It's dreadful what little things lead people to misunderstand each other.

-L.M. Montgomery

My brain hurts like there was an ice pick stabbing it right this moment, cursing the irritating tabloids that had me as their front-page story. It was about last night's event when I attended a charity ball so I could meet Paolo Ranaldi.

Now every damn tabloid had my photo with a woman I don't even remember her name, but I remember I was talking to her because she's thanking me for my generous donations. The papers were hinting that she's my newest mistress. Hell, only last week they filled their column about me and the mystery woman in the restaurant and thought that I'd proposed to the woman. Which is true, of course, since I married the woman but now, they wrote rubbish that I have a new woman in my life and betting how many weeks before I get tired of her.

I sorely wanted to tell them that I am already married!

Thank goodness, Rome tabloids didn't reach Amalfi Coast—or else there would be hell to pay on Tatiana's wrath.

"Well, well, well..." Marco strode to my office like he owned the damn building. "Have you seen today's paper, Your Excellency? No? It's a good thing that I brought one for you then."

I scowled at him that often makes my servants shrink with fear. "Put that blasted paper away from me, Marco."

He just merely smiled at my direction as he took the vacant chair in front of me. "Oh, I see you also have a copy." He said with laughter visible in his voice. "Well, I guess that Italian tabloids weren't yet aware that you're already married, Lucca. Have you already told your little wife about this? I'm sure she had a thing or two to say."

I took a deep breath and settled back on my chair. "No. Rome papers don't reach Amalfi Coast. I think it's fine."

"But that doesn't mean that she couldn't get a copy of it if she wants to keep tabs on her faraway husband that's quite known as a womanizer."

I swore in Italian long and hard that made Marco's eyebrow rise. "Tatiana wasn't like that. She keeps reminding me that our marriage was only for convenience. I was the one who keeps forgetting it."

Marco laughed out-loud. "You? You're the one who keeps forgetting it? That's rich!"

"So what?" I felt a little defensive which I don't understand. "Is that a bad thing that I enjoy being married to her? She's a great person to talk to. She has vast knowledge of everything that's the result of her hiding behind their library growing up."

"Just how well do you know your wife, Lucca?"

How well do I know Tatiana? I shrugged as I recited what I knew about her. "She's known as a wallflower in the society before Paolo Ranaldi swept her off her feet. She's incredibly shy and has a very low self-confidence. She likes to read books. In fact, she's the only woman I know that could be extremely happy about the size of my library. She's fluent in English, French and Russian but she's hopeless in Italian. She's—"

"Whoa!" Marco held up his hands. "That's enough. Clearly, you knew her damn well. How long do you know her again?"

"Eight days and four hours."

"You keep tracks, huh?" My friend commented dryly.

Was it good that I am counting the minutes too?

"Still, you should call her, amico." Marco advised as he stood from his chair. "At least, she knows firsthand the rumors about you before she hears it from another person, however convenient your marriage is."

I nodded before Marco left me alone in my office. It took full five minutes of my inner debate before I finally had the courage to pick up the phone and dialed Tatiana's number.

After a few rings, my wife answered.

"Tatiana, it's me." Oh God, how I miss her voice. After yesterday's silence between us, I am incredibly happy to hear her voice again.

"Lucca."

I frowned at the coldness in her voice. Maybe she's still mad at me. Thank God, I followed Marco's suggestion to tell her about the tabloid firsthand before she could hear it to others. "Tatiana, listen to me. Something happened here in Rome and the tabloids were filled with me and a woman. They say that she's my current mistress and—"

"There's nothing to explain, Lucca." The ice on her voice was enough to freeze the whole Amalfi Coast in the summer. "I told you before the wedding. You could have a mistress if you want. All I could ask is for you to be discreet. I don't want Paolo and Sabrina to know that I married you so I could avenge for my death. We're supposed to be a happy married couple in public."

The wedding, she said. Not our wedding. Evidently, she already knew about the damn rags. And it irritates the hell out of me. I thought we could now mend our bitter goodbye two days ago, apparently, I was deluding myself.

"Do you want to say anything else, Lucca? She asked. "I'm in the middle of my class with Francesca in my Italian."

Blaze and hell! The ice woman I met eight days ago was back with vengeance.

"No, it's fine. I—I need to work, too."

"Bye."

She didn't wait for my goodbye before ending the line. She's still maddeningly angry with me. Fury bubbled inside me thinking what the hell just happened for our happy married life turns straight to hell.

Maybe it's for the best if we're going to stop talking with each other and take a step back because our marriage seems to be moving too fast for us to catch up.

Yes, that's what we both need now. A distance between us.

"...Mariya? Mariya? Are you listening, Mariya?

My attention was snapped by the concerned Francesca who was looking at me. Then I realized that I have not been paying attention from my lessons and right now I have my Italian class. I blushed furiously that I was caught not paying attention.

"Forgive me, Francesca." I said, looking down to my textbook. "My mind seemed to be flying at the moment."

"It's about Lucca, isn't it?"

Trust it to my friend slash teacher to cut it to the heart. It's been two days since Lucca had left for the city and I always regretted my harsh attitude when he called me to his study and wanted to say a proper goodbye before he left. It's just I'm not prepared for him to leave me alone here. I am used to his presence here and I can see him whenever I want. Now it's seemed that the villa was so lonely without him.

"You missed him, don't you?" Francesca asked with a smile.

I shook my head. What kind of bride she would think of me, pinning for her away husband?

After a whole day of gruesome silence in him, I prepared to make an apology to him when I went straight to the kitchen to ask Allegra for Lucca's office number. I caught the maids and Allegra look like they'd been caught red-handed. They tried to hide the newspaper they were reading.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Nothing, Your Excellency." Allegra said her cheeks flushed with pink stains.

"Let me see." I held out my hands for the newspaper. One of the maids reluctantly placed it in my waiting hand.

I read the caption in Italian that was roughly translated in English: .

I am so thankful that my Italian was progressing well. It would be awkward if I have to ask Allegra for the translation.

I wanted to laugh. So much for my preparation for my apology to him, apparently, the great duke doesn't need it. Hell, after hours after leaving his wife in his Amalfi Coast villa he's revolving eyes was already caught by a beautiful woman.

It seems that Italian men were cut in the same clothes. They all have one thing in common. That is, they couldn't remain faithful to their partner even for one day. As soon as he's in the city he continued his pursuit. Of course, I know that he's a playboy duke. The internet was filled with one woman after another. And he will not change because he suddenly got a wife. It's just I haven't expected it to hit me to the core. I don't know why it's more painful than Paolo's betrayal.

"Your Grace," Allegra swallowed hard, avoiding my gaze. "That's a lie. His Grace would never break his marriage vow to you."

"I know," I said regally, ignoring the painful thud of my heart...

A distinct ring filled the room and dragged me out my reverie. "Excuse me, Francesca."

With a nod from my companion I stood from our table and walked a little farther for privacy before I answered my mobile phone. "Hello?"

"Tatiana, it's me."

Oh God, how I missed hearing his deep voice. "Lucca."

"Tatiana, listen to me. Something happened here in Rome and the tabloids were filled with me and a woman. They say that she's my current mistress and—"

So, he did not call because he missed me but to explain the newspaper articles about him. Well, I don't want to hear it and fill me with lies. Not now, not ever. I have my fill of lying men in my lifetime.

"There's nothing to explain, Lucca." I put a distinct remoteness in my voice that belied all emotion that swirled inside me right this moment. I will not give him the satisfaction of knowing that blasted article hurt me more than anything. "I told you before the wedding. You could have a mistress if you want. All I could ask is for you to be discreet. I don't want Paolo and Sabrina to know that I married you so I could avenge for my death. We're supposed to be a happy married couple in public."

There was a pause on the other line. I thought at first, he hung up on me when I asked. "Do you want to say anything else? Lucca? I'm in the middle of my class with Francesca in my Italian."

There was an audible sigh on the other end. "No, it's fine. I—I need to work too."

I nodded, that my cue that I am dismissed. "Bye."

I ended the phone call without waiting for his reply. I walked back to the table where Francesca was waiting for me patiently. "Sorry," I said as I took my chair back. "Where were we again?"

Francesca assessed me under her knowing gazed, perceptibly, looking for answers in my face. "I think you have enough of your lessons for today. I think you need fresh air and away in the confinement of the villa."

I frowned. "Where are we going?"

"In town."

"But—"

I protested, I don't want to go anywhere else but too late Francesca already stood from her chair and looked at me intently. "I think it's time to put you in the test." She said. "Let's see if the new Mariya Cavelli could handle public stares. And honestly, it's a shame that your new wardrobe was never seen by other people. It's time to show-off the new Mariya in town."

I exhaled and stood from my chair. One thing I learned to Francesca Marcolini, once she puts her mind into something she will stop until she gets it.

Five minutes later, we were safely inside the new black Rolls Royce that my personal chauffeur said to be my transportation. Lucca had bought this new car for me without me knowing it.

The drive to the town was short when Gio parked the car on the pavement.

"We're going to walk on foot from here." Francesca told my driver once we were standing on the street. "We'll be out for three hours. Come back by that time, will that be possible?"

"Sì, Signora." Gio bowed before sliding back to the driver's seat and moving the car away.

"Let's go." Francesca said hooking her arm to mine like old friends went to town for shopping.

We started our walk into silence before Francesca broke the stillness. "Are you going to tell me what's bothering you now?"

I look at her as we continue to walk on the streets. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"No?" She repeated. "I know you're quite not yourself after Lucca left. Are you going to deny that to me? And you must read the tabloid today now that you're acting like that. Don't worry, Mariya. Lucca is a good man. He will never betray your trust."

I look away from her eloquent stare. "It's complicated."

"I know."

I glance at her searching for anything in her beautiful face. Deciding to tell her the truth or not. I chose the first. "Shall I tell you a tale, Francesca? I tale of a wallflower and how her life turns one hundred eight degrees in one night?"

"Sounds interesting," My companion said. "Shall I hear it over coffee? It will be a pity not to enjoy the sun."

We saunter in the nearest coffee shop at the end of the lane. Once we placed our orders to the waiter Francesca gave me her full attention. "Okay, let's hear it."

I took a deep breath and wondered if I was doing the right thing. "You could trust me, you know." Francesca said.

"I know," I said with a weak smile. "My real name is Tatiana Rostova," I started. "I am originally engaged to Paolo Ranaldi back in New York. When we decided to have a vacation here in Italy with my stepsister for my coming twenty-fifth birthday, things went well until I found them in bed together one night, we decided to sail on the sea..."

I stopped from my tale when Francesca suddenly reached out my hand and squeezed it. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mar—Tatiana."

"It's okay." I swallowed the lump in my throat. Every time I remember that night. It feels like it only happened yesterday. "Then I broke my engagement to him that night. But he refused, I went to the deck to clear my head, but Paolo insisted and followed me. He's like an insect I couldn't shake-off even I wanted. The next thing I know I fell on the sea and they never bothered to save me. I thought I was really going to die that night."

"But you didn't."

I nodded, fighting back the tears from my eyes. "But I didn't. The next time I woke up, I learned that Lucca had saved me, and I am staying in his villa. My resolve was to take revenge on the people I thought would be the last person who would see me hurt. I asked Lucca when I learned that he's a powerful duke to marry me and help me achieve my plan."

"That's why you wanted a makeover." Francesca concluded. "You wanted to be an entirely different person so you can avenge on your fiancé and stepsister not because you want to be the perfect duchess for Lucca?"

I nodded. Everything she said was true, however cold blooded it may sound. "But now you are upset about the articles in the tabloid and you didn't expect to be affected by them?" She added.

"Yes," I admitted, "This is just supposed to be a marriage of convenience and it's starting to become more real marriage than ever." I look at her with confusion in my eyes. "It's scaring me."

"Shouldn't you be feeling happy about that?" Francesca asked her amber eyes full of concern. "I mean, it may start as convenience but now you're starting to care for each other. Maybe you will learn to love one another in time."

I shook my head. "Love is out of the question, Francesca. I swore off love the day my fiancé betrayed me. I will never love again—let alone another Italian man."

"Lucca is a good man."

"I know," I told her with a watery smile. "He will not agree to my idiotic plan if he was not a good man."

"Then why—"

"Because I was jealous," I admitted for the first time in two days. "I am jealous when he is talking to another woman when I am so darn far away from him. It made me anxious. Yes, I am wearing his ring but it's only a sham until I settle the scores to Paolo and Sabrina. And I think I am starting to fall for him."

"Oh, honey." Francesca murmured. "Lucca is in love with you!"

I look at him with tears in my eyes. "You're deluding yourself, Francesca."

She shook her head. "I see the way he looks at you. The way he couldn't take off his eyes and hands on you. He's smitten. I have never seen him like that before."

"That's because we're pretending."

"I think not."

"I'm sure." I told her. "Lucca is not in love with me."

"Fine. Whatever you say." She said, still not convinced. "Shall we put that to the test, Tatiana?"

"How?" I frowned, not knowing if I wanted the glint in Francesca's eyes.

"It's good to know that you have a handsome driver at your beck and call."

"What are you planning?"

Francesca smiled deviously. "I think we should start on your dancing lesson tomorrow."

"Dancing lessons?" I asked. "Why do I need to learn how to dance?"

"As a duchess you will be expected to dance at social gatherings."

Still I didn't know how my driver would fit into this. "So, what about Gio?"

"When practicing, my dear." She explained to me. "You'll need a dancing partner."

I raised my eyebrows at her. "You don't mean—"

"Well, of course, he will be your dancing partner from now on." Francesca grinned. "When is Lucca planning to get back from Rome?"

"Weekends, I think."

"Perfect," She clapped her hands together. "I can hardly wait for his return."

There was such a deviltry in her eyes that I didn't trust her. I may probably get into trouble for this...