Rekindled Rendezvous

Chapter Two

I didn't remember exactly what time I fell asleep, but in the morning, I was still as exhausted as the previous night.

Unfortunately, my morning zombie behavior got a scolding from Dad, who looked at me like I was a filthy piece of gum under his shoe. "I've hired a few maids to clean you up," he said. "You'll want to look beautiful for Oliver,"

With that, he swooped out of my room as a few women quietly enter. I took a shower and allowed the maids to pamper and prod me.

I sadly looked out the window as they continued to pull at my hair, paint my face and rummage through my closet.

I swallowed, staring at the sunny scenery in front of me. The window provided a beautiful view of our garden and street. People bustled around merrily as cars sped past. Tree branches were swaying gently to the whistling tune of the wind and the sky was a Mediterranean sea blue. I watched as birds soared through the air, becoming smaller and smaller as they drifted farther off from my vision.

For a moment, I wondered what freedom was like.

To be able to do anything you pleased, without being controlled by your parents. To be able to make your own decision and not be judged. But most of all, to be able to say what's on your mind. Most teenagers had these privileges but I didn't.

If I tried leaving the house, my father would surely get the guards involved.

If I tried to defy what he had to say, he would surely restrict me from leaving my room.

But worst of all, I wasn't allowed to resist his orders.

I mean, after the Francisco fiasco, I got engaged to a man I barely knew. If I ever tried to reject Father's commands again, I'm sure he would throw me out of the house.

A maid asked me to open my mouth and I tried not to react as her fingers pried open my lips to apply a red lipstick. While this was all happening, a maid jabbed pins into my scalp while another painted my nails.

This continued for some time and after hours of uncomfortable pampering, the maids were finally done. Without a word, they quietly exited out my door.

My bones cracked as I stood up. Wincing at the numbness that spread through my left leg as I tried to walk, I trudged over to the mirror.

In all honesty, I looked beautiful. My blonde hair was pinned back in waves that cascaded down my shoulders up and stopped right above my waist, which was decorated in a periwinkle blue silk dress.

I licked my reddened lips, hoping none of the lipstick smeared onto my teeth and stared at my eyelinered lids. I know, I should be thankful for this generous makeover my father arranged, but criticism and doubt entered my head before any positive messages were thought.

This isn't what the real Alessia would wear.

The real me would settle for something comfortable, like a black sweater and white jeans. I would throw my hair up in a messy bun or high ponytail and with a swipe of a mascara wand, be out the door to meet my date.

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts and I turned my head just in time to see Adam. He sent me a polite smile. "Hello Alessia," he greeted me. "Your fiance is waiting downstairs."

As we walked down the hallway, I admired how beautiful our house was. Adam and I made our way down the stairs and to the front door, where I could see my father talking.

Unfortunately, I couldn't catch a glimpse of who he was talking to so I walked towards my father. He noticed me and beckoned me forward. Shyly, I slowly shuffled my feet toward him.

"You look beautiful, sweetie." Dad sweet-talked, flashing me a charming smile. This was the side of Father the media knew. The loving, smart and charismatic facade he acted in the presence of others. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and instead, smiled back at him.

"I want you to meet your fiance; Oliver," Dad said, forcing my eyes away from him and toward Oliver.

I suppose he was good looking. Oliver possessed curly dark brown hair styled up in a quiff. His features were defined, with an upturned nose and narrowed chocolate brown eyes. He was surely attractive, but not as handsome as Francisco.

He confidently smiled, showing a ray of straight white teeth and stepped forward. "I'm Oliver. It's a pleasure to meet you."

I extended my hand for him to shake, but instead he placed a feathery kiss on my palm, the whole time maintaining eye contact with me. I was so stunned, I started stuttering on the spot.

He laughed. "What's your name, beautiful?" I try my hardest not to show my distaste for the nickname but my eyebrows furrowed in displeasure.

"Alessia," I tried to smile, but I had a feeling it looked more like a grimace instead. Oddly, this didn't falter Oliver. "It's a relief knowing my future wife is gorgeous," he grinned. "Our children will look wonderful!"

Suddenly, I abruptly take a step back and flinch. Oliver was taking things too far. We had just met, for god's sake! "Excuse me," I addressed Father and Oliver. "I need a bit of air."

I walked as calmly as possible away from them but as soon as I was out of their sight, I burst into tears.

I blindly ran and tripped, tumbling into the grass. When I stood up, I realized I was in the garden. I inhaled deeply, allowing the flowery scent of the roses to waft into my nose and travel down my system.

"Your father said I would find you here," I whirled around and my eyes widened in both disbelief and anger.

Author's Note:

Hey, wassup, hello! I hope you're having an amazing day. Another cliffhanger! Who do you think followed her into the garden? Her mother? Francisco? Oliver? Adam? Or...was it someone else?

This chapter is dedicated to amymarshmallow. Thank you so much for reading this book and helping me edit my chapters. It means a lot!

Don't forget to vote and comment. Thanks for reading!

-Nisha