When Gio was eight years old, his least favourite cousin, Mario, had come over to play. Being three years older than Gio, Mario had been a head taller, and much wider than Gio's scrawny form. And he had often used his larger form to try and bully Gio.
But that year, Gio, all of eight years old, had finally had enough. He and Mario had each been given a slice of chocolate cake to eat. Their mothers conversing quietly on the other side of the drawing room, a tea tray with artfully arranged snacks before them.
It should have been a quiet but enjoyable afternoon. But as soon as the cake had been brought up and Mario's eyes had gone as wide as saucers, Gio had that known he would not be getting any. Mario afterall was a well known lover of cake, any baked goods really.
So the moment their mothers were engrossed in their conversation and Mario his sizable cake slice already gone, Gio had known what was coming "Give your cake, squirt, or I will pee on all your books," In addition to being a glutton, Mario had also been known to have competitions with himself where he measured how far his urine stream could go.
Having already suspected that things would end in such a way, had handed over his cake. He had then watched with barely concealed glee as his cousin had taken a huge bite.
Mario had paused, comprehending, then his eyes had gone wide and he had started screaming, his mouth on fire.
When their mothers had come, wanting to know what was wrong, Gio had simply taken back his own cake and begun eating it. He for one had not minded all the hot pepper powder that came with each bite.
Mario had never stolen his food again, and he had even started to respect Gio. His cousin had gone on to open his own bakery and it was very successful.
If anyone were to read Gio's mind, they would think it strange that he was remembering something from so long ago and wonder how it fit with the present, but for Gio, it made sense.
The story of the cake was as close as he was going to get when it came to deciphering his own nature.
He did not like people touching what he deemed as his. And if such an infringement happened, he made sure the perpetrator never touched his stuff again.
Gio loved Elle, but Elle did not love Gio. Someone had tried to hurt, but rather than send her away like a normal person, Gio had decided to marry her.
He was marrying her so that everyone would think twice before trying to harm her. He was also marrying her because he loved her like he had never loved another in his life.
Their marriage, if she said yes, it would be the hot pepper that kept potential suitors and would be killers away. And even if she hated him for it, even if she burned and clawed at him like the hot pepper had, he would still love her no matter what.
That probably said a host of other things about Gio's personality that he was not willing to face so he chose not to. Instead he focused on Elle, who was looking at him like she was trying to read his mind and prayed that if by some miracle she could, she would hear only one thing…
Please, say yes.
Please, say yes.
Please, say yes.
Please, say yes
Please, say yes.
Please, say yes…