With another step off the private plane, I can feel the air blowing through my hair.
A woman walks towards me and bows in respect. "Mrs.Maranzano," she greets, and I nod.
My eyes skew around the parking area. "Ah, Japan." I look over to see Stefano walking out. He began stretching his body. "It's nice to be on land," he grumbles, rotating his waist.
"You don't have to come with me," I said.
He grins, "And miss the opportunity to meet hot Japanese girls? Not in my book."
Spending several weeks at De Luca wasn't necessarily horrible. After our initial disastrous meeting, Stefano helped me a lot. He gave me advice on how to behave and immerse myself in the proper role. Not only that, he offers to aid me in finding Anthony too. The people behind him are no joke.
I believe he had grown to accept me, despite the hatred.
I lift a foot and take another step towards the car only to stumble lightly. I don't think I'll ever get used to wearing high heels.
Stefano wraps his right arm around my waist and pulls me back up. My back touches his chest, and I can feel his hot breath brushing against my ear, "I told you to be more careful when walking from now onward," he whispers lowly.
My heart skips a beat, something that seemingly occurs around Stefano. I smile and take a step to the side to clear the heavy tension between us. This is the real reason why I didn't want Stefano to come.
He had been too comfortable around me...and in exchange, I've allowed to let my guard down around him. Something I shouldn't be doing. Something that will bite me back in the ass later.
Stefano opens the door, and I slide in. After a little conversational exchange with the guards, he did the same. Resting an arm against the lining of the window, I continue staring outside to see plain lands.
For the past few weeks, I continuously tell myself that what I'm feeling towards Stefano is merely companionship, maybe a protector. Because that's what he did.
He protected me.
After the party was nearly at its end, I was tired. Tired of attending all these upper-class gatherings. Exhausted from the forced conversation and smiles. I was excruciatingly sick of people asking me about my husband's whereabouts.
Why should that be any of their business?
All I could say in return was that: "He's occupied with important matters."
The only sanctuary was the bathroom, which was the room I spent most of my time. I would excuse myself, and before anyone could make a rebuttal, I walk away.
Settling myself on the same toilet seat once more, I exhaled. I covered my face with my hands and repeatedly told myself to bury my emotions. I can't have it. Not here. Not in the future. Not when Anthony isn't beside me.
After several minutes, I stood up and wiped the tears that rolled down my cheeks.
I felt trapped.
Once I stepped out of the restroom, Stefano came into view. He was resting by the wall, with his custom-made shoes tapping against it. He looked up...his eyes reminded me of Anthony.
So, beautiful.
But it wasn't the same.
It wasn't electrifying.
"Want to take a walk with me?" He asked.
"Not really," I replied, wondering what other gruesome words he was holding on the tip of his tongue.
