POSSESSIVE (MXM)

Nineteen

After spending days ducking and dodging Peter, Marie never imagined the man would one day walk into her family bakery the day when her mother was not around. As soon as the bell rang above his head, Marie had felt her knees shake, her heartbeat rise, fingers fidgeting on the counter, and her eyes running all over the place. Peter grabbed a loaf of bread, and headed to the counter, running his fingers through his black curls that he had let to grow to his jawline, highlighting his emerald green eyes. He licked his sweet pink lips as he leaned against the counter placing the loaf on top. Peter was a stunning bachelor wanted by many girls, he probably slept with all of them, at least that is what Marie thought of him.

"That will be fifteen shekels," she said in a soft voice, eyes staring at the brown wooden counter.

She was startled when she felt a cool hand on top of hers. Her eyes snapped to the hand and then the own, wide and panicked.

"You are a really hard lady to locate. I've been meaning for us to talk about the other night," he said, his confidence evident in his willingness to keep eye contact.

"What night?" Marie asked breathless, snatching her hand out of Peter's grasp.

"The night of the ball."

"I do not have any memory of it. So, if you spilt a drink on me as I found a wine stain on my dress, that would be a hundred shekels," she said, before swallowing dryly, and slightly stumbling back trying by all means to hide her lie as she tried to keep her stare firm.

Peter was at first taken aback before chuckling and leaning over the counter. His finger brushed under her chin in a flirtatious manner. His minty scent penetrated into Marie's nostril as she jerked her head back as a reaction to Peter's unwanted finger.

"You know we did more than just that, Marie. What we did was magical," he declared, before biting his bottom lip, eyes gazing at Marie's body suggestively before locking with her eyes again.

Marie gulped, feeling her body tremble with nerves as she wrings her fingers.

"I do not remember. I must have been too drunk," she said, already tears glossing her eyes, throat heavy and bitter.

"Don't say that, Marie," Peter breathed, suddenly his voice was weak, and he even appeared hurt by her word. "I am willing to take your hand in marriage. Since school, you've always been the one," he declared, clutching his left side of his chest as he declared that.

Marie looked down feeling shame.

"I do not know what you speak of," she said in a quivering voice as those tears that once shielded her eyes fell to her cheeks. She sniffled and said, "fifteen shekels please."

Peter was about to say something when the bell rang, and when he turned he saw Nolan stomping into the bakery. He gulped nervously even as he bowed.

"Milord," he said and received a curt nod in return.

Quickly, Peter slammed the coins on the counter, grabbed the loaf discreetly chancing a glance at Marie who was patting her eyes with the fabric of her dress. He sighed and left the bakery. That was when Marie fixed her dress and turned around with a fake smile to look at Nolan, but immediately her smile fell when she saw the fuming prince.

"Nolan, is everything well?" She asked in deep concern.

Nolan gulped, now realising, Marie is not the person to tell about this. He should have gone to Matilda instead. However, he nodded and tried to calm himself down.

"I am fine. Just found out some disturbing news. Nothing I cannot handle," he said, forcing his own smile.

"Want to talk about it?" She asked gesturing to one of the tables.