SHATTERED VOWS: An Arrange Marriage

CHAPTER 14: MORINA

"What’s going on?” But Bastian was already shaking me off and dismissing me.

“It doesn’t matter. We’ll handle it,” he growled.

“Oh, daddy can’t share anything with little old me now?” The question shot out before I had time to think about it.

His eyes widened, and his jaw flexed. I stepped back, suddenly realizing that Bastian and I were not in the territory of playful taunts anymore. Our realities were mixing, and they weren’t ones to be toyed with. I turned to the blender, not giving them time to choose anymore.

“Smoothies it is.”

“Tell me, is it sanitary for you to be making these in a bikini?” he asked softly.

I can’t help wanting to reply, “I’m not making them in a bikini. I’m making them in a blender.”

He couldn’t come to my place of business, throw around my grandmother’s name with no explanation, and then on top of everything else, comment on my attire. I wasn’t good at hiding my emotions.

It was the Sagittarius in me. I cleared my throat and my frustration away when he didn’t respond.

“If you’re so concerned, go elsewhere.”

“See, that’s the interesting thing about this place.” Bastian leaned into the window of the food truck, put his elbows on it like he owned it, like he owned everything.

Just with that movement, I knew he was important. Someone my grandma probably knew, and someone I didn’t want to know at all.

“You’re the only food truck for three miles up and down this beach. We had on file that was your grandmother’s doing. Tell me, how did you and her manage that?”

I didn’t like to admit that I was naive. I didn’t really consider myself flighty either, but his words were a kick to the stomach and a reminder that I was. I never really thought much of it. I’d taken over the food truck at fifteen. I’d worked it nights and weekends and summers during high school. When I graduated, I’d taken it on fully. Business had always been good enough.

“Haven’t you ever considered that, piccola ragazza?”

“Stop with the little girl.” I sounded just like that as I said it.

He chuckled and I spun back to make the smoothie. These two men had waited for the line to go before them. They wanted to be last, which meant they wanted more from me than a smoothie. Bastian would never get more from me ever again. I didn’t enjoy one-night stands coming back to terrorize me.

I poured blueberries into the blender, spices that would turn the banana and ice black, and, just as Bastian started to speak, hit the power button. I smirked at him and winked. His response was to lift an eyebrow. Welcome to Mo’s Food Truck, jerk. Here, I rule.

He looked toward the sky and sucked on his teeth. It gave me a good look at his strong neck—at how tense it was—and the little bit of black ink that peeked out from his shirt. I’d run my hands over those tattoos while he’d dragged a finger over mine just a week ago. What a reminder that he wasn’t all stuck-up suit but something more underneath.

Once the whirring morphed to a soft hum, I knew I had to turn off the machine. I grabbed two Styrofoam cups and took the big pitcher off the stand to pour the contents. The fruit complemented the spice in this mixture well. I’d made it a million times before but I usually called it Midnight on the Beach. Today, I would add the little twist just for them.

“You need to be calm or energized today, Dante?”

“Does it matter?” Bastian grumbled.

Yet, his friend behind him with the piercing green eyes responded quickly, “We need energy.”

“Well, then. I guess Mr. Difficult will have what Dante’s having.” I grabbed a citrus oil with a touch of lavender and shook in a couple drops to top off their drinks.

I handed over the cups and straws. I was about to say the total when Bastian laid a fifty on the counter between us.

“You own this truck then?” I stared at the money, not at all sure I wanted that big of a tip.

I had men come in and out of my little beach town all the time. They threw money around like it meant something, like they could attach all the strings in the world to it too.

“So what if I do?”

“I need to know if your grandma has partnerships with other businesses in the area.” He nudged the money my way.

I narrowed my eyes at him, rang him up, and pushed the change back his way.

“I don’t have information for you.”

“Oh, come on. You’re sitting here in the only food truck in town, practically the only small business if I’m being honest, and you don’t know that she’s made some deals?”

“I don’t make a lot of money here, Bastian,” I said softly, my eyes darting between him and his accomplice now.

A seagull cawed overhead, and the water crashing on the beach sounded much louder than before.

"You could make more if you answered my questions.” His voice was calming now, almost hypnotic, urging me to go ahead and obey.

He pushed the extra change my way. I wasn’t that naive. I shook my head.

“I don’t want your money.” He narrowed his eyes at me, and I could see him clenching his jaw.

Then he slowly unwrapped the straw, never taking that gaze from mine. He dipped it into his drink and brought it to his lips. Full lips. Ones that wrapped around the straw and sucked in my creation. I shouldn’t have been turned on.

He looked like a stuffy god, a ruler who needed to unwind. It had me curious, nervous, fearful, and turned on all at the same time. All things I shouldn’t be feeling. The one feeling missing that should have been there was regret.

He cleared his throat, and I jumped, lost in my own thoughts and focused directly on his mouth. It quirked up before he immediately let it drop again.

“Your shake is really good, Morina.”

“It’s out of this world.” Dante stepped around him and put his large hand out as if he wanted to be friends.

“Nice to see you again. Wasn’t aware we were going to. Your name is Morina, right?” I narrowed my eyes.

“Why, Dante? Find something in my file that is questionable?”

“Your file says you reside in the town over and have no relation to Maribel.”

“My mother was quirky with birth certificates. My dad’s the only name on mine.” He lifted a shoulder and turned to Bastian.

“Can’t expect me to know that.”

“Cade would have.”

“Cade’s had his head in a computer since he was born. I was fighting for our country. Want to weigh the two?”

“Not really. Considering my brother can start a war in 2.5 seconds on a computer, there’s not much to weigh,” Bastian shot back.

Dante laughed, so easy in his confidence even when it was being threatened.

“You’re right. That guy is chaos waiting to erupt.”

“Tell me about it,” Bastian grumbled.

Dante’s green eyes cut to me again, and he lifted his shake with a smirk.

“Guess we’re going to be getting to know each other much better, Ms. Bailey. We can start with what you put in this shake. Is that lavender, citrus, and chia seeds?”

I heard the passion in his voice and saw the blatant disregard he had for his boss when he had a question about said passion. Bastian scowled behind him.

“You’re right,” I said.

“I hide a lot of good stuff in there. I’m hoping you get an energy boost from the citrus but that the lavender keeps you calm.”

“Oh, I already know I will. Tastes like the right mix,” he mumbled.

“I’ll be back for more for sure.” I laughed at the way he vigorously nodded at his drink.

I loved seeing people happy with something I created. Bastian tapped his friend on the shoulder and Dante immediately stepped aside as he nodded to me and walked off toward the car. Good, they were going.

Hopefully only Dante would come back while they were in town. Once he was out of ear shot though, Bastian dashed my hopes.

“You know something about this town and I have business in it, Morina.”

“Well, it’s a small town. Everybody knows something. Ask anyone.”

“I want to ask you though. I have business with your grandmother. You seem to have figured out a little trick, and I need to understand why.”

“What do you do, Mr. …? Armanelli was it?” I waited for him to confirm.

“You know you can call me Bastian.”

“Sure it can’t be daddy anymore?” I couldn’t hold back.

If he was going to throw little girl in my face, I was going to bite back. I turned and grabbed the large pitcher to take it to the sink.

“Oh, it still can, piccola ragazza,” he growled low enough that I almost didn’t hear.

My body reacted immediately. Jesus. He jumped from gentleman to alpha male so fast. I knew he was dangerous and into something questionable now more than ever. Still, I was stupid enough to find him attractive.

I flipped my hair over my shoulder and glared at him.

“No thanks. I’ll go with Bastian.” We stared one another down.

Maybe this would be the farewell battle, the one where he left me alone after. Instead, he asked,

“Care to share why you’re so defensive?”

“I don’t like you insinuating I’ve done something shady with my food truck. I’ve been here for years. My family ran this truck, and it’s been a staple of the area. There’s nothing odd about it.”

“Except that you’re the only one.”

“We don’t make much money. Maybe people decided they wanted to make more in an actual building. The beach isn’t for everyone.”

He hummed low like my explanation didn’t make much sense. It did to me because that’s what had happened. I made just enough to get by because there wasn’t much overhead. I’d inherited the thing. We kept with tradition and this was part of it. Might not have been the smartest idea, but it didn’t matter.

“I have to clean up and get ready for the day.”

“Hmm. Finally getting into work attire?”

His gaze drifted behind me to where most of my clothes were together with a lot of other knickknacks. Suddenly, I felt the urge to clean and that infuriated me. I couldn’t control my eyebrows slamming down.

“If you think your smoothie is contaminated, I’m happy to take it back.”

As I reached for it, he backed up immediately. Ah, he liked it as much as Dante.

“I’m keeping the smoothie.”

“It could be full of germs,” I singsonged.

“It’s surprisingly good … for a black-suit smoothie. Nice even.” I smirked at him.

“Am I supposed to say you’re surprisingly nice even with that black suit you’re wearing now? Because I won’t. This meeting has not been enjoyable.”

He finally stepped back, like he realized he’d overstayed his welcome. His shoes sank into the sand a little, looking completely unnatural in it.

“I’ll see you around.”

“Please don’t,” I grumbled once he was out of earshot.

I turned and washed out the blender. I scrubbed it harder than I should have but it was the only way to take out my frustration. The man was an entitled piece of work. What business did he have in this area? He probably wanted to open a smoothie shop down the street.

I knew a shark when I saw one—in the water or out of it. They snuck up on you, circled and circled, watching for your weakness. I wasn’t giving him any information though. I spun back around and made myself a smoothie.

I poured way too many strawberries in with strawberry yogurt and added some strawberry syrup too. My smoothie didn’t have to be nutritious. It was feeding my mental health instead, right? I let the machine whir as I stared out at the beach.

One of the guys lifted his smoothie to me in a cheers motion and I smiled. This was my town. My beach. My oasis. And no one could take that away.