CHAPTER 8

Ann’s POV

Getting married suddenly to a total stranger is a huge turn-off for me. Despite this, I find myself getting ready for dinner.

I really don't know what to think about it, but I want to give it a try. Try to see if I can get Ryan’s attention with this.

Tessa should be in New York tomorrow, and we can get to talk more about this. Surprisingly, I got over this near-rape incident faster than I thought. Faster than I first did.

Viewing the beauty and grandeur of the mansion Vince calls home is enough to keep me preoccupied throughout the day. Aside from talking on the phone with Tessa, going around to see the state-of-the-art facilities in every section of the house kept me busy.

I still have a lot of places to explore. I know there are two swimming pools in the courtyard, as well as a gym downstairs.

As soon as I step out of the room wearing one of the clothes I had packed in my bags when I came to New York, I almost bump into someone.

The maid.

She is the same woman who brought me both breakfast and lunch in bed today.

“Hi,” I wave at her shyly, wondering how I am supposed to regard her.

In response, she nods with a smile. “The table is set. Boss asked me to inform you.”

I raise a brow. Vince mentioned that we would meet for dinner, and I interpreted that as having dinner together.

“Isn't he joining me?” With curiosity, I ask her. The smile does not leave her lips as she lifts her head to stare at me properly.

“He probably will.”

I want to ask her if he is too busy to come downstairs. I am willing to wait until he completes his task.

But I know he must be busy. Men like him have a lot on their plate. He is probably the CEO of several companies. That should explain how vastly built and furnished the mansion is.

Vince is not just anyone, but a wealthy one.

“Thank you,” I say, smiling back at her, and she turns to leave while I stay to debate whether to go check on him in the room.

If we were still total strangers, this would feel awkward, and I wouldn't consider going to his room. However, we are not only strangers, but also married to each other.

We may not share a room, but I have the right to enter his. With his permission, though.

I should knock.

Before I can think further about the thought in my head, my legs move towards the door.

With my gaze fixed on the mahogany door that is different from mine, I raise a fist to knock. 

I don't hear anything, so I strain my ears to know if he's even inside when I hear the curse words I've become accustomed to.

“Cazzo!”

He is there. 

Is he on the phone? Perhaps I should leave. Let him finish his work and meet me in my room.

Realizing this man is not as idle as I am, I start to move away, my thoughts moving back to the real intention of my visit to LA.

Ryan and work.

The door suddenly opens, and as I quickly turn around to apologize for interrupting whatever he was doing, my gaze lands on Vince's half-naked body.

The man I found myself married to.

Water is dripping from his hair, down to his chest covered with dark tattoos. A towel drapes around his waist. And his right hand is holding firmly onto the phone, glued to his right ear.

Our eyes lock, and fear slithers through me.

I see anger blaze briefly in his eyes before they turn soft.

He emanates a different kind of danger, giving me a different view of the man I think he is.

My heart lurches forward when he signals for me to come in before turning his back and giving me another full view of the tattoos on his back.

There are tattoos everywhere.

His arms. His back. His chest down to his navel.

Holy shit!

With the slightest hesitation, I walk in and close the door quietly behind me.

He continues to mutter words filled with authority, his eyes flashing with ire, leaving me in a state of pure awe.

The woman in me sees him in a different light. 

He is not just someone I consider a knight in shining armor because he saved me or my sudden husband because of my stupid impulsive action, but a very handsome, hot, and sexy Greek god.

That was the first definition of his look the moment I saw him while I was sprawled on the floor in that hotel.

His goddamn handsomeness is undeniable.

But this tattoo is totally out of it. It speaks volumes of words, piercing into my inquisitive nature and tempting me to want to ask him what they signify.

Finally, he drops the call and turns to me with an intense look. It feels like he is staring right through me. 

I try to calm my raging heart as I ask. “Is everything okay?”

He nods quickly, as if expecting that question.

“The maid told me dinner was ready. Are you coming?” I ask again, hoping he will answer yes so I can go downstairs and stop my shameless ogling.

He hesitates for a while, his gaze not leaving mine. “Yes.”

Elated, I take the exit quickly, my heart stuttering like crazy. When I am on the landing, I look back and bite my lips in regret.

Did he notice anything? Was it obvious I was ogling him? Is he going to come downstairs at all?

The shuffle of feet makes me pivot around to see the same maid from earlier, with the usual smile plastered on her face.

“Are you going to call him? He said he would be down in a minute…”

“No, ma’am. She replies rather quickly, "He has a guest."

Before I can say anything else, someone appears, dressed gorgeously in a lavender short gown, exposing her flawless skin. She is holding a tiny black purse as she walks closer, her gaze fixed solely on me.

“Who is this?” The arrogance in her voice makes me take a step backward.

I try to smile, but it falters as she glares at me coldly, from head to toe. Conscious of how I am dressed, I spare the maid a glance before looking back at her with confidence.

“I should be asking you who you are,” I retort back, and her eyes flare up. “You met me here; the stranger is you, so who are you?”

For a moment, she remains silent. She doesn't look intimidated like I thought she would. Instead, she looks even more deadly with the rage swirling in her eyes. 

“Where is Vicente?” She turns her attention to the maid, who bows quickly in fear.

It makes curiosity get the better of me. Who the hell is this woman?

“He is upstairs…”

“He will be done in a minute,” I suddenly reply, and her eyes connect with mine again. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

She opens her mouth to reply to me but pauses as her gaze moves over my head, and a sudden smile replaces the anger in her expression.

“What are you doing here?!” The familiar voice speaks with heavy anger, making me twirl around slowly to meet his gaze.

“Your mom told me you wanted us to have dinner together, so…”

“No!” He denies it sharply, his furious expression unwavering. It makes me wonder why I never saw this part of him in the two days that I have been here. He always has a soft expression on his face whenever we talk. But now, he looks different. 

Right from when I saw him in nothing but a towel around his lower with water dripping down his bare, broad chest. And now. 

He looks really pissed. Different. The aura exudes nothing but danger. 

Realizing my thoughts are slowly moving back to the image of the half-naked man, I slap myself mentally.

“You never told her that?” Her expression is filled with hurt and disappointment. Vince does not reply, but his silence made her realize the answer is indeed no.

Then I begin to piece the puzzle together. She just mentioned his mother wanted them to have dinner together, and that means only one thing.

This woman is likely the one Vince is trying to avoid. This is why he wants us to remain married. To prevent an arranged marriage with a rude, spoiled brat like her. 

Maybe he's trying to convince his mother of something.

Was Tessa right all along?

Do people still do that these days? Is it an arranged marriage? I view men who conform to such norms as lacking self-confidence.

People should be married for love. Not because of some family obligations or some silly business gains.

The rich do that a lot, and it sounds even more silly to me that they do.

Suddenly, the realization dawns on me that Vince and I are still married and not in love, so I am one of those people who aren't married for love.

This is just for sometime, I thought.

The marriage wasn't intentional. It just happened, and as soon as we achieve both of our aims, we will go our separate ways.

If it wasn't accidental, nothing would have made me venture into a loveless marriage like this. Not in a thousand years.

After glaring at me once more, the woman turns on her heels and leaves. For no reason, sympathy fills my insides.

It reminds me of how painful rejection is. Vince just rejected her. Just like how I was rejected by my own fiance.

It hurts like hell.

Vince turns around and disappears, leaving me standing alone, with thoughts spinning.

Without further thinking, I find my legs moving out in a hurry. When I get to the door, I push it open and race out, glancing around for the sight of the woman.

She is beautiful. She can have other men at her feet. 

She should do that. Not brood over Vince because she can never have him. 

A SUV car opens, and I see her trying to enter. “Hey.”

She twirls round sharply. “Who the hell do you think you are?!”

Her outburst has me stopping, my desire to talk to her about what just happened gone into thin air.

"Do you think Vince likes you? Do you even know him? Do you truly know Vince to the extent that you believe you can question anyone who enters this place? Just because he did that doesn't mean we can't be together, ok? This is a personal matter between us, and strangers like you should refrain from interfering.” Her rambling sets me on edge. Filling me with curiosity and more sympathy.

“I don't know him, but we have something together that you obviously don't have.” For a second, I feel special. Vince never spoke to me that way. Perhaps, it was because the first time we met, I was in a vulnerable state. But I don't care. 

He is especially kind to me, and that is all that matters. 

A sardonic laugh leaves her lips, her glare icy. “You don't know Vince. Apparently, you don't. He doesn't love. He despises the concept of marriage, making him a man you should avoid at all costs. The earlier you get that into your skull, the better. The only woman who can accept him for who he really is is the likes of me, not riffraffs like you.” She scrutinizes me with distaste before hurriedly jumping into the back of the car.

Leaving me standing there with jaws dropped, the car drives off.