ARIA’S POV
I watched as the casket slowly lowered into the ground, my father sobbing quietly next to me. I felt a sense of anger and bitterness, and I knew he felt the same. Matteo stood before the grave, his hands in his pockets, his face hard and emotionless.
Just then, the clouds’ dark clouds above us gave way for the rain to fall, soaking us all to the bone. It was as if the heavens were weeping along with us, mourning the loss of Marino. Matteo was escorted by Carter to take shelter under a canopy but he ignored Carter’s persistent request to stay under the canopy rather, Matteo stood in the rain while I lingered behind to eavesdrop on the gossipy men.
“First it was his wife, and now his dad,” one of them said, his voice hushed but his words still carrying in the stillness of the rain. “It’s like a curse has been placed on the family.” I felt a shiver run down my spine. Matteo had lost his mother and now his father. It was a horrible tragedy, and I could understand why these men would speculate that something sinister was at work.
“I’ve heard that his late wife, Daya, was a beauty beyond compare,” the man continued, “so stunning that men would trip over themselves just to catch a glimpse of her.” I shivered, feeling my own beauty pale in comparison to the legend of Daya. I wondered if Matteo saw me as a shadow of his late wife, a lesser version of the woman he had once loved.
The thought made my heart ache, and I turned away, trying to escape the sting of their words. I looked at Matteo, and even in his grief, he looked devastatingly handsome. His black dress shirt hugged his broad shoulders and tapered waist, accentuating his every curve. His wool coat was tailored to perfection, and he looked more like a movie star than a grieving son. It was hard to reconcile the image of this striking man with the pain and sorrow I knew he was feeling. It was as if he were wearing a mask, hiding his true emotions from the world.
“I heard he got married to another woman”. A man said
“Where is she? Have you seen her yet?”. Another asked
“Yes. She should be around somewhere”.
Sometimes, I find it amusing that I’m so small and easy to overlook. It’s like I’m invisible, which can be a great advantage in certain situations. I can hear conversations that I’m not supposed to, I can observe without being seen. But it’s also a curse because I often feel like I’m not taken seriously, that I’m seen as less capable or competent because of my size. It was a double-edged sword.
As I turned away from the crowd, I caught sight of my husband standing a short distance away. His jaw was clenched, his eyes hard and cold. He stood like a statue, not even flinching as the rain poured down around him. He made no move to join the chaos of people running for cover, and I wondered if he was even capable of feeling emotion. He seemed so impenetrable, so immune to the rain and the mayhem around us.
As I glanced around the compound, my eyes caught sight of something that made me stop and shiver. There was a man standing behind a large tree, watching the scene unfold before him. He was dressed all in black, his face obscured by the rain. I couldn’t make out his features, but there was something about him that made me uneasy. It was like he was watching me specifically, as if he knew I was the one to notice him. And when our eyes met, I knew for sure that he was watching me, even from that distance. I tried to look away, to focus on something else. But I couldn’t seem to tear my gaze from the man behind the tree. It was as if he was mesmerizing me, controlling my movements with his eyes, and I felt like a prisoner, trapped in his gaze, and then, he turned around and left.
When it was time to leave, Matteo instructed his men to take me home in a separate car from his. I watched as he drove away, his car disappearing into the night. When he finally arrived home, it was well past dinner time. But I waited for him, determined to share a meal with him. It was the least I could do after everything that had happened. He had lost his father, and I knew how devastating that could be. I didn’t want him to be alone in his grief.
When Matteo finally arrived home, he sat down to eat dinner with me. He wolfed down his food, as if he hadn’t eaten in days. He barely took a breath between bites, his eyes never meeting mine. I tried to ignore him, but I couldn’t help but glance at him now and then. I was trying to understand what he was going through to give him the space he needed. But it was hard to ignore the tension between us, the awkward silence that hung in the air. I looked at him again, and this time, he slammed his fist on the table, sending everything on it shaking. The silverware clattered, the plates rattled, and I jumped in my seat.
“Will you stop doing that?” He hissed, his jaw clenched. “I’m trying to concentrate!”
I kept my gaze averted, my eyes fixed on anything but him. But I could feel his anger building, like a storm cloud gathering above our heads.
“Look at me”. He demanded, his voice low and insistent. “Look at me, Aria”. He demanded again, and I raised my head and looked into his dark, beautiful orbs. With a slow push, his chair scraped back against the floor, the sound echoing in the tense silence. Lifting me effortlessly, he surprised me with his strength. A shiver ran down my spine as i was placed on the cool surface of the dining table. I could feel the heat of his body close to mine, his every breath caressing my skin. In one smooth motion, he was between my legs, caging me in with the intensity of his presence. His touch lingered on my arms, sending a jolt of electricity through me. His gaze held mine, anticipation coiled tight in my chest, a delicious blend of fear and excitement. Then, he leaned in, and the world seemed to fade away.