I couldn't even have an affair right. My second attempt at an undercover rendezvous, and I was rumbled. By my husband. The embarrassment and guilt still wouldn't leave me.
Realising that I'd been staring at a dark screen for fifteen minutes, I quickly snapped out of my morose thoughts and slammed my laptop shut. Alessio would be home soon, and I needed to shower and change.
By the time I came down again, it was just after six.
"Millie?"
My heart kicked up a traitorous beat as I casually strolled into the dining room to greet my husband.
His dark eyes glimmered in appreciation as he took in my appearance. "Are you hungry?"
I wasn't really, but I knew Alessio was trying to extend an olive branch. If only I hadn't seen this act before.
"Yes, I suppose I could eat something. I did enquire with Rose about dinner, but she said—"
"Ah, yes." He rubbed the back of his neck, and for the first time since I'd known him, he looked almost nervous. "I've actually sorted dinner."
My brow furrowed. "You…did?"
"Well, I didn't cook it myself. I had Rose organise something a little special for us."
"Oh." I racked my brain, trying to recall whether I'd missed an important date. There were no birthdays to celebrate, and it definitely was not our anniversary.
I trailed behind him, curiosity hooking me as he made his way to the terrace. My brow raised, and I slowed my steps when I spied the elaborate set-up.
There was a small table in the middle of the patio, adorned with a white tablecloth. A small vase and a single candle had been placed in the centre, and a silver ice bucket with a sealed wine bottle was positioned to the side of the table. Two large heaters were glowing red, facing the table. A soft tartan-patterned throw was also neatly folded over one chair for added warmth.
"Wow." It was the only word I could muster because I was genuinely stunned. "What's the occasion?"
He looked a little disappointed at my lacklustre response, but he still surged forward and pulled out my throw-covered seat. He stared at me with an expectant look, so with a murmured thanks, I took my seat. Heat surrounded me, and I quickly grabbed the corners of the throw as he curled it around my shoulders.
"No reason," he responded as he folded his long limbs into the chair opposite. "You've been studying so hard, and I've been working long hours. I thought we could use tonight to reconnect."
"Oh." Despite my guards being high, a pretty flush climbed my cheeks. "Well, this is all very nice. Thank you."
He picked up the bottle of wine from the ice bucket and, with expert hands, I watched him open it and pour the expensive liquid into two glasses. I clasped the stem he extended and immediately downed two large gulps, hoping to calm my nerves. The crisp taste went down smoothly, and it was a great effort not to down the whole thing.
Nerves consumed my stomach, a feeling that was unusual around Alessio. How many times had I sat opposite my husband and enjoyed a romantic meal? Okay, not that often, but more than enough times not to feel awkward and uncomfortable around him. I needed to get out of my head.
Meanwhile, Alessio made no effort to drink his wine. Instead, he stared at his glass with a thoughtful expression. I took advantage of his private musings to study his features beneath my long lashes, noting the subtle changes.
The extra lines around his mouth made me wonder whether he was burning the candle at both ends in his effort to be home early with me. He was usually gone by six in the morning and stayed in his study until close to midnight. His thick hair was also slightly longer, but only by an inch. Anyone else wouldn't have noticed the small differences, only someone who knew him intimately, inside and out.
My mouth tightened, and I glanced away. What did that make me? A foolish, obsessed wife who had fallen helplessly in love with a husband who would likely never return her feelings.
The silence stretched between us, and I made no effort to fill it. Despite Alessio's change of behaviour, our marriage felt even more fractured than before. Was this what a marriage in our world was supposed to feel like? Yes, Alessio and I hadn't gotten off to the greatest start, but once we decided to give our marriage a go, we quickly found our footing and fell naturally into a rhythm that suited us. Comfortable. Passionate.
Easy.
There were no demands, no awkwardness. I simply looked at our synced calendars and planned accordingly. A business dinner? I memorised the names of his associates and their wives. A charity gala? I had his suit laid out and a donation placed in our name.
He rarely took me on business trips, and I never enquired about going. Mainly because I couldn't bear to listen to him fumble around for an excuse as to why I couldn't accompany him. Deep down, I knew that my husband conducted his clandestine affairs on business trips abroad.
When he returned from his trips, Rose, our housekeeper, unpacked his suitcase. Of course, there were times when I was tempted to rummage through his belongings when he came home. Like a suspicious and desperate wife, I wondered whether he kept a box of condoms tucked in a pocket, or perhaps I would catch the sweet scent of a fragrance that did not belong. A red stain on his collar, maybe? Every cliche proof of an unfaithful spouse had ruminated in my mind more than once.
But in the end, what would be the point? One could argue that I had no room for complaints or demands. Alessio had been honest with me from the start, and even if he hadn't, it was understood that in our world, men could have their lovers whilst wives looked the other way.
Alessio finally took a drink of his wine, the smooth column of his throat moving as he swallowed. A memory came to me suddenly, of the last time we made love. I'd kissed that strong throat while he groaned in pleasure, his hands gripping my hips as I slowly rode him.
