Chapter 1
Lorenzo's POV
"You call yourself a man. How dare you lay your filthy hands on me? I would rather die than breathe the same air as you," Ruvarashe said taking a few steps away from me.
"You are mine and I can very much touch you whenever I want. Your father was very compliant when I handed over your bride price and I must say you are quiet a treasure in his eyes."
"My father would not stoop so low, how dare your lie!" She said in bewilderment.
"Well you are now mine. So pack everything you deem important, we leave for my home in the next fifteen minutes," I said looking at my watch.
"You will have to drag me out of here," she said defiantly holding her head up higher.
"Listen to me my dear. You should be ecstatic that I just married you. You are now in the shoes many women have only dreamed of filling. Now we will make this marriage work as long as you give me one thing."
She scoffed before asking, "What do you want?"
"Your body," I simply stated standing in front of her.
The loud slap was the only sound heard in the room as I looked down at her. The anger in her eyes could have made any man wither under her gaze, which I so wanted to do, but I had to stand my ground.
"I would rather become a nun, than be with the likes of you," she said storming out of the room leaving me rubbing my poor cheek trying to hide my smile. She was definitely the right choice, she would keep me on my toes no matter what. Now I just had to make sure my parents never knew of my marriage to her, they would have a fit knowing that I hadn't properly courted her as expected.
"Why I even married her was beyond me. Just one glance at her in the market and I knew I had to make her mine, the smile she wore was indescribable but drew me in nonetheless.
----
Sitting across from her in my jet I looked at her as she set rigid staring at nothing outside the window. She had politely refused any of the food offered to her by the steward only accepting the bottled water after a few more persistent tries from the young lady. She looked angry, miserable, she looked as though she could burst into tears at any moment, but willed herself not to do such in my presence.
"Where are you going?" I asked her when she suddenly stood up.
"I am going to my room, away from the pestilence filled air I am consuming at the moment," she said walking away.
I let her insult pass, knowing I would only ignited an unquenchable fire. Leaving her be, I worked on my laptop the rest of the flight home, there was no way I was going to let her anger manipulate me into feeling guilty over my actions. I am Lorenzo Salazar, self-made billionaire, philanthropist and I never apologize nor do I make mistakes, EVER.
