3 days later

The breeze hit Marinette's hair as she tried to hold down at the pages of her book and read. She loved reading her little romance books, some spice in them, obviously. Even while reading the book, Marinette kept thinking about Damien. The guy she had just met. The man she was engaged to. The man she was going to marry. It had all seemed so...... surreal to her. She did not think her life would ever get past the emotional and mental abuse that she had suffered by the hands of the people she trusted the most. Perhaps, deep down there was a doubt in her mind, would Damien hit her? Would he hit her like her father? Would he emotionally and mentally abuse her like her step-mother? Would he verbally abuse her like her step-sister? To Marinette, trusting and forgiving  people came easy, but this time, she was not really sure if she had the power and the will do that if Damien abused her. The chances were low, but not zero. 

Marinette had been so lost in thinking about her fiancé, absolutely and completely smitten over him (not that she would admit it), she did not notice a black car being parked in front of the house.

"Sweetheart," Damien called out to Marinette, walking towards the garden, taking her in. His sweetheart, as he liked to call her, was dressed in white dress filled with blueberries, coincidently matching Marinette's long, healthy hair. Damien observed her, their eyes meeting and not letting go of each other's gaze what felt like ages. 

Marinette quickly replaced her shocked face with a smile, "Hi."

"Hello, Sweetheart," Damien chuckled, and Marinatte's heart almost leaped out of her body. The past 3 days, all she thought about was Damien. Him. Him. Him. Every single living moment, it was spent wondering about Damien. Him. Her fiancé. She longed to hear his laugh again, she longed for his touch, she longed for the way he made her feel all sorts of things she had not ever  felt before. She longed to feel the sparks between them. She longed for his lips, his perfect, plump lips, which gave her the best kiss she had ever received. The way his mouth moved so seamlessly and so, so perfectly against her own. 

"What are you doing here?"

"Am I not allowed to see my beautiful bride?" Marinette blushed again. Damien obviously found it quite hilarious that she was blushing like a schoolgirl experiencing love again for the first time, "Well I am here to take you, my most amazing fiancée on a date. After all, we do need to get to know each other. Am I right, Sweetheart?"

"I guess you are right...should I get changed?"

"No, don't I like your dress, it matches your hair," Damien smoothly complimented. 

"Oh...Thank you?" She whispered, unable to comprehend that her hot fiancé had complemented her, and as usual Damien chuckled at the rouge that spread across her cheeks.

"I already informed your parents, so no need to go back in," he grabbed her hand, "I do not want anything to get in the way of me spending with you, we are going to need every bit of  distractions that might hinder in the way of us spending our day together," he placed the hand he grabbed on her waist, making Marinette blush even more than before. 

Marinette did not want him to let go, why would she either way? His soft, warm touch made her stomach tingle like it never has. 

"Come on, Sweetheart, I have a reservation for an Italian restaurant, you seemed to like the Italian food at the ball, so I figured it would only be fair if we go there. We can go into one of my other restaurants if you do not feel like eating Italian," Damien continued to ramble on and on, loosing his cool and calm demeanor. 

Marinette smiled, happy to see that he also had been thinking about the same way, "Italian is just fine, honey. Did you not say we were getting late?"

Damien was surprised by how she collected herself so quickly, and most importantly what she called him. While he might not admit, he did like the sound of the endearment, "Uh.. Yes, we are," he stammered while taking her hand, leading her out of the garden.

"Lead the way, honey," Marinette giggled, liking the was her hand felt in his.