The Wallflower's Revenge

Chapter 2: The Breakfast

Expect problems and eat them for breakfast. 

-Alfred A. Montapert 

Tatiana Rostova's POV

The man was impossible, all right? He was the most arrogant and exasperating man I had the misfortune to meet! Lucca Cavelli wasn't talking no for an answer. He was so damn sure of himself that he could win any argument he battled—and he had!

I was sitting in front of him as he devoured his breakfast leisurely. The fact was that I intended to move out from his villa and make my way to New York as soon as possible. Now, I was stuck here sitting with him watching the waves of the sea below and the clearest blue sky above refusing my breakfast. The man didn't know how to ask—he just commanded orders as if he was a king and the world should move according to his will.

"Why don't you try to eat your breakfast?" He asked pleasantly. The man was dense, or he just didn't care about my dark mood. From the corner of my eyes, I could see that he was studying me as I remained my gaze fixed on the beautiful Amalfi coast before us.

"Don't want to."

"You know," Lucca Cavelli informed me, his tone was bored. "When you don't eat, tesoro, a slight wind can toss you back on the ruthless sea just like last night."

I gritted my teeth, still refusing to look at him—and his magnificent silver eyes. He was making fun of me, I concluded silently. I could hear the laughter in his rich sexy voice.

"Why don't you just ignore and ignore me like I do to you?" I snapped. The old Tatiana Rostova would never snap at people however rude they were. But that woman had already died last night, and the new Tatiana would scorn, snap and be rude to anyone when she wanted to.

"Are you ignoring me?" The laughter was still visible in his voice. His silver eyes gleamed with delight. "Forgive me. I wasn't aware, cara?"

"Don't call me that," I glared at him. "Anything but that blasted endearment."

"Ah..." A calculated smile flashed on his sexy mouth. "Some Italian guy broke the heart of Miss Tatiana Rostova. I wonder who?"

I cursed myself for the slipped. Now Lucca Cavelli leisurely opened the newspaper and blocked my view from his face—not that I care.

I let my gazed back at the sea. My stomach grumbled but I ignored it. I will not eat anything on this table. I will not let him prove that I was very hungry. I know it's silly to fight him in everything but I cannot help it.

"Why don't you look at it?" He showed me the page of the newspaper he read. I couldn't say a word of it because it's in Italian, but I recognized our yacht in the picture below the bold headlines.

"I don't understand Italian." I shook my head.

He translated the title in English. "The Heiress' Accidental Death."

I wanted to snort or laugh—maybe both. Sabrina had been serious in showing that was an accident, huh? That I stupidly drowned myself on the coast of Amalfi last night.

"Would you like me to read?" My host offered.

"Please." For the first time since I was dragged in this table, I gave my full attention to him.

"On one condition," he bargained. "Eat your breakfast."

I gave him a dirty look. "That's blackmail, you know."

The devil just merely shrugged. I gave a resigned sigh and started digging my food and forced myself to eat just for him to read the blasted article.