Azalea Faye Larau - The sweetheart socialite with a fire underneath and an up and coming ballet dancer in London striving to stay afloat in an ocean of sharks, all the while dealing with heartbreak and loss.
Harlan Emeric Marchetti - The Italian Maf...
"Used to be afraid of love and what it might do, but goddamn, you got me in love again."
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"Stop touching me." I muttered as I moved his hand away from my bare thigh.
"You're my wife, I can touch you whenever I want." He huffed and I glared at him in response.
"Fiancé, Red, fiancé," I said through clenched teeth, "For the last time, I'm not your wife."
"Yet." He corrected and I shook my head dejectedly as I looked out the window.
"How was the food?" He asked me after a few moments when I briefly glanced at him.
"It was good."
"Good enough for the wedding?" He confirmed and I nodded, looking away with a frown when he mentioned the 'wedding'.
"When is it?" I asked when he looked at me, "The wedding, I mean."
His eyes skimmed over my face before settling on my lips, a dark look crossing them before he spoke.
"Next month." He told me when my heart dropped, my blood running cold and I was sure I was as pale as a ghost right that moment as his hand cupped my cheek and stroked it gently.
"You look like you're going to have a heart attack." He murmured and I swallowed thickly, my throat suddenly dry.
That's because I am.
"Why is the wedding so soon? I thought you said you needed time?" I asked, my voice uneven and far from steady as I cleared my throat and cringed at myself.
Get a grip, Azalea.
"Time has passed, butterfly, we've been engaged for more than a month now, and it'll be two months till the wedding." He told me and I frowned.
"People stay engaged for years." I tried to reason when he raised a brow at me.
"I'm not people." He said and I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Oh, yes, I forgot, you're a murderer and a criminal." I joked, but he didn't seem to like it very much the way he looked at me with a withering glare.
"I'm sorry." I quickly added and heard his small hum as he moved back to his seat and his touch left me confusingly cold but also less tense and nervous.
"Sure you are." He muttered under his breath.
I pretended not to have heard him as I placed a hand on my now queasy stomach and looked out, panicking on the inside as he reached inside his blazer pocket and took out his wallet, holding out a black card towards me.
"Get a dress, go with your friends and get anything else you might want." He said and I glanced at the card between his fingers warily.
"I have money." I told him confidently when his crimson eyes moved to my amethyst ones and he held my gaze for a few long, agonising moments.
