|18+| ❛𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒊 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 ❜
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Dark mysterious eyes.
Fierce blazing eyes.
Two enemies under one roof under the binds of an arranged marriage.
While trying their best to ign...
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The sound of my pen scribbling on the paper and my occasional sighs fills the room.
My eyes dart to the painting at the corner of the room like it has been for the past hour since I entered my study.
If this is really how marriage is, it's no wonder the rates of divorce were high.
She was mad I didn't want us to stay for the function and I got her the painting as an apology and she refused? What the hell am I supposed to do again?
Given that I had to pay triple the amount of the painting from the original buyer, says a lot what I'm willing to do to apologize.
Paying fifty thousand dollars for the painting isn't the issue but my ego being bruised at her refusal. Now I don't know what the fuck I'm going to do with it.
My phone cuts through the peace and quiet of the room and I frown at the intrusion.
My mom's name flashed across the screen, making my face soften.
"Hello," I say, putting the phone on speaker.
"Hey Valerio," her bubbly voice flows through the phone and I shake my head at her usual bright attitude. "How are you doing this morning?"
"Mom it's 9am, don't you think it's too early to be this happy?"
She scoffs, "Nope. Happiness doesn't need a specific time to spread so let go of that grumpy attitude and accept it."
"No, I think I'd pass on that one." I reply, earning a laugh from her.
"As always," she sighs. "How's Isabella?"
I look around my study, eyes settling on the painting again. "She's fine."
"Can I speak with her?"
"No," I rush out, suddenly panicking and feeling bad for lying this early morning to my mother. "She's in the bathroom."
"Oh alright, well I told her I had a surprise for her but I guess you should relay my message to her."
I nod, realizing she couldn't see me. "Sure, what's it?"
She starts talking about her plan and gift like she called it, making a frown make it way unto my face, deepening by every word she lets out.
"Mom, I don't think Isa—"
"I've got to go," she exclaims, cutting me off. "Talk to Isabella about it and let me know what she thinks."
"Mom—"
"Valerio Vinci!" she snaps. "The marriage doesn't consists of you alone. You and Isabella make and conclude decisions . So get to her and let me know both of your final decision. Is that clear?"
The argument leaves my body as I thread my fingers through my hair. "Fine."
She ends the call and I push myself off the chair, making it roll back before hitting the wall.
