Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 102566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
I can't bring myself to say anything. My heart is pounding, and merely keeping my eyes trained on Vitto's is a task I can barely carry on with.
"Marzia, won't you look at me?" his husky voice asks, and I swallow my pride, raising my gaze to meet his. He smiles, an imperfect smile tilted to one side, but that only makes him more charming - to anyone but me. "You are more beautiful than I could have hoped, Marzia De Luca."
"Thank you," I whisper, eager for him to give me permission to look away again. I can't look at him. The sight of his grey eyes tinged with the cruelty I know he possesses fills me with dread. "We should go downstairs. The party has already started."
"No," he replies simply, squashing my hopes with that simple little word. "I want to be with you a while longer. I want to get to know you. We are to be married after all."
He chuckles darkly at the words, making me feel sick. I don't want to marry him. I don't want to be his property. But something tells me even if my parents were merciful enough to spare me, Vitto wouldn't. Because there's something in his eyes that sparkles darker than anything else I've ever seen. The man standing before me is no longer a boy. He is all man, and the dark intentions he has for me are written all over his handsome, chiseled face.
"You're so quiet," he says. "Speak."
It doesn't feel like a request but instead an order, and I blanch, trying my best not to stutter as I finally open my mouth.
"I hope you enjoy the party tonight," I start rambling. "My parents have invited a lot of people... I'm sure it will be to your liking, signore-"
"Call me Vitto," he says with another one of those charming-yet-cruel smiles. At least something hasn't changed since our childhood. He still has that cruel streak residing deep down... And I just know it's going to come out to play sooner rather than later. "And please, let's speak of something else. I want to know you. Who is Marzia De Luca?"
I don't know what to tell him. My parents have done their very best to prevent me from having a personality. I wasn't allowed books, media or anything that I could develop a taste for. My days were spent in boredom, learning things that they deemed acceptable. I found a passion for drawing, sketching. But when papa discovered how much I loved it, the pencils and sketchbooks were all taken away. He told me my talent had grown enough, and getting better at drawing would only make me insolent. Undesirable.
I hated him for that, but I had no choice. Papa was always right. And from now on, Vitto is the one whom I will obey. The one who will command me. I'm already dreading the thought.
"I don't know w-what to say," I whisper, avoiding his gaze.
"Just tell me about yourself," he insists. "I want to know everything."
"There's not much to say." I shift my weight from one weight to another self-consciously. Apart from the fact that I wish you were someone else, and that I wasn't being forced to marry you.
"What do you enjoy doing?"
"I used to enjoy drawing."
"But you don't anymore?"
I shake my head reluctantly. "My papa didn't think I should carry on with it."
"Well, you can draw all you want once we get married," Vitto tells me with a generous smile. It's a way to appease me, and it should, but all it does is make me want to scream. I don't want his small mercies. I just want my freedom. To run away from him and never hear the Donati family name ever again. "I promise you, I will be a good husband. I'm delighted your parents picked me as your groom. And I believe we can make each other very happy. Don't you think so, Marzia?"
I nod even though I don't feel that way at all. I don't think I will ever be happy. It seems like that emotion is just out of reach for me - dangling right before my eyes, but never close enough for me to grab it and hold on to it.
"I was wondering," Vitto goes on. "I know this may be presumptuous of me and we have only just seen each other after years and years apart, but..."
I raise my eyes to his, and he takes it as an invitation to raise his hand, cupping my left cheek. I let out a gasp. No man has ever touched me like this before, except for papa. And I'm sure he wouldn't approve of this blatant display of affection. If Vitto weren't a Donati, he'd have his hand cut off for this.
"What are you doing?" I whisper, afraid of his answer. I hate admitting it, but his closeness repulses me. I don't want him to touch me. I don't want his hands on me. My eyes fill with unspilled tears and I hate myself for being such a child. But I can't bear this. My whole body vibrates with one wish only - for Vitto Donati to take his hands off me.