The Wallflower's Revenge

Chapter 5: The Preparations

Success depends upon previous preparation, and without such preparation there is sure to be failure.

-Confucius

Tatiana Rostova's POV

I was reading in my room when Allegra knocked on my room before entering. "His Excellency wishes to see you in his library, Miss."

What could he possibly want from me? After our disturbing breakfast early this morning, I was left shivering at the unmistakable desire I saw in his silver eyes.

I closed the book I've been reading for the past hours and followed Allegra on Lucca's library.

Once we reached his library on the far end of the hallway on the first floor, Allegra bid her goodbye to me and left. I tap lightly on the heavy wooden door before entering. As usual, I am still amazed by his magnificent library. Several bookshelves filled with books with different kinds of genre. A huge painting above the fireplace, a thick carpet covered the whole room with sofa sets near the fireplace for comfortable reading and of course, a huge mahogany table where the duke had been sitting right now.

"You want to speak with me?" I asked him, closing the door behind me.

"Sì." He replied, putting down the papers he'd been reading and gesturing the vacant chair across to him for me to occupy.

I sat on one of the vacant leather chairs and looked at him expectantly. "What do you want to discuss with me?"

Lucca sat back on his chair. "About our wedding."

Our wedding.

I smiled at the irony. Few days ago, I was planning my wedding to a different man. Now, I am going to discuss my new wedding arrangement to him—a duke, no less.

"What about it?"

He looked straight in my eyes. "As I am a duke, the cream of Italian society expects my wedding to be grand and lavish. But I think they will have a heart failure when they see my bride." He smiled at the thought. "The woman the whole world knew was missing on the sea. So, do you want a grand wedding that could shock the Italian society?"

I shook my head. It was never my dream to marry with hundreds of guests in attendance. As a child, I always dream of a simple and intimate wedding. But Paolo wanted a splendid wedding fitted to the heiress of the Rostov family he once told me. That's why my supposed wedding in weeks' time with him was more like a state dinner than a wedding.

"Do you mind a simple wedding?" I asked him and this was not a real wedding, after all. "A priest with two witnesses here in your villa. I don't want people to know yet that Tatiana Rostova is still alive."

"Is that what you want?"

I nodded. "Besides, you can have your lavish wedding when you really marry for real. Remember, I'm only your temporary wife until I have my revenge."

His face was unreadable. I don't know what he was thinking. "When do you want the wedding?"

"As soon as possible."

He smiled wolfishly as he rubbed his five o'clock shadow jaw. "I am thinking of two days from today, is that okay with you?"

I nodded in agreement. The sooner the better for me. "Fine with me. I would like to tell you something else."

"What?"

"I decided to change my name in public. A new identity. People will know me as Mariya Cavelli—wife of Lucca Cavelli, the Duke of Caprielle."

A private smile crossed his handsome face. "Mariya? In Arabic 'Mariya' means pure. But in Russian 'Mariya' means bitter. So which one of the two made you decide to use that name?"

I could feel heat warming my cheeks. The devil was making fun at me again. I glared at him and said nonchalantly. "Does it matter?"

Apparently, he guessed the reason why I decided to use that name because he laughed at me. "From a name meaning 'Fairy Queen'—into a name meaning 'Bitter', quite catchy."

I grimaced. I should have known that Lucca Cavelli would have a vast knowledge in name origins. I should not have underestimated him again. "Do you agree or not?" I asked him with a scowl on my face.

"Of course," He was still grinning. "My turn."

I braced myself for what he was about to say. "What do you want?"

"I want you to have a make-over."

"What?" I nearly leap off my chair at his suggestions. "You're not serious, are you?"

"I am." He confirmed, gesturing my attire with his hand. "Look at you. I mean, don't get me wrong but no one would believe that I fell over heels for a woman dressed like an old aunt."

Ouch. He didn't have to be brutal in criticizing my favored outfits.

"Fair trade, wouldn't you say?" He pressed in. "A new identity and a new appearance. A look fitted for Mariya Cavelli, the Duchess of Caprielle."

That's when it occurred to me that once I married Lucca, I would be a duchess! It never comes to mind that I would be a duchess. A make-over would really much require now I am going to be a duchess however short that may be.

But still, I must trade my comfortable clothes for a sexy outfit fitted for Mariya Cavelli. Was it worth the effort? "When do you plan to start this make-over? What are you going to change on me?"

Lucca gave me a wry smile. "From head to toe, of course. Only you would look like going to prison at the chance of make-over."

"When?" I asked again when he didn't answer my question.

"I'm thinking the day after our wedding."

I gave a resigned sigh at the fate waiting for me in two days.

"That can be altered," he suggested, my spirits lifted when he told me. "If we'll have a honeymoon, of course."

And my hope had died quickly. His eyes dance with wickedness. "No thanks."

He laughed. "Spoilsport."

"Is that all you want to discuss with me?" I asked, preparing for my leave.

"Yes." He straightened up on his chair.

I nodded and turned to leave him alone when I heard him softly reaching for the door handle. "One more thing, Tatiana."

I glanced over my shoulder to find his face full of seriousness. "You said that this wedding is only an alliance in order to achieve your revenge. I hope in the process—don't stupidly give your heart to me. Because I may crush it."

"Don't worry, Lucca." I said with the truthfulness inside my chest. "I don't think I have a heart to give."

With that, I felt him and walked to my room. I had given him an honest answer to his warning. I am not that dense to give my heart again to an Italian playboy. I've already learned my lesson with Paolo and falling for a womanizing duke was asking for permanent damage to one's heart.

Right this moment, the thing they called heart on my chest was pure of nothing but hatred...