Italian Coffee House [BWWM]

- C h a p t e r 15 -

Hey Rom-Cubs,

Here's the long-awaited fifteenth installation.

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- Ang

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Niccolo's Chocolate House

Chapter 15

*Dari*

Can I really go through with this? Can I live with it for the rest of my life?
More importantly, could I live with him?

I looked up to see his icy blue piercing gaze on me. Evidently, he was still mad and I couldn't find fault with that. I could've sworn then and there, had it been the slightest bit more intense he would have fried an omelette or better yet, burned two holes into my skull. Despite his obvious distaste towards me, he seemed to look all the more appealing to the eye. 

Niccolò was dressed to kill and I might as well have been his first victim. His thick raven hair glistened under the soft light, slicked back and I couldn't deny the need I felt to run my fingers through it to return it to its usual curly state. 

His dark suit contrasted with his bright blue eyes, making them stand out. Besides that, it seemed to fit his well-sculpted body perfectly and I was sure if he walked down the street every woman within a hundred-mile radius would stop and start begging him to take them to bed. 

He wore a coral green tie which somehow complimented his eyes. I didn't think it was possible for the man to look more gorgeous, but he obviously had a knack for proving me wrong.

He could as well have been on the cover of a magazine, a model for Calvin Klein designs as well as several other prominent magazines women idolized. But alas, he stood before me in a court of law, ready to take the plunge hook, line and sinker. I was certain he could've had any woman he wanted in the snap of a finger, looking the way he did now. 

He was young, muscular, gorgeous and had an air of charisma about him that surely attracted women to him like bees to honey. What I couldn't understand was why he wanted to marry me and that bothered me now, more than it did before. It was odd, the attention I got from him after all I wasn't used to being pursued by men outside of my race, far less asked by one to marry him, though that was putting it lightly. He basically demanded that I do.

Firstly, Niccolò blackmailed me into accepting his proposal of marriage, which, might I add, had to be the furthest thing from it in my opinion. There was nothing amorous about it, so much so that it appeared like a pitch to win an account or a client than anything else. 

 Furthermore, he made me the most outrageous and tempting offer, knowing well enough that I was in no position to refuse. I admit, I could've refused but I was not only playing with my life but my papa's. I was desperate in no uncertain terms. I doubted that I would be much use to him out of a job with the remnants of my last paycheck to survive on. Though the job paid well, I wouldn't see the money in a good hour after taking care of his medical bills. 

The bargain seemed simple, harmless enough, his much-needed resources for a chance to love me. Who would pass it up in my position? He could just as easily snatched up a young gorgeous woman in a heartbeat. In theory, the whole thing seemed plausible, however, now that things were moving along faster than a bat out of hell, I wasn't as keen about the idea anymore. The more I examined it, the more it appeared to be some sick joke.