Married With Malice: An Arranged Marriage Romance

The so-called ‘Serenity Package’ doesn’t deliver on its promises at all.

According to the spa brochure, choosing the top tier bundle of spa treatments is guaranteed to deliver ‘a renaissance of rejuvenation’.

So far, the renaissance hasn’t happened. The rejuvenation has been out of reach.

On the contrary, I’ve discovered that being swathed in fragrant red clay and wrapped in a full body cocoon with only earthy pipe music for company has given my brain far too much time to launch a full scale mutiny.

In the cold light of day, I’m mortified.

In a moment of weakness, I confessed every detail of the intense emotional turbulence I’ve been keeping to myself for months.

Now Luca knows everything. He’s aware that I sit around hoping and wishing he’d look my way and hold my hand and eagerly wait for me to speak.

I want to throw up when I remember the words that came tumbling out of my stupid mouth. Then I didn’t even have the dignity to face his response. I ran into the bathroom and cried like a lovesick teenager.

One tiny comfort is that Luca didn’t laugh or bang on the door to taunt me. He was merciful enough to leave me alone.

Later, I was under the covers with the lights off when he finally returned. He sank down on the corner of the bed with a heavy sigh and whispered my name. The smell of alcohol and the pine-spiced air of the outdoors came with him.

I didn’t answer, didn’t even move, unable to deal with him without bursting into ridiculous tears all over again. The mattress bounced as he left and seconds later I heard the blast of the shower. I fell asleep before he emerged and when I awoke, his side of the bed was cold.

I understand why Luca slept on the shallow sofa in the attached sitting room. He didn’t want to give me false hope.

Still, the fact that he’d rather not sleep beside me stings a lot.

This morning my bones felt creaky and I suffered from an unpleasant sensation of being bruised from the inside out. Somewhere there must be a study examining the way heartbreak is hazardous to your health. Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve and this doesn’t help.

What is it with me and this holiday?

It’s now my curse to get dumped just in time to ring in the new year.

Although I suppose ‘dumped’ is the wrong word to use in this case. Luca hasn’t broken up with me in a coffee shop. It’s not his fault that he doesn’t love being in a marriage he was forced into. Now he’s free to gloat over just how wretched I am.

No, this isn’t fair.

Luca won’t be gloating at all.

There are things worse than gloating. When I dared to peek at his face, he was positively stricken.

This situation had never occurred to him, that his contract wife would develop…feelings.

Now he’s stuck dealing with the icky fallout.

Despite all my misgivings over the years when it comes to Luca Connelly, I’ve learned he’s not really spiteful at heart. He assumed that I could control myself.

Well, guess what? So did I.

Both of us were wrong.

Luca was awake and nursing his hangover with a cup of instant coffee by the time I emerged from my marathon shower. There was so much sorrow in his face that I wanted to scream. Laughter would have been preferable to his hangdog expression of pure pity.

Thank goodness the first thing I did in the morning was reserve the entire day at the spa. When Luca gently asked if we could talk, I was grateful to have an excuse that I absolutely could not because I’d made other plans.

“But we can have dinner together later, right?” he asked and the question was more than a little eager. I’m sure he’d like to clear the air over our unrequited love situation and receive assurance that I’m not about to do anything strange.

He needn’t worry. Like I told him last night, my feelings are my problem alone. I’ll keep them hidden from now on and endure our marriage with my head up and my eyes clear.

At least I have newfound sympathy for my mother today. We have something in common, sentenced to ache for any morsel of affection from a man who is indifferent.

“Of course we can have dinner,” I said to Luca and walked out of the room in pursuit of my serenity renaissance.

The cocoon portion of the rejuvenation process is complete and now I’m in the meditation chamber. A disembodied, hushed female voice with a crisp British accent is dispensing calm advice while I’m prone on a cushioned cot with a cucumber-scented mask over my eyes. On the plus side, my skin is tingly and soft after the clay wrap.

“I can let go,” says the voice. “I deserve tranquility.”

Maybe, but easier said than done. Tranquility is in short supply when disloyal factions of my own mind keep showing me pictures of Luca.

There’s Luca amused smirk at the sight of my monstrous wedding getup.

“I manifest perfect health and peace.”

Next up is the intense glint in Luca’s green eyes as he watches me come on his hand in the mirror.

“I am strong and I commit myself to harmony.”

And here’s the memory of Luca reaching for me on a night when he was haunted and bloody and in need of passion to erase whatever he’d been forced to do.

“I can see myself being completely restored and regenerated.”

What the fuck does that even mean?

I can’t possibly be restored and regenerated while grappling with visions of Luca’s smile and his body and his inscrutable green-eyed stares that always leave me weak-kneed and flustered.

The cucumber mask and the meditation voice aren’t doing any good and I’ve had enough of them both. Sitting up on the edge of the cot, naked beneath my fluffy robe, I toss the mask aside and watch my dangling feet.

I’ve never been able to appreciate meditation. Sabrina swears by some app that she leaves on while she sleeps but I’m incapable of relaxing on that level.

Everything about this room, from the warm color palate to the dim lighting to the sweet-smelling air pumping through the vents, is designed to achieve maximum inner peace. It’s probably time to embrace the fact that I’m impervious to serenity.

However, there is a pitcher of herbal tea and a tray of macaroons on the counter. If I can’t have love, at least I can have snacks.

There must be some kind of heat element under the floor because the terra cotta tiles are warm under my feet. I pop two macaroons into my mouth and pour a cup of tea.

“I am the ruler of my own destiny,” says the voice.

“Shut up, it doesn’t work that way!” I yell back at the voice. Macaroon crumbs spray out of my mouth and land on the counter.

Seizing a tissue, I wipe them off, growing grumpier by the second.

I’m right. The damn voice is wrong.

Sometimes destiny is chosen for us.

Sometimes we need to marry our enemies in order to save our sisters.

And then sometimes, in violation of every single reasonable intention, we fall for the man we had sworn to despise.

In any case, the serenity mission has failed. Putting off a confrontation with Luca doesn’t make the inevitability of the situation disappear. I may as well get all of my anguish out of the way before the clock strikes midnight tomorrow.

Perhaps I’ll make a resolution list for the new year.

Item number one: STOP OBSESSING OVER MY HUSBAND.

If I once (and only once, but it still counts) landed a triple axel jump, surely this goal will be a breeze.

Tiptoeing out of the meditation room like a criminal, I locate the locker where I left my clothes and purse. I duck into a restroom to change, only to run into the spa attendant when I emerge.

“Was there a problem?” She seems distressed to find me wearing clothes and on the verge of escaping.

“Not at all. I just remembered I had somewhere to be.” I should have thought up a better excuse.

The woman’s forehead buckles with dismay. “But you haven’t even experienced the deep scalp massage followed by the citrus and salt renewal.”

She continues to beckon even as I back away toward the exit.

“I’m good,” I say, calling over my shoulder, “I’m serene enough, I swear.”

A mild sense of guilt pricks at me as I flee. I’ll make sure to sign for a huge tip for the staff. They tried their best. Not their fault I’m the poster child for the sentiment ‘It’s not you. It’s me.’

Now that I’ve assembled enough courage to deal with Luca, I just want to get it done before I lose my nerve and hide in the bathroom again.

The heels of my boots are as loud as gunshots as I hustle through the corridors. In the lobby, two uniformed staff members stand at the door and admire the snow flurries. The scene outside the window is awful pretty and if I wasn’t in a hurry I’d probably stop to admire the sight.

My phone pings with a text and I’m expecting the message to be from either Sabrina or Daisy. They’ve been deeply worried ever since the Christmas fiasco. I’ve done my best not to burden them with my sordid issues but sisters have a way of sensing when something critical has gone awry in your life.

The text is not from Daisy or Brina. Or Luca either. Sadie has sent the photo she snapped of me snuggling a kitten in Peggy’s kitchen yesterday while Luca looks on in the background. She captions the photo with the words, “Can’t wait for you to visit again!”

She’s so sweet. I do hope we get a chance to spend more time together. Daisy and Brina would absolutely adore her. However, I’m not sure what to expect after today. Luca feels protective of Cale and Sadie. He may not want me around them.

I’ll have to think of an answer for Sadie later, when my heart isn’t pounding in my throat.

I can feel my pulse speeding up as I approach the suite and I hold my breath as I crack the door open. But Luca isn’t even inside. I don’t know where he is. Maybe he’s down at the bar again or maybe he’s isolated himself somewhere in the bowels of the resort in order to discuss extra important mafia business.

This is actually a relief. I thought I was ready to face him but now I’d like a little more time to sort out what I want to say.

I might feel more confident if I had some gum. There’s been a sticky feeling in my mouth since I ate those macaroons. Luca can usually be counted on to keep a couple of packs of wintergreen Trident around. I’ve stolen them a few times.

No luck in the sitting room. All I find are the keys to the rental car and Luca’s gun, which is in a drawer beside the bible. Maybe he brought more than one. These days he’s always armed and he’s unlikely to be dissuaded by any policy the resort might have. My father has an ownership stake here and I’m sure they know exactly who we are.

At first glance, all I can find in his suitcase are piles of folded clothes. But when my fingers land on the small blue travel bag within, a jolt of recollection strikes.

The first time I saw this bag was on our honeymoon. I stood and watched as Luca extracted a small bottle of aloe to rub on my non-sunburned shoulders. What happened next is a steamy memory I’ve revisited many times. Even now, those minutes in front of the mirror have the power to make me blush.

Yet I’m not sorry that I let it happen. In spite of everything, I’d do the same again.

My legs are cramping in this crouched position so I take a seat on the throw rug and unzip Luca’s bag. If there’s gum to be found anywhere, it’s bound to be in here.

Toothbrush. Toothpaste. Deodorant. Razor. Aftershave.

And a square white box with the name of a Manhattan jeweler scripted across the top. This is an odd find and out of curiosity I shake the lid off.

For a few seconds I’m confused about what I’m looking at.

It’s a woman’s silver charm bracelet. But why?

One by one, I see the shapes of the charms. The pair of figure skates. The palm tree. The wedding ring. The tiny sign that says #1 SISTER.

My eyes fail to blink for so long that they start to water. There’s no possibility that this gift is intended for anyone else. It’s as if Luca reached into my heart, discovered the most vital parts of my soul, and turned them into a keepsake.

Frankly, I couldn’t be more shocked.

This isn’t a declaration of love and yet it’s far from nothing.

I set the box down and scramble for my purse, hauling out my phone. It beeps with a warning that the battery is at less than ten percent but all I want to do is see the last text Sadie sent.

In the photo, my gaze is pointed down at the kitten and I’m smiling. Nearby, Luca leans against the sink in a casual pose but it’s his face that I really notice for the first time.

He’s staring at me. I remember the scene in the kitchen very clearly. There’s no one else he could have been looking at. Written on his face is an expression of so much earnest tenderness that I can’t breathe.

“We’re not like them, Luca. We don’t have what they have. You will NEVER EVER look at me the way Cale looks at Sadie.”

When I spoke those words in a moment of agony, I was sure they were true.

Now nothing is for sure.

My world has just tilted on its axis and now spins sideways.

These past couple of months have been tumultuous. Sometimes heartbreaking. Sometimes wonderful.

We’ve both been stubborn. And stupid. Mistakes have been made. Tempers have flared. I’ve held back essential pieces of myself rather than risk outright rejection.

It’s always a gamble, exposing your heart.

You may lose. It’s possible you’ll end up crying yourself to sleep when you do.

But with nothing risked, nothing will ever be won. The door to possibility, to happiness and love, will remain forever closed.

I’ve stood behind a closed door for a long time and I don’t like the view.

More than anything, I want to put in the time and the work to build something real. Maybe Luca wants that too.

I owe my husband some honesty. Even more, I owe myself some honesty.

With slightly shaky fingers, I replace the lid on the jewelry box and put it back where I found it. Luca brought this on the trip for a reason. He plans to give it to me here. Last night didn’t end well but we have plenty more nights ahead.

We could have our whole lives.

Now I really wish I’d brought a gift for him. I never even gave him his Christmas presents. The meager gifts I bought remain in the bottom drawer of my dresser back on Long Island.

If only I had something to give him that would bridge the divide and make up for the past.

I still feel sick to know that in a fit of anger I burned one of the few possessions he had from his father. And what about that pen he was missing? It was important to him and I didn’t know so I tossed it in the trash.

I can’t replace what Luca has lost but I can give him something new. A symbol of our new start, the one we’ll make together.

There is a boutique downstairs but I’m unlikely to find anything suitable among the designer dresses and jewelry. However, Luca left the keys to the rental car on the table. And the drive down the mountain isn’t far. While I didn’t see much of Sleepy Rock, it’s bound to have some retail. I can stop in to see Sadie and Cale and ask if they have any suggestions.

Luca assumes I’m at the spa all afternoon. And I’ll be back long before dark so there’s nothing to worry about.

Excited by this new plan, I throw my jacket on. I almost leave my scarf behind but then change my mind and sling it around my neck. With my purse and the car keys in hand, I scuttle out the door.

Down in the lobby, the two staff members have been joined by a third employee. They murmur in tense, quiet voices as they watch some scattered snowflakes fall outside the window.

They are so wrapped up in their conversation that they never turn my way and see me leave.