Chapter 13

Valentino's POV

After one pleasant and calm night, I slowly opened my eyes. I felt cozy and at ease.

It was only five in the morning when I looked at the wall-mounted clock and discovered that it was still dawn outside.

I became aware that I was lying on the bed and that Myrah was also there.

She was still asleep on the opposite end of the bed from where I was looking at her when I turned to face her.

She appeared content while sleeping, and I was able to glance at her without making her feel uncomfortable.

She was a real-life Sleeping Beauty. She appeared flawlessly gorgeous even while she was sleeping, and innocence radiated from every aspect of her.

I had gotten used to addressing her as Princess. It just naturally came off my tongue. If only we had met under better circumstances, perhaps I wouldn't be struggling with such intense guilt right now.

I wanted to do everything in my power to keep her away from me, despite feeling bad for hurting her. She had the ability to make my life more difficult and turn my entire world upside down.

Her skin was shining and looked crazily smooth. I wanted to sneak a touch without her knowing. I didn't want her to know how much I enjoyed her or how much I wished we had more in common.

Sleeping Beauty must have sensed Prince Charming staring at her because she slowly opened her ocean eyes and began to move.

Her sleepy eyes began to gently blink as she slowly woke up, and we just stared at each other. She flashed her pearly-white teeth at me as she smiled. Her sincere and innocent grin won me over.

She mumbled, "Good morning, Valentino."

I responded in the same way, "Good morning, Myrah," and she closed her eyes before opening them once more.

She kept grinning, and I saw that she was now focusing on my hand—more especially, the finger that was wearing the ring.

My hand was in the area between us, so she quickly placed hers on top of mine before softly lifting it and beginning to rub the ring.

What does she have to do now? Would she ask me about our wedding band? If such were the case, she was in for a horrible day.

She whispered, "Caylee gave this to you.

"Yes. I yelled out icily, "My future wife gave me this ring, and I'm attached to it, so I'm wearing it," yet her smile persisted.

Why was I acting strangely? Why was I torturing such a helpless being?

"It's lovely, Caylee has consistently exhibited excellent taste in all things. She said, "It's one of the most exquisite works I've ever seen in the world.

A gentle response definitely deters rage. She released her hold on my hand, and I instantly became calm and took a long breath. Once again, I had misunderstood her.

I apologize if I did or said something inappropriate. I swear I didn't intend to sour your day, 

Myrah.

You didn't. I simply misread what you said. I was afraid you were going to treat me like a wife, but it turns out I was mistaken. You had good intentions, and I apologize for being frigid.

I sat there as she questioned, "Is that why you are almost always rude to me?" I didn't want to tell her anything for fear that she would learn my true thoughts.

"Valentino," I won't ever act like your wife to you. Yes, we are married, and I accept the fact that you don't care about me. I have no business controlling your choices or way of life. I am aware that I do not suit you, so I will never even dream about our meeting.

Why did it hurt so much to hear her repeat things I'd spoken to her in a rage as if they were real and would always be so with such fervor and determination?

"I realize our vows have no meaning to you, but I think marriage is a holy union." I won't give a damn about the rest of our promises, but I will keep one with all my heart. You have my unwavering support in anything you do. Even if it results in an early divorce, I'll support you in your connection with your future wife so that you can be happy with your real love. I'm not out to get you.

Such conversations annoyed me. Although I have always preferred simple writing, I didn't enjoy her candor since it made a part of me want to give up.

Can we do something more enjoyable instead of this awkwardness? She chuckled at my suggestion before laying on her back and gazing up at the ceiling.

I warned you that talking and being honest aren't at all enjoyable. I enjoy having a good time.

What should we accomplish today? Is there anything here you've always wanted to do?

Come scuba diving with me. As a trained scuba diver, I absolutely adore diving to great depths. Being aquatic is who I am.

That certainly adds to the list of things we have in common. I also adore anything aqua. I have nothing scheduled today, so you can be sure we'll go scuba diving.

The following thirty minutes were devoted to nothing but conversation about our underwater adventures. When she spoke about her interests, she exuded such energy and youth.

At least I know a few things about her now. I came to the conclusion that having sex first thing in the morning was considerably less pleasurable than simply talking to someone about the things we both enjoyed doing.

She sat up and pulled her silky long hair into a sloppy bun, asking, "do you want to shower first or should I go first?"

I'll use the restroom first and then turn the bathroom over to you because I don't require an extravagant beauty bath.

We're back to stereotyping once more. Whatever, it's cool. She remarked, slouching back onto her pillow, "You go first.

I left her on her phone talking to someone who made her grin a lot while I went to the bathroom.

I dried off in the bathroom and cinched a white towel around my waist. I came to the realization that, in contrast to every previous day of our honeymoon, I had neglected to bring any clothing with me.

In any case, it didn't really matter. In the end, I wasn't completely naked. Evidently, Myrah had seen a man's body before.

My fingers ran through my wet hair as I exited the shower and entered our bedroom, sending water droplets cascading down my torso.

When the room fell silent, I turned to see whether Myrah was still there. Hell yeah, she was. She was seated on the bed, staring at me with her mouth open in awe.

I was used to the younger woman staring at me, but her gaze was unique and powerful. It had a pointy edge that made my hormones go crazy.

"Take a photograph," I told her, drying my hair with a towel I had found on the couch, "I'm sure it'll stay longer.

Then the enigmatic woman did something I totally wasn't expecting. Her iPhone flashed at me, and I could see it was directed at me. Did she actually take a photo?

Okay, so perhaps I was mistaken. She quickly hurried into the restroom and shut the door while laughing mischievously before I could even ask her a question.

When I learned Princess hadn't brought any clothing with her and that her supply of clothes in the drawer was now empty, I was about to follow her inside and ask questions.

Interesting. It's time to enjoy myself with my cute wife.

I heard the door gently open in less than 45 minutes and saw Myrah's head peeking out with her body entirely hidden.

She showed no shoulders. She had absolutely no makeup on her face, and yet she was still stunningly gorgeous, which was something I noticed and admired.

As I sat on the bed that I had made, I simply stared at her. I was dressed comfortably and casually, ready for the day.

"Well, I left my clothing in there, I guess. Please hand over my suitcase.

I smiled as I extended my arms and turned to face her. Why not make her feel a little frustrated?

"Nope." I'm in a lazy mood. Your bulky suitcase will be too heavy for me to

lift.

Come on, now please. It'll be done in  a minute, she insisted, pouting.