Differences

Chapter 2 - Alaina

I feel like my writing style is very chunky chapters . . .  but I hope you enjoy them just as much as I do!

Warning, ideas of :

Eating disorder, child neglect are mentioned. They are not directly mentioned however it is hinted within this chapter. Please read what is comfortable for you. 

Enjoy reading💕

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Perhaps the cloudless blue skies and the bright sunshine was attempting to counteract the dreary atmosphere present between the two families at the terrace dining.

But it was nowhere near effective.

Tension between the two heads were clear and hostility for one another was so potent I could taste the sour, bitter taste spreading throughout my mouth. 

Our families were not exactly enemies,  nor were we friends. The perfect relation that we had that could be moulded into words was probably just, coexisting. Weary of each other but not enough to outright cause harm to one another.

If anything was clear, I wasn't welcomed into this new family. But when was I ever welcomed when my own parents hates my very own existence? It should've been a no brainer why I was practically sold off to another family.

I was only told this marriage was going to go ahead last night. I was uncomfortable with the abrupt news and attempted to refuse the offer. I wanted to stay and be useful to this family for as long as I could, but that idea was quickly rejected when my father snapped that the only way I would be useful for the family was to marry into the family of the American-Italian mafia. And obviously no one went against our father. Or dad or darling as the rest of my family would call him. Only I and his men were to call him formally. 

The brunch began way over an hour ago, but my future husband was still absent. He was attending an important meeting was all I was told of, but I felt like I was already rejected from my future husband. I shouldn't feel any humiliation just because he was attending an important meeting, but here I was, thinking of everything that was wrong me and how those qualities could relate to his absence from this brunch.

Few shallow conversations were exchanged between the families, but it was clear they were only doing this to stretch out the time. My father was starting to become restless, and my mother's anxiety started seep out from her forced out warm smiles. If there was a flaw about being Italian, it was that we're not so great at concealing our emotions. If we're happy, you can tell, if we're sad, you can tell, and if we were pissed off, that was very clear.

Especially in our family. I imagine I am just the same. But I wouldn't know, no one cared enough to check in with my emotions or my feelings.

I too was beginning to feel fatigued. All I wanted to do was get into a nice hot shower. I played around with my food that I have successfully left untouched. I haven't felt hunger in so long, I've long forgotten the need for food. 

Oblivious to my surroundings, with the sounds of cutlery clinking ceasing, I continued to play around with my food until my mother nudged me in the ribs, offsetting a sharp pain blooming from my ribs to my torso. There was gonna be a bruise. I was sure of it.

Reluctantly, I look up and see a man entering to the terrace dining where we were. He wore an all-black suit that was undoubtedly custom made for him. It cinched his figure in all the right places, showing off his broad shoulders, tiny waist, and large toned thighs.

His face was full of imperfections. A scar ran down the side of his left check, his nose was slightly crooked and the colour of his eyes were mismatched. Heterochromia Iridium, I noted to myself. His left eye were a mix of green and hazel, reminding me of a forest while his right eye were ice blue, like the colour of snowflakes. Ironically, all his imperfections, made him look like perfection.

He was the man I was going to marry

It's a shame he had to marry someone like me. I was everything boring and ugly. Boring brown hair, boring brown eyes, a midget, and I had a sever absence curves which was ridiculous because I come from a lineage of big curves. I was nothing like my sister Daniella who had beautiful blond hair, bright hazel eyes and had the curves all the girls would pay for, including myself.

If anything, I was the ugly and my family made sure I knew of that. Comments to make sure I don't eat too much, do better at makeup to hide imperfections, made sure to shop for clothes that can take on the role to make myself look even a little bit better in front of the mirror. It hurt the first few couple of times, but after a while, you become desensitised to it. It barely registers in my brain before it leaves the other side of my ear.

But once again I am reminded how worthless I was compared to the man I was going to marry. If this wasn't an arranged marriage of convenience, there was no way I would have married a man that looked like that. I would just have to pray that all our hypothetical children would be a carbon copy of this man. I can't imagine having to raise a child like myself. I would no doubt self-loath myself even more and constantly feel sorry for my child. 

My train of thoughts were interrupted when my future father-in-law introduced his son. He looked unimaginably proud of his son even though he arrived at the brunch now, two hours late.

"Apologies for my late arrival. A tricky deal I had to solidify. I'm Luke Taylor. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. And especially to you, Ms Alaina De Luca," he greets. One would say he was the only who was delighted to meet our family, only if it wasn't for the slight twitch on his left brow which displayed subtle displeasure.

"Ah, its good to see the man in flesh. I understand, deals are never easy. Take a seat." My father greets back almost pleasurably. 

"Actually, I was thinking if Alaina and I could have a chat in private. I'd like to get to know her a little more. Somewhere in the courtyard of there perhaps." Luke suggests while pointing towards the courtyard that spread across and engulfed the restaurant.

"That sounds lovely dear," my future mother-in-law shares but I was unsure if I wanted to go alone with a man that looked so gorgeous. I felt so inferior it was almost laughable. 'An underworld assassinator feeling insecure for her looks'. It could be a scandalous title of some magazines.

With my mother glaring at me with warning, I knew, I didn't really have a choice. So, I stood up and followed the man who was to be my future husband back inside the restaurant and out to the courtyard.