THE MAFIA’S MISTAKEN BRIDE

Xavier’s POV

Like someone who has been awaiting my return, she jumps up from the bed the moment I push the bedroom door open. With my creased brows, I venture fully into the bedroom to see her rubbing her hands over her sleepy eyes.

She must have been asleep. I thought as much.

“Welcome”, she murmurs in a sleepy tone before darting her eyes to the wall clock. It is 11 pm.

“Thanks”, I say in a low tone like hers. I wonder why she is welcoming me home. I am thinking she will be fast asleep, probably because she is still trying to avoid me like she did this morning after seeing each other naked or because she can hardly hold back her sleep.

When I walk to the closet, she follows behind me, making me more curious about what she really wants.

Now, I am more than sure this isn’t a coincidence. She wants something.

I whirl around suddenly, making her almost bump into me. I raise a questioning brow at her, waiting for her to spill whatever it is she wants.

Smiling shyly, she plays with her fingers nervously and then looks down.

“You want something?” I help out.

Last night, I specifically told her to tell me whatever she wants but in a polite way. I don’t care what it is or how much it is, I will get it for her. Maybe this is her way of wanting to take advantage of my words.

She looks up and averts her gaze away from mine almost immediately before scratching her head. “Erm…I don’t know if…”

“What is it?” I’m beginning to lose my patience now. Why is it so difficult for her to say what it is? Is she scared that I won’t give her whatever it is? Does this have to do with topics I don’t want to hear about?

“I made dinner”, she blurts out suddenly, just when I am thinking the word will never come out. Nervously, she continues. “For everyone. Including yours.”

She smiles again, holding onto the hem of her silky robe. The same robe from last night which had my mind in turmoil from the mere sight of her thighs and cleavage.

She is a beauty when naked.

Realizing what I am thinking is totally different from the topic before me, I clear my throat and turn back. “Nice.”

“I was told your favorite is lasagna. I made it and I have your favorite fruity wine here to complement…”

“You prepared a meal for me?” the words suddenly register in my head. I didn’t realize that was what she actually meant.

Like a meek dove, she shuts her mouth and nods, letting go of the hem of her robe and watching me intensely with expectations.

I don’t eat.

I can’t remember the last time I had a proper meal. All I do is munch on cakes and drink coffee. For years, my eating habit has gone from bad to worse.

“Yes. I know you don’t eat but I’m sure you will enjoy this. I took out my time to do this and I know it’s your favorite. Just give it a try, please.”

I shake my head.

Not tonight. I am not in the mood to puke. I still have a lot of work to do on my laptop.

“No, I can’t.”

Disappointment flashes through her expression the moment the words come out of my mouth. Before I can say anything else, she nods and goes back to bed. I expect her to lay down, faking annoyance but instead, she sits up, pouting and folding her arms around her bosom.

I sigh and turn around. Changing into my sleepwear, I walk to my study table to grab my laptop when my eyes fall on the tray of meals with a Chianti Classico wine bottle laying beside it.

Unconsciously, a smile leaves my mouth. I am supposed to sit and begin to work on my laptop but I find myself walking to the bed with curiosity written all over me.

“Why did you cook this?” I ask her. I am curious to know why she did this. What for? Does she want something and she feels like doing something pleasing just to get what she wants?

“Because I want you to eat”, she responds back almost immediately, taking me by surprise.

Why does she care if I eat?Content © copyrighted by NôvelDrama.Org.

I nod and remain silent. She is obviously mad that I am not going to eat her food. There is no use talking to her then.

Slumping to the space beside her, I place my laptop on my lap and put it on to start work, ignoring her. She mumbles something but I don’t bother to ask her what it is.

Suddenly feeling the desire to smoke, I lean forward to grab the box of cigarettes from the drawer and a lighter before leaning back.

As soon as I lit it, she speaks up again. “Smoking this late?”

I want to ask her if smoking has a specific time.

“You barely eat anything all day and you want to smoke again? Don’t you know smoking is injurious…”

“… To health, yes, I know. Can you let me smoke in peace now? Stop acting like a nagging wife!” I snap at her in irritation.

Because we share a room does not mean she needs to tell me what to do and what not to do. It’s my life and it’s my house. I can choose to do whatever I want to do. I can choose to eat or not, smoke or not.

Silence falls.

Smoking helps to keep my mind off some disturbing thoughts. Her presence in the room and the closeness is enough reason for me to smoke.

All day, all I could think of was her naked body and how beautiful her exposed thighs were.

I dealt well with that distraction by smoking and I am about to do the same again. I don’t need a nagging wife. I married her for some other reason, not this.

As I type furiously on my laptop, stopping at intervals to take a puff, the silence persists. I stop typing and take a peek at her. Her arms are still folded around her bosom but her eyes are closed now.

“Lie down and sleep”, I mutter before taking my eyes off her as she flutters her eyes open.

“I’m not sleeping. Just thinking”, she replies, making me wonder what exactly she is thinking about.

Is she still mad about the food or because of how I snapped at her?

Inwardly, I curse.

Why do I even care why she is mad? She is going beyond the line by questioning my actions so she should be responsible for my reactions.

I completely ignore her now, my mind focused on my work. Taking a drag and puffing out air, I don’t know how much time I spent typing until my eyes catch the time on the laptop.

It is almost midnight.

I am almost done but I need to make a few calls before midnight. I am about to pick up the laptop so I can quickly make the calls before coming back to finish up when something falls on my shoulder, pinning me to my position.

I snap my head to see her head on my shoulder. She is fast asleep.

At first, I didn’t know what to do but when I realized I needed to go, I decided to place her head gently on the pillow so as not to wake her up.

Before I can do that, she turns, her face showing clearly now and her arms going around my forearm. She hugs them so dearly like they mean the world to her.

I want to wake her up this time. I want to call her name to see if she would answer but I don’t know what to call her.

Jasmine? Or Andre?

I hiss within me.

My eyes fall back on her sleeping face as she snores lightly holding onto my arm. Like the bad man that I am, my eyes suddenly leave her face and go down to her rising chest where her delightfully exposed cleavage is on display.

Something stirs in me and I shoot to my feet instantly, making her fall to the bed with a thud.