CHAPTER 2: KNOW YOUR PLACE

CHAPTER 2

EMILIA

“Long time no see, Hayes.”

His voice sent thrills down my spine. I felt knots in my stomach and there was just something about him that I could not comprehend no matter how hard I tried.

“Likewise,” Dad responded, ushering him to the living area. “Take a seat, Martin.”

“It’s Moretti to you,” he corrected.

There was just something about him that I could not resist. Maybe it was his aura, figure, face card, or mysterious personality.

“Sorry about that,” he apologized. “Please, come take a seat, Moretti.”

He had a stern expression on his face that made it hard for a person to guess his feelings or what was going through his head.

He sat down and there was nothing but silence for a second. It was awkward, and I felt a bit nervous, unlike before when I was bittered.

“Do you want something to drink?” Dad inquired, using that as a conversation starter.

“Whiskey,” he responded dryly.

Dad nodded in response and sent off the maids to get him whiskey. The maid appeared in no time, serving it to him. For some minutes, there was an awkward silence again.

I bit my lip watching him slowly sip out of the glass cup. I felt multiple emotions that I never thought I’d get to experience and what made it worse was in between my thighs were throbbing badly.

It was something I never would’ve imagined would happen to me, at least not now that I’m in a crisis. I’m supposed to hate him, he’s no better than my family for wanting to ruin my life but yet, I found it hard.

He looked up at me, catching me in the act, I was staring at him like I was some kind of pervert.

I got embarrassed and tried averting my gaze from meeting him. He smirked. “Emilia, right?”

I looked at him, trying not to maintain eye 

contact. “Yes sir,” I replied.

He raised his brows. “Sir? Do you think I’m old or something?”

“No,” I responded quickly. 

“She’s just showing respect. That’s how our Emilia is. She can’t help it,” step mom intervened.

He didn’t say anything before her statement and just focused on Dad instead. “So? Bianchi?” He called. “Did you tell her everything because the last thing I want is drama or tears?”

Dad let out an awkward laugh, “You don’t have to worry about that. I told her and she agreed to it. Everything’s been settled.”

“That’s good,” he replied. “Since it’s all been settled, I’d like to inform you that the wedding is in a week and I want to get it over with. I hired a planner already so all you have to do is focus on the dress, invite whoever you want, and don’t screw it up.”

My face froze, trying to process everything that he just said to me. A week? A fucking week?

I just got told about this today and suddenly, I was getting married in a freaking week.

“No, no no,” I repeated. “We can’t get married in a week? I... I’m still trying to process the fact that we’re getting married and you want it to happen so fast?”

He ignored me. “I thought you said everything’s been taken care of. Why am I enduring this nonsense?” He turned to my father.

Dad was short of words, trying to come up with words. “I didn’t know it’d happen so fast otherwise I would’ve broken the news to her,” he answered.

“I...I can’t get married in a week. I haven’t even processed it yet how would I get married?” I tried holding back my tears.

My stepmom scoffed. “It doesn’t matter. You’re getting married to him and since you agreed to it, you can’t go back on your word,” she told me.

“Set your daughter straight if you don’t want to lose this alliance, Hayes,” he warned and got up to leave with my dad following and trying to stop him.

My stepmother turned to face me the moment they were gone, “Listen carefully, if you don’t want to end up regretting this then you had better not ruin this for us,” she warned, getting up to leave with Sophia while I was still stuck in between it all.

“He’s so fucking hot. Wish I could have him,” Sophia squealed.

Her statement got me annoyed to the core. If she wanted him, I would’ve gladly given him to her but of course, her parents know better than to give their precious daughter off.

He could be an abuser who just wants me for sex or some kind of weird fetish and the thought of it made me feel sick to my stomach.

And to make it all worse, there was no escaping this.

             The thoughts were so overwhelming. I knew I needed to let it all out. I made my way to the garden, it was the only place in the house where I could find internal peace.

I took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling, trying not to cry.

 “I miss you, Mom,” I whispered, on the brink of tears. “I wish you were here with me, then I’d have a shoulder to cry on and someone who cares about me. Not these greedy people who just need me for their selfish gain.”

“Get well soon, Mom,” I mumbled.

“Yes, I want you to call my planner and inform her about my wedding,” I heard a familiar voice say.

I didn’t need any interpretation to know that it was my so-called fiancée. I wondered if he heard me, but I reminded myself that I was as quiet as possible.

He hung up and I peeped through the bushes, watching him smoke. I wanted to leave him, giving him his privacy but then something dawned on me.

If we’re going to get married, the least we can do is try to get along. I took a deep breath, muttering all courage, and walked up to him.

He didn’t notice my presence and my hands were somewhat shaky. 

I tapped him a little, making my presence known..He turned to face me, a cigarette in his mouth. I hate the smell of cigarettes but couldn’t let that known to him.

He stared at me for quite an amount of time. “What do you want?” He asked rudely.

I felt offended but still smiled at him. “I...I thought that you were angry and went home. Why did you stay back?” I asked, trying to start up a conversation.

“Your father convinced me,” he replied and went back to ignoring my presence again.

I was trying hard to think of what to say to keep the conversation going.

 “We never got to formally introduce ourselves earlier on. I’m Emilia Hayes. You?” I stretched forth my hands.

He looked at it and back at my face. “Name is Martin Moretti,” he replies. “There’s nothing special so you can keep your hands back,” he shunned me.

That sort of hurt my ego, but I played it safe. “Cocky much,” I muttered, trying to make sure that he didn’t hear me.

“Did you say something?” he asked, making me gasp.

Did he have some super hearing or something? That was crazy.

“No,” I lied.

“Why are you here anyway? Do you have something to ask me?” He demanded to know.

I wanted to tell him that I had a lot of questions. “I was just nearby and thought I should say hi.”

He didn’t say anything and there was that awkward silence between us again. He continued smoking to the extent that it became so unbearable for me.

I started coughing hard, trying to catch my breath. “Shit!” He cursed, throwing the smoke away and handing me a handkerchief even patting my back.

“You know you hate the smell of cigarettes but yet, you stay quiet about it. You’re annoying sometimes, Emilia,” he scolded me.

It sounded like he was talking to me in a casual way rather than a cold and grumpy way.

I was finally able to catch my breath and asked, “How did you know I hate it?” I asked.

“Because you’ve been rubbing your nose and sniffing every five seconds,” he replies.

How did he even see me?

“Are you a psychic or something?” I asked, rubbing my nose.

He stays quiet. “Your questions are starting to piss me off. Go inside, now.”

“B—But I was trying to get to know you,” I told him.

“There’s nothing to know.”

I was amazed by his response. “W—We’re 

getting married, after all, there’s a lot to know.”

He scoffed. “I see that you are going crazy over the marriage. I’m the mafia and you think I think about marriage? I’m doing this for my gain and whatever you think is your problem. I’d do the husband duties but don’t get caught up in the act, you’re nothing but a shoe, Emilia. So, stay out of my life if you love yourself.”