She stared at the reflection of a beautiful woman. Dark hair, black eyes, red fabric, and tears. She was used to staring at the arabesque design on the border of her mirror, finding it more stare-worthy than herself. Not today. Today she stared at herself. Not comptemtuous, not sad. Just numb. She knew this was to happen any day now and it had. She had prepared herself enough to not shed any tears now. As much as her eyes brimmed full , she trapped her emotions inside, holding herself together. She half expected her marriage to be fixed with some other Indian bastard. At least then she wouldn't have had to leave her country, but yesterday when she heard Italians' forthcoming, she had nothing to say. The mere idea of settling in a new place with complete strangers haunted her and it would have haunted anyone if they knew whose hand she was promised to. Her father hadn't told her a word about whom she was to marry. It was as if she was just a good to be transported in exchange of r
"Tara"She knew he was already aware of her entire life but that's how mafia worked. You spoke when told to."Why don't we give you some privacy" her father intervened.Before she could comprehend his words, men had already started standing up to leave the room. She looked up to her father, pleading with her eyes to not leave her alone with him.As a good father that he was far from being, he didn't spare her a glance, leaving with other Italian guests. Just before closing the door on them, he turned back to look at his only daughter, his gaze stern. She knew what it meant, she either be on her best behavior or get ready to forget any freedom she had in her miserable life.When he left with the thud of door, she felt caught it the lion's den. It was surprising how fast he was making her feel claustrophobic.She still hadn't gathered enough courage to look up to the man in front of her, afraid if she did, she might burn into ashes. After several long minutes when she thought their fir
There it was, the most awaited email. In front of it sat Tara unsure how to feel about it. She had managed to get an interview after months of hardwork but not only did her husband had made it clear that she wouldn't work but the interview had been arranged on her wedding day. She scoffed at the irony, at the cruel fate of life that probably laughed viciously on Tara. I shouldn't have hoped It had been 3 days since she had met the nameless man. Her bags had been packed by her dutiful maids, her father busy in the wedding preparations due in two days. All she was told to do was sit in her room and look pretty as maids took care of her. She was convinced no matter what beauticians tried to do, they'd never even come closer to make her stand-able next to him. He was out of this world. His curly stiff hair, sharp gaze and chiseled tall physique was made for a women entirely different than her. Even if she was to convince him to let her work, seduction was out of the question. Not onl
As she bounced twice on her own bed she shook with horror. Everything was happening too fast. He had kissed her with resolve, like nothing could stop him from marking his claim and god knows what he was planning to do tonight. She desperately shook her head, frantically conveying the wrongness of his actions. Nothing can happen tonight. He had already kissed her before their marriage. If her father was to know of this, which he obviously would, he wouldn't be pleased. It was her father whom she had inherited her conservative nature from. If he knew his daughter was sexually involved with a man, her fiancé or not, he'd rather have her dead than alive. She had to stop this mad man before he went insane. At the side of bed he stood watching her drown in her thoughts. Her small stature awkwardly splayed on her queen sized bed. She would have moved faster to run out the door had her body had given a response. Her helplessness made him smirk. Ever since their first meeting this little
There she sat stark naked in her window, feeling disgustingly humiliated and utterly helpless in front of a man that held no pity, no warmth. He watched her as if she was hewed out of precious diamond, perfectly tailored for him, her soft incandescent skin shining under moonlight. She grew uncomfortable at his gaze shamelessly roaming on her body, not masking his unholy intentions. His eyes perilously tingled her skin as if fondling without touch, licking without tongue, devouring without mouth. Her struggles grew as she helplessly watched his gaze becoming penetrative, insinuating his desire. His hold on her hands tightened with her growing defiance, his fist enough to control both her wrists behind her back, closing their distance further, the thin fabric of his shirt wrinkling like a poor barricade between their skins. She had never felt so vulnerable at a man's feet, at the doorstep of fate who played a brutal game with her frailty. And in all the situations she couldn't but w
Everything was blurred for next two days. Her room was flooded with maids, beauticians, and hair dressers. Their meandering as annoying as unbothered. It didn't matter, and for that matter, nothing mattered. She did not notice their presence, their existence all but the remnants of reality as she expressionlessly watched it in the dazed state. She realised what sham of a matrix she had been living so far while the only truth was him- the stoutness of his features, the roughness of his skin, the coldness of his gaze, the harshness of his actions. In the minutes of their meet, he had changed the definitions of marriage for her. For someone who hadn't experienced a man's touch, she had had nothing than a roller coaster ride that night, riding to the heights of pleasures and the depths of pain. And it was all but a glimpse, she knew, a quick peek over what he could actually to do. A sudden shiver ran over her skin at the thought. She internally shook her head, already scared of her fut
Wedding had been fairly simplistic. Except for the presence of some of the most deadly people in Italy, everything appeared minimalistic. Her white dress had been exactly of her size, complementing her soft curves at just the right places. She walked down an aisle alone. Her long cathedral veil, minimum makeup and simple bun did not hinder her way from attracting attention. Now that she knew what kind of power she had married to, it all made sense, the fawning appreciation, narrowing gazes, inundating importance, everything. At the end of aisle he offered his hand like a gentleman. Engulfing her small hand in his, pulling her closer, she didn't dare look from floor, drenched in sweat and shame, feeling his sharp gaze through the sheer veil. As priest said rites of marriage her hand started profusely sweating, the quiver of her lips visible. Never in her dreams had she thought she would ever get married to Italian don. "Do you Donavan Frantino, take Tara Rao as your lawfully wedded
Once inside the room, she quietly adjusted her laptop down on the table and started setting it up. They had left from their own reception before everyone else, not that anyone dared questioned why. But she knew she had gotten herself in trouble, even though he had shown different sets of emotions, he was undoubtably irritated.If it wasn't for her compliance in bed, he wouldn't have even considered her request. It bothered his own mind as to why he saught her willingness. For all that mattered, she was his fucking wife, he could bend her over and have his way, and yet he wanted to have her battle with herself, he cherished the way she seethed under him, loathing everything but not denying anyways.He settled himself down, crossing his legs across mattress, relaxing back on the bed post, watching as she didn't mind changing her clothes before sitting in front of screen. They had barely reached in time. He had driven his Porsche like a truck, slowly taking turns, waiting on empty signa