THE BRIDE CHAPTER 27

THE BRIDE
Chapter 27

Behaving like a princess is work. It’s not just about
looking beautiful or wearing a crown. It’s more about
how you are inside.
-Julie Andrews
Francesca Marcolini’s POV
“This way, please.” The uniformed maid said in half-
Italian and half-Sicilian words. Marco and I assured to
the imposing grand receiving room of the Palazzo di
Fiorenza. The century-old-palace of the Fiorenza
royals where they took residence since the fifteenth
century.
The maid led us in the hallway with portraits of stern
looking ancestors with cool green eyes. I glanced at
the man beside me walking silently. Since our travel
here in Sicily he remained painfully silence—very
unusual of him. Now he showed no emotion, I
couldn’t fathom what he was thinking.
It’s for the best, I reminded myself silently. He must
marry someone more suitable to be his bride before
my growing feeling for him grew any deeper.
Marriage is not for me. I have done it before but I
was badly hurt by the man I once called my
husband.
I don’t want to suffer the same thing again.
I don’t think my heart will survive the second
betrayal in marriage if Marco proved that he cannot
keep his vows or he felt bored in our marriage after a
few years. He thought of marriage was merely a
business transaction.
“We’re here.” The maid announced as we stop at the
far end of the hallways with a bodyguard outside the
door. We watched the burly man entered the room
and after a while he gestured us to come inside the
room.
“Such precedence.” Marco muttered dryly as we
enter the room. I just pointedly looked at him to
gave him a silent warning.
We were greeted by the powerful Cesare Fiorenza
who sat in his massive table. I glanced around to see
the heavy curtains, huge chandeliers, fireplace and
portrait of a beautiful woman above, it has also sofa
sets for guests probably.
“Welcome to Fiorenza residence.” The powerful
patriarch greeted with sharp eyes. Like a hawk
eyeing the trespassers to his territory. “To what I
owe you this visit? Have a sit, please.”
We took the settee across Cesare Fiorenza’s table.
Marco glanced briefly in my direction as if he was
waiting for me to speak once we were seated. When
I didn’t answer he looked at the intimidating man and
said. “I have a preposition, Signore.”
My heart gave a painful thud as he spoke those
words. This was what you want, isn’t? A voiced
inside my head asked slyly.
“You have?” The Sicilian billionaire asked. He
straightened from his seat and stared at Marco
intently. “By all means, let’s hear it.”
Marco threw me a meaningful fleeting looked for
answering Cesare Fiorenza. “I want to ask your
daughter’s hand for marriage.”
The patriarch’s eyebrows shot upward. “Marriage,
Signore Orsini?” He repeated with amusement in his
tone. “But which of my daughters, sir? I have twins,
Laila and Leila.”
“Laila, Signore.” I put in, joining the conversation for
the first time.
“Laila…” Cesare Fiorenza said with coldness in his
green eyes as he heard his daughter’s name. “What
is your relation with Signore Marco Orsini?”
“I am—”
“She’s my secretary.” Marco supplied smoothly.
“Ah,” The patriarch said with recognition. “Were you
the one who arranged this meeting?”
*
I swallowed. God, this man was really intimidating as
the papers had said. “Yes, sir.”
He regarded me and Marco for a moment before
settling his gazed on the man beside me. “But why
Laila, Signore.”
“I believed that she will be the perfect bride for an
Orsini.”
Marco’s words shot straight to my heart. It’s so
painful that I think I couldn’t breathe. Maybe it’s a
better idea if I didn’t come with him hear. I don’t
think I can bear this meeting.
“Ah, yes. She’s perfect.” The coldness in the man’s
green eyes replaced by warmth in their depth.
Clearly, he really adored his daughter, Laila, as the
report had said. “But may I know this sudden
decision to ask for my daughter’s hand in marriage?”
“I am a man in my prime age.” Marco answered
swiftly, not giving any emotion in his face. He’s like
not the man I knew. “My grandfather wants me to
marry as soon as possible.”
“Do you think Laila is that woman?”
“Yes.” Marco replied by his gazed was locked to
mine. “She’s the bride I want.”
My silly heart leaped in my heart. He wasn’t talking
about you, I told myself firmly. He talked about
princess Laila Fiorenza.
“Very well,” The powerful Sicilian said with a nod.
“Guido.”
The burly man outside entered the room. “Yes,
Signore?”
“Fetch Laila to her room.” Cesare commanded his
watchdog. “Tell her to dress properly we have
visitors.”
“As you wish, Signore.”
Once the servant of left the room. The Sicilian stood
from his chair and went to the cabinet he pulled out a
bottle what looked like a bottle of grappa. I grimaced.
I never like the taste of that liquor.
“While we are waiting for my daughter have some
refreshments.” He gave us each glass of grappa.
“Thank you, sir.” I said once I took the offered glass.
My nose instantly wrinkled by the strong smell of the
drink.
“So how long do you work for Signore Orsini?”
Cesare asked the direct question to me, taking a
sipped of his grappa.
“Uh—a-about a year now, sir.”
The intimating man nodded regally while Marco
remained painfully silent. What’s wrong with him?
He doesn’t look like a man asking a woman’s hand in
marriage. He’s as cold as he said he will be with this
business arrangement.
“Don’t you like the grappa?”
“Oh…” I was about to drink my glass when Marco
stopped my hand.
“She isn’t drinking, Signore.”
“Is that so?” Cesare eyebrow rose. “Forgive me, I
didn’t know.”
“It’s okay, sir.” I smiled shyly at our host.
“Are you married, Signorina?”
“I’m a widow, sir.”
Shocked was visible on the cool green eyes.
“Pardon, I didn’t know. So young to be a widow.”
I smiled fleetingly. I felt like it happened so long ago
that I am barely remembered my marriage with
Lorenzo. “I get over with it, sir.”
“You must be young when you get married,
Signora?”
*
“I am.” I smiled self-mockingly. Thinking that
infatuation I have felt for the man who didn’t
deserved my innocent love for him. How naïve I
was that time, if didn’t marry him that time maybe
my life was different now. I have a family of my
own now if I didn’t rush into marriage.
I noticed that the powerful Sicilian still looking at me
while I took a trip to memory lane. I tried to smile in
reassuring way. Remembering the past wasn’t as
painful as before, there’s still pain but it was only
fleeting. “I am twenty-one that time, sir.”
“Didn’t you consider finding a new husband?” Cesare
Fiorenza asked curiously.
“I have enough of marriage, sir.” I informed him
sadly, looking straight to his eyes. “Marriage is not
for me.”
“I can see that you will be marrying again.” The
Sicilian billionaire said while Marco growled in his
seat. I looked at him pointedly but he didn’t say
anything.
A discreet knock sounded in the heavy wooden
door. We all turned to look at the door.
“Come in,” Cesare Fiorenza said in the old Sicilian
dialect.
A young woman in her probably mid-twenties
entered the room wearing chaste pure black coat
dress. She’s covered from neck to knees.
“Patri,” The woman said, her gazed rested on the
floor. “You asked for me?”
“Greet our guests, Laila.” The patriarch said to his
daughter. “This is Signore Marco Orsini and his
secretary.”
“How do you do?” The young lady had said in a soft
melodic voice, glancing briefly in our direction before
looking again in the endless floor. “My name is Laila
Fiorenza.”
Oh God, the picture in the report that my secretary
had given me didn’t do justice in her beauty. She’s
more beautiful in person. With her raven black hair
and striking green eyes, high cheekbone, pale skin
and aristocratic face. She’s the epitome of beauty.
Even Venus di Milo will feel threatened by her ethereal
beauty.
Now Marco will not have problem in proposing to
her. She’s the perfect woman. I feel like my heart is
breaking into pieces.
“I would like to inform you, dear girl that the Signore
ask your hand in marriage and I give him my
blessings.”
I didn’t know who was more shocked me or the
beautiful heiress. I don’t think I can bear this it’s so
painful that I think I couldn’t breathe properly as if
there was a giant heart crushing my heart this
moment.
“But, Patri…” The Sicilian goddess started, her cool
green eyes filled with despair as she silently pleaded
with her tyrant father.
“It’s final, Laila.” Her father retorted back. “Do not
disobey me, girl.”
“Yes, Patri.” The obedient daughter agreed with such
misery in her voice.
Marco surprised us when he stood from the settee
and marched towards the princess. Laila Fiorenza’s
eye widened considerably when Marco took her
hands and kissed it. “Pleasure in meeting you,
Signorina.”
If I didn’t know better I will assume he is doing this
stunt to get me jealous. If that’s the case he’s doing
just perfectly fine.
*
To be continued