Arranged Marriage

Chapter 6

Snatching my sarong from the other chair, I wrapped it around my waist before I followed Nickola back inside.

"What does he want?" I asked him, as we made our way up the steps.

"Ahh," he stalled, not wanting to break the news to me, "it's probably best if he speaks to you."

I couldn't help but scoff, "I've been married to the man for two days and already I know that can't be good."

He gave me a sorry smile and refused to speak as we neared the French doors of Patrick's office.

Nickola opened one up for me and gestured me through, showing manners that Patrick was yet too.

"You summoned me," I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest.

I wasn't going to let him feel good about himself, even if this was an apology for his actions earlier. No way. He ruined my time in the sun and for that, I wanted blood.

"Yes," he said, raising from his desk chair, "my men have a hard enough job without being distracted by you."

What? That's no apology. There wasn't even a sorry.

"What?" I hissed, not understanding what he was excusing me of, "I haven't spoken to anyone except for Nickola when he came out to fetch me."

"Oh so, your display was what, just by accident," he snapped, gesturing to my body.

I looked down and gasped when I realized what he meant. He thought I had dressed in a bikini to entice his men. Seriously?

"You pig!" I shouted, "I was sun baking because last time I checked, I lived here now!"

"Yes, and all I'm asking you to do is not parade yourself around like a -."

"Prostitute!" I screamed, watching him freeze under my fire, "you really are the charmer, aren't you Maestri? No wonder you had to have an arranged marriage. I don't know who would have married you otherwise."

He dropped his head back and gave a bitter chuckle, only fuelling my anger, "if that's all you've got then you're not going to survive five minutes."

"I've got my pride," I growled, only causing his chuckles to grow, "and my own mind for that matter and I know that I don't appreciate it when people call me a dirty little hoe."

"I never called you that," he argued, raising his hands as if he was innocent.

"You implied it," I snarled, before dropping my hands, "but hey, you wouldn't believe me anyway."

"Does that really hurt you?" He asked, almost interested, "does it really hurt that I don't trust you?"

"Yeah, it kind of does," I snapped, "because last time I checked, I'm not your business partner, Patrick!"

"No, worse, your my wife," he snapped, making me scoff, "do you know what would happen if I trusted people at face value, just by my gut? Lots of people would die, do you understand?"

I narrowed my eyes at him and crossed my arms, challenging him myself.

"I have nine years, ahead of you Eliza," he growled, moving around from his desk, "nine years more experience of running a business and seeing how disloyal and unholy this world really is. You've only seen the world behind daddy's cash -."

"And you haven't!" I snapped, not realizing that we were only inches apart.

"Look at me. Does it look like I have?" He growled, causing my eyes to look into his again.