Soul mates...two halves of the same soul joining together in life's journey

-Author Unknown

Marco Orsini's POV

I am talking to a group of businessmen trying to enjoy the wedding reception of the Duke and Duchess of Caprielle here in Palazzo di Cavelli. My bowtie seemed too tight around my neck. I took a deep breath. In truth, weddings aren't my thing. But I can't just let this wedding pass. It was my best friend's wedding and I am his damn best man since our other friend, the Greek bastard, couldn't attend this wedding because there was an emergency to the shipyard he owns.

As much as I tried to amuse myself inside the grand ballroom of the Palazzo di Cavelli, I felt bored. I wished Nikos was here so we could both annoy the groom.

Lucca was busy adoring his wife on the other side of the ballroom. He couldn't take his eyes off his wife even for a second. I shook my head in resignation. My best friend had finally admitted to the world his downfall by giving his Tatiana the wedding of the century. It was the grandest Italy must ever see in my opinion.

But was it worth the effort? I asked myself silently. To surrender yourself to a single woman? I don't think so.

That's why I didn't bring a date today. Women get the wrong impression when you bring them to a wedding they think that you're starting on hinting something to them. That is absurd. And to think that I need to suffer the same thing when the icy widow finally found my bride is horrifying. I have no desire to get married...

"There's Marietta Ferrara over there. Do you want me to make your introduction now?" That single comment made me smile despite the fact I tried to stop it from showing.

I turned around to face the woman I've been looking for since I saw the glimpse of her at the cathedral earlier. Now I can finally enjoy this wedding. "Does the earth tilt upside down?" I asked in a sardonic manner she hated. "Or I have entered a different universe where you were so kind to me without realizing it?"

The signature frost she'd always throw in my direction was back. I couldn't help but grin. This is getting interesting. Annoying Francesca Marcolini was my favorite pastime.

She scowled in my direction. "Can't you reply without being sarcastic, Signore?"

"You look ravishing," I commented completely ignoring her reprimand.

"Stop mentally undressing me!" She practically hissed, eyeing the men I've been talking to for quite a while behind us. Her hazel eyes snapped with fire. "If you continue to repeat this mental harassment with me as your subject I will personally kill you with my bare hands!"

"Mental harassment?" I asked innocently, though the devil inside me roared with laughter. "What is that?"

"Devil!" She whispered while glaring at me. I think she's imagining that the champagne fluke she'd been holding in her hands was my neck from the tight grip. "You always mentally undress me whenever we are in public places. And you were doing it right now at the wedding reception of our dear friends. Where is your decency?"

"Darling," I told her. I knew laughter was not dancing in my eyes as I eyed her from head to toe. "I think 'decency' is boring. Why not try adventurous I think we'll both love it."

"You—"

"Like I said before, do you want me to undress you the other way round, Francesca?" I suggested raking my gaze over her sexy figure.

"When hell freezes over." She replied fumingly. "You—"

"Was Marietta Ferrara really here?" I asked her, cutting off whatever she was about to say.

I saw her take a deep breath as if trying to calm her nerves. "Yes. She's over there. I think I will form your introductions now."

She was about to walk where her prospect of a perfect bride for me was located when I swiftly grabbed her arm to stop her from her track. "Wait," I said. I felt an electric shock run through my veins when my hand made contact with her soft skin.

What the hell is that?

And it seems that she also felt that current when she suddenly removed her arm from my touch. "What?" She asked annoyingly.

Yes. What Orsini? I asked myself silently. Why did you stop her? When did you feel nervous meeting a woman? So I blurted out the first thing that comes to my mind. "What's the rush? Only five candidates for my prospective bride? Is Italy lacking with eligible bachelorettes?"

A frown marks her eyebrows. "No." She answered after a while. "But those five were the ones I thought would be suitable to be Mrs. Marco Orsini. They don't have a bad reputation or even a single scandal ever."

"Still," I said, catching a glimpse of Marietta Ferrara. "Give me more candidates to choose from. Women near my age. I believed that those women you presented barely left the university."

"Women near your age?" She asked herself, as she chewed her bottom lips. I found it really erotic. "Women near your age are career-minded ones, happily married, divorced, or..."

"Or..." I prodded when she hesitated.

"Or widows."

I hid my smile as I sipped the vintage champagne in my hand as looked at her intently. "I don't mind windows."

A pretty stained crept through her cheeks. Amazing, I thought with satisfaction. Francesca Marcolini was blushing. "Er, I don't think windows would make the cut, Signore."

"Why not?"

"Your grandfather might not approve of your bride was previously married."

"My nonno said I should be the one who will look for my bride to present to him," I told her in annoyance. "He will not be the one who will pick my future wife."

She didn't answer instead she just instinctively rubbed her gold wedding band that annoyed me even more. A dead husband shouldn't be worshiped like that.

"Alright," She said, dragging my gaze from that blasted wedding ring. "I'll look for more candidates as you requested."

"Good." I tried to calm my unjustified anger, as I eyed the progressing wedding reception. "The duke and duchess are about to have their first dance as a married couple, why not join them? Care to dance, my lady?"

I am prepared to be turned down but she surprises me when she places her delicate hand on my waiting hand. "Why not?" She said.

Why not, indeed.

Once the first dance ended, the other couples joined Lucca and his wife in the center of the grand ballroom and danced to the sweet melody. The woman in my arms was as lovely as the blushing bride but the woman in my arms had sorrow in the depth of her eyes, as she glanced at the happily married couple looking at each other's eyes only.

No one in this room would doubt that they were really in love with each other.

We were dancing in the middle of the dance floor sweetly but Francesca was silent and avoided looking at my eyes as she was supposed to be.

"Are you thinking of your own wedding?" I couldn't help but gloat.

I heard her gasped. I know I shouldn't have brought that up but I couldn't help it. "That's none of your concern, Signore."

She was about to push me away but I just tightened my grip on her slender body like a vase. Oh, no she was not leaving my arms until I say so.

"I was just making a polite conversation, my dear."

"Polite conversation?" She repeated, her eyes snapped with burning anger for me. "You are asking personal questions, Signore."

"And I am not allowed?" I drew her even closer to my body for her to feel my growing arousal.

"Yes!" She answered softly, trying to detach herself from me. "Not now. Not ever."

"You know what I think your late husband wants you to have a life again it's been seven eyes. He wants you to remarry and have a family of your own."

"I will never marry again." She responded passionately, which boiled my blood into top-notch. "Lorenzo will forever be my love. He is the perfect husband."

I snorted. "Your husband was no way close to being a saint, Francesca."

"I know but he's ten times worth of you!" I finally released my grip from her and let her walk away from me.

I drew my phone and dialed someone. "I need you to investigate someone and I want the report to come as soon as possible. I want to know everything about him. I repeat. Everything. His name is..." I looked at the fumingly angry woman walking away from me. "...Lorenzo Marcolini