The Ex-Con billionaire war God

9

MARCO 

The reunion had finally begun to die down but the voices of my former school mates till lingered inside the Serene Villa, Their laughs have gone down, I figured as I shook what's left in my glass of whisky.

For the first time all day, no one was watching me. As I watched the liquid dance in my glass I couldn't help on but smile bitterly. There was a time when I couldn't even afford to have water in my cup. 

 Slowly, i settle the cup on the bench I say on under the dimly lit gazebo and pushed out a soft sigh as images of the past flashed across my mind again.

Oriana.

Back then she had laughed differently. Not the polished dry, evil laugh she wore now like designer perfume.

It had been genuine with me. With us.

I remembered rainy afternoons after college lectures, sharing a paper cup of coffee because neither of us had enough money for two. She used to steal the sugar packets from cafés and tease me for drinking bitter coffee.

"You'll wrinkle before you're thirty," she'd joked once and I'd smiled.

Back then I truly believed she loved me. I was ready to do anything for her. 

And I did...

That night. The darkness almost blinding.

Red and blue lights flashing across wet pavement with deadening sirens in the air.

There was blood everywhere. But it was my decision to pick up that gun. 

I remembered staring at it for several long seconds before bending down and picking it up.

"Marco, are you sure you want to do this?" Oriana's teary voice had echoed just before the handcuffs.

After five solid years had disappeared into prison, and no matter how hard I tried, that night kept coming back in fragments.

"Mind if I interrupt your dramatic brooding?"

A cheerful voice pulled me back.

I looked up, with ease already knowing who it was.

Aria Lombardi stood at the entrance of the gazebo, wearing oversized sunglasses despite the fading sunlight. She smiled brightly, as though we hadn't exchanged sharp words barely an hour ago.

"You've already interrupted," I replied harshly. I could see her expression hardening until a smile slips across my lips "I was just remembering my time in prison. Nothing worth not interrupting."

She laughed as I joined in briefly. "You almost got me back there. I'll take that as a permission then." 

Without waiting for another invitation, she walked over and sat across from me, crossing one leg elegantly over the other.

For a brief moment neither of us spoke and I just went back to sipping my drink.

"Nice tux by the way," She coughed.

"Thanks," I murmured tugging at the sleeve of my shirt briefly.

 I wasn't curious to know what she came here to say cause suddenly I already knew. From her change of tone, I also knew why.

Finally, Aria removed her sunglasses.

"I wanted to apologize."

I raised an eyebrow and she sighed.

"You look so surprised. Why?"

"Just a  little."

She smiled sheepishly. "I was unnecessarily harsh earlier."

"You were."

"I know."

"But it's nothing new to me," I raised my glass to her and she shrugged with a carefree grin.

"I have people approaching me every week asking for performances. Sometimes I react before I think."

"I've already forgotten about it Aria," I said. "I understand."

"I hoped you would."

Another brief silence passed and her eyes drifted toward the parking area beyond the trees.

"That car you left in..."

I already knew where this was going.

"...was really beautiful."

"It gets me from one place to another."

She laughed like it was the funniest joke she ever heard.

"Only you could describe an eight-million-dollar Rolls-Royce like that."

I offered a faint smile.

"But it really is just transportation."

"You really don't enjoy showing off, do you?"

"Me? I can't say I don't."

"I noticed otherwise, if you asked me," She leaned back against the bench.

"The look on Derek's face was priceless."

I chuckled quietly. So was hers.

"I'll admit that part was entertaining."

"There it is!" She snapped.

"What?"

"A smile."

"I smile always."

"Not often."

I couldn't argue with that but she didn't know me well enough to conclude that and it wasn't impressing in any way.

Aria folded her hands in her lap before looking at me again.

"I've been thinking about your request."

"My request?"

"The Valentine's performance."

I tilted my head slightly. "You changed your mind?"

"I did."

"That was quick."

She laughed again. "You know, I actually hadn't really made my mid yet and I told you. I felt guilty."

"You didn't seem guilty earlier."

"I had a lot on my head and I was angry."

"And now?"

"I'm calmer now."

I looked unconvinced.

She caught the expression immediately.

"What?"

"You expect me to believe you canceled your schedule simply because you felt guilty?"

"For old times' sake."

"We barely even spoke in school."

"We shared chemistry class and we did speak."

"Yeah, we did. I remember."

"Fine. Maybe I overreacted. Maybe I judged you too quickly."

"You did."

"And maybe..." she admitted with a playful grin, "...I figured I should make it up to you."

I swirled my empty glass before placing it on the bench.

"My wife deserves a proper performance."

"And she'll get one."

"I'll have my assistant contact your manager."

"No manager."

"No?"

"I'm handling this personally."

I looked genuinely surprised.

"You must be very free."

"I'm not."

"Then why?"

She smiled mysteriously.

"Let's call it... professional curiosity."

I almost laughed.

Professional curiosity.

That was one way to describe discovering the man you'd dismissed stepped into one of the rarest cars in existence.

"I still need your price."

"There isn't one."

"I'm not asking for charity."

"And I'm not offering charity."

She leaned forward.

"Think of it as a heavily discounted performance."

"I don't believe in discounts."

"Then..." She smiled mischievously. "it's free."

"What?" I frowned. "You realize I don't owe favors."

"You don't."

"So why?"

She looked directly into my eyes.

"Just promise you'll keep me close during the evening."

I understood immediately. She wanted answers. She wanted to know everything. She wanted opportunities. She wanted to know exactly who Marco Benedetti really was.

Fair enough.

"As long as my wife doesn't mind."

"Perfect!"

A brief silence rolled by and she sighs quietly. "Always bringing up your wife, huh," She but her lip. "How did you two even met and suddenly..." 

"You wouldn't believe it."

She chucked and stood gracefully.

"I'll see you on Valentine's evening."

"Thank you, Aria. This means a lot."

She slipped her sunglasses back on and flashed one last smile before disappearing through the garden path.

I watched her leave before taking another sip of my whiskey.

                   *        *        *

 

Soft violin music floated through the air while waiters moved between elegantly dressed guests. The grand backyard of the house was lined with crystaline stones whose reflection from the lanterns lit the glass ceilings.

 It wasn't extravagant enough to intimidate Isabella. Just beautiful enough to make her feel cherished.

While I stood by the balcony watching, I heard soft footsteps behind me.

When I turned, I forgot every carefully rehearsed compliment.

Isabella stood near the entrance wearing the deep emerald evening gown Falco had delivered that afternoon.

The dress flowed gently around her, modest yet breathtaking, with calm embroidery catching the light every time she moved.

She looked almost afraid to wrinkle it. I chuckled as she approached.

"Marco..." She nervously smoothed invisible creases from the skirt.

"You look amazing."

"This dress must've cost a fortune I know."

"It fits that's all."

She blinked. "That's your response?"

"You look beautiful."

A blush immediately warmed her cheeks.

"I... thank you." Her eyes wandered around the decorations.

"This place..." She looked entirely  overwhelmed and it gladdened me. "I've never seen anything like it."

I offered my arm.

"And you don't have to worry about any of it."

"But... How are you able to..."

"Tonight isn't about the decorations," I interrupted and She shyly slipped her hand around my arm. "It's about you."

The nervousness in her smile softened and an even calmer giggle followed. "Oh, Marco."

We got into the hall together and hours melted away with all of the music and dancing and singing.

For the first time since our unexpected marriage, Isabella genuinely relaxed. She laughed, smiled and even danced. 

I was right about how much she loved Aria. She never took her eyes off the stage.

   

"I still seriously can't believe she's really here," she whispered. "Like I've always listened to all of her songs and watched her dances."

I glanced sideways. "Yeah, she's not worth your admiration," I murmured.

"What?" Isabella ashed drawing closer to me.

"I said, she's perfect."

"Yeah," She returned her gaze to the stage.

I found myself listening less to the music and more to the quiet rhythm of Isabella's head movement in rhyme to the song. I was more than glad at her satisfaction.

Everything was going perfectly until...

 A clamoured noise erupted from the back of the building and I turned back to find the attention of those behind had been drawn by something else. Heads turned one after another and the whispers grew louder.

I followed their gaze till I found the grand doors slowly opened.

Oriana stepped inside in a striking crimson gown, every movement demanding attention.

She smiled confidently as conversations broke around her.

Good thing, the music failed to succumb to the spell of her distraction. I didn't look at Oriana for long. Instead, my eyes moved to Isabella.

The warmth that had filled her face moments earlier vanished almost instantly.

Her grip around my arm stiffened without her knowledge and her smile disappeared.

Even without saying a word, I could feel her discomfort.

And just like that...

Our perfect evening had taken another direction. Why was she here, is all I could ask.