Chapter 2 Laurel

"Laurel is my WIFE, Ma!" he declares and my eyes pop out. What's with the energy? "And she has every right to be here."

"You will pay for this, Ivan! I promise you," Alicia whines uncontrollably, but her voice is muffled by her palm clasping unto her nose as blood seeps through her fingers. Stretching her hand over the table, Louisiana pulls out a handful of paper sheets from a tissue box within her reach and wedges it against Alicia's bloody knuckles. Mia also following suit, mumbles some words under her breath. Judging from her face, it's nothing good. And of course, Ivan's henchman trails directly behind them to make sure she leaves. He wouldn't want to lose his job after all.

Alicia keeps groaning, raising her head, and pressing the tissues while the other girls console her as they walk away. Their voices are barely audible now, and I can't help but wonder why his sisters wouldn't dare to raise their voices at him.

"Ivan, if she leaves, I leave," his mom threatens now they've covered most distance from the exit.

"Suit yourself," Ivan retorts and I'm too frozen to feel any other emotion such as shock. At this point, if he orders her to get out, I wouldn't be surprised.

"I invited her over. Respect that and stop her from leaving," his mom argues when she senses the first approach was ineffective. Her tone is a little shaky with anger as she's pointing in their direction while the door is held open for her to leave. The room goes still, the door creaks close, and seconds fly by before Ivan moves a muscle. He's rebelling, putting her in her place, and showing her who the real boss is here.

He draws out a seat for himself and gets too comfortable while his mom is physically releasing fumes from her eyes that could turn him into dust. "And I own this place," he replies in a civil tone. 'I don't need to yell to drive the point home.' "I get to decide who stays and who leaves. And Alicia? I swear to God, if I see her anywhere around here again, I will not be this nice," he warns, the calm look on his face a sharp contrast to the dangerous aura he's pushing forth.

"We shall see." She picks up her bag aggressively and storms out in a fury.

It's just me, Ivan, and the crybaby left now. He glares at her who in turn seeks my eyes out pleadingly. She's fiddling with her fingers, teary trails lining her both cheeks. The look in her eyes is that of a naïve little girl who just wants peace and unity to reign in her family. She looks up to Ivan, I can tell. And she wants him to treat her as his baby sister but sadly, all of those feelings are going to live and die within her. Poor thing.

"Lauretta," Ivan calls solemnly, and she shuts her eyes, increasing the flow rate of her tears. "Should I ask the security to see you out?" He just FIRED them.

"I'll leave," she whimpers, and a sting of pity visits my heart. I want to cradle her. Hold her and wipe her tears. But unfortunately, I cannot intercede on her behalf. My tongue is tied. Besides, only happy brides could try that hard.

The girl eventually leaves, and Ivan still goes ahead to order meal service. It's meant to be a family dinner but oh well.

He's now acting like we just walked into a five-star restaurant on a chilly Valentine's evening, fitting his bib around his collar.

The server rounds up and the moment she begins to roll her rollable tray out, my heart oddly skips a beat because once she steps out the door, it's going to be just me and Ivan left. In this room. Together. Alone. What on earth am I supposed to say or talk about?

'Nothing, Laurel. You don't have to say anything.'

I don't. But I want to lash at him. I have fumes building up inside of me and it's toxic to bottle them up.

The door creaks open, and the few seconds before it slams shut gobbles my focus. I even note the soft clicking sound of the wheels as they roll against the tiled floor, and their precise movements fail to escape my notice.

Finally, the dreaded moment comes. We're together. Alone. Right now, I wouldn't mind having my tailgater from earlier, around.

I heave a deep sigh of annoyance, staring down at the palatable dish set before me as I pick up my cutleries. I call it palatable because it is – grilled chicken lying beside a scrumptious-looking salad swamped with assorted vegetables. But my mood's sour and it affects how I see the dish that I can't look at it with anything but disgust. And eating at the same table as Ivan?

'Just hold it in, Laurel.'

"I'm not going to ask why you just manhandled a lady but your mom? Why would you do that?" I blurt and regret almost immediately. Would've just stayed quiet after all.

'Why do you care?!'

Trust me, I don't. I'm just ... pissed.

"Would you rather I let the woman she wanted me to marry, stay?" he returns, driving the knife down the meat, the diamond head of his wristwatch glinting with his hand movement.

My lips and eyes flutter, and to MY surprise, I have no response for that. I want to tell him I couldn't care less if his mom wants him to take a hundred more wives, but my tongue is somehow glued to the roof of my mouth.

But I cannot let the argument slide so I think of something else and the perfect idea rushes to my lips.

"Why did you even marry me?" I blurt out of the blue. "Why did you agree to this when you could have any one of your choice?"

"Like Alicia?" he cuts in before stuffing his mouth with another chunk of meat. He's chewing at me with a hint of a smile playing around his lips. He's teasing me, relishing my irritation.

"Don't change the topic," I deadpan. "You know exactly what I mean when I say you can have any woman of your choice." He's got the looks, money, and fame. So ... "Why me? Just how on earth was this deal important that I had to be sacrificed for it?" My voice almost cracks now as tears begin to build up behind my eyes. My eyebrows twitch and my expression is depressing.

"You're channeling your anger wrongly, beautiful. I didn't give you off to myself and you know it. So if you want answers, call your dad and find out why."

"Don't call me beautiful," I murmur to his hearing.

"What? Does 'ugly' sound better?" he asks casually, placing his forearms by his plate.

"Laurel," I correct. Just in case he's forgotten. "That's my name and I want you to address me as that."

"Well, no." He picks a face napkin and begins to wipe his mouth. He's barely even touched the food. "I choose beautiful because it fits you perfectly."

I am trying to be a pain in the ass. Trying to annoy him. To make him snap so that he'll slam my head against the table, make me bleed, and give me a valid reason to file an assault case. Or better still file for a divorce. He just hit a woman so what's his deal? He should just do so and offer me an escape from this hellhole called 'marriage.'

Annoyed, I dropped my cutleries, letting the metal clink emphasize my peeve instead.

"I want to go home," I hiss.

"Sure, I'll take you."

Not that home! The tears warming up all along creep in to cloud my vision. "My home, Ivan," I whimper softly. "I don't wanna be here anymore." He's not that nice to bundle me back to my parents simply because I'm asking for it, I know. But I just feel helpless. His family obviously do not want me here and I don't want to be here either. The thought alone pumps more liquid into my eyes, causing them to roll down because there isn't enough room.

He tilts his face to me, holding my stare silently. I'm being impossible, he must be thinking but again, I don't care. This is just me voicing what I truly desire.

He rises to his feet while I follow him all the way up as he walks to me. Then he turns my chair for my knees to face him before bending at his waist, bringing our faces way too close for my liking. He cups my cheeks delicately, and both thumbs glide across my undereyes to blot out the water.

Wiping my tears, he says, "Well I'm sorry, beautiful. There's only one 'home' I can take you to."

His home.

My eyelids shut for a second to speed up the flow rate of my tears.

His eyes fall to my lips, staring like he's about to consume them. And because I am already under his spell, I shut my eyes waiting for his lips to crash into mine. But they don't. And I recall what happened at the wedding.

'He's teasing you again.'

I immediately snap my eyes open to indeed find a teasing smile keeping his lips company. Vexed, I fling my eyes away.

I no longer have wild thoughts but my heartbeat goes wild instead when a soft pair of lips hijack mine. My poor eyes grow into the size of a watermelon when he unexpectedly captures me in a deep kiss.