “Of course.”
“I will entertain this lovely woman while you cook, Marco.” Alessandro said pulling me gently to the private garden outside. “Tell me about yourself, Francesca.”
I smiled while he poured red wine into our glass. “There’s nothing special about me, sir.”
“I disagree.” Marco’s father contradicted with a private smile. “You are the only woman Marco has ever introduced to me. So I am sure you are pretty special to my son.”
Uh-oh!.

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