"Well, I could hardly roam about here in Jimmy Choos and Chanel."
“You also went to the pub a few times," he said, ignoring me. "Who did you go with?”
“Give me your credit card purchases, and I'll scrutinise them too.”
His mouth tightened before he released a breath and dug his hands into his trouser pockets. “We’re going to Sicily next week for my father's birthday.”
We? I snorted. “No, thank you.”
“It was not a request. View it as a honeymoon.”
I stared at him incredulously. “Are you mad?”
But arguing with him was futile. The following week, I was in his private jet, on my way to more than just his father's party.
When we landed in Sicily, we were transferred by helicopter to his family’s villa in Sciacca. Well, mansion was a more accurate description. It had the main villa, a guest house, and fourannexes. There was also a private beach along the southwestern coast.
His father, Cesare, greeted me warmly with a kiss on both cheeks. He introduced me to his wife, who Alessio stiffly informed me was his fifth. I learned that his sister, Giada, was actually his half-sister, a product of his father's union with his third wife. He had two nieces who were five and three. I tried not to be moved by his obvious affection for them, but it was difficult to harden my heart when he hitched them onto each hip, smiling widely at them as they chatted away.
But the real surprise was how he was with his half-brother, a dark-haired, dark-eyed boy of four who looked the mirror image of Alessio. A small smile tipped my lips, and my heart may have melted a little as I watched him kneel in front of him, talking softly as he ruffled his hair.
"He's great with kids," Giada told me as we sat on a lounger in the sun.
I was tired from our early morning flight, but Alessio, as I was coming to find, couldn't just sit still and relax. He always had to be doing something. And right now, he and Cesare were both in the pool. Dante and Valentina were taking turns jumping into the water as Alessio cheered them on. Cesare was gliding his youngest granddaughter, Lucia, around the pool as she lounged on a paddleboard. My stupid ovaries were going haywire.
"He'll make an excellent father one day," Giada added, as if she could read my thoughts.
I lifted a bare shoulder in an indifferent shrug. "I'm sure he will. But we're still getting to know each other." I felt somewhat awkward talking about it with his sister, although she already knew the details of our non-existent courtship and marriage. We weren't a love match and didn't pretend to be.
Giada looked at me with a knowing glint in her eye. "Of course. These things are difficult to determine right now," she soothed.
My gaze caught on Katherine, Cesare's wife and Alessio's stepmother. Although she looked closer to Alessio's age than to Cesare's. She bent down by the pool as Dante ran to her. A warm smile lit up her face as she wrapped her son in a large towel. Cesare was watching them with a serene smile before Katherine bent over the water to kiss him. She smoothed a hand through his wet hair before flicking droplets at him in jest.
My brow raised at their obvious affection for each other. I'd judged Katherine as another young trophy wife, but perhaps I was wrong. They were comfortable with each other, always touching and exchanging adoring looks. Either she was a good actress, or they genuinely cared for one another. Perhaps even loved?
Nevertheless, it wasn't something I wanted to pry into right now, not when my thoughts were already preoccupied with my own marriage. One that was assuredly not loving and affectionate.
"We're staying here for three weeks," Alessio informed me.
"Threeweeks?"
He nodded stiffly as he glanced around the room I was placed in. Luckily, Alessio had his own wing in the house, complete with a sitting room and two bedrooms adjoining it. He insisted I take the primary suite, but I baulked at the idea. Even though we hadn't shared a bed—or shared anything remotely intimate—somehow, sleeping in the space I knew he had used felt too personal.
"You said we were only here for your father's party."
"We are. But my father and I have much to discuss regarding the takeover. I also need to be in Rome on Wednesday for a meeting with the board."
"Do I need to be here for the whole three weeks though?" I pressed. "I only packed for a couple of days. I mean, I can launder my clothes and re-wear them, but—"
"There's no need. I can have Giada's personal shopper bring items for you to select."
I twisted my lips as I racked my brain to conjure up another excuse. The life of a bored rich man's wife meant my diary was wide open, and he knew it.
"Millie."
I glanced up at him in frustration. His dark eyes, usually cold, were fixed on me with a gentleness I hadn't seen before. Not even on our wedding day. This close, it was hard to deny how gorgeous he was. With a full head of hair as black as midnight, he had it styled fashionably with a long, textured brush back and disconnected, close-cut sides. Coupled with a straight nose, a strong chiselled jaw that could cut glass, the man was a walking sex symbol.
And my goodness, did he take advantage of it. According to my internet sleuthing, my husband was an unashamed lothario. Models, actresses, socialites; you name it, he'd bedded them. Allegedly, of course.
