His face blanched. "What?"
I stifled a grin at the guilty redness that crept up his neck. "You think I don't know that my own driver has been reporting my every move to you? I wanted you to know that I knew, so I told him to call you and tell you that I was staying here, and that I wanted you to come meet me for some…afternoon delight." I laughed at his startled expression.
"He was really embarrassed, and a small part of me wanted to punish him for tattling on me. However, I hadn't quite expected you to storm the place and declare your love for me." My eyes turned glassy at the memory. In my mind's eye, I recalled a panicked and pale-looking Alessio spouting out enough flowery words to rival Shakespeare. It was a moment I would treasure forever.
"Gordon didn't let you in on the fact that this hotel meeting was planned for you?"
His mind ticked over before his face flushed in realisation. He scratched the back of his head and ran a hand through his already mussed hair. "Well…come to think of it, it did appear like he kept trying to tell me something. And that explains why the receptionist readily handed me the key."
"You steamrolled over Gordon and didn't let the poor man speak, didn't you?"
He shook his head. "All I heard was that my wife was at a hotel. And the last time you were at a hotel…" His face rolled over in pained remembrance. "I just saw red. I hung up on him and came straight here."
"All guns blazing," I drawled.
His look was full of contrition before his dark eyes bounced around the room, finally soaking in his surroundings. My phonethat had been connected to the speakers playing top 40, timeless love songs on a loop—the playlist had since run out. He took in the soft glow of the bedside lamp to create a romantic ambience, and then his gaze fell to the scrap of black lace on the floor that he'd unceremoniously ripped off me.
"So…you planned all this with me in mind?" His eyes widened with wonder. "Why? Not that I'm not bloody grateful, but I had the impression you were already two feet out the door."
I slowly nodded. "I was." The pain of the last few months returned in full force, and it took effort for my psyche to catch up with the current turn of events. I'd felt so alone for so long.
"But then I received a visit from your father."
His face turned to thunder, his features reddening in outrage. "My father? What did he say? Did he upset you?" His eyes scoured my body, as if seeking reassurance that I hadn't been harmed in any way.
I shook my head and reached out to clasp his hand. He immediately lifted my fingers and placed a soft kiss against them. "To the contrary." I breathlessly corrected him, my skin tingling against his lingering touch. "He actually came to request that I let you go."
"Hewhat?"
"He somehow knew that you were in love with me," I shyly told him, wanting to calm the look of fury in his stormy eyes. "And he thought I didn't feel the same. He was worried that I would destroy you, like he had been eviscerated by his ex-wives."
He dropped my hand and tugged at his hair, his brow pulling down in pronounced annoyance. "He should never have said that to you. He should never have even put the idea into your head," he raged.
"He loves you," I interjected before he went right off on a tangent. "He didn't want you going through what he went through, so he planned on asking me to divorce you."
His face paled at theDword before his attention caught and held onto another. "Planned?" he pressed me, his voice hitching.
"Hmm, yes, planned. Because, you see, he discovered during our enlightening conversation that I was in love with you too."
His eyes widened as my cheeks filled with colour. But I met his astonished gaze head-on, bolstered by the answering love I spied in their depths.
The knot of nerves in my stomach had unravelled completely, and a great weight lifted off my shoulders. The truth I'd held onto so tightly for almost three years was now free to find its home. They no longer just belonged to the hidden corners of my heart, or the deep, still of the night when I would mouth them to a slumbering Alessio. No longer did I have to catch the words from tumbling out of me when the dam of my wasted devotion threatened to burst at the most heated and inconvenient times.
Moisture brightened Alessio's dark eyes, lighting them beneath the dimness of the room. With a not-quite-steady hand, he reached out and cradled my face.
"You are?" He breathed the words, his voice disbelieving. "You love me? Truly? You don’t just feel sorry for me because I rambled and begged like a lovesick fool?" His voice caught, and he breathed deeply. "You truly love me?"
I nodded, tears clinging to my lashes. "Madly. For such a long time."
His eyes lit up for a split second before they quickly tumbled in despair. "Oh, Millie…I've been an idiot. This whole time…when-when did you fall in love with me?"
"When we were in Sicily. The first time," I confessed.
His breath sucked in with a sharp inhale. "Fuck." He turned away, his back muscles tense as he ran a hand through his hair.
"You told me you loved me," he muttered. "When we were in bed." He whirled around to face me, devastation creeping along the edges.
"Yes."
