CHAPTER 3: CONTRACT

CHAPTER 3

EMILIA

I stared at myself in the mirror, admiring my wedding dress. I would never have thought that Martin would let me pick my dress, I picked a not-so-expensive one although I wanted this one. 

The planner wanted me to choose it but I refused, it’s not like he wanted me or anything, I was only going to be a show for him, there was no way he’d want to spend so much on me but I met it in my room today, neatly placed in the corner. 

I’m sure that he was the one who probably got it for me but I was still confused as to how he knows.

No one loves me to get me something this expensive, but was he a psychic?

I was still daydreaming about my dress when the last person I’d expected walked in. I saw Sophia’s reflection through the mirror, a sinister smile on her face.

“You look…Okay,” she said, walking over to me.

I rolled my eyes at my statement and could’ve sworn that I noticed her gushing over my dress. “Nice dress, how much did it cost like fifty bucks? Was it from the thrift store or what?” she laughed.

The dress was gorgeous and she thought that it was fifty bucks. “It’s almost ten grand,” I replied, adjusting my veil.

Her expression was to kill for. She was short of words and I felt glad that I was able to shut her up at least.

She leaned on the dresser. “Glad that you can get your money back because this dress is pathetic,” she insulted. “But what else can I expect from you? You have a bad fashion taste and uglies deserves uglies.”

I was trying to hold myself back from saying something that I might regret, I was at their mercy at this moment and needed to play it safe completely.

She giggled. “You shouldn’t frown. You should at least look good in your wedding pictures and if you don’t want Martin to get bored of you then you should watch your weight because you’re getting bigger than that bed.”

I was already used to her insults, it affected me a lot but I was able to, get over and move on from it.

“Oh,” she gasps. “You don’t need too because he Lacks interest in you either ways,” she mocked and exited the room.

Her words pierced me deeply. I was trying hard not to cry, the last thing I wanted was to give her another reason to mock me.

A knock on the door disrupted my thoughts. “Are you ready?” the planner—Mariah asked.

I nodded in response, trying to blink back my tears. “Is Martin there?” I asked.

She smiled, “He’s there and I’m pretty sure you’d love the venue.”

I was confused. I didn’t have anything to do with the decorations. If anything, I refused to take part in it, I wanted my wedding to be magical and this one felt like nothing but a joke.

“Okay, let’s go,” I responded, trying to act like I cared. I just didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

               I entered the hall that had been set up for the wedding. Everything made my jaw drop. Each detail was like my dream wedding that I’d been envisioning since I was a kid and I didn’t even tell either him or the planner about it. 

How did they find out? I was sure that my family didn’t tell them since they barely knew anything about my life. 

My heart was beating so fast in my chest, thinking that Martin was a stalker because he was freaking the hell out of me right now.

“Are you okay?” Dad asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I nodded in response, trying to act calm. He stretched out his hands for me, I didn’t want this despicable man to walk me down the aisle but I had no other choice.

There were a lot of people, even friends that I hadn’t been in touch with for so long. I caught the crowd, a smirk on her face and I was sure that she had something to do with it.

I arrived at the podium, standing in front of a very hot Martin. The priest started the recitations, but I wasn’t in too deep because I was staring hard at Martin.

“Do you Emilia Bianchi take Martin as your husband?” he asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

It took a second for me to get myself. “Yes, I do,” I nodded in response.

We exchanged rings. “You may kiss the bride.”

It felt a bit awkward to me, it wasn’t my first kiss but somehow kissing a literal stranger excited me.

“Emilia, kiss,” my stepmom urged me from the crowd..

Martin rolled his eyes, grabbed me by the waist, and kissed me deeply. His right hand wrapped my waist, another around my head.

His lips tasted so great that I didn’t want him to stop. I was just starting to envelop in the feeling when he pulled away while I stood there, feeling like some kind of idiot.

Everyone started clapping, congratulations flying around.

________________________

The car ride to his house was so silent. We barely said a word to each other.

“We’re here,” the chauffeur announced, getting our attention.

I was about to open the door but Martin stopped me, his hands placed on mine before I could open the door.

I was sure I felt my heart somersault. “The chauffeur got it,” he told me, his voice hoarse almost like it was a whisper.

“Oh.”

The chauffeur opened the door. “Thank you,” I muttered.

The guards helped with my items of luggage and throughout the walk to the mansion, I was replying to greetings here and there.

“Mrs. Davidson,” he called.

A middle-aged woman, dressed in a maid's outfit appeared, “Yes, Sir,” she replied.

“Assemble the maids,” he requested politely.

She did as she was told and there were more maids than I could count. His house was magnificent but this much?

“This is my wife,” he announced and the word wife caught my attention.

“So, treat her the same way as me and if there are any complaints then you’d live to regret it.”

He sounded so harsh that it felt like I was one of the maids he was addressing. 

“Yes, Mr. Moretti,” they chorused.

“Follow me,” he said. 

I got up and followed behind him. “Why did you say I’m your wife?” I asked, but there was no response.

I didn’t stop asking. I kept questioning him till we entered a room.

“Shut up,” he snapped. “We’re married and that’s it.”

He was so harsh but I nodded in response. 

“That’s the bathroom, in case you need to freshen up,” he informed me and walked out.

I took a deep breath and entered the bathroom. I took off all my clothes and entered the large tub, sighing in relief. 

His bathroom was two sizes in my room back at home.

I finished up and took one of the robes from the rack. I opened the door and was met with a shirtless Martin.

I gasped and turned around,” I’m sorry. I thought this was my room. Why are you half naked?”

He scoffed. “Isn’t this one of the things married couples do?” He asked, but in didn’t respond.

Then it dawned on me. What if he came here so he could have sex with me? Maybe that’s why he’s shirtless.

“I’m not having sex with you,” I yelled, feeling embarrassed.

“What you think I’m here for sex?” he asked, and I could tell he was trying to hold back his laughter.

“Isn’t that what married couples do on their wedding night?” I asked, slowly turning around and I wished I had done it sooner.

Damn! He was ripped. Those packs and biceps? Damn.

“Eyes up here,” he snapped his fingers,

I bit my lip, feeling embarrassed.

He groaned, “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” I asked, feeling confused.

“Nevermind,” he ignored my question. “I’m not here to have sex with you or even any other day. You’re not my type so kill those fantasies.”

His words hurt but I acted like I didn’t care.

“I’m here 'cause I drew up a contract,” he said.

I raised my brows. “A contract?”