"You're my wife," he cut in with an air of arrogance.
He plucked the ring out of my lax fingers before grasping my right hand and sliding it onto my ring finger. "Whatever thoughts you are thinking, you can forget them." His voice hardened. "I won't let you go."
A heavy weight dropped in my stomach, sinking the last bit of hope I had. All of this…the dedicated week to me, the attention, the soft pets of affection and desperate lovemaking—they had all been a manipulative tactic. A ruse to keep me sweet and him on my good side. He couldn't bear the thought of me having the nerve to end this, to have the guts to embarrass him by having my own torrid affair.
The ring felt like a weight, keeping me anchored to him and this sham of a marriage. "You don't get to decide that." Fury laced my voice, shaking it with the ferocity of my tattered emotions.
For a brief moment, a flare of panic darkened his eyes. But it must've been a trick of the light since his mouth soon lifted in asmirk. "You're mine, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not." His eyes laughed at me, mockingly. "I paid a pretty penny for you and everything that came with it. You owe me your loyalty, and I intend to get my money's worth."
My mouth dropped open, the blood draining from my face as the full impact of his ugly words hit me. For a split second, we stared at each other. My features betrayed my shock and hurt, and his own twisted into a muted version of regret.
"Millie—"
"You-you're an absolute bastard." I stumbled back. "You can sod off back to London. I'm not coming with you."
His face reddened at my words, fury snaking through him as he shook his head. "And let you hole up here with Daddy, playing on his heartstrings to beg out of our union? I don't think so."
I gripped the ring he gifted me—what a bloody joke—and ripped it off my finger. I threw it at him, and it bounced off his jacket. "Take this fucking thing and shove it."
I stormed to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and sliding down until my bum hit the ground. With shaky hands, I covered my face and silently cried.
By the time I'd cleaned myself up and came out of the ensuite, Alessio was gone. To sleep where, I didn't care. The next morning, I put eye drops in to minimise my red eyes and carefully applied make-up to conceal the puffiness bracketing them. Alessio was already downstairs in the drawing room with a cup of coffee in hand and a scowl to accompany it. Unlike Christmas Eve and Day, my family gave him a wide berth, leaving him to brood. My face flamed with embarrassment as my relatives exchanged curious gazes and whispered comments, leaving me in no doubt that they had heard last night's commotion.
The drive back to London was fraught with silent anger and stubbornness. I kept my head turned to the window, my neck aching by the time we arrived back home.
Surely by now Alessio would realise that I was more trouble than I was worth. He could have any woman he wanted. I was willing to sign anything and walk away. Well, limping away with my heart in tatters was more like it, but it was better than living in this merry-go-round of a marriage.
I thought I could live my life married to someone who didn't love me, someone who had affairs that he kept hidden away from me. Someone who treated me well, who bought me gifts and gave me good sex in exchange for my last name and the power behind it.
Was it too much to ask to have someone who loved and adored me, and who didn't end their dalliance with other women only because they couldn't stand someone else playing with their toy?
The New Year came and went without its usual flair. As was typical, Alessio and I had a slew of invitations to parties all across London, but I told him quite plainly—on the rare occasion we spoke to each other—that I had no interest in attending any of them. In the end, he chose to leave for Paris and attend some annual fundraiser ball at his hotel.
Before he left, he stopped by my study door. His bag had already been stowed in the car, and he followed after the driver without saying goodbye. I tried to pretend that I didn't care, but the thought of ringing in the New Year without saying goodbye to Alessio filled my stomach with a load of regret.
But now he was back and hesitating outside my door like an ominous shadow.
"I'm off then," he rasped. His dark eyes were impassive, concealing his true feelings.
I gave a slight nod, and some sentimental finger poked at me not to leave this year with Alessio on a sour note.
"Okay. Have a safe trip." It was the most cordial we'd been to each other since Christmas night. He left without another word, and the breath I didn't realise I was holding blew out in an exhausted whimper.
I ended up attending a mate from uni’s house party in Acton. It was lowkey and precisely what I needed. I didn't have to dress up or wear heels with immaculate make-up and hair. I was in blue jeans, boots, and a simple black jumper.
Archie was there with a date, and we exchanged awkward yet polite pleasantries. Unfortunately, our friendship never recovered after I'd called time on our burgeoning affair. I expected as much, but with Alessio's ultimatum ringing in my ear, I didn't want to call his bluff.
Archie had been disappointed, especially when I'd given up my volunteer position with him and taken up at a clinic in North London.
My studies were my only distraction, and I threw myself into them with gusto, leaving the state of my marriage to fall to the wayside. We were strangers in our own home, barely conversing except when necessary. Luckily, we didn't have any pressing engagements to attend together, so I didn't have to spend my evenings faking my affection.
Unsurprisingly we hadn't made love since Christmas, and the thought crossed my mind more times than I cared to admit whether he was getting his needs met elsewhere. Alessio was a very sexual man who wasn't used to going without. Yes, he'd promised not to take another mistress, but that statement was made when there was a potential marriage to fix.
Now, I just couldn't see a way back to a reconciliation. Alessio would never love me, and while I could pretend that what we had was enough, the blinders were lifted, and it was too late to go back.
Although his indiscretion with Annabelle had hurt me, my growing jealousy and resentment would've festered over time, and our marriage would have eventually split wide open.
My plan to separate from Alessio in the New Year took a pause as I immersed myself back into uni life. Truthfully, I welcomed the heavy workload. The severing of our union needed a team of lawyers to dismantle. I also had to speak with my father regarding the stipulations of his business merger; something I had been dreading, knowing he wouldn't be happy that his legacy was in jeopardy. Who cares about his daughter's happiness when his hard work would soon be a footnote in the history of another family's name?
