Nikolas's blinks were slow. He stared, long and hard.
"You're not joking." It wasn't a question.
Viviana nodded her head. "What do you say?"
"You don't even know me." He chuckled.
"Do I have to know you?"
"I don't think anyone finds a stranger and asks them to marry them, cupcake." He pocketed his hands and hunched a bit to say, "That makes no sense. Unless there is a reason for this. That is, if you're not messing around with me."
She gazed at him. Big doe but cold eyes, and little freckles sprinkled just over the bridge of her nose.
"I'd like to take you somewhere, Mr. Bastiani. Can you spare an hour?"
Nikolas glanced at his wristwatch just for the sake of it. He had all the time in the world to give her. After all, how much more interesting could this night get? Where exactly does this woman who'd just randomly asked him to marry her want to take him?
"Sure."
"Give me a second, let me call my driver—"
"Take a taxi. That's faster."
He flagged down an incoming cab. She looked at him with furrowed brows.
"What?" he asked. "Never used a taxi before?"
She silently eyed him, but didn't say a word.
The driver took off.
"Where are you heading to, miss? Sir?"
"Manoumia hospital?" Viviana answered.
Nikolas frowned slightly. A hospital…? Why were they heading to a hospital?
A few more long minutes and the driver steered off the road to park at their destination. Nikolas stepped down, reaching a hand out for her.
Viviana took it and got out.
"Why are we at a hospital?" he asked, paying the driver.
"You'll find out," she said. "I have something that I'd like to show you. You wondered why I made such an absurd request, no?"
"Come with me."
She grabbed his hand before he could respond, dragging his much bigger frame behind her towards the entrance of the hospital. The sound of her heels was loud against the white marble floor as they stepped in, approaching the receptionist desk.
It looked like they already knew her because the receptionist was quick to bow with the most polite smile on her face.
"Welcome, Ms. Di-grassi."
Viviana said, "I'd like to see my mother."
"Yes, ma'am."
The receptionist signed off on a piece of torn-out paper, handing it over to her. Viviana took it, looked at Nikolas, and kept going, heading for the elevator, all without letting go of him even once.
But Nikolas was far too curious to even notice. Why would a woman he'd only just met on a first date bring him to see her mother? Was the 'marry me' thing not a joke?
The doors opened.
They stalked through the hallway, stopping in front of the door with the number —31A—
Viviana hesitated. But eventually opened the door. He followed suit as she stepped in, coming to a stop as his gaze glided over to the bed where a woman sat, connected to a drip.
But that wasn't what got him. It was the way she was seated, head tilted and eyes distant as if she were no longer herself.
'What the hell is going on?'
Viviana, whose fingers were still interlocked with his, looked up to meet his eyes. "This is why I asked you to marry me," she said.
Nikolas was genuinely lost.
"You see my mother here, Rosalia Di-grassi… she doesn't remember who I am a lot of the time. She's broken. And do you know why she's this way?"
He looked at her.
For the first time, she gave him a smile that actually reached her eyes. The problem was, they were the saddest he'd ever seen. The cold mask was gone.
"My father and his mistress made her this way. Oh wait, she's not a mistress anymore. She's married to him after all." A low bitter laugh dropped out of her. "They tortured her, and my father dumped her here when she became like this."
She finally let go of his hand to approach her mother. And Nikolas lifted the hand to stare at it.
How warm.
He usually felt cold, and she felt all too warm.
How could he miss the touch of a woman he'd only just met?
"Ma…" Viviana cupped the woman's cheek.
Rosalia Di Grassi stared at her.
"Who…" she muttered. "Who are you?"
Viviana smiled softly and kissed her forehead. "Ma, I forgot tonight. But the next time I come, I'll make sure to bring you everything you like. Including books."
"You'd bring me books?" Rosalia's eyes lit up.
"As many as you'd like." Viviana nodded, fingers reaching out to caress her hair. "You should lie down now and get some sleep. I'll leave the window open for you. I know you enjoy the night breeze."
She pulled the blanket over her as she lay down before turning toward Nikolas, who was watching in silence.
"Let's have tea at the cafe and talk," she offered.
They left the hospital and crossed over to the opened café to settle down in one of the empty seats.
Viviana folded her legs.
That icy look was back on her face, and it only made Nikolas interested. Her mother seemed to be the only person she showed true affection to.
He quickly made a mental note.
"I've waited for twelve years." Her hazel eyes flickered up to his. "I was only thirteen when my father began turning my mother into this mess. And then I was nineteen when he brought in his mistress. I couldn't do anything, not even when she assisted in breaking my mother. I was helpless. I was… afraid of my father."
She said, "A rich man's daughter I am, yes, but what is the point if I'm not free? I told you earlier that I've never really dated in twenty-five years of my life. Would you like to know why?"
Nikolas narrowed his eyes.
"I have no rights. I do not have a choice. They choose for me, even down to the food I eat. Every little thing, like a puppet. That's what people are like to the likes of my father. Now, that bitch, forgive my language, wants to marry me off to a man like Fernando Stolov because I'm starting to become an obstacle. Sometimes, I'm the reason she can't get her way with a lot of things, and she wants to get rid of me."
Nikolas steepled his fingers, tucking them under his chin with a glint playing in the green of his eyes. He asked, "What exactly do you want? You can't just ask a random man like me to marry you, not unless there is something other than marriage that you're after. Something you desperately desire."
Viviana stared dead into his eyes.
She leaned into his space from across the table until she could level his gaze, her hot breath warm against his skin.
And just under her breath, barely over the loud passing cars and chatter from the customers, he heard her.
"Revenge, Mr. Bastiani…"
"…Revenge is what I desire so desperately. A payback."