A WIFE'S JEALOUSY
2315 Words
CHAPTER 2: A WIFE'S JEALOUSY
When she woke up the next day, Italia was alone. The sun was already shining brightly, and the empty space beside her was cold. The traje de boda was nowhere to be seen, and everything seems to be already neatly arrange as if yesterday were nothing, but all dreams of l**t, and repine longing that Gustavio could still be soften by her.
She sighs.
The double doors of her room opened.
“Miss.” It was Tristan, her personal butler. “Mr. Salvador ask me to send you at the dining table.”
“Tell him that I wasn’t in the mood—”
“It was an order, Miss.”
Her fist curled up, and clenched.
“An order, huh?”
Italia doesn’t like the sound of it, but what can she do? Whose fault was it to be here kissing Gustavio Enriquez Salvador’s a*s? Probably hers.
“I’m coming.” Italia pulled her robes to hide her bare shoulder in sight. “Wait for me outside—”
“I’m sorry, Miss.” Tristan sounded apologetic this time. “But Mr. Salvador emphasize that I must not leave your side and quickly fetch you in a minute. He does not like waiting, Miss Italia.”
“That prick!” Italia’s teeth gritted.
Left with no choice, she found herself marching all the way behind his tail. She was frowning. Her forehead cease depicting how annoyed she is. Nobody dare get on her way. The maid greeted her, but Italia did not utter a single word not until they finally reach the marvellous staircase.
Tristan stopped, when another butler same as him walked closer.
“Tristan.” It was a middle age man, who also acknowledged her presence.
“Sir, what may be the problem?” Tristan was quick-witted.
“Uhm...” Unsure, the man glance at her for a moment. “Can we speak for a moment?”
Tristan nodded before he faced Italia.
“I’m sorry, Miss, but it seems urgent, “ he said.
“That’s alright.” Italia waved her hand. “I can take care of myself here.”
With that said the two male discus things that she didn’t want to involve herself with.
Italia sighs.
“Well, I guess I’ll be on my own.”
It doesn’t bother her anyway. The entire mansion may seems enormous, but she’d been there for how long she could remember. She memorize all the rooms, and stairs except for that one—Gustavio’s room. He’d forbids her to lay a hand on his door, but it wasn’t fair! He could do whatever he wanted, and even more than what she was least expecting to. The memory of last night came back.
Italia quickly shake her head, flustered.
“Focus, Italia.” She castigated herself only to get stopped, when she heard giggles.
A woman laugh, which does seems odd.
How can another woman same as her be present there? It was unusual that she found herself following the sound where it was coming from. The laugh lead her be to a garden where the roses blooms as it bathed towards the golden array of the sun.
The sky is clear that day, the clouds seems blue, but her eyesight—is it playing tricks on her again? Baffled upon the scenario unfolded. Gustavio was having a breakfast with a beautiful woman she had never seen on her life.
“Oh God, you’re so funny.” Her laughter were soft.
And it was no denial that she was an epitome of Venus.
Clad on a peach coloured dress, which proudly show off her bare shoulder, she move with grace as her long silky black hair bounce back freely behind her. She look so delicate, a tulip among a sea of roses. For a moment, Italia was stunned. She couldn’t move, but how can she explain the pang she felt that drive inward to her core?
Why...why does she felt hurt unknowingly, when she saw that Gustavio was staring tenderly at that woman?
Is it his own way of punishing her?
“Bastard.” Unaverred feelings, Italia cursed him.
Perhaps, Tristan was wrong, Gustav do not really need her to accompany him. Bitterness swept her on her feet. Italia turned her back. She was ready to leave, but all luck seems to be out of her sleeves this time, she stepped on a twig, which snapped and who knows exactly what happened next.
“Oh, I didn’t know we have a guest, Gustav.” It was the voice of the same woman she caught a glimpse with. “Miss Mercedes, I supposed?”
Frozen, she remain still.
Her chest set ablaze with fury and something far more than she hated the most. Envy. Jealousy.
“Italia.” Her name rolled out of Gustavio Enriquez Salavador’s lips.
Begrudge resentment dispersed. Her heart fluttered.
Italia cleared her throat before facing the pair.
“I didn’t know that you have a company here,” she said. “Don’t worry, I’ll quickly leave the two of you—”
“But I didn’t tell you to leave, didn’t I?” His tone were much chillier than before.
“Oh god, stop being so stiff, Gustav.” The woman tenderly touched the male’s shoulder as if it was enough to comfort him.
Her eyes followed her hand—Italia’s face hardened.
“By the way—” Smiling, the woman glance back at her. “—my name is Samantha Montreal, CEO of Montreal Group of Companies, it is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Mercedes.”
‘Nice to meet you?’ Italia thought.
Samantha was smiling sweetly, her words are sugar-coated, but Italia knew woman like her.
She did not return her smile ‘stead of she looked back to Gustav, whose eyes seems to be warning her not to do anything.
‘Oh, watch me,’ Stubborn, she thought.
“I am not needed here.” Her face was stoic.
“Italia.”
Hard headed as she is, Italia continue.
“May you have a great morning, Mr. Salvador.”
With that said, Italia turned her back and leave.
‘Huh! Enjoy your lunch, my a*s!’
***
“Enjoy your lunch?” Disgusted, her nose scrunched. “My a*s!”
She was grumbling, and her stomach in synch does not seems to help lightened up her mood.
“As if I was really happy to wish you a great day! Tch.”
Why is she so bitter anyway?
“Oh, it doesn’t seems to be a good morning, does it?” Zamiel appeared on the kitchen.
“And you’re too early to be here.” Italia rolled her eyes at him. “God, another Salvador.”
“Why? As if you didn’t miss me, Italia.” The latter chuckled.
Zamiel Eric Salvador, Gustavio’s cousin was a total opposite of the older one. Both our handsome, but Zamiel is more carefree. He smile more often. He talks loud, and he is the only one who treated Italia far more different than Gustav.
“I didn’t miss you.” She made a face.
“Shesh, don’t be too harsh.” Zamiel placed a hand on his chest as if he were hurt.
“Whatever, Zam.” Italia rolled her eyes and chuckled.
She busied herself with her freshly brewed coffee, when the two person she wish she hadn’t seen showed up.
“Oh, hey Zamiel!” Samantha’s voice came ringing across the entire kitchen.
“I didn’t know you were here.” Zamiel frowns, before something dawn to him. “Oh, right....” He added and trailed off before giving Italia a look as if he knew something that she didn’t.
“f**k off.” Italia mouthed without a sound.
“Well, Gustav invited me here after our dinner last night.” Samantha chuckled.
Her laughter added to the fuel of fire. It made Italia’s blood to boil for no apparent reason, but she already gave her a root of hate.
“So, you were on a date last night, huh.” Zamiel grins. “Now, that made me wonder whether the two of you are a thing or not.”
“Well, that depends whether I agree on your cousin’s proposal, I supposed.” Samantha matched the Salvador’s cheekiness.
On the other hand, Italia couldn’t being herself be happy.
How can she smile knowing that her throat was slowly tightening, her chest beating so loudly as it pounce for what the woman mentioned.
A proposal. A f*****g proposal.
Lost, the mug on her hand slip.
Crash.
“O—oh!” She jerked off awake upon hearing the loud crashed on the floor, each fragments scattering, when all eyes dawn on her.
It was Zamiel, who first join Italia’s side.
“Are you okay?” Worried, he asked.
“Y—yeah.” Italia cleared her throat. “I—it had slipped from my grasp.”
“Was it too hot?” Zamiel frowns.
And all she was left to do was to nod her head as if she couldn’t bring herself to speak and tell him so.
“You should had been more careful.” Zamiel grabbed her by the wrist. “Let’s go, let me see if you have some scratches—”
“N—no, I’m fine—” Italia tried to free her hand, but he wouldn’t budge.
“That’s nonsense.”
Persistent, she was pulled by him, and not even once Italia had bathed a glance towards the pair.
“I hope she’s okay, don’t you think so, Gustav? Hmmm.” It was Samantha.
The ghastly noxious inflamed inside her chest—Italia closed her eyes, and wished, hoping to be that woman. What was it like to be up so close, and to see Gustavio’s smile even for a minute?
A memory slipped past, and flashed before her eyes.
[5 YEARS AGO]
It was raining that day.
The clouds are dark. There are no souls on the street, and only a few have the heart to loitered around on this kind of weather, and Italia Mercedes is no different from those person.
“Why it should rain at this hour.” Annoyed, she mumbled.
Her uniform is already damp, and her hair is soak for how long had she run before finally finding this shed. The chilly night breeze prickles uncomfortably on her skin. She was trembling, and she had nobody who could fetched her up during that time. Both of her parents aren’t home. Her mother is in Europe and her father was trying to pursue an investor in Paris. That leave her all by herself. But what was much worst is the fact that Italia had forgotten that she fired their driver yesterday.
“This sucks.” She grumbles.
Two men walked past at her. One whistled.
“Hey Miss.”
Disgusted, Italia did not even bathed an eye.
“Ow, what a shame.” The pair laugh. “You are beautiful, yet you have an attitude.”
She snob them.
“Hey, we are talking to you.” Their laughter died down. There seems to be an annoyance that was lacing their tone.
“This b***h look highly of herself, huh.”
‘Bastards.’ On her mind, Italia rolled her eyes.
Before she found a pair of arms trying to grab ahold of her.
“L—let go of me!” Her eyes widened.
“You b***h always looking down on us, huh?” Their breathe stink.
Italia’s nose scrunched. Fear gripped her chest. She had nowhere to go, and nobody was there to help her. Tears stung on her eyes.
“P—please, I’ll give you money just leave me alone.” She was trembling as she tried to fight back, but what can a meek girl could do over those towering hooligans? They are men, and they are built differently from her.
“Money?” One hissed, he was holding her wrist tightly.
Italia whimpered.
“I don’t need your money, but perhaps—” His eyes turned with malice. “—you could give us something that was more than the penny you offer.”
When it dawn to her, Italia was furious.
“P—p*****t!” Unconsciously, she raised her hand on the air and slapped the life out of that man.
It must have hurt. The next thing she knew, she was down on her bum, holding her own cheeks as tears stained her cheeks. Her face was burning, and she could taste blood on her lips.
“H—how dare you?!” His face was red with anger.
Meanwhile, Italia’s heart was hammering against her chest.
The man raised his balled fist.
She closed her eyes and brace for the impact, but it never came.
‘stead of, when her eyes fluttered open again, she meet a pair of Ruby-coloured orbs that was intently staring back at her. Italia was frozen, glued on her feet she gasp. Had she ever told anybody that she had never seen such a beautiful man, nor had she least expected to have a Knight to rescue her? His brooding shoulder speaks of dominance. His stance an Alpha male as his muscles bulge from those jeans and shirt. Aristocratic nose, plump full reddish lips, and his thick lashes furrowing with fury.
Italia gulps.
She couldn’t help herself, but wonder... Is she staring with a God?
A Greek God sent only for her or so she thought, because as years passed by, that admiration turned into something different, the burning fashion drowned by hate, and her vow sought to never fell on Gustavio Enrique Salvador again.
That night she cursed, the part of her life she wished that never happened.
[END OF FLASHBACK]
@cycy
- Writer
