Becoming His Wife by Hayley Faiman

Chapter Ten

TIZIANO

Ileave lunch with Gavino after a few hours of eating and a few bottles of wine. Heading to my new townhouse, I need to see how the furniture and decorating are coming along. I want everything to be ready for Maci.

Mia is already there, standing in the middle of the living room surveying her handiwork. I’m sure it was a grave mistake asking the woman I’m currently fucking to decorate the house for my new wife, but my options are limited and Mia knows my style.

She turns around, her black hair shining in the light, her red lips turned up into a small grin. “I know the steel blue sectional sofa isn’t really your style, but it’s hers,” she says as a way to explain the almost too bright couch that is the focal point of the room.

“So you did have Maci in mind when you decorated?” I ask.

Mia hums. “I did. At least I tried, she doesn’t really have much of an opinion on things. She hasn’t been exposed to much.”

A hint of what I can only assume is sadness, pity maybe, laces Mia’s tone. “I shouldn’t be talking to you about any of this,” I point out.

She laughs softly. “No, probably not, but here we are.”

“We’re good, yeah?” I ask, staying in my place and not taking even a single step closer.

Mia doesn’t say anything for a long moment, instead she watches me, her gaze roaming over my face, then she nods her head once.

“We’re as good as we ever were, Tiz. We’ve been friends for far too long to let a few consistent months of sex ruin anything. Besides, I knew you were looking for a wife and I know how to keep my heart out of the bedroom.”

“You’re going to scare the shit out of one man for life, Mia. I can’t wait to sit back and watch it unfold.”

Her lips curl up in disgust. “Never,” she snaps. “Gavino knows that marriage is not on my table. I have fun, and I choose who I have that fun with. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Without another word, she walks past me, but I don’t let her get too far. Reaching out, I wrap my fingers around her bicep to stop her. She looks over her shoulder at me and presses her lips together, waiting for whatever it is I have to say.

“Thank you, Mia,” I say softly.

She nods her head, her face softening as she looks up at me. “Thank you, Tiz.”

Releasing her, I watch as she walks away from me. Mia is and always will be my friend. I don’t love her or feel anything romantic toward her, but I respect her, and I’ll miss the conversations we had. That is over though, my focus must be on my wife from this moment on.

I wanted a wife and I’m going to make this work between us, not just because we’ll be bound, but because I want her—want us—far too badly not to.

Walking around the townhouse, I take everything in as I look everywhere. It is decorated in nothing but the basics, leaving plenty of room for personal taste and desires. Mia did what I asked her to, made sure it was livable.

Walking into the kitchen, I tug open a cabinet door and peer inside. Dishes. They are white, plain and sturdy. Likely expensive and high end.

However, they have zero personality, which is what I wanted. Maci can do as she wishes with any of it, adding pieces or throwing these in the trash, I really don’t give a shit. I just wanted the house outfitted so that she wasn’t without any longer.

Leaving, I head back home to my father. It’s getting late and he said he wanted to see me this evening for dinner. It doesn’t take me long to drive home, my townhouse is only ten minutes away. I wanted to be close enough that I could help him if I needed to.

“You’re late,” he calls out as soon as I walk through the front door.

I chuckle, jogging into the dining room where he is sitting at the head of the table. Making my way over to the chair next to him, I tug it out and sit down next to him.

“Sorry, I had a meeting with Gavino Santoro and then needed to check on the townhouse, make sure it was ready for Maci,” I say, telling him the absolute truth.

“How is Santoro? Good?” he asks, lifting his napkin and shoving it into his shirt.

“He is,” I mutter, reaching for the bowl of salad in front of me.

“Your wedding is in a few days and I wanted to talk to you before you made your vows.”

My heart stops in my chest and I turn to him, my hands frozen and suspended in the air with tongs full of salad.

“Yeah?” I ask.

“You didn’t book a honeymoon, I know because I get your calendar and you have meetings scheduled for next week, tuttecazzata,” he says, shouting that it’s a load of bullshit.

“Work, padre. The famiglia always comes first.”

He shakes his head, scooping up some pasta and dumping it on his plate. In public, my father knows how to behave, at home he’s a goddamn animal. I smile, knowing that one day I’ll miss moments like this, even if I’m annoyed that he’s going through my calendar.

“You work too much, Tiz. The plane will pick you up first thing the day after the wedding. You’ll go to Italy for a week. Stay at the family villa.”

I blink, then blink again, unsure that he’s said what he has. I can’t leave for a week, I can’t leave for a fucking day. I have to sign off on the shift in power and be here to oversee all of it. Leaving does not make that happen, and I’m not sure Gavino wants to wait.

“Padre,” I warn.

He holds up his hand and his gaze finds mine. His eyes narrow and I know that he means business. Pressing my lips together, I bite the inside of my cheek. He shakes his head once.

“The famiglia does come first, but trust me when I say that you have to make time for your wife. She also comes first when you’re able to put her first. A wedding, a honeymoon, these are hers. You do this for her, build a good foundation. Do what I didn’t.”

I don’t say anything. Watching him, seeing the seriousness in his gaze, I know that he will not take no for an answer. Clearing my throat, I nod my head. I’ll have to get with Vino later, but my father is right. A week away with a bride that I know absolutely nothing about wouldn’t be such a bad thing, especially the family villa in Italy, on the beach. Not a bad thing at all.

“Si, padre, a week at the villa,” I murmur.

“Bellissima,” he cries. “You come back, she’ll already be pregnant. Mark my words.”

I chuckle, shaking my head, and we finish our dinner. When he’s on his third glass of wine, I make my way toward my bedroom and tug out my phone to call Gavino.

“A week in Italy wouldn’t be a bad thing. Give me some time to figure out my situation, give you some time with your wife, come home and we transition.”

“Appreciate you being okay with this. He wasn’t going to relent.” I chuckle.

Gavino hums. “It’s good, cugino. All good. See you on your wedding day.”

Ending the call, I take a shower, again my thoughts filled with the sight, smell, and taste of my future wife. I close my eyes and wonder why the fuck I waited two whole weeks to make her mine.

I should have married her the very moment I laid eyes on her. I know without a doubt that there is so much more to her than what meets the eye, and I can’t wait to discover all of her.

MACI

The makeupand hair people leave and for the first time the entire morning, I’m alone. Staring at my reflection in the full-length mirror, I wonder just what the next few hours will bring. It’s my wedding day.

Wedding.

The concept is kind of laughable. I don’t understand the party, the big event, when the reality is that we’re two strangers. I’m bought and paid for in a sense, and Tiziano is my keeper.

We’re not two people in love celebrating that love. We’re two people entering into a life-long contract—one where he is my owner and I am his property.

The white dress is at least appropriate, even if the rest of the event is not. Turning away from the mirror, I watch as the door opens. It’s her. I haven’t had to see her since shopping with Pippa.

I’ve been dreading this moment, but when I look at her, I don’t feel jealous at all. I’m not exactly sure how I feel, but it’s not envy, rage, or jealousy like I thought I would. Mia makes her way into the room, her head tipped down and her eyes focused on her phone. She stops in front of me and lifts her face.

I watch as her eyes soften. “Lovely,” she says softly and it’s then that I know what I feel when I see her.

Nothing.

Yes, she’s helped me. Yes, she’s slept with my fiancé. Yes, I should probably feel jealousy or something toward her, but in actuality, I feel absolutely nothing. I’m marrying him, but I’m not in love with him. I hardly even know him. If anything, she should feel those feelings about me, but unless she’s an amazing actress, I don’t see anything deceitful, angry, or hateful in her gaze.

“Thank you,” I say with a small smile.

“Your clothes have been packed and taken to the hotel room where you’ll be staying this evening. The car is ready to take you to the church. Are you ready?”

Nodding my head, I clear my throat. Am I ready? What a loaded question. Of course, I’m not ready. I’m going to become this man’s property in just a few minutes. I don’t know how he’s going to treat me or what I’m going to be expected to do. None of that matters now, not that it even really did. I agreed to this and I’m not one to back down from an agreement.

“I am,” I say with a nod.

Mia takes a step toward me, her gaze assessing as she searches mine. “Your life is going to be beautiful, Maci. Tiziano is a good man, he will treat you fairly.”

Then, without another word, she takes a step back and turns away from me. I watch as she makes her way to the door. Opening it, she steps to the side and looks over at me expectantly.

Reaching down, I gather the fabric of the skirt of my dress in my hand and tug it up slightly. Forcing myself to walk forward, I inhale a deep breath, then let it out with each step that I take. Lifting my head, I decide that being brave is my only option. I’m going to do the best that I can with what I have.

The car is waiting outside of the back door and there is a driver that tugs open the door as soon as he sees me. With my head held high, I make my way toward him, stopping just before I climb into the car. Looking behind me, I frown at the sight of Mia who is still back at the door.

“I won’t be joining. It wouldn’t be right, and you know why,” she says, her voice soft, almost timid sounding, which isn’t like her at all.

“Thank you, Mia, for everything.”

Mia shakes her head. “Never thank me, Maci. Just know that there has never been anything more than mutual respect and there will never be anything at all from this moment forward.”

Dipping my chin, I think about thanking her again, but I decide that’s bullshit. I’m not going to thank a woman for not fucking a man that she knows is married. Instead, I give her a small smile and slip into the back seat.

The ride to the church is in silence. It’s just me and the driver and I’m fine with that. Looking out the window, I watch as the city passes me by. I have no clue where I am, and it doesn’t matter. I just know that everything is about to change—again.

I should be used to the abrupt and life altering changes by now, but I’m really not. I really just want to live a quiet life. I want to have a home and stay there at this point. Stability is all that I crave anymore. Any other dreams that I had are now null and void. A moot point.

The church comes into view and I’m surprised to see how many cars are parked not only in the parking lot, but also in front of and across the street from the building. There is just enough room for the hired car to parallel park directly in front of the church’s steps.

I reach for the door to open it, when it’s yanked open. Looking up, I blink at the sight of Gavino standing in front of me. He grins, dipping his chin and holding out his hand for me. Slipping my palm in his, he helps me out of the car.

“If you’d like someone to walk you down the aisle, I am offering my arm. If you would like to go it alone, I would not be offended.”

I close my eyes for a moment, thinking about the people watching me, the absolute strangers and I open my eyes, focusing on Gavino. “I think I want to go alone,” I say softly.

He grins, dipping his chin. “I wouldn’t think anything less of you, if you needed me to hold on to, but I must admit, you’ll fit in nicely, brave one. Come, I’ll take you into the church, get you set up in your room. It starts soon.”

Nodding my head, I grip his elbow and he does exactly what he said he would. He guides me toward the small room at the corner of the church where I’m met with a woman who is holding a bouquet of flowers.

“These are for you,” she says, handing it to me. “I’m the wedding coordinator. We’ll be starting any moment. I’ll come and get you when it’s time.”

She leaves, but returns in what feels like seconds later and announces that it’s time. Gripping the bouquet, I take one step then another. Positioning myself in front of the double doors, I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath.

I open my eyes just in time to see the doors open and hear the wedding march music. All of that disappears though. I don’t even see the people staring at me as I take my first step forward.

All I see is Tiziano.

I decide right here and now that I’m going to make my husband fall in love with me. I don’t know why, and I definitely don’t know how, but I do know that I want that.