Chapter 7

Myrah's POV

I monotonously glanced through the magazine I was holding as I was buried in a soft bean bag.

Why am I having such bad luck?

Even though I was currently on my honeymoon with my wealthy husband, whom I adore, it looked like we were spending every day as usual.

When I came across an item regarding babies and motherhood-related topics, I threw the magazine away. Like a sharp slap in the face, it was. My husband was unwilling to even look at or touch me.

How on earth would I ever experience the joy of parenthood that I yearned for while I was imprisoned in this gruesomely awful marriage for a year?

I stood up sluggishly and changed into my cozy pajamas. I dragged myself to the window, and as I gazed outside, the scene just served to deepen my woes.

Island of North, Seychelles

That particular island was one of my ideal vacation spots. Although it was only for sincere lovers and not for pre-arranged couples like Valentino and i, it was the ideal honeymoon location.

After a torturously long travel, we had only three days prior moved into our villa. Even when I was younger, I never did well with jet lag, and this flight was no exception.

Aside from a plunge pool, dining pavilion, outside deck, and a golf car for getting around the property, the home featured 5,000 square feet of area. It was so large that you could go days without running into another person.

I was eager to explore the island's entertaining attractions and verify all the details I had Googled.

For this brief moment, I wanted to let go of all the burdens from my past and present and allow myself to have some fun. All my dreams were being flushed down the toilet, apparently.

My oh-so-busy husband had been immersed in his work since we got on the private plane. It was more of a business vacation than a honeymoon, where I was entirely ignored and everything focused around him.

What crazy bipolar!

When Nick and Monica spent the day with us, I believed things had improved and we were finally on the same page. However, it seemed to him that everything was an act.

He would talk to me and laugh for a second, then become cold and treat me like I was not there. If he even somewhat thought of me as a woman, that would be great. He plainly thought of me as some low-voiced, unattractive duckling.

I looked in the wall-mounted full-length mirror and examined my face and body. I wasn't as horrible as I thought. Possibly not good enough.

Although I wanted to go out and have some fun, I didn't like the notion of doing it by myself and without anybody else's consent. Even if he wouldn't care, what if I was hurt when I was out there by myself?

I might try to strike up a discussion. I took a leap of faith and strode over to the room he had converted into his office, across from our bedroom.

In case you were curious, we shared a bedroom, and of course he felt that I must have some sort of contagious ailment because he preferred to sleep on the sofa.

We could use the pillow division system, and the bed was big enough for both of us, but someone was anti-me.

When he didn't respond to my light knock, I carefully opened the door and walked inside the space.

A laptop was in front of Valentino as he sat in a chair at a mahogany desk. On one side of the space, floor-to-ceiling windows provided a perfect view of the outdoors. There were white couches, a flat-screen TV, and possibly novels on a shelf of books.

I stared at his eyes, and then I was gone. He was holding a steaming cup of coffee in his left hand. His eyes had a certain something about them. In reality, I found him to be a complete mystery.

He was entirely blocking out my attempts to answer that puzzle, which I needed a chance to do.

I instantly broke my stare and gave myself a mental slap for being so brazenly staring at him when a silky voice said, "Earth to Myrah," interrupting my train of thought.

"I apologize for that. He gave me a serious look when I said, "I thought maybe we could go out or something.

I was about to roll my eyes in irritation when he asked, We, as in you and I?"

Let's assume that he was attempting to be humorous.

I scoffed, pretending to be confident, saying, "We are the only two around here, so I'm obviously talking about us. I might be humorous as well.

After setting his coffee cup down on the table, Valentino folded his arms.

"And why would I want to go out with you?"

The question is, "Why wouldn't you?"

He glanced at his gold watch for a moment before returning his focus to me and saying, "Well, I have a video call with my girlfriend in exactly half an hour from now."

My chest was painfully stabbed. Why did it bother me so much that he had no feelings for me at all when I wanted to be at least friends with him, if not his wife?

"We recently got married. Caylee is your girlfriend, and I'm your wife. After we split, you'll have plenty of time to spend with Caylee. Please let the reality that I am your wife rule for the time being, at least during our honeymoon.

So you're saying I should give up Caylee for you? he said, his gaze getting a bit more intense.

In response to his stern gaze, I shuffled uneasily.

"That's not what I said," I asserted.

I jumped a little in terror when Valentino abruptly smashed his fist on the desk. I was alarmed.

"So, what did you say? He gritted his teeth and snapped.

I knew he had to be joking.

"I'm sure that anger is unnecessary here."

Where did all of these guts come from?

"You're making me angry. Leave now before I snap," he said.

He would continue to treat me however he wished and see me as a weakling if I left. We needed to resolve our differences and establish common ground.

A few burns wouldn't harm me, even though I knew I was playing with fire. There's nothing that I don't understand. I crossed my arms and fell to the couch in front of him.

"I won't be leaving. He gave a sour laugh when I said, "We need to talk about this.

What are we talking about, Myrah?

"This union."

"You're referring to this forced union? The contract, in my opinion, says it all. After all, you are a party to the deal.

I sternly remarked, "I am not some contract, Valentino," as my voice began to quaver.

He admonished, "Don't you dare raise your voice at me.

You yell at me, but now that I'm doing it, is it suddenly inappropriate?

Did you enter this room with the intention of permanently dividing us?

"You act as if there isn't already a split between us. For tranquility, I'm here. I'm not looking for a fight with you. All I want is quiet.

"I thought so far that everything was peaceful."

"I'm not at peace, but you are. I'm dying from your hatred. Your erratic behavior irritates me.

"I've already told you that I can't love you."