I slid my spoon through the layers of the decadent dessert before scooping a bite-size portion into my mouth. The rich flavours burst against my tongue, and I hummed my appreciation.
Alessio didn't touch his dessert right away, instead choosing to sip at his espresso. I could feel his thoughtful eyes watching me, could sense his mind ticking over as he scrutinised me for any sort of weakness in my cold armour.
"Have you thought more of my suggestion? That we close our marriage?"
My laugh was harsh and hollow. Was he having a laugh? His question was redundant, and I slid him a look of incredulous outrage at his boldness.
"Is it really a suggestion when you'll end up threatening any man I dare to take an interest in?"
Unperturbed, he simply lifted his small cup and tossed it back. I placed my spoon back on my plate. He'd successfully succeeded in ruining one of my favourite desserts.
When it was clear that he viewed my question as rhetorical, I lifted my chin at him over the rim of my teacup. "Will you give up your women?" I challenged.
"I already have. Annabelle was the last, and I only slept with her once."
I rolled my lips in and glanced away, fighting hard against the wave of bitterness that threatened to crowd me.
"I won't take another mistress," he breathed, regret etched in the deep timbre of his words. "Regardless of what you decide."
I glanced at him in surprise, and the vulnerability I spied there had me turning away in discomfort. Was this another brief moment of reprieve? Another inch in our marriage, he would bestow on me before he returned to forgetting I existed—except to scratch his carnal needs and be his escort to social functions?
My eyes dipped down, the turmoil in them hidden beneath my long lashes.
"I'll…I'll think about it," I finally said. It was all I could offer right now.
Chapter 12
Millie
Alessio and I didn't have sex that first night, which was a sharp pivot from our usual modus operandi. When stony words and disagreements flared between us, we usually shook off the tension with a bout of vigorous and passionate lovemaking. The slate was essentially wiped clean, and we started afresh the next morning as if nothing was amiss.
But last night was different. Itfeltdifferent. The band of strain between us had stretched just a little too long for comfort, and our most true and tried solution would have done nothing more except unravel that fragile connection. Our marriage had reached a stage neither of us could ignore or sweep under the rug. The convenience didn't feel so simple anymore.
Morning came too fast for my liking, and it wasn't long before the sound of cars approaching and doors slamming interrupted the quiet of our solitude.
"Buongiorno, Millie," Giada greeted me warmly. Her arms were weighed down with shopping bags, which were swiftly taken off her by the awaiting staff.
We kissed each other's cheeks before I bent down and gathered her children in for a hug. They'd grown so much since I last saw them, and I was thrilled that they still remembered me fondly.
"Have you been good this year?" I asked in Italian.
Their heads bobbed up and down, yet I caught the exaggerated eye roll Giada gave me. I laughed and placed a kiss on both their heads before complimenting them on their pretty dresses.
"There are my two favourite troublemakers!"
I winced as two ear-splitting screams rang out. I was quickly forgotten as four little legs raced to be the first to reach their favourite Uncle Alessio.
My heart thumped wildly as he crouched down with a laugh. He lifted Valentina in the air and whirled her around, eliciting excited giggles from her. My mouth curved at the scene, and that spot deep in my stomach twisted in yearning.
"Where is Gino?" I asked Giada. I hadn't seen her husband among the arriving guests.
Her pretty face clouded over for a split second before her shoulder lifted in a careless shrug. "He had business to attend to in Rome, but said he'll be here for the party."
Gino was a business associate of Cesare's, and he and Giada had married when she was twenty. He wasn't quite the same age as her father, but there was a significant age gap there.
"Although if Alessio can take a week off to be with family, I don't see why Gino can't. His work isn’t half as important as my brother’s."
Her voice held a sting of bitterness, the frayed edges weighted with anger. I had no idea the circumstances of Giada and Gino's marriage, and I couldn't judge him based on the handful of timesI'd met him. That being said, if I had to tally the hours I'd spent in his presence over the years, it would probably amount to about three.
