Chapter Six,

For Better or Worse

Yuly could not sit still in the booth of Nonna's small Italian diner, waiting for Gray to make his appearance. Though she took a few days to plan her proposition, down to everything she was going to say and had the documents before her, anxiety swelled in the pit of her stomach. She jumped slightly at every server that passed, glancing over her shoulder with feet tapping away at the hard floor.

Though the version of the handsome amnesiac in her dreams could not get enough of her, the one in real life hated her to the point that he barely wanted to speak to her. Just remembering last week's encounter sent shivers throughout her body.

Never talk to me again, He told her then. By the look in his eyes, the sheer conviction in his voice, she knew he meant it. And, true to her word, Yuly fully planned on honoring his wishes—especially when she was having such mortifying dreams about the man. She didn't want to see his shadow, let alone his face.

But desperate times require desperate measures and, no matter how much she thought about it, he was the only reasonable option she had left. She had no choice but to swallow her pride. And, after speaking with Nonna when the older woman frequented her bookstore, she knew the deal she made was more than beneficial for them both. Everything was going to be okay.

But no matter how many times she told herself that, her feet tapped away at her resolve. Even now, as her feet tapped, she was on the verge of jumping from her seat and dashing away from the restaurant.

After a few moments of thinking, her feet stopped. Closing her eyes, she sat her chin in her hand, a defeated sigh falling from her lips. This was a terrible idea. She should just go home and pretend that she didn't think of it. Call her mother and...and tell her she was sick. Caught the flu, or a stomach virus. Anything so she didn't have to go home and admit the truth, so she didn't have to face the man who haunted her dreams like an incubus at all hours of the day.

Yuly was so concentrated on her thoughts that she had not noticed the tall, intimidating man approach her or hear his heavy footsteps against the hard floor. But when she felt his gaze, she knew, even without opening her eyes, who it was.

She opened her eyes slowly, looking up to meet the familiar steely gaze of the Italian amnesiac. Clad in a crisp Chef's uniform, he looked like something out of a dream. Muscular arms straining the white fabric, dark hair messy as though he had just run a hand through it, he looked delectable. At the thought, she felt her cheeks heat. His sharp jaw hardened as his apathetic gaze studied her in silence.

But it was too late to turn back. The man she was waiting for was already staring down at her expectantly, and she had gone through hoops to set up this meeting through Nonna.

"What do you want?" His tone was harsh, void of any warmth. No formalities, and no pleasantries.

Yuly cleared her throat, sitting up straighter. "Hi," She smiled brightly, gesturing to the seat before her. "Please, have a seat." When he didn't move, she added. "This won't take long, I promise."

As soon as he sat down, she started.

"I, um, have a proposition for you."

Gray laughed, a deep, thunderous sound filling the corner of the quiet restaurant. His silver eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, scrutinizing her every move. Her thoughts flashed to her dreams, those same silver eyes heavy with lust and desire as he stared down at her, pounding into her relentlessly—Oh my God. She thought, clearing her throat again and averting her gaze.

She needed to get a grip. As soon as this situation was over, she was going to throw herself into the dating pool. It's desperation that's making her react to the rude man before her, and she knew it. If she got laid more often, this would not have been a problem.

"A proposition?" He echoed, oblivious to her inner turmoil. "What makes you think I want anything you have to offer?"

She held in her grimace, straightening her back as if the action would suddenly give her confidence. "I can help you find out who you are," She said, simply. "Hire a private investigator, to help you with the costs. Nonna said that's what you're saving for, and I have plenty, I don't mind helping at all."

Her words were met with a silent, blank stare. His arms crossed as he stared at the jittery woman before him. From the moment he saw her, he knew what kind of woman she was. Naïve, soft-spoken, and gullible. The type of woman his body told him to avoid, even when his memories failed him. He couldn't afford to involve himself with a woman like that. Especially when she looked like this.

But, here she sat, wearing another flimsy dress that clung to her body, leaving little room to breathe, offering a proposition too good to be true.

Cazzo. He didn't have time for this. He wanted to leave, go home, and admonish Nonna for her nosy meddling. But, for some reason, he couldn't ignore the woman sitting in front of him. His gaze hardened as he spoke.

"What do you want from me, dolcezza?"

Her hands clenched into fists on her lap as she stared straight into his eyes. It was now, or never.

"For you to be my fiancée."

For a moment, the booth was filled with silence. Gray sat frozen as the words registered. But Yuly saw the exact moment his mind started working again. A deep rumble of pessimistic laughter filled the space. She sat still, not knowing how to respond. Of all the reactions she thought she would get, she didn't think he would just...laugh.

"J-just for a weekend," Yuly began rambling, breaking into a nervous sweat. "I'll pay for everything, the food, the hotel, you–I even set up a meeting with a good, no, great private investigator."

When his laughter died down, his steely eyes found hers. A foul feeling swelled in his chest as he looked at the seemingly innocent woman who sat across from him at that table.

For a moment, she expected him to refuse, and harshly. After all, he could barely stand being in her near vicinity. At the mere sight of her he upturned his nose, he treated her like an annoying piece of gum stuck to his shoe that he couldn't get rid of. But, he did none of that.

Gray rose from his seat in silence, jaw clenched as he dismissed both her words and her presence altogether.

Panicked, Yuly stood and grabbed his wrists, "Wait—"

He turned in a flash, grabbing her wrist and stepping into her space so quickly that Yuly couldn't catch her breath. "w-wait a minute—"

"Mi hai infastidito per questo? Per sprecare il mio fottuto tempo?" His mocking voice scorched her. Though she didn't know what he was saying, she was sure she didn't want to. "Are you so desperate for my attention that you're willing to pay me to spread your legs?"

What? How did he come to that conclusion?

Yuly moved to tell him he was wrong, that he hadn't even let her muster enough courage to explain her circumstances, but she froze. Disgust shone brightly in his eyes as he glared at her. Like she was someone who was trying to take advantage of a man who needed help by dragging him to her sheets.

Like she was dirty.

"No, I—"

"No?" Gray scoffed, the harsh sound making the petite woman flinch. "You think I don't see the way you look at me? And now, you flaunt your money, propositioning me? What? Your hands don't work for you, dolcezza?" His words struck her with guilt. He had no way of knowing that he haunted her dreams, no way of knowing what she did to herself thinking about him in her sheets. But he was right.

"Who would have fucking thought?" His voice lowered, slicing through her conscience. "Who would have known that you would be this fucking pathetic."

Pathetic.

Yuly blinked, shame washing over her. Her eyes glossed over as she stepped back, pulling her wrist from his harsh grip. It was pathetic. Everything. From never attempting to find love again to lying to her mother. And this plan, this stupid, stupid plan...it was the most pathetic thing of all. She should have never come here.

The first teardrop fell before she could catch it. She swiped at the wetness to no avail, an embarrassing slew of tears seemingly confirming his words as truth. She really was pathetic. Embarrassed, she gathered her belongings with trembling hands and took a deep, steadying breath.

She wanted to curse at him, to tell him that she had never propositioned anyone for sex and that she never would have. To tell him that he had no right to treat her the way that he did, and that he was a despicable person. But her words were soft, almost defeated. She felt so, so small under his harsh glare.

"You could have just said no."

She hadn't cried in such a long time that her body must have been in shock. That was the only explanation, she thought, for the terrible puffiness of her face and the searing headache shooting through her skull. Yuly sighed, spreading out over her comfy couch as the tv droned on in the background.

As harsh as his words were earlier tonight, Gray was right. It was pathetic of her to come up with an elaborate plan to cover her lie instead of owning up to it. Instead of admitting that she was angry, frustrated, and embarrassed when her mother had called her. That she lied. And propositioning a man who was doing everything he could to earn money? It was the worst thing she could have done, even if she wasn't dragging him to her sheets as he thought.

She had to tell the truth, even if her family would never let her live to forget it.

She placed her cool palms onto her eyelids, flushing out her surroundings as she considered her impending doom. The sharp ringing of her phone shocked her. This time, though, she carefully looked at the phone before she answered. She wouldn't repeat the same mistake twice.

"Hi Nonna," She spoke into the line. "How are you?"

"How am I? How are you, passerotta?" The older woman's worried voice soothed her instantly. "My employees tell me that you left my restaurant in tears. Tears! What happened, dear?"

Gray happened, she thought. Gray, and his tongue that cut like knives.

The young woman only sighed, not wanting to talk about it at all. "Nothing happened, Nonna. I made a mistake, that's all. One I won't make again."

She would avoid Gray like he had the plague. She would go to Nonna's if, and only if, he was guaranteed not to be in the vicinity. Maybe start ordering from her restaurant or, god forbid, actually learn how to cook.

"If you do not wish to speak of it, fine. I will not force you. But, do come and pick up the food I made for you. I made chicken carbonara and cannoli just for you—cibo di conforto, so your stomach is happy, and your mind will follow."

The thought of enjoying homemade pasta by Nonna made her mouth water. But her mind flashed to Gray, the rage and disgust mixing in his steel eyes.

"...Gray isn't there, is he?" She hoped Nonna missed the weariness in her voice. The older woman sighed.

"No. He's staying late for work, something to do with the kitchen."

In that moment, she felt as though the clouds had parted. She smiled, slipping on her bedroom slippers. "I'll be up in a second!" She hung up the phone, a little too eagerly. The entire way to Nonna's place, her mind was consumed with food. Not the party she didn't want to attend, or the man who hated her guts. But mouth-watering food.

But when she opened her door, her happiness fell.

Gray sat on the couch, seemingly agitated as he stared at the door. Yuly froze at the sight of him, confused as to why she was seeing him for the second time that day when Nonna clearly said that he was at work.

The woman in question rounded the corner, tupperware in her hands as she delivered the food she used as bait. It was treacherous at this point, how often the nosy woman betrayed her.

"Do not look at me that way, passerotta. How else was I going to get you here to speak with him? Especially after it was said that he made you cry."

"Nonna, I don't think—"

"Sit, Yuliana." The older woman spoke sternly, gesturing to the couch. With a sigh, Yuly shut the door behind her and sat at the furthest seat from Gray. She couldn't look at him. "Good. Now, I do not like the relationship you two have. Perhaps it is my fault, lo so. I should have never arranged for the date without your permission. For that, I apologize. But this is unacceptable. And until the two of you talk out your issue, I will not cook."

It was nothing more than a formality for Gray. He only sat here because the moment he entered the apartment, the elderly woman laid into him. How could he make her cry, she shouted. Her poor, sweet passerotta.

He didn't need her words to make him feel guilty; the moment the first tear fell from her eyes, the feeling had made a home of his conscience.

When the proposition left her lips, his mind flew to the worst conclusions. Despite having lost his memories for several months, something in his body recoiled at her words, touching at something that had been buried for months. He didn't know what it was, or why he felt that way. But it made him feel disgustingly dirty.

Gray knew that she did not approach him with those intentions. It was why he attempted to leave, to collect himself. But the moment she attempted to stop him, rage won over reason.

He had said too much. And he made the mistake of making her cry.

And his conscience wouldn't allow him to ignore such a mistake. Not after seeing the look on her face.

For Yuly, it was a death sentence. With that said, the woman sat the tupperware on the table and turned to her bedroom. The door shut, the only sound filling the silent living room until Yuly began to tap her feet anxiously. A nervous habit she couldn't fight, it was the only sound in the living room.

"Your leg, dolcezza. Stop that."

At the sound of his tired voice, she paused. She didn't glance at him, didn't want to see if the look of disgust had returned. She only said one thing.

"You owe me an apology."

Despite the truth of her words, a bitter laugh filled the tension. She wanted an apology, but could not even raise her gaze to receive it. The incessant tapping resumed. Gray stared, saying nothing. Unlike earlier, she no longer wore a flimsy dress that clung to her curves. Instead, she wore a matching pajama set, shorts showing her thick thighs, and a top clinging to her breasts. Her face was bare, hair pushed behind her ears to reveal a fresh, youthful face, dark eyes downcast. For some reason, that bothered him.

"Dolcezza." He tested, waiting for her to look in his direction. She didn't budge, feet tapping as she waited for an apology. "Look at me."

She didn't move. He felt his irritation grow as the timid woman tapped away at the hardwood floor.

He rose from his seat, eliminating the distance between the two of them as he sat directly in front of her, firmly on the coffee table.

"Yuly," He spoke her name for the first time, tucking his fingers beneath her chin as he forced her to meet his gaze. The woman blinked up, large eyes full of shock as her name met her ears. When she noticed how close he was to her, they grew even larger. When did he get there? Why was he so close to her?

And, he actually knew her name?

"I apologize. I said too much."

His words continued to shock her one after another. Truthfully, she didn't expect him to apologize to her. It was so out of character that she couldn't help but be concerned. Was he sick? Did he have a fever?

Yuly cleared her throat, sinking into the cushions nervously. "I-I accept your apology." It felt awkward, sitting in such close proximity, having an actual conversation with him. "And I apologize, too. I shouldn't have asked you to pretend to be my fiance, even if it was only for a week. It wasn't my place, and I was...taking advantage of you, even if that wasn't my intention."

The two sat in silence. After a few moments, she shot up from her seat, ready to get her food and flee from the apartment and their strange encounter. Maybe she would wake up tomorrow and find out it was all a dream.

He grabbed her wrist, not rising from his seat. "A fake fiance?" He wondered aloud, "Why would you need one?"

Confused by his sudden string of random decency, she focused on the feeling of his large hands on her wrist. Larger than in her dreams, and surely more–

"Yes," She cleared her throat, mentally cursing herself. She had serious fucking issues. The man had all but verbally abused her not even six hours ago. "A fake fiance. I lied and said I had one, and clearly I don't. It's pathetic, just like you said."

Pathetic. At her words, his brows furrowed. She attempted to walk away, only to be stopped by her firm grip. What was it now?

"I'll take you up on your proposition."

But why? She wanted to ask. Why agree now, when you could have agreed earlier? Why say yes after making her feel guilty?

She wanted to ask the questions weighing heavily on her mind. But common sense told her that even if she did, she wouldn't get an answer. What if she asked and he took back his agreement?

Truthfully, as pathetic as it was, she didn't want to admit the truth to her mother. To her sister. To James. Mia was right. And they would never let her live it down. She only had one option, and he had strangely agreed to her ridiculous request.

Gray agreed to be her fake fiancé.

For better or for worse.

A/N:

I genuinely can't wait for the man to get his memories back, that part of the story is so fun. If you think's he's rude now, wait until he's crazy too.