"She's not your side piece anymore?"
I glowered at him. "Must you be so crude?"
"I'm sure Millie has a much more colourful name for her."
I shook my head in warning. "Do not talk about my wife."
I didn't want to think about my wife and Annabelle in the same sentence. They were two people who should never have met; they should never have conversed. My beautiful wife should not have been sullied by my indiscretion, regardless of whether she was aware of it.
Millie knew this wasn't a typical marriage. She was part of my world and understood that marriages in our circles were power moves used to retain status. Millie's heritage was steeped in British aristocracy—the daughter of an earl, her mother was an art dealer, and her grandfather was a baron and a member of the House of Lords. She came from my world. We were matched in wealth and status.
But with that wealth and status came sacrifices. I hadn't been ready for marriage, and I most certainly did not do love. My father did love. He fell in love at the drop of a hat. Unfortunately, those women didn't always return the sentiment, hence why he was knee-deep in his current fifth marriage. Although, I acknowledged, Katherine had lasted longer than I would have guessed, and she had produced a brother whom I adored.
But that was his marriage, and not mine.
Millie knew that I would not be faithful. I never once lied to her about it. It was something that I could control, something that gave me a semblance of freedom.
Something that had lost its thrill around the same time I left Sicily with Millie, ready to start our marriage anew.
The night of our wedding was the last time she asked about it, and I truly thought she didn't care.
My mind wandered back to the night I took her virginity and how she'd uttered those three words in the throes of ecstasy. Admittedly, the declaration had freaked me out, and I tried to stay out of her way to avoid talking about it. Luckily, she had moved past it quickly, so I could only assume that it was spoken in a moment of passion.
She had not repeated the sentiment. She didn't love me.
"Annabelle didn't go quietly, I take it?" Damon took a seat opposite, lifting his feet onto my desk while I glowered at him. "I'm surprised that she's the first woman to storm your office. Did she not get a parting gift?”
“She told Millie.”
He grimaced. That shut him up. “Ah, bloody hell. Poor Millie.”
“She was fine about it," I quickly interjected, though the words sounded hollow. "She knows that we have an understanding. I’ve been honest with her from the start."
“Yes, and until Annabelle, you’ve also been discreet. She never knew for sure that you carried on as usual.”
Shame burned at me, and I couldn't quite meet my friend's eye.
“Are you done with that now?”
My head snapped up. “Done with what?”
“The whole mistress, rich person, arranged marriage cliche.” He picked up the grizzly bear soft toy I kept on my desk, and I promptly snatched it off him.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“When are you going to admit that you’re in love with your wife?" he challenged. "That this is more than a business marriage for you?”
I shook my head and tapped my computer mouse to wake it up. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’ve been around you two long enough to know that you’re different with her," he continued, ignoring me. "You look at her the way my father looks at my mum…disgustingly adoring.”
I concentrated on the email in front of me. “She’s a good wife. She’s smart, level-headed—”
“Kind, gorgeous, generous, too good for you," he volleyed.
I snapped my mouth shut and sent him an impatient look. I was ready to kick him out. But Damon wasn't finished yet.
“Tell me, if you found out that Millie also had a lover on the side, how would you feel?”
