Father? I couldn't stand seeing him with that devil-soon-to-be-my-husband. The Accardi's were selfish, evil and made everyone around them feel like worthless slaves whom they might control in their fucked up way. And sadly I was forced to marry one...
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Wedding practice is really not for me. When I got home, the clock was past twelve at night. My feet were hurting as if someone continuously stomped on my feet. And on top of that, all I could think about was the wedding. Earlier in the car on our way to the dance tutor–Camilo informed me of the wedding plan. I gave him my opinion on the food and what makeup would suit my features best but he organized everything else.
I don't think I have really thought how lucky I'm to have him by my side. He can be a jackass. A very big jackass but I'm scared to fall for him. There has always been something holding me back. And that feeling is still there–but I won't let it overpower my real feelings.
Now I'll let the feeling go, it's my wedding after all. With my enemy. My very sexually frustrated enemy.
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"Have you packed everything Miss?" Stella's sweet voice calls from the stairs. I was trying to sink the last piece of clothing inside my suitcase but it only made me more frustrated as the piece wouldn't let me zip it up.
"I'm just ahh..trying to fit it in..." I groan in between my struggles. "Want me to get Mr. Accardi to help you child?" She asked.
No Natalie, you're an independent-
"Yes please!" I yelled and Stella turned around and quickly ran down the stairs.
I punched the clothing and laid back on the bed next to the stupid box. And as my eyelids began to close they snapped right up when I heard him step inside my room.
"Stella informed me you require help," he said, walking up to the side of the bed where I was laying.
I rolled to the side, facing the suitcase and nodded. "What is the matter Natalie?" He asked while fixing the suitcase.
"My feet have been in pain since yesterday." I wince when I feel the throbbing pain in my foot.
Camilo easily zipped up the suitcase and moved to stand in front of me.
"Give me your foot," he motioned with his fingers and I lifted my leg up. His rough hand wrapped around my foot then his thumb started to put pressure where it hurts the most.
