The Wallflower's Revenge

Chapter 10: The Makeover

Extreme Makeover...they help people that are uncomfortable in their own skin. They really change lives. 

-Steven Hill 

Tatiana Cavelli's POV

I woke up on my fifth day on Lucca Cavelli's villa in Amalfi Coast. But now not only as his guest but his wife—his wife! I still couldn't believe that I am now married to him. It was late when I woke up in the unfamiliar bed when I remember that Lucca told me specifically that since now, we are man and wife I should be sleeping on his bed.

Well, at first, I balked at the thought that he was expecting me to share his bed. When he explained that I will sleep in the bed while he sleeps on the couch.

Now it was past nine in the morning. I walked to the dining room for my breakfast and I stopped dead. Expecting that no one else was present in the room, I was quite stunned when I found it was fully crowded.

"Buongiorno, il mio amore," Lucca smiled at me while he stood from the table and walked towards me. I braced myself when he lifted my chin and placed a chaste kiss on my lips. "Come, I would like you to meet some people."

He led me to near the table where an elegantly dressed woman was sitting regally on the table with a warm smile on her beautiful face. His hand was placed securely at my waist. And there was a young man probably near my age standing near the window. There were also a team of people who stood nearby but all of them were dressed appropriately.

"Mi amore," Lucca said, gesturing to the woman who stood from her chair. "I would like you to meet Francesca Marcolini. She's going to be your teacher from now on. Francesca, I would like you to meet my duchess, Mariya."

Oh! I almost forgot the makeover thing Lucca had bargained for before our wedding. And most importantly starting today I will not be Tatiana Rostova, the wallflower. But Mariya Cavelli, the wife of Don Lucca Domenico Cavelli, Duca di Caprielle.

"Glad to finally meet you, Your Grace." Francesca said, extending her perfectly manicured hand in my direction.

"Likewise." I replied shyly, shaking her hands briefly. "Please, call me Mariya, Miss Marcolini."

The woman smiled. "Then you must call me Francesca."

"Francesca."

"And this is your private driver, darling." Lucca gestured to the young man, standing near the window. "This is Giovanni. He will take you anywhere you want to go."

"Driver?" I asked him. "Why would I need a driver? I can drive myself."

Silver eyes smiled down at me. "Because I'm not going to be around to drive you always." He reasoned out. "And I don't want to worry about your safety when you're driving on those hairpin curves of Amalfi."

The women stood nearby sighed with envy at the adoration in his voice. Lucca was one great actor. I will give credit to that.

"All right." I gave up the fight for my driver thing.

He gave a smile of triumph. "Great. Now Francesca here will give you the lessons you need."

"Lessons?" I pouted my mouth at him. "Plural? Are they going to be many?"

Lucca laughed. "I know you're going to say that. Of course, they are going to be numerous, my darling. Francesca will teach you about etiquette and personality development. She's the finest teacher in the country for that."

"Leave her to me, Lucca." Francesca said with authority. "I now understand when you told me that she's ordinary and shy. I honestly don't believe you at first, now I understand. Don't worry; by the end of our classes, she will be the finest duchess Italy would ever see."