Page 14
Story: Fight Me Little Pearl
He is definitely ignoring me.
My stomach rumbles again. To hell with him. There is enough food for two there. I walk confidently towards the table and take the chair across from him.
“Good morning,” I greet, because obviously my Mama taught me better than his did.
To my surprise he snubs me completely, not even bothering to look in my direction. He seems only interested in stuffing bacon and eggs into his mouth. Okay, that is a lie. He’s not stuffing it into his mouth, he’s eating it in a civilized way.
Quite an attractive way, actually.
But two can play at this game.
I reach for a warm croissant, cut it in half and butter it liberally. Then I spread a thick layer of peach jam on it and take a big bite. Oh wow! French croissant is nothing like the American version of a French croissant. It’s heavenly. As I chew, I reflect on the fact that Valentino is giving me the type of marriage I hoped he would. I told my mother that I wished he would not speak to me or touch me, but she laughed and told me how impossible that was.
‘Men will be men,’ she said. ‘They all want sex.’
But here we are, Valentino and I, and he is doing better than I could have hoped.
He doesn’t speak to me even when I speak to him. And better still, he hasn’t tried to have sex with me. I know that I told him he repulses me and I didn’t want to have sex with him. And it's not like I want to have sex with him, but freaking hell. He’s a man! All men want sex. And he’s known to be hot-blooded too. Obviously, I’ve heard the Subway sandwich rumors about him too.
I know I’m attractive. Men have tripped over themselves to tell me so. I’m his wife. I cannot stop him if he wants it, but he isn’t even trying. At least, try once. One attempt that I can fight off would be nice. Then I wouldn’t have to soul search like this.
I stuff the last half of my delicious croissant into my mouth and watch him dab his mouth with his napkin. I dump some bacon and scrambled eggs on my plate. He still hasn’t even glanced at me.
Bastard!
Is he seeing another woman? Probably the one whose scent was all over him on our first night here. The audacity of the man makes my stomach churn. I stab my bacon with a fork and suddenly struggle with a loss of appetite. Strange, my stomach was rumbling like crazy only minutes before.
As I take a deep breath, a tanned, perfectly manicured hand slides a black AmEx card along the white linen and stops it next to my plate. I look up to see Valentino looking at me, his gray eyes so cold my blood starts to freeze. Only a few hours ago, he stared at me like he wanted to rip the clothes off my body and eat me raw. Now, his eyes convey nothing but icy contempt.
“What is this for?”
“We’ll be flying to Italy this evening,” he says. “I’ll be gone until then. Use this to shop. Buy anything you want. I hear Paris has nice dresses for women.”
“You would know, wouldn’t you?” I snap.
Ignoring my jibe, he pushes his chair back and rises. “The three-digit code to verify your possession of the card is 904 and the pin for making payments is 1904. Ensure you’re packed and ready to leave by the time I return in the evening.”
I’m tempted to fight him right then and there, but I hold my tongue and keep my eyes on my plate until the door closes behind him. As soon as it does, I let out a loud yell and stomp my feet with frustration, dissatisfaction and fury.
Ensure you’re packed and ready to leave by the time I return in the evening.
His bossiness is beyond belief. How dare he treat me like one of his bimbo whores and drag me around Europe at his whim and fancy? I want out of this stupid marriage.
My gaze drops to the shiny card on the table, and I wonder just how much money Valentino had placed in my hands. Suddenly, an idea crosses my mind, and it brings a smile and my appetite back.
Buy anything you want.
I will take him at his word and spend so much money that he will be forced into a reaction. He’s been cold ever since I came back from Church, but when a million dollars suddenly disappears from his account he will storm back to the hotel and I’ll see the fire in his gunmetal gray eyes again. Maybe he’ll be angry enough to wrap his fingers around my neck again like he did the first night …
A horrified gasp falls out of my mouth. I’m even more mortified when I realize that I am literally flushing all over at the thought of Valentino wrapping his fingers around my neck while his eyes blaze with unbridled lust.
Oh God! I’m a whore!
I touch a finger to the wet heat between my legs, confirming that I am indeed thrilled at the thought of Valentino putting his filthy, bloody, monstrous hands on me.
Truly, I am my father’s daughter.
The doorbell rings, causing me to jump in fright. I walk toward the door and peek through the eyehole. It’s Vance, one of Valentino’s goons. I open the door, and to my shock, he bows as if he is meeting royalty.
My stomach rumbles again. To hell with him. There is enough food for two there. I walk confidently towards the table and take the chair across from him.
“Good morning,” I greet, because obviously my Mama taught me better than his did.
To my surprise he snubs me completely, not even bothering to look in my direction. He seems only interested in stuffing bacon and eggs into his mouth. Okay, that is a lie. He’s not stuffing it into his mouth, he’s eating it in a civilized way.
Quite an attractive way, actually.
But two can play at this game.
I reach for a warm croissant, cut it in half and butter it liberally. Then I spread a thick layer of peach jam on it and take a big bite. Oh wow! French croissant is nothing like the American version of a French croissant. It’s heavenly. As I chew, I reflect on the fact that Valentino is giving me the type of marriage I hoped he would. I told my mother that I wished he would not speak to me or touch me, but she laughed and told me how impossible that was.
‘Men will be men,’ she said. ‘They all want sex.’
But here we are, Valentino and I, and he is doing better than I could have hoped.
He doesn’t speak to me even when I speak to him. And better still, he hasn’t tried to have sex with me. I know that I told him he repulses me and I didn’t want to have sex with him. And it's not like I want to have sex with him, but freaking hell. He’s a man! All men want sex. And he’s known to be hot-blooded too. Obviously, I’ve heard the Subway sandwich rumors about him too.
I know I’m attractive. Men have tripped over themselves to tell me so. I’m his wife. I cannot stop him if he wants it, but he isn’t even trying. At least, try once. One attempt that I can fight off would be nice. Then I wouldn’t have to soul search like this.
I stuff the last half of my delicious croissant into my mouth and watch him dab his mouth with his napkin. I dump some bacon and scrambled eggs on my plate. He still hasn’t even glanced at me.
Bastard!
Is he seeing another woman? Probably the one whose scent was all over him on our first night here. The audacity of the man makes my stomach churn. I stab my bacon with a fork and suddenly struggle with a loss of appetite. Strange, my stomach was rumbling like crazy only minutes before.
As I take a deep breath, a tanned, perfectly manicured hand slides a black AmEx card along the white linen and stops it next to my plate. I look up to see Valentino looking at me, his gray eyes so cold my blood starts to freeze. Only a few hours ago, he stared at me like he wanted to rip the clothes off my body and eat me raw. Now, his eyes convey nothing but icy contempt.
“What is this for?”
“We’ll be flying to Italy this evening,” he says. “I’ll be gone until then. Use this to shop. Buy anything you want. I hear Paris has nice dresses for women.”
“You would know, wouldn’t you?” I snap.
Ignoring my jibe, he pushes his chair back and rises. “The three-digit code to verify your possession of the card is 904 and the pin for making payments is 1904. Ensure you’re packed and ready to leave by the time I return in the evening.”
I’m tempted to fight him right then and there, but I hold my tongue and keep my eyes on my plate until the door closes behind him. As soon as it does, I let out a loud yell and stomp my feet with frustration, dissatisfaction and fury.
Ensure you’re packed and ready to leave by the time I return in the evening.
His bossiness is beyond belief. How dare he treat me like one of his bimbo whores and drag me around Europe at his whim and fancy? I want out of this stupid marriage.
My gaze drops to the shiny card on the table, and I wonder just how much money Valentino had placed in my hands. Suddenly, an idea crosses my mind, and it brings a smile and my appetite back.
Buy anything you want.
I will take him at his word and spend so much money that he will be forced into a reaction. He’s been cold ever since I came back from Church, but when a million dollars suddenly disappears from his account he will storm back to the hotel and I’ll see the fire in his gunmetal gray eyes again. Maybe he’ll be angry enough to wrap his fingers around my neck again like he did the first night …
A horrified gasp falls out of my mouth. I’m even more mortified when I realize that I am literally flushing all over at the thought of Valentino wrapping his fingers around my neck while his eyes blaze with unbridled lust.
Oh God! I’m a whore!
I touch a finger to the wet heat between my legs, confirming that I am indeed thrilled at the thought of Valentino putting his filthy, bloody, monstrous hands on me.
Truly, I am my father’s daughter.
The doorbell rings, causing me to jump in fright. I walk toward the door and peek through the eyehole. It’s Vance, one of Valentino’s goons. I open the door, and to my shock, he bows as if he is meeting royalty.
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