Italian Coffee House [BWWM]

- C h a p t e r 18 -

Hey Loves,

Here's the eighteenth installation.

Birthday chapter yo! Haha.

Yes, it's Ada's POV but so what? Life doesn't always go as planned. Deal with it!

ENJOY!!! XD

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Stay Remarkable Loves!!!!

As a side-note, I know I'm late to the game but as the saying goes, better late than never. Due to the sexual content expressed in chapters 19 through 21 of Italian Coffee House, those chapters will be made private and any such chapter thereafter. All private chapters are viewable only to followers. This is a precautionary measure to protect Italian Coffee House from any bans or removal altogether. Thank you for your observation and patience.

Thanks for all your support. XD

xoxoxoxoxo.

- Ang

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Niccolo's Chocolate House

Chapter 18

*Dari*

It's Monday, one week and two days after my wedding. It's been precisely nine days since I became known as Adaramola Casimiro and I have a marriage certificate to prove it. Yet, I fear that my husband has already lost his interest in me and why shouldn't he. I was just as guilty as he was. 

I had ignored my growing attractions towards the man who had singlehandedly given me hope. Well, not exactly so, I believe that God had orchestrated the entire thing, after all, he was all-powerful and I know any other force wouldn't have been successful in bringing together two people from such drastically different worlds together. Yet, I was still as virginal as the day I brought into this world, but who's counting the days? What's worst? I wasn't exactly sure that it was such a good thing that Niccolò hadn't ruined his own wife.

Niccolò couldn't have been the problem. Men like him didn't have problems. He was enough a walking slap-in-the-face to remind me that my life wasn't a dream so much so that every time I thought of him I had to sit and reclaim my breath. Father forgive me! 

The man was downright gorgeous and nothing less. His startling blue eyes, whenever he looked at me, stunned me in place. His thick black hair had become the basis for my study as I imagined threading my fingers through it and became overly obsessed with the topic. His square jaw, which was as defined a man as he, was covered in a day's worth of stubble that imagined brushing over my skin. His thick broad shoulders, I imagined sinking my teeth into. His chiselled chest and abdominals, his capable arms, the feel of him, had been burnt into my memory.

No, Niccolò wasn't the problem. God had taken his time making him so much so that he was the closest thing to perfection that I'd ever seen. 

I was the problem. Maybe, he realized what a mistake he'd made marrying me after all. I was nothing short of boring, average, a waste of time and resources as he'd so kindly pointed out mere weeks ago. As typical as they come, there was no challenge to overcome ... no excitement ... no incentive, thrill nor was there any desire to be intimate with me. I was certain that that time had already passed, it must have given his unusually cold disposition.