THE BRIDE - By Shaxee
Chapter 27
Behaving like a princess is work. It’s not just about looking beautiful or wearing a crown. It’s more about how you are inside. -Julie Andrews
Francesca Marcolini’s POV
“This way, please.” The uniformed maid said in half-Italian and half-Sicilian words.
Marco and I ascended to the imposing grand receiving room of the Palazzo di Fiorenza. The century-old-palace of the Fiorenza royals where they took residence since the fifteenth century.
The maid led us through the hallway with portraits of stern looking ancestors with cool green eyes.
I glanced at the man beside me walking silently. Since our travel here to Sicily, he has remained painfully silent — very unusual of him. Now he showed no emotion, I couldn’t fathom what he was thinking.
It’s for the best, I reminded myself silently. He must marry someone more suitable to be his bride before my growing feelings for him grew any deeper.
Marriage is not for me. I have done it before but I was badly hurt by the man I once called my husband.I don’t want to suffer the same thing again. I don’t think my heart will survive the second betrayal in marriage if Marco proved that he cannot keep his vows or he felt bored in our marriage after a few years. He thought marriage was merely a business transaction.
“We’re here.” The maid announced as we stopped at the far end of the hallway with a bodyguard outside the door.
We watched the burly man enter the room and after a while he gestured us to come inside the room.
“Such precedence.” Marco muttered dryly as we entered the room.
I pointedly looked at him to give him a silent warning.
We were greeted by the powerful Cesare Fiorenza who sat at his massive table.
I glanced around to see the heavy curtains, huge chandeliers, fireplace and portrait of a beautiful woman above, it also had sofa seats for guests probably.
“Welcome to Fiorenza residence.” The powerful patriarch greeted with sharp eyes,like a hawk eyeing the trespassers to his territory. “To what do I owe this visit? Have a sit, please.”
We took the settee across Cesare Fiorenza’s table. Marco glanced briefly in my direction as if he was waiting for me to speak once we were seated.
When I didn’t answer he looked at the intimidating man and said, “I have a preposition, Signore.”
My heart gave a painful thud as he spoke those words. This was what you want, isn’t? A voice inside my head asked slyly.
“You do?” The Sicilian billionaire asked. He straightened from his seat and stared at Marco intently. “By all means, let’s hear it.”
Marco threw me a meaningful fleeting look before answering Cesare Fiorenza. “I want to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
The patriarch’s eyebrows shot upward. “Marriage, Signore Orsini?” He repeated with amusement in his tone. “But which of my daughters, sir? I have twins, Laila and Leila.”
“Laila, Signore.” I put in, joining the conversation for the first time.
“Laila…” Cesare Fiorenza said with coldness in his green eyes as he heard his daughter’s name. “What is your relation with Signore Marco Orsini?”
“I am—”
“She’s my secretary.” Marco supplied smoothly.
“Ah,” The patriarch said with recognition. “Were you the one who arranged this meeting?”
I swallowed. God, this man was really as intimidating as the papers had said. “Yes, sir.”
He regarded me and Marco for a moment before settling his gaze on the man beside me. “But why Laila, Signore.”
“I believe that she will be the perfect bride for an Orsini.”
Marco’s words shot straight to my heart. It was so painful that I couldn’t breathe. Maybe it’s a better idea if I hadn’t come with him here. I don’t think I can bear this meeting.
“Ah, yes. She’s perfect.” The coldness in the man’s green eyes were replaced by warmth in their depth. Clearly, he really adored his daughter, Laila, as the report had said. “But may I know this, why the sudden decision to ask for my daughter’s hand in marriage?”
“I am a man in my prime age.” Marco answered swiftly, not showing any emotion on his face. He’s not like the man I knew. “My grandfather wants me to marry as soon as possible.”
“Do you think Laila is that woman?”
“Yes.” Marco replied while his gaze was locked to mine. “She’s the bride I want.”
My silly heart leaped in my heart. He wasn’t talking about you, I told myself firmly. He was talking about princess Laila Fiorenza.
“Very well,” The powerful Sicilian said with a nod. “Guido.”
The burly man outside entered the room. “Yes, Signore?”
“Fetch Laila from her room.” Cesare commanded his watchdog. “Tell her to dress properly, we have visitors.”
“As you wish, Signore.”
Once the servant of left the room, the Sicilian stood from his chair and went to the cabinet, he pulled out what looked like a bottle of grappa. I grimaced. I never liked the taste of that liquor.
“While we are waiting for my daughter have some refreshments.” He gave us each a glass of grappa.
“Thank you, sir.” I said once I took the offered glass. My nose instantly wrinkled at the strong smell of the drink.
“So how long have you worked for Signore Orsini?” Cesare asked the direct question to me, taking a sip of his grappa.
“Uh—a-about a year now, sir.”
The intimating man nodded regally while Marco remained painfully silent. What’s wrong with him? He doesn’t look like a man asking a woman’s hand in marriage. He’s as cold as he said he will be with this business arrangement.
“Don’t you like the grappa?”
“Oh…” I was about to drink from my glass when Marco stopped my hand.
“She doesn’t drink, Signore.”
“Is that so?” Cesare eyebrow rose. “Forgive me, I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay, sir.” I smiled shyly at our host.
“Are you married, Signorina?”
“I’m a widow, sir.”
Shock was visible on the cool green eyes. “Pardon, I didn’t know. So young to be a widow.”
I smiled fleetingly. I felt like it happened so long ago that I barely remembered my marriage to Lorenzo.
“I got over with it, sir.”
“You must have been young when you got married, Signora?”
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“I was.”
I smiled self-mockingly. Thinking about the infatuation I felt for the man who didn’t deserve my innocent love for him. How naïve I was at that time, if hadn’t married him that time maybe my life would be different now. I would have a family of my own now if I hadn’t rushed into marriage.
I noticed that the powerful Sicilian still looked at me while I took a trip down memory lane. I tried to smile in a reassuring way. Remembering the past wasn’t as painful as before, there’s still pain but it was only fleeting. “I was twenty-one then, sir.”
“Didn’t you consider finding a new husband?” Cesare Fiorenza asked curiously.
“I have had enough of marriage, sir.” I informed him sadly, looking straight in his eyes. “Marriage is not for me.”
“I can see that you will be marrying again.” The Sicilian billionaire said while Marco growled in his seat.
I looked at him pointedly but he didn’t say anything.
A discreet knock sounded on the heavy wooden door, We all turned to look at the door.
“Come in,” Cesare Fiorenza said in the old Sicilian dialect.
A young woman probably in her mid-twenties entered the room wearing a chaste pure black coat dress. She’s covered from neck to knees.
“Patri,” The woman said, her gaze rested on the floor. “You asked for me?”
“Greet our guests, Laila.” The patriarch said to his daughter. “This is Signore Marco Orsini and his secretary.”
“How do you do?” The young lady said in a soft melodic voice, glancing briefly in our direction before looking again at the floor. “My name is Laila Fiorenza.”
Oh God, the picture in the report that my secretary had given me didn’t do justice to her beauty. She’s more beautiful in person. With her raven black hair and striking green eyes, high cheekbone, pale skin and aristocratic face. She’s the epitome of beauty.
Even Venus di Milo will feel threatened by her ethereal beauty. Now Marco will not have a problem in proposing to her. She’s the perfect woman. I feel like my heart is breaking into pieces.
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“I would like to inform you, dear girl that the Signore has asked your hand in marriage and I gave him my blessings.”
I didn’t know who was more shocked, me or the beautiful heiress. I don’t think I can bear this, it’s so painful I couldn’t breathe properly as if there was a giant weight crushing my heart this moment.
“But, Patri…” The Sicilian goddess started, her cool green eyes filled with despair as she silently pleaded with her tyrant father.
“It’s final, Laila.” Her father retorted back. “Do not disobey me, girl.”
“Yes, Patri.” The obedient daughter agreed with such misery in her voice.
Marco surprised us when he stood from the settee and marched towards the princess. Laila Fiorenza’s eye widened considerably when Marco took her hands and kissed it. “Pleasure meeting you, Signorina.”
If I didn’t know better I will assume he is pulling this stunt to get me jealous.
If that’s the case he’s doing perfectly fine.
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