Arranged Marriage

Chapter 11

I felt like hell. No, they would have to make up a new word to what I felt like. I didn't know if it was because of my hangover or the memory of Patrick's face last night or even this dress that was cutting off my circulation that made me feel like this.

I was still lying on the floor, curled up in a ball where I left myself last night. There was still a lump in my throat and I could still taste the tears at the corner of my lips. Quiet moans escaped my lips as I struggled to get to my hands. I looked down at myself and found a hungover mess. I avoided all the mirrors, knowing that my makeup had run.

Stumbling into the bathroom, I stripped before stepping into the shower. I felt ten times better when I hopped out of it, my muscles feeling less knotted and tight. I brushed my teeth, ran moisturiser over my skin and put foundation on my face to cover up the dark circles under my eyes.

Walking into my bedroom, I found another pair of shorts, a black singlet and a silky, floral throw over. I through my hair up into a messy bun, pulling out a few strands so that my face wasn't on display so much before putting my necklace around my neck. Just as I went to leave, something caught my eye. It was the light, catching on the small diamonds of my wedding ring that sat on the floor just under the bed. Groaning, I paced over to it and scooped it up. I pulled it on my ring finger, the feeling of being trapped not going amiss.

When I stepped into the hall, the light blinded my eyes making my head pound.

"Oh, I hate hangovers," I groaned, massaging my temples as I made my way to the stairs.

I was getting use to the house and now could make my way around it with my eyes close. Which was good this morning, considering my eyes were barely opened.

As soon as I opened the door to the dining room, I was greeted with whistles.

"Here she is," Antonio called.

"The one with the balls," Alberto praised.

"Shh," I hushed them, rubbing my temples harder.

"How's your head?" I heard Garrick ask as I tried to find my mug.

"It's been better," I admitted, finding the mug and the coffee as well.

There was a small snicker from them, loving the misery I was in.

"You've got guts," Piero stated, "I don't know many women that would go up against a man like, Patrick. Let alone swear at him like you did."

I shrugged, raising my mug as if a, you're welcome, before taking a sip. God I loved coffee.

Looking around the room, I realized that it wasn't just Patrick that was missing.

"Where's Nickola?" I asked them.

All four of them put their heads down, hiding their smiles.

"What? Where is he?" I demanded, fear rising up inside of me.

If Nickola was being hurt because of my stupidity than there was something that needed to be done.

"He's having a chat with Patrick," Garrick told me.

God, I knew what that meant.

Putting down my mug, I headed straight for the door.

"Oh, no, you're not going anywhere near that," Garrick said, wrapping his huge arms around my tiny body.

"Nickola is getting in trouble for something that I did. No way am I going to let my dick of a husband get away with that," I claimed, making the other three laugh.