"You don't think I'm happy now?"
He paused by the large marble staircase, his expression unreadable. "Are you?"
I met his piercing stare and, for a moment, we simply gazed at each other. An array of words left unsaid, afraid to be uttered into reality, lingered between us.
His eyes held a rare vulnerability as he waited for a response, and I knew that later he would hate himself for exposing his weakness so openly.
His naked scrutiny finally became too much, and I glanced away, rubbing at a spot on my arm. "I'm content with my life."
His breath exhaled, slow and pained. I felt his warm palm land on the back of my neck before he threaded long fingers through the strands of my locks. A tingle of desire shuddered through me at the intimacy.
"As amazing as that sounds," he muttered sarcastically against my skin, "I do not want my wife tojustbe content."
I had nothing to say to that, and Alessio didn't wait for a response. With shaky legs, I followed him to our private wing that boasted our large bedroom, sitting room, and mini kitchen. I also had my own dressing room and bathroom.
The staff had already unpacked our bags, and I smiled at the pile of Christmas presents I'd shipped here ahead of us.
"You certainly went overboard this year." With an amused smile, Alessio lifted a box from the small pile.
"Careful, that's fragile," I warned gently, taking it out of his hands. "It's a one-of-a-kind glass figurine for your Aunt Chiara. She mentioned last year that she collects them."
A whisper of a kiss touched my hairline, and a hand of appreciation squeezed my hip before Alessio crossed over to our shared wardrobe.
My hand touched the spot his lips had just left. He was being confusingly affectionate lately. Usually, he reserved such open touches for our public outings—his possessiveness unable to let me go unclaimed to those who questioned our devotion.
"So, when do your family actually get here?"
"Tomorrow morning." His muffled voice came through the open door before he exited. He'd changed into black jeans anda white T-shirt, his muscles tensing as he fastened a gold watch around his wrist.
"We have dinner tonight on the terrace." His hands circled my waist, and I instinctively slid mine up his chest, feeling his muscles bunch under my palms. His eyes were hooded as he stared down at me with naked desire. "What would you like to do today?"
The question was innocent enough, yet from the way Alessio's eyes flashed, he knew where my mind had instantly gone. I swallowed and glanced away, stepping out of his arms. "Maybe a swim and a nap before dinner."
As it turned out, swimming was a bad idea. I'd forgotten just how utterly sexy my husband was, half naked. I'd seen him nude many times, of course, but usually in the throes of pleasure when I was often too caught up in making love to take the time to admire his chiselled frame.
He was also up early, showered, and out the door before I even woke up. So to see him now in his black swimming trunks that moulded to him like a second skin, and drips of water that clung to his abs, it was hard to pry my admiring eyes away.
I took a leisurely swim, dipping in and out of the heated water as I watched Alessio swim laps up and down the pool. He always had to be doing something. He couldn't just laze in the water or bask in the shallow end like I did. Or, God forbid, lie on top of an inflatable pool lounger. My lips twitched at the image of Alessio's large frame lounging on a pink Lilo.
No, Alessio wasn't the type to partake in lazy activities. Even when we went skiing at my family's home in the Alps for two days, he skied black runs or off-piste. No average runs and day drinking in the mountain bar for him.
He was just so serious all the time. So stoic and unemotional. The only time I'd seen him almost lose his cool was when he discovered me at The Glen with Archie. But even when hethreatened Archie’s family, he'd done it with a quiet, stealthy constraint that didn't match the level of intimidation that was dished out to me. And he never once followed up with me on a response, never demanded to know whether I had stopped seeing Archie. He played on my tender heart and knew he would win.
After our swim, I retired for a nap and was stunned when Alessio joined me. He often told me that afternoon naps were only something bored people did when they hadn't planned their day accordingly. Not that I was complaining. The feel of his strong arms surrounding me as my eyes fluttered shut had me sighing in contentment.
"Sleep,tesoro," he murmured against my ear. "I will wake you when it's time to eat."
I murmured a thanks to Alessio as he held my chair out. My keen gaze surveyed the romantic set-up, and my heart lurched at the familiar scene. An intimate dinner table out on the terrace with a small vase of flowers and candles. An ice bucket with Dom Pérignon.
Déjà vu hit me hard, and I wondered whether this romantic dinner would end the same way as the last one we'd attempted.
Francesca appeared with water glasses and a small basket of breads, dips and oils. I chatted briefly with her, asking about her Christmas plans and how her daughter and grandkids were.
"Your Italian is getting better," Alessio observed as he poured me a glass of champagne.
"Yes, well, if I'd known in advance that I would marry a Sicilian, I'd have chosen Italian over French in school," I quipped.
A masculine laugh echoed around us, and my lips curved in response. He looked so much younger and carefree when he laughed. The rare moments he did, I would wrap them up andstow the precious memory away, ecstatic that I was the cause of my tightly wound husband's uninhibited reaction.
