Arrange Marriage (Craving)

•Dominic• "Where has that bastard Martel been hiding this precious gem for so long?" Teodoro ranted, washing down his fifth glass of vintage in one go. With a deep controlled sigh, I slowly clenched my fist tightly, following his preying eyes. Of course, he was looking at her as she wandered around the paid actors and actresses disguised as guests, worry lacing her face. I didn't want to imagine the horrendous things he'd already done with her in his deluded mind. Even when clothed in black from head to toe, Sofia had an inexplicably dazzling ray of light radiating from her, a light I strongly felt alluded to her true self. She just didn't exude the dark aura Teodoro strictly forced on her. "Was black really necessary and that ravens' freak show with creatures crawling beneath her feet?" I grumbled, wandering my eyes back to the smirking man I was cursed to have as a father. One would think the wedding was his since he'd singlehandedly been planning every step of his master plan carefully for weeks since the mysterious demise of Darius Martel. Initially, the wedding truly was his to Darius' widow, Cayetana Martel, but out of the blue, he woke up feeling like I was of age to marry either of the Martel daughters and prove I had his blood running through my veins. In all the twenty-six years of my life, I hadn't imagined myself marrying anyone anytime soon, that too, a woman like Sofia. I was raised to be merciless, cold and heartless. Looking into those innocent milky pools of the most uncommonly striking green eyes I'd ever seen vividly reflected the delicate nature of the woman I'd just married. She was a delicate flower, blooming, colourful and sweet-scented yet forcefully hoisted amidst bristly thorns. One habitual harsh word in an endearing tone or malicious act towards her and I'd break her, freezing her heart completely with my coldness and turning her into the monster I was. If I could, I'd rewrite her destiny myself and fate her with someone more deserving, but then again, the possessiveness seed was already sprouting somewhere deep inside and inaccessible. She was mine now and I had to deal with it one way or the other. "Was giving her an embarrassingly insignificant peck on the cheek necessary when I clearly ordered a full-on make-out session at that altar, Dom?" Teodoro entreated gruffly, motioning at a waitress for a refill. Taking another deep controlled sigh was inevitable. His orders had been clear, but a switch I never knew existed inside me flipped right there standing before Sofia, seconds away from devouring those full kiss-inspiring lips she boasted both out of curiosity of what she tasted like and to feed my rampant libido. Asking for her consent first and waiting for her reply so patiently was living proof the vibrant woman's pull had an extraordinary catch to it. We hadn't even spoken to each other yet she was already fucking up my entire personality. I suddenly became considerate and reasonable in a few seconds, looking into her eyes. It wouldn't be too surprising that would be her first kiss. What right did I have to selfishly steal it from her at the altar right after a thousand other orders had already been shoved down her throat since the contract had been signed? Freedom of choice and consent were the only gifts I could bestow upon her right now. My sudden silence drew Teodoro to put his hand on my shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "Look, Son," he chuckled. "Do not take this marriage as a death sentence. It's a gift wrapped with a perfect bow for you to enjoy. You just sit still, relax and let my plan unfold. Enjoy your wife. Use her roughly at your disposal and when you get bored of her, pass her on to your old man and I'll turn her into a Bernardi slave." Veins throbbed in my neck, and my jaw clenched. My own father disgusted me so much I felt the same about myself because we had the same blood running through our veins. In one way or the other, I was his slave and would eventually completely turn into him as he desired. "Sofia is my wife, Father, and there will never be a day we share a woman, never, so I would greatly appreciate a little bit of respect in your suggestions towards your daughter-in-law." Teodoro laughed wickedly, receiving a freshly filled glass. "I would be madly possessive too if I were in your shoes, Dom," he rumbled, "but the way I treat Sofia depends on your loyalty and obedience to me, otherwise, Sofia Martel might become my next mistress and you very much know how capable I am." I heavily pitied his wife, my stepmother, Olivia. How could anyone so kind and gentle love this wicked man despite his atrocities? Maybe because they had young children together? "I'm leaving," I mumbled, pissed completely. His words worked me up completely and reminded me how deep his clutches had sunk inside me since I was a child. "You're going straight to the airport with no detours, Dom," Teodoro ordered strictly. "Tell Sofia I said to enjoy her honeymoon, especially the first night," he spat venomously with an evil laugh. I felt my blood boil as I walked away from him. He spoke as though he was certain I would hurt her and force myself on her. Would I? Fuck. The frustration, anger and confusion were choking and suffocating. Why did I have to marry her if she'd suffer at my hands? I darted towards the black limousine taking us to the airport straight from the wedding reception, gruffly pulling off my bow tie and popping three top buttons open. The bodyguard at the door opened it and I peeked inside, assessing the limousine. She wasn't in. "Where's my wife?" I asked the bodyguards standing on either of my sides impatiently, casting my eyes forward at the guests mixing and mingling. I couldn't see her and neither could I see Teodoro. Fuck. "Fucking find my wife this instant and bring her here safely!" I commanded angrily, losing my mind altogether. Bodyguards in black suits scurried into the crowd, obeying my order. I stood there, kicking the tyre of the limousine hard. Fuck. I had to find her myself otherwise I'd go completely insane. "Where the fuck are you, Sofia?" I grunted through gritted teeth, bolting back inside the reception hall. The number of guests suddenly seemed multiplied, lights dimmed and smog everywhere close to the floor. Finding her was kind of hard with everyone in black. I almost took a deep sigh of relief when I saw the back view of a woman with long black hair, wearing exactly the same dress Sofia had worn for the reception. "Sofia?" I called, grabbing her gently by the elbow to face me. Shit. Wasn't her. Who the fuck wore the exact same outfit as the bride to a wedding? I continued looking around like a mad person, grasping at least three more women with replicas of Sofia's gown. Everything was beginning to feel sickeningly planned. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Had Teodoro taken and hurt her already to prove his point to me? I felt a hand on my shoulder, pushing me to look back sharply with adrenaline pumping like open floodgates into my veins. I could hear my heart beat like drums inside my chest. "Olivia?" I exhaled heavily, my eyes wandering around the room before i looked at her face. Her makeup was different and a little bit extra. She was probably covering bruises. "Her family wasn't in attendance and that must have upset her," she told me softly with a weak smile. "She should be in her changing room upstairs." Indeed, I had neither seen Cayetana nor either of Sofia's sisters. Their absence had Teodoro written all over it. "Thanks, Olivia," I said, already looking up at the clear floor upstairs. The floor was restricted to guests but anyone within the family could easily go upstairs. Shit. "Dominic?" Olivia called me before I could turn away from her. I looked at her with cocked brows. "Yes?" "I think Sofia is a really nice person and somewhere deep inside you lies one of the kindest and warmest men I've ever known," Olivia said sincerely. "You're not your father and his influence and morals have nothing on the choices you consciously make. Always remember that." I felt her words heavily sink into my heart and the deepest parts she spoke of. No lies were detected. Deep down, I prayed I'd always remember that and not blame my upbringing for hurting innocent people. I hurriedly climbed up the stairs to the second floor. I wasn't even sure which room Sofia had been changing in so I walked down the hallway, opening each and every room. "Sofia?" I called, peeking inside. Empty. Where the hell was she? Was she safe? Please, be safe. The result was the same in the next four bedrooms until I opened the fifth one. "Sofia?" I called helplessly, my heart hammering wildly in my chest. My eyebrows creased, my face contorting with rage. A familiar man sat on the bed with my not-so-legal little sister straddling him, while he shoved his tongue down her throat, grinding her hips roughly into his groin. I stormed inside with a clenched fist, yanking Greta off him and grabbing him gruffly by his collar. "Dom what the fuck?!" Greta yelled furiously, pulling down her dress. "Let him go!" "She's sixteen, you asshole," I fumed, colliding my fist roughly with his face. "Get lost and you're fired." I gave him another vengeful punch before he scurried out, grabbing his jacket in the process. Greta got up from the bed, pushing me backwards by my shoulders. "I fucking hate you!" she shouted, her chest heaving up and down with anger. "You fucking tell Dad and-" "You make out with a man a decade plus older than you again and act all rebellious and I'm letting him ship you off to a boarding school so get so shit together and stop being a fucking brat," I raged passionately, pointing a warning finger at her. She raised her hand to slap me, but I caught her wrist in time. "Now you're crossing the line," I warned her. Greta writhed her hand forcefully out of my grip. "Fuck you, Dom," she cursed through gritted teeth before storming out of the room. A perfect example of an angel turned into a little devil overnight. Sometimes it felt like she was too far gone to redeem and my heart broke on Olivia's behalf because she had to deal with half of her attitude every day. Sofia wasn't turning into that. Not on my watch. I resumed searching for her, drawing closer to the last room in the hallway. My footsteps became softer as I approached the last room, soft muffled sniffles audible. Was she crying? I walked to the door, gently pushing it wide open as it was already slightly opened. From the doorway, I could see her seated on the cushioned stool in front of the dresser, hugging her knees. Her face was buried in her lap, her hair covering her face completely. Soft sobs tore through her chest and somehow, those sounds of agony echoed into my heart. I was relieved she was safe, but hearing her cry made me feel shitty for some reason. She must have felt me looking at her as she stopped producing sounds, lifting her head slightly with her eyes cast at the door. We accidentally made direct eye contact and she almost immediately averted her eyes from mine, swiping at them with her hands as she put her bare feet onto the ground. "I've been looking for you," I spoke up, taking a step into the room as I watched her struggle to cover her eyes. "Are you okay, Sofia?" I asked her softly, slowly walking towards her. Sofia briskly stumbled onto her feet, standing up straight and backing away from me slowly. "I'm okay," she whispered, a fake smile touching her lips as she began fidgeting with her fingers. She couldn't even look at me, her pretty eyes ruined, red and almost puffy. Her face was almost completely flushed, lips visibly quivering. Did I frighten her that much? I stood still a distance away from her, my gaze softly anchored on her as she looked at everything else but me. "You're crying," I observed, unable to stop myself from moving closer to her. "What's wrong?" Sofia took a deep shaky breath as if trying to calm herself before putting her hands on her sides, opening them wide and clenching one into a fist. She finally lifted her glistened eyes to meet mine. "I-I thought I'd get a chance to say goodbye to my family," she murmured in a softly controlled tone, "but-but they didn't come," she stuttered, her shoulders dropping completely. They had to be close otherwise she wouldn't get so emotional over not seeing them. I envied her. No detours. Fuck it. "I'll take you to your family," I told her. Anything to get her to stop crying. "We'll miss the flight," she reasoned with a light sniffle and a fake smile. "It's okay. I can manage." "Sofia, I own the airline and can delay the flight. Just say the word and it's done." My words seemed to surprise her as she looked up at me. "Really? You can do that for me?" Even I was surprised by my own lenience despite the probable consequences. She was my wife not some common woman from the street. I could make exceptions. "Yes, Sofia. Really," I assured her. A genuine smile touched her lips as she walked towards me, standing at least three feet away and finally looking into my eyes. "I really really want to see my family, please," she begged. "Even if it's for a few minutes and I won't ask for anything else, I promise." The desperation in her eyes was intense. I weirdly felt for her. "As long as you stop crying," I conditioned. Sofia's face became completely flushed and she covered her face with her hands. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she murmured. "Stupid tears." She sounded so embarrassed of herself, fully turning away from me and wiping away her tears. I wished I could tell her it was okay and she could cry if she really wanted to. I wished I could comfort her, but I just didn't know how to without sounding like an emotionless dick. Sofia plopped onto the cushioned stool, facing away from me as she grabbed her heels. "I'll quickly put these on," she informed me, looking over her shoulder briefly. "Just give me a second." Sofia lifted her dress, revealing her feet. Her toes were red but she still tried to force her foot into the ridiculously shaped shoe undoubtedly designed to induce pain in the wearer. Just how exactly had she managed to walk around flawlessly in those all evening and still wear a smile on her face? I sauntered in front of her, crouching before her and grasping her gently by her wrist. She looked at me quizzically. "Am I being too slow?" she asked in panic, averting her eyes from mine when she realised I was staring straight into her eyes. "No," I replied firmly. "You don't need them if they're hurting your feet." "Oh," she breathed, looking at her toes. "But I still need to walk out and they said the shoes were a strict necessity." "They're not if I'm carrying you." Without further ado, I scooped Sofia into my arms, taking her up with me. What the fuck was I doing? She gasped lightly, anchoring her hand on my shoulder for support. I didn't look at her. I didn't want to. I just fucking couldn't although I could feel her eyes burning into my face. What did she see when she looked at me? The monster I was or the false mask of her husband trying not to scare her away completely? "I'm really heavy," she murmured, worry lacing her voice. "Please, put me down." I didn't stop walking, moving my eyes boldly to hers. "No, you're not," I told her truthfully, "and even if you were, I'm strong enough to carry my wife in any shape and size." Sofia stared widely into my eyes before doing something clearly neither of us expected. She hiccupped.