𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄 | ✎

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟒

"What he means to say is that you look heart-stopping," the bodyguard cuts in while glaring at the prince. "Are you ready to go now?"

"Obviously, she's ready," Marco grumbles, angrily storming off outside. I roll my eyes and follow suit, along with Alex.

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊ ˚✧ ﾟ.

I audibly huff as I ride in the limo with Marco to the restaurant we're going to. I can't believe my parents would force me to go on a date with him. Sure, we're technically engaged, and I'm 18 now, but that doesn't mean I have to go on an actual date with him. It's not like it's a real marriage.

Taking one good look at the prince, I see that usual smug smile of his that just makes me want to punch him. Not only is he abusive, but he's also an entitled fool.

Once we finally arrive in front of the restaurant, Alex opens the door for us and leads us in. Upon entering, I'm immediately struck by the decadence that this place exudes.

Every surface is covered in marble, and the walls are adorned with gorgeous paintings. The lighting is soft and dim, adding a sense of exclusivity to the atmosphere. The aromas of gourmet Italian food and fine wines permeate the air, making my mouth water.

This is the part I dread. Alex steps away from my side, leaving me with that idiotic prince. The bodyguard doesn't stray too far, but he isn't close enough for comfort.

A server approaches us and escorts us to our table, which is by the window and has a gorgeous and panoramic view of Rome.

Marco pulls out a chair and gestures for me to sit down. "There we go, mi amore. I'll make an honest woman out of you yet."

I have no clue why he's still trying. Or what's up with that idiotic term of endearment. He knows damn well he's just going along with this for power. After all, being the sixth in line isn't exactly ideal for people like him.

"You're disgusting," I remark with a scowl, snatching the chair from his hands and shooing him away. I stubbornly sit down in the chair and try to avoid him by picking up the menu on the table and browsing through it.

Unfortunately, no amount of reading through these delicious meals can distract me from the irritating sound of his voice.

"Now, now, Elena," he says, leaning closer to me. "Such vulgar language for such a beautiful lady."

If I could slap him right now, I would.

"Cut the crap," I snap. "We both know you don't care about me—you only care about the crown."

The prince sneers. "I care about the power that comes with the crown—and maybe if you're a good girl and learn to love me, I'll share that with you."

My brows furrow in disgust, and I scoff. The audacity of arrogant princes never ceases to amaze me. I may have grown up with everything handed to me on a silver platter, but I'd like to think I'm humble on some level. Marco, on the other hand, thinks he can get everything he wants with the snap of his fingers.

It's insane.

I decide to ignore Marco and not give him the time of day, instead looking at the foods on the menu. This is a five-star restaurant, so there are bound to be tons of good choices.

There is an extensive selection of authentic Italian dishes—from the classic spaghetti carbonara to the delectable tiramisu, every item on the menu looks appetizing.

I decide to settle for tortellini soup accompanied by garlic bread and quinoa salad. For my drink, I chose Californian Chardonnay. When the server comes, she takes both of our orders and then leaves.