One man stood up and moved to get her a chair so she could join the table, while another flagged down the waiter and ordered her an espresso.
Once everyone was settled, Axel went around the table and introduced everyone before pausing at me. “And this is my wife, Mila.”
Giselle’s smile was as warm as her accent. “Lovely to meet you, Mila.”
“You too, Giselle,” I murmured, wondering if she was the reason my husband never seemed to come home at night and why he didn’t want to sleep with me.
As soon as her coffee arrived and someone slid a piece of cake in front of her, the joking atmosphere of the night ended. They all switched to speaking in Italian, including Giselle.
I noted that when she spoke, which she did at length, she held the attention of every single man at the table. Some of them seemed to ask her questions, which she answered in a fluid singsong voice. It was easy to see that she held everyone’s respect, including Axel’s. What could she possibly be saying to keep my husband’s focus so intently on her words and face?
Axel’s attentiononly momentarily shifted to me when I quietly excused myself to go to the ladies room.
I stood in front of the mirror and studied my reflection as I touched up my lipstick. I wasn’t an idiot. Axel and I were not in this marriage for love or commitment. Our situation in Canada was working out better than I could have imagined. He protected me, provided for me and left me alone. My life was a hundred times easier than if I had run away or had been forced to marry Sergei.
I was well aware that Axel spent most, if not all, of his nights away from our home, and until tonight I hadn’t really given it much thought. But I now had the image of him wining and dining Giselle. Had he deliberately brought me out to flaunt her in front of me?
At that moment, the door opened. I wasn’t even surprised to see Giselle.
I turned back to the mirror to finish applying my lip gloss.
She came to stand beside me, putting her purse next to mine. “How was your meal? I heard the food here is fantastic.”
Close up, she was even more gorgeous. I momentarily wondered if Axel and her had dined here together. “It was delicious.”
I focused on screwing the lid back on my gloss.
“I need to make a point to come back here,” she added. “That dessert was fantastic.”
I put my lip gloss into my makeup bag and avoided her gaze. Did my husband kiss this woman? Did he lie in bed next to her and stare at her face just so he could marvel at her beauty?
That thought settled low and heavy, leaving a hollow ache in my gut.
Someone entered the washroom behind us, ending whatever had passed between us.
I gave Giselle a tight smile. “See you back at the table.”
I remainedsilent for the rest of the meal and the ride home. I didn’t even acknowledge Axel when we walked up to the house. The more I thought about Giselle and how she was probably sleeping with my husband, the angrier I got.
“Is everything all right?” Axel asked as we walked into the kitchen.
I shrugged off my coat and stood on the other side of the island. “Yes.”
“I’m probably going to head back to the office.”
Before tonight, I would have believed him. Or maybe I wouldn’t have cared. But after meeting Giselle, his lie annoyed me. “You don’t have to pretend, you know. I don’t care.”
He paused. “Excuse me?”
I crossed my arms. “I know you’re sleeping with Giselle, and you’re probably heading to see her right now. And I’m telling you I don’t care.”
“I’m not,” he clarified, his gaze pointed, “but I’d love to know why you think that.”
I rolled my eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I just don’t understand why you even bothered to bring me out. Are you trying to humiliate me?”
His jaw tightened. “It does matter.”
“I’m not mad if you’re having an affair,” I cut back. “I’m mad that you’re lying about it."
