"Those that go searching for love only make manifest their lovelessness, and the loveless never find love, only the loving find love, and they never have to seek for it."

~ D. H. Lawrence~

Makris Andino's POV

I signed in frustration, gazing at my father, who values outsiders over his very own. Urso Andino. The monarch that rules the generational legacy. I have a crucial meeting throughout today; I had to cancel today's presentation board meeting with the directors from China because my father asked me to do so; he had been chattering for too long, and it got on my nerve sitting close to him because we aren't the conversational companions.

"Adriano," he calls at the lost-in-thought me. "Are you even listening?" he added.

That's what he always calls me, but I don't fancy the name much. It's only who knows me from home that calls me that. But recently, the term has been flying over the tabloids—Who the hell even made it known to the public.

"Yes, father!" I turned to stare at him.

He frowns. "How dare you use an English phrase on me? Are you nuts? You're letting the polished language flush away your traditional morals," He teaches.

Oh goodness lord. Not again, why so many teaching over calling him father in the English phrase.

"I'm so sorry, Padre. So, why did you call for me? I have things to do and also a plane to catch!" I scowl.

"Cancel all!" He commanded.

I cringed. "Why should I listen to you?"

"Because I'm the reason why you're shining. I gave you your silver spoon before you used my fame and money to get your companies. So, shut the hell up and do what I asked you to do. Now, pick up your phone and send an SMS to Jorginho and tell him to cancel the remaining plans for you," His baritone voice announced.

I looked confused at him. "Padre, what is this about?"

"You know why I called for you, so don't act stupid with me, boy," He replied tautly.

"Padre..." I exhaled tiredly. "I thought I told you that I'm not interested in getting married now? You've been pressurizing me for four years now," I rolled my eyes reluctantly at him.

"Padre, can you remind me again why I've to get married? Because I still don't know why I need a woman by my side," I look deeply into his old wrinkled blue abated eyes.

"You fuck, right?" He glares at me, the kind of look that turns big errant kids into guilty little boys.

I quivered at his plain statement. Now my father no longer respects the peaceful tradition of his earthy ancestral tongues.

"And what do you fuck? Animal? Your fellow man? How will you give me my grandkids?" My father inquired from his end of the room.

"Padre...What if I tell you that I've someone that I already like? Will that make you leave me alone," I muster up at him as his natural frowned-up face yet, his glared was untouched at me.

"And what do I care?" He prevails with a taut. "You never liked anyone but yourself, Adriano. You don't even date women for long. Son, you change women like Cologne. You use them and dump them as the sluttish man you're. Even that actress with the name; Chiara Enrani, that is all over the news that you're dating, I know that you're just using her to get to her father to sign a contract with your company!" He breaths out in distress.

"Padre, calm down. You're too old for all this. You just clocked sixty-seven; you might die any moment from now, so you need to go back to Greece and relax at home with your wife, okay?" I took a deep breath.

"You son of a bitch! How dare you talk to the man that put food on top of your table for years? I blame your Mamma for spoiling you too much. She always gives you everything you desire, so you don't even know how to talk to your Padre anymore," He flames up.

I exhale. "Padre. I'm sorry if I went out of line, but why do I need a 'mandatory bride'?"

He twitched his upper beard. "My boy, she's not your mandatory bride, as you called it early on. Her father and I have been good friends since we were youngsters, so we promised to join our kids together a long time ago to consolidate our family once again."

I bet you are to be applauded for wanting to impose your traditional friendship on child play with the lives of an adult.

"So you want me to get married to your friend's daughter because you had a promise with him a long time ago?" I inquired.

He nods. "Yes. And we're driving down to her home today."

"What?" I cringed.

"Yes. And I don't want to hear anything from you. By the way, I've already gifted you with my new penthouse that is in Rome. I even told Elisa, the old maid, to fly down there to arrange the place very well to suit her for her arrival," He added.

"Padre, who is this lady you are so fixed on getting me married to? I don't even know her or know what she looks like. What if I don't like her?" I conceded.

"You will like her. I bet that you will grow fond of her. She's from a prestigious and delicate Roman home; she's a beauty with brains and know-how to leave up to etiquette, and she's very knowledgeable." He reinforced.

"What family is she from?" I asked.

"She's a patrician—A Cicero. She has not too many scandals like one of her elder sisters who is now married to one of the finest young billionaires," My father elucidated.

A Cicero? I've heard of plenty of scandal from that family. She belongs to Rome's most delicate and oldest, and most influential household. I've heard and seen so many tabloids about one of the scandalous Sisters; I don't know which one it is, but that one is lovely.

Then, the thought of emerald beauty flashes back into my mind. I imagined her beauty. She was a rebellious lady, a sneaky and harsh woman why those sharp bottle-green eyes—a brown-headed fighter with a killer gaze. She's a poison, and I think I'll choose her instead—her warm meek skin, soft and so touchable. Her smile the moment she was drunk, her soft and small kissable lips.

"When we get there, ask her for midnight coffee or, either way, dine with her. Remember, she's not just one of those unthreaded dummy-looking patricians. She's brilliant, she's a noble and son, even though you haven't seen her before, I assure you that you'll learn to love her." My father surveyed me sternly.

Right. She belongs to an aristocratic household. I don't fancy nobles and Patricians; they are too decent and clean mined and too unusual, and I wonder how they ask for sex—I prefer wild middle-class ladies. They quench my desire in one taste.

What can I do? I have no other choice than to agree because the last thing I need right now is to get into my father's black book. And to think that I have a fiancee already was beyond my infatuation as a man who loves sex so much. The tabloids will get bizarre when it gets announced.

"Alright, Padre, I'll do just that!" I rolled my eyes at him, but he wasn't looking.

"Good boy." He gestured his walking cane as he got up slowly. "Get ready before four; you know Milan is a bustling place. I've already booked our flight."

"What? You've already booked a flight when you've not even told me before?" I glance at him in dismay.

"So what?" He frowns. "Since you didn't finish up your business here in Milan, will you be heading back to your home in Rome, or do you want me to cancel your flight so that you can fly peacefully in your jet?" He scowled, pondered at me.

"I've plans to fly back tomorrow, but since you've already booked a flight for us, it will be a waste if I don't fly with you back home," I faked a smile.

"Good. I'll meet you at the airport then, don't be late. The Cicero's hates unpunctual people!" He nods at me and walks out of the room.

I frown. "Nasty old man!" I hiss before picking up my phone to call Jorginho. He picks at the second ring.

"Hello, daddy's boy!" He mocks.

Cocky bastard. He's always full of himself. Jorginho Aleotti. An upper-classman with a bachelor's degree, Ph.D. and have all his degrees given, a savage casanova in the crew. Thirty-one-year-old engineer and a graduate from the finest university in the U.S. Tall, fair skin, the face of a woman. We've been friends since childhood. He works for my company but as the Director even though he could have any job he pleases.

"Are you done with the investigation?" I inquired.

"Oh, about that." he cleared his throat from his end of the line. "There is not much about her that I could get my hand on. But all I found was that her name was hidden, but she's known as The Elegance lady. Because of how gorgeous and how delicate she is. But her elder sister, Verona, and her younger sister are the only children of Paolo De'Longhi and his wife, Morena." He exhales before continuing.

"There Mother died of a car accident when they were seven and nine. Verona is now married to the powerful Stephan Verotti, a renowned billionaire in Milan, Italy. Before she got married, she ran away after hearing of her arranged marriage; she always hits the number one in the daily tabloid news. She's twenty-nine years old currently. She and her sister graduated from the finest university in England. They both speak four languages, but the younger sister speaks six languages," He exhaled once more before continuing.

"Okay, go on!" I sound so interested in them.

"The younger sister, her nickname is known as—The Elegance lady. She doesn't have any scandal at all. She's currently twenty-seven; they're both 1.74M. Beauty started donating and also working in her free time to an orphanage known as Orphanage De'Pallas. She's more of an introvert; she doesn't have friends except for a guy they're not intimate, but they might be; his name is Marciello Gavinchy. A middle-class plebian and also a plumber from an affluent family. " He continues.

"She has a lot of suitors, but she rejects them, or bad things happen to them. The most fantastic thing is that she owns a lot of shares in different big companies worldwide. But still, yet, she works in the orphanage, and also she secretly works as a stunt double in a movie theater without the knowledge of her father, she is also a real estate agent."

Is she a wealthy person? She owns her very own billions apart from her father's own money? Her father is a renowned billionaire. That explains how she got the one million euro she gave to me after cat-napping together. That clarifies how she speaks—with power and authority, but why was she dressed up that way?

"What's the name of the orphanage again?" I asked.

"Orphanage De'Pallas. It seems she likes children, and also, she cherished the orphanage so much."

So the orphanage is part of her weakness?

"Jorgy," I called at him. "I give you two days," I grimace.

"Two days to do what? Kris?" His voice became cocky over the phone. "Wait, are you..."

"I want to obtain that orphanage in under two days. I want to see her wrath."

"Why are you drooling over this woman?" He asked.

"My father wants me to get married. Not just married, he has a wife for me already, and he's taking me to her family home tonight!" I frown.

"Signor Andino did what?" he flinched in shock. "Man, you're finally the first to shake the bachelor table." he burst out laughing. "Congratulation, man!" He added.

Such a fool—I wonder how I manage to cope with Jorginho for so long. Since we were kids, the rest guys and I have been getting a lot of savage shit from him. Even though he's cocky and savage, he's the best. But a renowned fool.

"Congratulation to me. Keep this away from the guys; I don't want them to know yet since I've not met the woman yet," I ordered.

"But what about the woman you asked me to investigate? What are you going to do about her now that you're now a soon-to-be-married man?" The mockery was evident in his voice.

"I still want her. So you have access to all you need to be able to purchase the orphanage, so do that first," I added.

"Okay." I hung up instantly, dropping the phone down on my office table.

Well, she is in a big surprise to get irritated with my nastiness. I'll make sure she rejects me in one go. I smiled to myself as the thought of emerald flooded my brain.