16. Theá
Chapter sixteen
Theá
T hey always say you’ll end up marrying a man like your father, and as much as I have rebuked that fate for my entire life, it has somehow come full circle. Because if there’s anything I’ve learnt in the last week, it’s that Antonio Vitale has more in common with my father than he thinks. They’re two sides of the same coin. And not only have I somehow found myself married to him, but I have also somehow let him give me my first orgasm. All in the space of one damn week.
“I love Monaco,” Eleanor says as she swims up to the edge of the pool, right in front of where I’m currently trying to absorb all the UV rays I’ve missed over the last week.
I’ve been working on the library for the entire week, and with Antonio’s go-ahead to use his very lovely credit card, it’s coming along nicely. I only have a few things to do, like set up the beverage cart, purchase the new seating arrangement, and then decide how I want to organise all the books. But on the flip side, I haven’t been outside much, and I’ve missed just lounging around by the pool.
“Everyone loves Monaco,” I counter.
“Not true. Monaco is only fun if you have money.”
As much as I want to argue with her statement, I know how crazy expensive Monaco is, especially Monte Carlo.
My sun is suddenly blocked when something is draped over my head. I rip the fabric off and see it’s a towel. Antonio towers over me, his phone up to his ear.
He moves the mic away from his mouth before grumbling out, “Cover up. I’m having a few investors up, and I don’t want them staring at you.”
I scoff and throw the towel back at him, then I hear him curse in Italian.
“ Casse-toi ,” I say and walk towards the end of the pool, where I step in under his glare. I simply blow him a kiss, and he rolls his eyes before heading back inside.
He has barely said ten words to me since he had me whimpering and coming all over his hand on Sunday. And by the time he returned from work that afternoon, I had a new bed in my room, so even more distance was quickly put between us.
The apartment has felt about as warm as Antarctica in the heart of winter, and now he comes out here and demands this shit? It’s so typical for men. They get what they want and then go back to ordering you around like you’re just another pawn in their game of chess.
Eleanor, who just watched the entire scene unfold, simply giggles as I swim over to the opposite edge of the pool to observe the city.
“It’s like you went from one prison to another,” she says, and I can’t help but nod.
It’s a prison, but in a completely different way. In some ways, I have more freedom than I did at home since my father and his security aren’t breathing down my neck. But here, I can’t help but feel like I’m still always being watched. Antonio hasn’t explicitly told me to stay in the apartment, but he’s also made sure I have everything I could ever want so that I wouldn’t consider leaving, anyway.
“At least this prison comes with money and a significant lack of Kylian and my father.” I sigh.
I can hear the chatter of whoever Antonio’s having over grow louder as he brings them towards the entertainment area on the balcony. I don’t bother to turn my head, but Eleanor does, and she gasps in surprise.
“Does he always bring his work colleagues to his house?” she asks.
The question intrigues me, because he doesn’t. “No,” I say calmly as I turn to face the group, as well. They’re all faces that seem oddly familiar, and I assume it’s because they were at the wedding. The conversation seems light-hearted, and I even spot Antonio laughing as a few men light up cigars. “I think they’re family,” I confirm.
“How do you know?”
“I’ve heard him on the phone with investors; he's a lot more formal. He looks too relaxed.” As the words leave my lips, the Vitale twins walk in and wave over at us.
Both Eleanor and I wave in response, and now I’m even more intrigued.
“He looks like he’s planning something,” she says, eyeing my fake husband.
“Of course he is. If you were forced into a marriage and had your family threatened, wouldn’t you be, too?” I raise a brow at her, and she frowns.
“And you’re okay with it?” she asks.
Suddenly, I’m confused by her question. “You’re not? I don’t care what he does, the only thing I care about is whether he’s planning to take me with him when he gets out.”
Silence settles between us for a bit before Eleanor speaks up again. “You’d leave this all behind?”
I push my sunglasses onto my head and meet Antonio’s eyes from across the balcony.
“In a heartbeat.”
I don’t expect Eleanor to understand, especially since our home situations have always been different. Her father may be a part of the cartel, but since he’s not high-ranking, she gets a lot more freedom to go out and do whatever she wants. My father would never have let me visit her in another country, especially not Monaco.
My phone rings from the lounger where I was sitting, and my eyes shoot up to Antonio again. All the men’s eyes travel over to Eleanor and me. It’s the exact situation he was trying to avoid, and now that all eyes are on me, I wish I listened to him and just covered up instead.
I step out of the pool, and I can feel the heat of all their stares. I feel so exposed that I grab the towel along with my phone.
“Hi, Dad,” I say and sandwich my phone between my ear and shoulder as I attempt to wrap myself in a towel.
“Hello, Theresa, how has your first week away from home been? Depressing, I hope.” He chuckles lightly, but I don’t find it funny at all. Especially since nothing could be worse than being trapped in his house.
Antonio jerks his head towards the house, and I know it’s him trying to tell me to head inside. Even though most of the men have stopped looking, I can still feel a few lingering.
“It’s been okay, a bit of an adjustment.” I slip my flip flops on, ready to actually listen to Antonio this time and head inside.
“I can imagine. Theresa darling, is your new husband around?” I freeze in my tracks and look up at Antonio, who’s looking at me as if to say get the fuck inside.
“He is, but he’s busy with a meeting at the moment.”
“Give him the phone for me, Theresa.”
I sigh. I know it’s not a request, it's a command. I assume it’s because my dear husband has been avoiding my father.
I walk over to Antonio, and he immediately starts walking towards me to meet me halfway and away from the group.
“What are you doing?” he grumbles.
“He wants to speak to you.” I extend the phone out to him, and his face contorts in annoyance before he grabs it and holds it to his ear.
“Gabriel.”
I can’t hear what my father says, but all I can see is Antonio rolling his eyes and adjusting his glasses, visibly upset by the topic.
“Well, actually, Theresa and I have plans tonight,” he says.
We don’t. My plans for tonight included putting my new library to the ultimate test and binge-reading the next book on my Tbr .
“Sure. I’ll bring her with me,” he says through gritted teeth, and it’s clear my father is still insisting on something.
He ends the call and holds my phone out to me.
“We have dinner with your father at a restaurant in Nice at eight tonight. Dress appropriately,” he says as his eyes gaze over my current appearance, where a towel is wrapped around my dripping wet figure.
“Yes, sir,” I say, and his jaw clenches.
He grabs my chin before I can turn, and he lowers his mouth to my ear. “And next time I tell you to cover up, please listen. Do you hear me, Theresa?” His voice switches to a softer, yet more demanding tone that gives me whiplash.
“Y-yes.”
“Good, now take your little friend and go inside.” His icy green eyes pour into mine, and I find myself so entranced that I nod in agreement.
“First, he barely speaks to me since the wedding, and now he’s ordering me around. Who does he think he is? ” I ask as I whip the door of my cupboard open.
“Your husband?” Eleanor offers in response, and I glare at her. “Why are you so surprised that he’s telling you what to do, especially after growing up with your dad?”
I sigh, placing my hands on my hips. “I have nothing to wear.” I walk towards the bed, and she replaces me at the cupboard.
“I guess I just thought it would be different since he isn’t my father.”
“Men are all the same. A jealous man and an overprotective father aren’t too far apart.”
“Jealous?” I laugh. “Antonio is not jealous.”
Her head pops out from my cupboard, and she stares at me with a straight-faced expression. “Sure, Theá. He’s not jealous, and you need to have your eyes tested.”
He is not jealous. Sure, maybe a bit possessive, but not jealous . I know these types of men, all they care about is control.
“Well, since you don’t believe me, why not test the theory?” she asks.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just going to be men at the dinner?”
“I assume so, my father doesn’t have many female associates,” I say with a brow raised. I have no idea where she’s going with this.
“Wear this and then tell me if he gets jealous or not,” she says, holding up a lilac, mini dress.
My eyes widen a fraction. It’s a stunning dress that I haven’t had the chance to wear because my father would always complain that it was too short.
“So let me get this straight: you want me to purposely put on a short dress to attempt to get a reaction out of Antonio?”
“Essentially, yes.” She shrugs.
“Find me a cute pair of heels, and I’ll do it. At least it’ll make the dinner more interesting.”
She jumps up and down like an excited puppy before diving back into my cupboard to look for shoes.
Eleanor and I spend the next two hours doing my hair and makeup. I clench my thighs as the memory of what happened the last time Antonio caught me doing something he didn’t particularly like floods back in.
“Perfect,” she says as she lets the last piece of hair she straightened fall down my back.
I haven’t straightened my hair in so long, that I’ve forgotten just how long it is. It also reminds me I need to go have my hair trimmed.
Suddenly, my eyes are burning into every imperfection, from my cellulite that’s a bit more visible to the way my dress hugs my figure just a bit too tightly for it to still be considered flattering.
“You look great. C’mon, it’s already seven.” She hurries me to my feet and hands me a few pieces of jewellery.
“Thank you so much for all your help, Eleanor.” I turn to face her, and she stares at me with a broad smile.
“It’s my pleasure, now c’mon. I want to see his reaction.”
Eleanor and I hurry down the stairs—well, we head down as fast as my stilettos will allow me. When we reach the bottom, Antonio is leaning against the kitchen island, and my air nearly lodges in my throat.
He’s in a plain black suit with a white shirt that’s unbuttoned, and he has his glasses on. A part of me still wonders if they’re real or just for the aesthetics.
He does a double-take between his phone and me as he looks up. “Where are your curls?”
“What? I-I uh, straightened it,” I stutter out, taken back by his question.
His eyes trail over me, and they linger on my legs for a fraction longer than they probably should.
“Are you ready to go?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says, eyes still raking along my body.
“Let me just get my things upstairs, my driver is here as well,” Eleanor says as she dashes upstairs.
Antonio slips his phone and hands into his pockets as he walks closer to me. His eyes survey the dress one more time. This time, his face is a void of expression.
“You look nice,” I blurt out. I don’t know whether it’s the nerves or his proximity that makes me say it, but when I do, I want to turn and run away.
His mouth tilts up at the side. “Hmm, thank you, tesoro, ” he says, moving even closer until he’s right in front of my face, thanks to my heels. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack in this dress?”
My eyes widen, and I watch as his pupils dilate as he looks into my eyes. “You better hope everyone at the dinner tonight knows not to stare, or their blood will be on your pretty little hands.”
He backs up just as Eleanor enters the kitchen.
Suddenly, I’m more stressed about my choices for this evening. I can’t believe I let Eleanor talk me into this. He lets her exit first and then places his hand on the small of my back, letting it rest there the entire time until we’re in the car. It’s then that I realise he isn’t driving, but instead, we’re both at the back. Together. Where his hand is now resting very heavily on my thigh. And it will be for the next thirty minutes until we’re at the restaurant.