THE MAFIA’S MISTAKEN BRIDE

Jasmine’s POV

The numerous questions of why he did that and why he always made me feel that way began to give me a slight headache.

Is it longing? Want? Need? Or love?

At the last thought, I shake my head intermittently in a full-strong denial. It can never be that.NôvelDrama.Org owns all © content.

Xavier is cruel.

Stone-hearted.

People like him don’t love. They become obsessed with people but how he makes me feel and how he does all of that doesn’t depict the feeling of obsession.

This is definitely something else.

Does he want me?

Realizing how stupid I am, still seated in the car after he had stomped off, probably in anger or embarrassment for my accusations, I shake my head again. This time, to shake off all the weird thinking and assumptions.

I should be strong.

This is just for a while.

Now that I know that Andre is here, I am halfway done with my job. The first half is finding her and the second half is bringing her back home.

Even though I haven’t seen her yet, I am so sure she is here and the second job of bringing her to Xavier will be possible with the help of one person; Mr. Moore.

If he is feeling guilty just like he claimed when Xavier and I got married in place of his daughter, then he needs to help me. Andre needs to be punished for her actions, not me.

I don’t want to care about what would happen afterwards because I will be far from here by then.

The door opens and I see the driver peering at me with curiosity. Probably wondering why I am still seated.

A blush creeps into my face when I remember how Xavier kissed me and how we just had an argument right in front of him.

Flashing him with a small smile, I step out gingerly, gazing around the huge mansion. It is just like his mother’s but this has a peek of civilization.

The driver guides me to the front door and I enter inside the big living room. Everything seems too big for only him so I just assume there are plenty of maids around the house but after walking for a while without coming across anyone, it dawns on me that it will just be Xavier and I here.

Maybe it’s because he rarely stays in Italy. What is the need when he is always in New York?

Now I am beginning to wonder what we came here for. Is he here for business? Did he receive news that Andre is in Italy?

As much as I want to believe that Xavier knows the truth about me, something keeps telling me otherwise. He wouldn’t keep me here if he knew. He might be heartless but he would never hurt a woman like he said. He would never hurt me knowing full well that I am not her.

This is more reason why I need to hasten up about my plans to find Andre and bring her to him.

I don’t have Mr. Moore’s number but I plan to steal that from him even though I have never seen him with a phone apart from that night when we were coming back from Mr. Moore’s home.

I will have to think of how to get it now that I don’t even know how long we are going to be in Italy and when exactly we are going back to America.

Following the driver up the flight of stairs, I become breathless. After a few seconds, we get to the top and I let out a deep breath of relief.

He guides me to a room which is also large with a massive bed like the one at home.

Home?

Did I just call New York home? What the hell is wrong with me?

Just because he kissed me today and the other day doesn’t mean we are real. We are not. And his home isn’t mine. I don’t have a place in his life.

Glancing around, I catch sight of a small picture frame and I find myself walking towards the table where it is placed.

It is a small frame of a young boy smiling with a young woman. I don’t need a soothsayer to tell me it is Xavier.

His smile is so bright and beautiful, just like the woman’s and I conclude that this is his mother.

Just then, another question popped into my head. If this is his mother, then where is she?

This question begins to bring forth more questions that I wish I could get answers to.

If Xavier was this sweet when he was little, then what changed? Where is his father?

Xavier has never smiled at me or laughed genuinely. His laughter is always filled with mockery and amusement, not genuine.

It makes me wish I could see Grandmother and ask her all of this. It makes me want to know who that man whom Grandmother mentioned earlier tonight is. And it makes me want to see Xavier from a different light.

“Good night, ma’am”, the driver bows politely with a half smile before strolling out of the door, leaving me all alone with the frame in my hand.

Carefully, I dropped it, suddenly feeling lonely and with no idea where Xavier had gone. I saw him walking towards the front door and I wondered if he was in another room and would sleep there or if he was doing this purposely to avoid me after that argument from earlier.

Before I can move away from the table, the door swings open and he comes in, looking calmer than before, his face expressionless.

We stare at each other for a second before he walks past me to the bathroom.

Sighing deeply, I move towards the bed. I don’t feel like taking a shower. I just want to go to bed and sleep it off. Then tomorrow, I can begin my plan to steal Mr. Moore’s phone number from him. That means I need to be friendly with him, not keeping up with this grudge.

Before I can sit on the bed, a sharp pain shoots through me, stopping right at my abdomen, and making me let out a scream.

Holding my stomach, I sink slowly to the floor, my head banging harder as it hits me.

My period.

My menstrual cramps have always been terrible. Sometimes, I lose consciousness due to the extreme pain and other times, I can barely do anything when it comes.

I hear the bathroom door open but I am in too much distress to look up and see if Xavier is coming out.

I’m worried.

If it is my period, then I am in deep shit.

First, I don’t have a tampon here with me. Second, I might collapse and Xavier who is avoiding me won’t even know a thing.

For the first time in my life, I am feeling too proud to tell him about my situation and beg him to stay in case I lose consciousness.

How could I have forgotten to come along with a tampon knowing full well that I haven’t seen my period since I began to stay with him?

I’m such a fool.

A wince leaves my mouth as I try to get up, forgetting about Xavier until he speaks.

“Are you okay?” he asks in a low tone, a towel in his hand and his hair dripping with water. He must have washed his hair. His body isn’t wet yet which means he hasn’t had his shower yet. Maybe he was about to when he heard my scream and came out.

This trails my mind back to earlier.

The kiss.

The possessive in his voice and eyes.

Does he care about me?

Even if he does, does it mean he likes Andre and wants her to be his wife because he likes her?

I am Jasmine so I shouldn’t be concerned about that. Whatever he feels, whether anger or love, it is meant for Andre, not me.

Without a word, I force myself to stand up but I find myself swaying backward. Before I can fall back to the floor, a pair of two strong hands with a defensive wall of chest catches me, stealing my breath away as our eyes interlock again.

The way he is staring at me is doing unimaginable things to my insides. It is as though he is watching right through me, seeing every single secret of mine.

Even with that, my mind goes way back to that kiss from earlier. The way in our bedroom in New York when I was in just my night robe and the one in the car which were both unexpected.

They mean something.

He can’t just kiss me for no reason, can he?

Is he doing this for me to fall in love with him? Do I like him to even consider kissing him again?

“Are you ok?” he demands again, this time with a worried-filled expression, making me shift my gaze from his face to his pink cute lips that I wish to taste again.

Feeling pathetic for how I feel, tears begin to water in my eyes.

I am a mess.

I hate and like him.

I want to be with him and far from him.

I want to kiss and strangle him.

I want to find Andre and not tell him.

And I want to always feel safe near him, beside him and with him, even though I hate him.

When I am not saying a word, his expression turns to anger, reminding me of the smile of that little boy. Suddenly, he lifts me upright, taking his hands off me and turns back to go into the bathroom, probably thinking I am faking this just for his attention.

But then, the pain hits me harder than ever before, making me scream and stumble backwards before I fall with a loud thud to the floor.

Before I could lose consciousness, Xavier’s concerned face appeared over me, making a smile leave my lips in assurance that I would be fine.

Xavier is here.

I will be fine.

And my eyes close on their own accord.