True, she forced my hand to intervene, but I had no choice. I had to threaten her tender heart if it meant it wouldn't belong to another. Unlike Millie, I could separate sex and love. After all, I'd gone this long having passionate and wild sex with Millie, and I hadn't lost my head over her.
The other women, as regrettable as they were, were nothing more than habit. A distraction that I never thought twice about, during or after.
Millie couldn't handle sleeping with me and another. She was still a virgin at eighteen, and she confessed that she likely would've stayed that way until she met someone she cared about. Some poor sap would fall for her or take advantage of her good nature, and she'd have a proper fuck up on her hands.
I knew how to handle women's delicate tempers when it came to sex and attachment. They could get so emotional and jealous. I wanted to avoid Millie falling into the same trap. She was married to me, cared for me, and trusted me. So she should trust my judgement that putting a stop to Archie was for her own good.
Although, as I examined the remains of my strained marriage, I wondered whether this emotional upheaval was worth it.
Millie clearly wasn't happy, and I was growing increasingly frustrated by how things were between us. Frustrated and impatient. Where had my easy-going wife gone?
Perhaps it was best to let her go, to put an end to our marriage. I could check with Charles to see whether he wanted to renegotiate our deal. Millie was clearly miserable, and Charles had previously expressed guilt over his daughter marrying to strengthen his business interests. The last thing I wanted was to keep Millie in a marriage she didn't want to be in.
Yes. It was best to let her go.
I rubbed at my chest, frowning at the tightness that knotted there. What was I eating that was giving me such terrible heartburn? I'd been feeling this tightness and breathlessness in my chest for weeks now. It was flaring up again and taking antacids didn't help. I made a mental note to schedule a complete physical with my personal doctor when I had a free day.
Meanwhile, I needed to sort out a separation plan. Of course, I knew plenty of divorce solicitors, so there was no issue in obtaining one. We practically had them on retainer at this point. This was a delicate matter that needed the utmost discretion and decorum. Mille and I were both adults, unused to displays of heated arguments and emotions that got the better of us. We could both walk away relatively unscathed and unaffected.
I plucked up my phone, my finger flicking through my contacts to find the number I was after. My finger lingered over Gareth Dickinson's name, our UK solicitor. He had represented a few members of our board with their divorces, and my dear old father had slid me his number a few years ago. I never thought that I would be utilising it.
My finger hovered over the call button as my hand rubbed against my chest, soothing the gnawing ache that seemed to grow tighter.
Just as I was about to take the leap, my phone rang in my hand, startling me.
Why the hell was Gordon calling me? I paid him extra to keep track of Millie, for reasons I did not want to think about, but he never called me in the middle of the day.
I only advised him to call me if…
The blood drained from my face, my chest twisting until my breath was choppy and strained. I fumbled to accept the call before it dropped out.
"What is it? What's happened?"
"Mr Ferrante. It's Gordon."
I made a sound of impatience. "Yes, yes, I know. What happened? Where is she?"
"Mrs Ferrante is at the Gosford Ocean Hotel. She said—"
"She'swhat?"
His startled silence came through loudly. "Err…she's at the Gosford Ocean Hotel. She—"
The breath left my lungs in a loud whoosh, and whatever he said sounded like words underwater.
"How long has she been there?"
With a shaky hand, I pulled at my tie, loosening the knot that threatened to strangle me.
"Um…about thirty minutes, sir. But—"
I didn't wait for him to finish. Thirty minutes? A lot could happen within that time, and I didn't want to waste it on the phone. He should've called me immediately, but I'd deal with him later.
I grabbed my phone and fled from my office, dialling my driver as I went. My PA shot upright when he saw my rushed approach. He may have said something to me, but I couldn't say what it was. Blood was rushing in my ears, and I had tunnel vision that was only focused on one thing.
Getting to my wife. No matter what scene I would walk into.
Cold air whipped my face as I exited the building, but I barely felt the chill. I caught sight of my driver and immediately climbed in, slamming the door with a sharp pull.
