THE BRIDE CHAPTER 13

THE BRIDE
Chapter 13

“Lorenzo told me that he will wait
for our wedding night before…” I
told him between the hot tears
threatened to fell in my eyes. “He
never bothered to seduce his
young bride because he’s been
busy with…”
“Shh…” Marco Orsini wiped my
tears and kissed me gently. “It’s
okay. I promised it will be okay
soon.” He cocooned and started to
move inside me. The feeling was
strange but…
“Marco…” I writhed beneath him as
he changed his tempo and his
thrusts were faster and harder
each plunge leaves me breathless.
“Francesca, dearest…”
“Marco…” I knew he was coming, I
run my nails on his back to
encourage him and hook my legs
on his waist. Suddenly, I felt hot
liquid spread through my womb as
he spilled his seed inside me.
“My beautiful ice queen.” He kissed
me gently on the lips before falling
into my side. He placed his arms on
my waist securely and hugged me
from behind. We stayed like that
until we fell asleep.
The next morning. The first thing I
notice was the strange room and I
am on the strange bed and an arm
steadily place on my middle. I slowly
turn around to look at the
peacefully sleeping Marco beside
me.
A blushed spread through my
cheeks as I remembered last night’s
events. Marco Orsini made love to
me again and again and again. I
didn’t realize that a man had that
energy to burn during the night.
I carefully removed his hand from
my waist trying not to wake him. I
tiptoed from the bed and carefully
picking up my undergarments and
discarded gown on the floor. I felt
like a teenager in the morning after
last night’s hookups.
I silently dressed and forcing myself
to leave the sleeping Marco in his
penthouse. When I woke up I feel
like a different person now. Maybe
because this morning when I woke
up I am no longer a virgin. I
remained a virgin at the age of
twenty-eight. After my husband’s
death I never took lovers and dated
again.
So why lose your virginity to him? A
voice inside my head asked. I don’t
know the answer for that. I still
don’t know to the answer to that
question as I ride cab on my way
home.
Once I arrived at my penthouse my
decision was resolute. I need a
break. I need a break from all of
this. I need to get away from Italy
for a few days or weeks after that I
will sort this messed I’ve been.
I dialed someone on the phone
after a few rings. “Hi, mama. It’s
me, I’m coming for a visit.”
.
.
France cannot be France without
greatness.
-Charles de Gaulle
Francesca Marcolini’s POV
“Welcome to France, Mademoiselle.”
The chauffer that my mother had
sent to the airport to fetch me
greeted me with a warm smile on
his elderly face.
“Thank you.” I replied with equally
warm smile as I slid off the Royce
Rolls.
“Darling!” An overly dress woman
approached us half-walking, half-
running. “I’m so glad you came for
a visit, Francesca. I thought you
already forget that you have a
mama, dear girl.”
I sighed as I kiss my mother on
both of her cheeks. “Are you
expecting the queen of England
today?”
My mother, Lianna Broussard,
frowned at my direction. “Are you
trying to be funny, Francesca?”
I hide my smile as the maid starts
to bring my luggage inside the very
glamorous chateau my mother’s
second husband’s owned. My
mother was a famous theater
actress here in France and
sometimes—no scratch that, most
of the time she adapt her role as
drama queen to real life.
Like now she’s so overly dressed as
if entertaining the queen. And if I
commented on how she dressed
she would just give me an awful of
lecture.
“Come on, daughter. I already told
the maid to prepare for a tea at the
garden. Let’s enjoy the sun. A fine
weather, isn’t?”
“You don’t need to arrange
welcome committee at the airport,
Mama.” I reprimanded her casually.
“I can do it on my own.”
“I just don’t want you to have the
hassle for taxi or rented car,
Francesca.” And that’s it. My mother
had just turn into the drama queen.
Giving me her very earnest look.
“You mama were just excited to
see you.”
I just took a deep breath and let it
passed or else this is going to be a
long vacation for me. “By the way,
where’s Alain?”
Alain Broussard was my mother’s
second husband. A very wealthy
French businessman who had
fallen in love with my mother in
Paris—or as my mother claimed.
But I genuinely believed that he
adored my mother very much with
all of her antics.
“Oh, he’s in Paris for business.” My
mother answered as we reach the
massive English garden a well laid
table of variety of food was waiting
for us. “Come, let’s have so tea. I
miss you so much, dear.”
“Don’t you feel over dress,
mother?” I couldn’t help but to
asked that question since I saw
her.
“Darling,” Lianna Broussard
laughed as we sat on the iron chair
on the garden. “What will I do to all
of my clothes if not to wear them?
Alain kept buying me tons of
couture clothes.”
“And every day you think of it as a
runway fashion show, don’t you?”
My mother had the audacity of
giggling like a teenager. “You could
say that.”
I shook my head in disbelief. Clearly,
my mother had found love for the
second time around and I am so
happy for her. When my papa had
died I thought she will be miserable
for the rest of her life like I did with
my life after Lorenzo had died. After
papa’s death my mother took a life
she explore the world she didn’t
imprison her life with the memory
of her dead husband she met Alain
and clearly loves Alain Broussard
with all of her life.
“What’s the matter, Francesca?”
“Huh?” I asked when my mother
dragged me out of my daydream.
.
“What’s the matter, Francesca?” My
mother repeated calmly as she
sipped her tea. “You are not the
type that will visit me unplanned.
What are you running away from in
Italy?”
Trust my mother to cut it to the
heart. I debated if I will tell her the
truth.
“And don’t bother to tell a lie, dear
daughter.” My mother warned
sweetly. “I will know if you are
lying.”
I sighed and sipped my tea before
answering my mother. As if the
time I would consume in drinking
my tea will help my nerves to calm
down. “Some things happened
back in Italy, mama…”
“I gathered that much.”
I gave her a pleading look. “If you
will not interrupt me I will tell you,
mother.”
She held up her hands for a silent
surrender. “I finally knew about
Lorenzo’s true color.” I started.
“The fact that he had a mistress
throughout our engagement and
he did loved her so much until the
day he died.”
My mother’s reaction to my news
was surprisingly calm. Given the
fact that she’s such a drama queen
my revelation greeted by surprising
silence.
“You knew about this, don’t you?” I
asked my mother who just serenely
sipping her tea. “You knew about
Lorenzo’s affair to that English
lady?”
“Only by accident,” My mother
answered, looking at me straight
into the eyes. “I heard them
fighting at the night of your
engagement. Lorenzo promised me
that he will break off everything
with that woman. He asked me not
to tell you about it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me, mama?” I
inquired her. The pain was coming
back to me with vengeance. “Don’t
you know the humiliation I’ve felt
now? Adoring my fiancé when he’s
in love with someone else.”
“What can I do my dear daughter?”
My mother asked helplessly, her
eyes filled with sorrow. “I could see
the stars in your eyes. You were
clearly in love with him.”
“But I was leaving I lie.” I retorted
back hotly. “Everything was a lie.”
“I’m sorry, Francesca.”
“Why didn’t you tell me after he
died?” I asked, fighting back the
tears in my eyes. I promised not to
shed even single tears for Lorenzo
anymore. “Why did you keep it
from me?”
“I thought at that time it’s better to
leave things as they were.” Lianna
responded warily, avoiding my
gaze. “You were just twenty-one
and you were now a widow. I
thought it’s better to have his good
image on your memory. I thought
you will move on in your life and
find another man to love after his
death. I guess I’m wrong.”
“He should be burn in hell!” I
muttered darkly.
My mother scowled at me.
“Francesca! Do not speak ill to the
dead. This is my entire fault I
should have told you the truth after
his death. So you can start your life
again. At your age you should have
a family of your own.”
“I might just have.” I told my
mother half-heartedly. “I just lost
my virginity last night. And yes, we
didn’t use protection.”
My mother nearly sputtered the tea
she’s been drinking. “Sweet Lord,
Francesca! Do not surprise me like
that when I’m drinking. You have
what—”
“A one night stand.” I answered
with a red stain on my cheeks.
“Who is he?”
I frowned at her. “Why do you
want to know?”
“Who is he?” My mother repeated
eagerly, the mischievousness was
back in her eyes. “Who is the man
who managed to penetrate the
walls you erected? I want to meet
him.”

To be continued