CHAPTER THREE.

       DANIELLE'S P.O.V

      30, 31, 32, 33,...

    I count from the car window as the trees pass by in a blur. It always baffles me, the way the trees seem to be the ones moving instead of the car.  I'm no physicist so I'll register it as one of the numerous wonders of the world; although the internet records only seven wonders, I believe the world has more mind-blowing and inexplicable events and sites that should also be considered wonders of the world.

    I'm sited in the back seat of my dad's SUV. He sits across from me, typing away on his tablet while making and receiving seemingly endless phone calls, as usual.

   Work, work, work; all my dad ever does is work. It's so frustrating, sometimes I want to scream in his face; I want to tell him to just take a goddamned break, but he'll just remind me that he works so exhaustively because he wants to secure the funding of my baby girl lifestyle. I believe there is a thin line between the doting and loving man that is my father and Jack Dawson, his workaholic alter ego.

  After the shock of seeing him in my hotel room had subsided, I had become angry. My mood changed from shock, to fear, and from fear to anger very fast. I honestly had not expected less from him. I know he would have caught me eventually, but I did not expect him to show up so soon.

     I look at him now, watching as his hands fly across the tablet's screen. Jack Dawson is definitely at surface at the moment and as usual, his work takes all his attention,not leaving any space for me. I sigh and turn back to the window, deciding to continue the activity I had engaged myself in to alleviate the boredom and ignore the stifling silence; counting trees.

    Where did I stop counting from? 

    I do not remember so I have to start counting all over again.

   57, 58, 59, 60....

   "Do you have nothing to say to me?" , dad's question disrupts the silence.

  Apparently, he finally has some time away from his busy schedule to engage me in a conversation.

   "Am I supposed to say something?" I ask in confusion.

   "That is a question you should answer yourself" he says.

  He looks at me with that stern expression he uses whenever he scolds me.

  "I don't know what you expect me to say"

I'm even more confused now. What exactly does he want me to say?

   "Why did you run away?"

   "Why do you think I did?"

    "I asked a question. Stop answering my questions with questions"

    I roll my eyes at him and turn back towards the window.

   "Do you plan on running away everytime you're faced with a challenge?" he asks

   "You call this a challenge, dad?" I ask in disbelief.

   "Don't be such a drama queen, Danielle" he says. it's his turn to roll his eyes.

  "I'm not being dramatic,dad. It's absolutely normal to react the way I did. Any lady would run away from home if they're being forced to get  married" I say angrily.

  "Any lady in her right senses would not pass up the opportunity of getting herself married into a prestigious family"

  "Then we'll both have to agree that I am not in my right senses.I don't even know this man. I don't love him"

  "Grow up, Danielle."

  "I want to marry for love,dad. I want to commit to someone I have strong feelings of affection for. Someone I know!"

  "This is the twenty first century. Things don't go that way anymore"

   "Arranged marriages aren't the rave anymore either. Everyone has a right to choose to marry for love"

  "You don't need love in a marriage, Danielle"

  "Did you love mum?" I ask him.

  Something flashes in his eyes as I mention my mother. We never talk about her. Dad turns towards the window on his side of the car.

   "You'll learn to love him" he says.

   "I don't want to learn to love a total stranger after marriage." I say angrily.

  "You're getting married, Danielle, and that's it. It's not up for debate and I don't want to hear your opinion on this matter anymore"  he says with a finality that I cannot oppose.

     "There will be an introductory dinner tonight so you two can get to know each other. The groom's father will be there, as well as myself."

    I turn back towards the window on my side of the car. I am so angry that my heart beats unsteadily and my hands shake. I fold my arms to keep them from shaking but I eventually have to unfold them to wipe away the angry tears that trail down my cheeks.

  Jack Dawson is a dictator and in this moment, I wish my loving dad would surface but unfortunately, he has been a no-show for the past few months.

    After a few hours of tense silence, the car pulls into our driveway and I alight the car immediately. I head for the front door but dad's voice stops my movement.

  "Your make-up and wardrobe team are scheduled to be here by five and dinner is by eight"

  I continue my movement towards the house, thinking he is done, but he isn't.

  "And Danielle?"

  "Yes?"

   "Be on your best behavior"

    I storm into the house and shut the front door angrily. I do not bother wiping at the tears that fall down my face on the way up the stairs to my room.

     

    AS SCHEDULED, the makeup and wardrobe team ring the doorbell by five. The next two hours are spent dolling myself up for my groom, a man that I have never seen. A man that I do not love.

   I'm usually happy with the process of being dolled up but today, I can not find the energy to be elated.

  Once they are done, by a few minutes to eight, the team leaves my room and I am finally on my own. My freedom doesn't last long as a knock sounds at my door.

  "Come in" I say

  A uniformed housekeeper enters the room.

  "Your father sent for you, ma'am. Your guests have arrived"

  "Thank you, Rosie. You may go"

"Welcome, ma'am"

    I watch as Rosie exits my room. My heart starts to beat irregularly and my palms start to sweat; symptoms of my nervousness. I rub my sweaty palms  on the dinner dress. After a few minutes of catching my breath and steadying myself, I head downstairs.

   From the staircase, I can hear voices. I take in a deep breath and make my descent from the stairs.

   On entering the dining room, the conversation halts and the groom's eyes bulge out. I am very sure that I am mirroring his expression.

  I'm dressed in a short lilac silk dinner dress, my hair is curled and held up with a hair pin with the curls framing my face, pearl earrings dangle from my ear holes, and silver pumps grace my feet. I know I look beautiful but I'm very sure my beauty tonight is not the reason behind the groom to be's shock.

  "Danielle, this is Adrian Valentino, your husband to be, and Alfredo Valentino, his father" I faintly hear my dad introduce.

  I'm too busy trying to comprehend the wickedness of fate to listen to what my father is saying.

  What is this snotty bastard of a one night stand from the resort doing, sited in my house?

  "Do you two know each other?" I hear a make voice ask.

I turn towards the voice and find myself looking at the older version of my one night stand. They look so much alike that it is difficult to argue they aren't blood related.

  "We don't" my one night stand says.

  His eyes are glinting with what I can only describe as disdain.

  "This marriage cannot happen" I say

  "Danielle?" I hear dad say sternly.

  "I'm not going through with this marriage" I repeat.

  "Danielle!" dad raises his voice.

  "I agree with Ms Dawson. This marriage can not take place" the guy says.

  "What are you two talking about?" his father asks calmly.

  "I'm sorry for her outburst. Please, excuse us" dad apologizes and signals with his eyes for me to follow him.

  I storm out of the dining and follow dad to the corner of the house where his study is located.

  Dad's study is one of the biggest rooms in the house. It's highlight is the ceiling to floor glass window with the view of our garden which is well tended by the gardener, Mr Rogers.

  It's been almost five years since I last stepped into this room. I used to spend most of my days as a child, coloring pages of color books while dad worked; the both of us enjoying the familiar comfortable silence.

Now, neither one of us can stay in the same room with the other without a fight breaking out.

  "What was that about?"

Dad's voice breaks me from my reverie.

"If that is truly my groom, I want nothing to do with this marriage" I answer.

  "What is it about him? What do you have against him?" he asks.

How do I tell my father that the man I am to marry is an egotistical idiot that I had spent a passionate night with while I was on the run from my arranged marriage?

  "Nothing", I choose to say.

  "Danielle, I warned you. I told you to be on your best behavior"

  "I can't do it!"

  "Why are you so hell bent against this marriage? Why do you choose to make this exhausting?"

"You're the one making it exhausting. I am your daughter, not your employee. You can not tell me what to do or not to do especially when it affects my life" I yell.

I am raving and furious. I will not let dad get his way this time.

  Dad sighs and massages his temple.

"I have my reasons for doing this. I have my reasons for rushing things" dad says.

"What are those reasons. I have a right to know"

  "Danielle..."

Dad hesitates. He rubs his face with his palms and sighs, sadly.

"What, dad?"

He looks at me with an expression I do not understand.

"I'm sick, Danielle. I'm dying"