Greetings sweet people....
How are you?
This chapter is dedicated to shazameena (my honeybunch 🍯)
Please ignore the typo mistakes
Enjoy!!
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"Sweetie, ora smettila di guardare male quel pover'uomo,"
(Sweetie, stop glaring at the poor man)
Mama Clair, Hermione's mother, exclaimed in a hushed tone, though everyone in the room could hear her.
Both families, along with their friends, were on Wyatt's private jet, which was as large as a small condo. They were having dinner while Hermione shot fireballs at Nedvar, hoping he would turn to ashes—at least, in her imagination. She was feeding little Ethan, all the while glaring at Nedvar, the "poor man," as her mother described him.
Stupid, crazy asshole...
She thought, shifting her gaze to Ethan, who was sipping his favorite juice. Taking a bite of her food, she continued to feed both Ethan and herself alternately.
The air was thick with tension, and Hermione felt on the verge of shouting some sense into Nedvar's ear but kept quiet, knowing it wasn't the right time.
As soon as he made the call to Thomas, ordering him to bring all the women back to the mansion, they rushed out of the mall, leaving their food half-eaten. The drive from the mall to the mansion usually took about an hour, but they reached it in just 20 minutes; the car's speed was astonishing. Nedvar had informed everyone about the wedding in Venice without mentioning the danger, claiming only that his grandmother wanted to host the wedding on their private island, inviting only close relatives, friends, and business acquaintances.
Hermione was furious—"pissed" would be an understatement—as she just wanted to get this wedding over with, especially since it meant being near Nedvar, the thing she started to despise.
"Mama, you know I was born in Venice," Ethan said, throwing his arms in the air, prompting Hermione to nod in agreement.
"Wow, that is so nice, bubba," Hermione smiled at him as she ruffled his hair.
Ethan's chatter successfully distracted Hermione from glaring at Nedvar, who remained unfazed, lost in deep thought as he mentally listed his enemies willing to challenge the Mafia King.
"Ok, Bambina, stay in your room, and the same goes for you, young man," Grandmother Zoey sweetly told Hermione while sternly addressing Nedvar.
Now another favorite Bambina of Oma, Nedvar thought, biting back the urge to roll his eyes. He didn't want to risk getting scolded by his grandmother in front of his future wife.
(Oma means grandmother in German)
The dinner passed in a blur, as Nedvar's mood darkened. He wore an angry frown and sighed loudly every few minutes, so lost in thought that he didn't notice the playful smirks of Aldo, Rocco, and even his father, Edouard, who sat next to Dan with a smug smile.
Nedvar finished his dinner quickly. After mumbling a quiet thanks for the meal, he walked inside and slammed the door behind him.
What crawled up his ass and died? Hermione wondered. Nedvar never lost his temper; he was usually laid-back. Seeing him so angry made her question what had happened to prompt an overnight flight to Venice.
YOU ARE READING
HIS DAME
General Fiction"On your knees now" Nedvar spoke with a harsh tone, a tone he never uses it with Hermione. Hermione stood there shocked, not believing any word he just spoke. She stood there contemplating her thoughts and his order. He was always requesting and h...
