When she turned to him,
"You haven't eaten," he said, his voice a low command. "I don't like it when my things are not well taken care of."
Evangeline felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. "Sir..I..," she began, but he raised a hand to silence her.
"Take us to La Trattoria," he instructed the driver, the name of a well-known Italian restaurant that was one of his favorites.
The driver nodded in the rearview mirror and made a swift U-turn, the tires squealing slightly on the pavement.
Vincente's power was undeniable; even the most mundane tasks seemed to be conducted with an air of urgency and importance when he was involved.
As they arrived at La Trattoria, the car door was opened by one of the burly guards.
The other guard took up his position at the opposite door. Vincente stepped out first.
Evangeline took a deep breath and slid out of the car, her new shoes clicking against the pavement as she tried to match his brisk pace.
The manager of the restaurant, an older Italian man with a round belly and a welcoming smile, rushed out to greet them, his eyes immediately falling to Evangeline.
"Ah, Mr. Castellanos," he said with a slight bow, his gaze turning to Evangeline. "It's an honor to have you and your lovely wife with us today."
Vincent nodded curtly, taking Evangeline's elbow and leading her through the luxurious restaurant.
The manager, showed them to a table
"Your usual, Mr. Castellanos?" he inquired.
Vincent ignored his inquiry. "Expresso for me," he said, taking the menu card from the manager. "And for my wife..." He paused, his eyes raking over her . "The lasagna....and a glass of orange juice."
The manage nodd and surried away, leaving them alone at the table.
Then their food came.
Vincent took his phone out again and began scrolling through it.
Evangeline felt a twinge of disappointment, but she knew better than to say anything.
She took a deep breath and picked up her fork, cutting into the steaming lasagna. The aroma of cheese, tomato sauce, and the hint of garlic filled the air.
She took a bite, the warmth spreading through her mouth, the flavors exploding on her tongue.
Then an idea came to her head.
"Sir...," she began tentatively, watching him scroll through his emails without looking up. "Could you...could you try some of this lasagna?" She held out a spoonful, her hand shaking slightly.
Vincent looked up from his phone, his gaze meeting hers.
For a moment, she thought he would refuse, but then he leaned closer, his eyes never leaving hers.
She brought the spoon closer to his mouth, the scent of the warm, cheesy pasta wafting between them.
He opened his mouth, and she placed the food on his tongue. His eyes narrowed as he tasted it, the muscles in his jaw moving as he chewed.
"It's good," he said finally, his voice gruff.
Evangeline felt a small victory, and she gave him a small shy smile. "Thank you," she whispered.
Vincent returned to his phone, his thumbs moving rapidly over the screen. "Why are you smiling?" he asked, not looking up.
Evangeline's smile faltered. "I... I'm happy you liked the lasagna," she said, coming up with something.
Vincent looked up from his phone, his eyes piercing hers. "Nice try...Doll." he said, his voice cold.
"I was just trying to be friendly," she replied, her voice a mix of sadness and hope.
Vincente ignored her last sentence and focused on his phone while sipping on his coffee.
Then he looked up and said "Stop calling sir" he ordered in which she just nodded while eating her food.
After lunch their car stopped infront of a luxurious shopping mall.
At the entrance of the luxurious mall, a sharply dressed concierge awaited them, his eyes flicking from his watch to the car's door every few seconds.
The moment Vincente stepped out, the concierge's posture straightened, his nerves vanishing as quickly as they had appeared.
He hurried over, a forced smile plastered on his face.
The concierge bowed slightly. "Sir Vincente, welcome. Everything has been prepared as per your instructions."
Vincente barely acknowledged the man with a nod, his icy blue eyes fixed ahead. "Lead the way."
They entered the mall, where hushed whispers and stolen glances trailed them.
Evangeline smiled kindly at those they passed.
The concierge led them to a boutique known for its exclusivity.
The jeweler, an older man with trembling hands, greeted them personally. The store's interior was all glass and gold, with diamonds sparkling like captured starlight.
"Good afternoon, Sir Vincente, Mrs. Vincente. It's an honor to serve you."
Evangeline's eyes wandered over the displays, but Vincente's sharp gaze was fixed on her.
He gestured toward the cases with a flick of his hand.
"Pick something," he said, his deep voice quiet but firm. "Anything you want."
Evangeline's eyes darted to the price tags, the numbers swimming in a sea of diamonds and gold. She felt nauseous. "I don't need these, Sir.. I meant.. Vincente," she said, her voice shaking.
He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "You're my wife now, Evangeline. You'll wear what I give you, regardless of whether you need it or not." His said.
Her eyes searched the glittering sea of jewels, trying to find something that didn't cost much. "But, they are very expensive," she protested weakly.
"Exactly," he said, his voice filled with annoyance "And I can afford them all."
The jeweler's eyes lit up with greed, eager to please his powerful client.
The jeweller, stepped forward with a cautious smile. "If I may, Sir Vincente," he began, his hands moving to the display case.
Vincent's gaze followed the jeweler's every move. "That one," he said, pointing to the necklace at the left.
It was a stunning piece, a choker made of the purest diamonds, with a single, massive sapphire nestled in the center. The necklace had to be worth millions.
The jeweller, his hands trembling slightly, unlocked the glass case and removed the necklace with the utmost care.
He laid it on the velvet cushion before Evangeline, who felt the weight of the jewels without even touching them.
"Vincente, I-" she began, but he silenced her with a look.
He took the necklace from the jeweller's outstretched hand, his eyes never leaving hers as he fastened it around her neck.
The coldness of the diamonds sent a shiver down her spine. "It suits you" he said looking at her.
She swallowed hard, her hand rising to her throat to touch the cool metal. "Thank you," she whispered.
He took her hand, in his muscular grip stark. "It's settled," he said to the jeweller. "Wrap it up."
The man nodded, his hands trembling slightly as he took the necklace from Evangeline.
Evangeline could see the excitement in his eyes—he knew he was about to make a sale that would keep the store afloat for months.
Vincent reached into his pocket and pulled out a black credit card. It was sleek and unadorned, with only his initials, V.C., in raised silver lettering.
He placed it on the counter. The jeweler's eyes widened, and he took the card with both hands, as if it were a holy artifact.