Episode Twelve
1333 Words
Marco’s fists slowly relaxed, but his glare remained fixed on Frank as they followed him to the car.
The drive to the Donato mansion was filled with silence, the evening shadows stretching long across the road.
Delilah sat beside Marco, her mind racing, her thoughts circling back to her aunt in the hospital.
She wanted to be there, not heading toward a forced confrontation with Marco's grandfather. But there was no way out.
When they arrived at the mansion, Frank led them through the grand halls to the room where Elder Donato awaited them.
The air felt cold and unforgiving.
The grandfather, sitting in his wheelchair, gestured for them to sit on the two chairs placed side by side in front of him.
Marco didn’t hesitate, settling into his seat with his usual confident demeanor.
Delilah followed, though her legs felt heavier with each step.
Two of the grandfather’s men stood beside them, flanking their seats, their presence a silent but clear reminder that this wasn’t just a conversation.
Frank approached the table in the middle of the room, placing a document in front of them with an indifferent expression.
Marco glanced at it but said nothing.
Delilah, with a sinking feeling in her chest, reached for the paper.
The words Application for Marriage License stared back at her.
Her heart dropped.
Even though Vincent’s cruelty had thrown her world into chaos, a small part of her had been relieved that the marriage hadn’t gone through.
But now, the dreaded paperwork was here, and it felt more final than ever.
Marco scoffed, breaking the silence. "Nonno, is this why you called us?" His tone was flat, bordering on dismissive.
"Yes," the grandfather replied without hesitation. "I want you both to sign it. Since you couldn’t do it in the church, you’ll do it here."
Delilah’s grip on the document tightened, her mind spinning.
Marco turned his sharp gaze to her, one brow raised in question. "Well, that means you just wasted Delilah’s time, Nonno. She was willing to sign it before." His voice held a mocking edge. "Right?" he added, his eyes locked on her.
Delilah’s hand trembled slightly.
Marco didn’t miss it—the way she hesitated, her silence stretching just a bit too long.
She quickly pulled herself together, forcing a small smile as she spoke. "Yes, I’m willing."
Marco looked away, his expression hardening.
He didn’t like what he saw—her hesitation, her reluctance.
Something inside him clenched, a feeling he didn’t quite understand. He had expected more... commitment, perhaps?
The disappointment settled deep within him.
Delilah, steadying herself, tried to redirect the conversation. "But we can wait until my aunt recovers, right?"
"No," both the grandfather and Marco responded at once. But it was Marco’s voice, sharp and dangerous, that cut through the room like a blade.
He turned to her, eyes narrowing with a fierceness that left no room for argument. "If you think you can scheme your way out of this marriage, you’re mistaken. It won’t work, Delilah. Not unless I’ve gotten what I intend to have."
Delilah’s pulse quickened.
She could feel the threat in his words, even if he didn’t spell it out.
She wasn’t sure what he meant—what exactly he was after—but it left a chill crawling up her spine.
The grandfather watched the exchange with a small smile, clearly pleased with Marco’s firm response.
He leaned back in his wheelchair, content in knowing that his grandson was in control of the situation, guiding it exactly where he wanted it to go.
Delilah sat silently, her mind trying to process her next move. But she knew one thing—Marco wasn’t going to let her slip away, not without a fight.
Delilah’s fingers trembled slightly as she held the pen, but she forced her hand to steady as she signed the marriage license.
The moment felt surreal, as if everything around her was moving in slow motion.
She couldn’t escape now.
Marco reached for the pen next, scrawling his name across the paper without hesitation.
His jaw was clenched, his annoyance barely masked.
Frank took the signed document, giving them both a curt nod before leaving the room.
The other men followed suit with the grandfather, leaving only Marco and Delilah in the large, quiet space.
The silence hung between them, thick and uncomfortable.
Marco stood up abruptly, his chair scraping the floor as he turned and left without a word.
Gino followed him, his eyes catching the slight tension in Marco’s steps.
Delilah remained seated, watching him leave. She didn’t move, didn’t try to speak.
There was nothing to say. Marco’s frustration was clear, and she had no desire to face the brunt of it.
Outside, as Marco strode down the hallway, Gino noticed his boss’s irritation. "Something bothering you, boss?" he asked, keeping his voice calm, though he already had an idea.
Marco’s jaw tightened. "Yeah," he said, his voice low but edged with anger. "Find out everything you can about Delilah. I don’t care how deep it’s buried or how hidden her past is. I want to know every single damn thing about her. How the hell did she have the nerve to try and deceive me, make me think she was actually interested in this marriage?"
Marco’s voice rose, and in a flash of rage, he kicked a nearby table, sending it skidding across the room.
Gino raised an eyebrow, surprised at his boss’s reaction.
Marco was known for being calm, calculated, and cold.
Seeing him this worked up over a woman was... unusual.
"Is there something I’m missing?" Gino asked carefully, unsure if he was stepping into dangerous territory.
Marco took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly, but after a moment, he ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself.
His thoughts drifted back to the day they had gone to a boutique to prepare for the wedding.
He remembered it clearly. They had gone with Delilah’s aunt to choose their wedding attire.
While he had been selecting his tuxedo, Delilah had wandered off, seemingly innocent, and then walked into the changing room while he was trying on the suit.
At first, he had thought she was lost, that she didn’t know where she was going.
He had been about to help her when, without warning, she had placed her hand on his chest.
The memory of her touch still sent a jolt through him. She had trailed her fingers down his torso, stopping just before reaching his belt.
He could still hear her soft voice, her teasing words.
"You're playing with fire," he had warned her, his body reacting to her proximity.
And she, with that maddening smile, had whispered back, "Then let me burn."
Her fingers had grazed him before she pulled away, leaving him wanting more.
But instead of continuing, she had asked him to postpone the wedding.
He had agreed, like a fool, thinking she would make good on her seductive promises later. But she hadn’t. And now, standing in the hallway of his grandfather’s mansion, Marco realized that Delilah had been playing him all along.
Marco’s jaw tightened as the memory faded. She wasn’t just dangerous; she was manipulative. She had toyed with him, made him want her, and then pulled back just enough to keep him hooked.
Gino, noticing Marco’s shift in expression, asked again, "What happened?"
Marco, not wanting to reveal how much Delilah had gotten under his skin, merely shook his head. "Just dig up what you can," he said sharply. "I don’t want any surprises. I need to know exactly who I’m dealing with."
Gino nodded, sensing the conversation was over, and followed his orders.
Marco, however, remained lost in his thoughts, his frustration growing as he realized just how much Delilah had gotten under his skin.
This marriage was becoming far more complicated than he had anticipated—and he wasn’t sure if that made him angry or intrigued.
- Writer
