“I would have left the meeting halfway through, if I could,”he said.“You know I would. You also know I don’t let anything get in our way. And when you calm down, I know you’ll understand.”
He cupped my face with his hands, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones.“I know where this is coming from,”he murmured.“So let me remind you of this. I love you. For real. True love. I’m not him. I will never betray you.”
He kissed my forehead, the tip of my nose, my lips... then went to take a shower.
While the water ran, I had time to breathe and think. To let the past loosen its grip. When he came back, the first thing I did was apologize. For making him pay for crimes he didn’t commit. For letting old wounds bleed into our present, even if only for a few hours.
Alexander pulled me against his bare chest and asked me to tell him everything that had been in my head. And I did.
The same thoughts come to the surface from time to time, but I don’t let them grow beyond what they are. Intrusive thoughts. I examine them, reduce them to nothing, and let them go.
Then there’s Colin.
Things have regressed with him. We’re back to cold, strictly functional communication. Short texts, nothing more. I couldn’t say I’m surprised. He’d been growing increasingly curt since Alexander and I made things official, and I never tolerateddisrespect. I knew he wouldn’t take our relationship well, much less the fact that Alicia and Ethan get along well with Alexander, and that he’s living in the house across the street.
But nothing has changed between him and our children, and that’s what matters. How he feels about my relationship doesn’t change anything for me.
The chime of the elevator pulls me back to the present.
Alexander and I came to Italy for just a few days. To take care of urgent matters and entrust even more responsibilities to Cesare and Genaro, his VP. We fly home tomorrow, but we’ll be back in a month for Nonna’s birthday, this time bringing Alicia and Ethan. Both of them already counting down the days until they can see the villa and explore a few countries of their choosing with us.
“Ciao, Amara,” I say as I approach Alexander’s assistant.
“Ciao, Cecily,” she replies, rising to kiss my cheek.
“Is he free?” I ask in Italian.
She nods. “You can go in.”
I knock twice on the wooden door. When that deep, commanding ‘Avanti’[LXXVII]answers, I open it just a crack and lean in, a mischievous smile playing on my lips.
“Do you have room in your agenda for a last-minute appointment?”
Alexander looks up from the papers spread across his desk, and a predatory smile curves his mouth. He stands as I step inside and close the door behind me.
I don’t make it two steps.
He crosses the room and presses me back against the door. The kiss is searing, possessive. His hands grip my waist, his fingers digging in as he pulls me in until there’s no space left. I taste espresso on his tongue, the urgency in the kiss loosening my knees as my hands slide into his hair.
When we finally break apart, he rests his forehead to mine, both of us breathing hard. “Missed you,” he murmurs.
I smile, catching my breath. “We saw each other less than nine hours ago.”
“Too long.” He steals another lingering kiss, then pulls back to look at me. His gaze sweeps over me, darkening as it trails down. “Have I told you how much I like you in pants?”
He takes my hand and turns me, using the motion as an excuse to squeeze my ass. Unapologetic. His mouth brushes my exposed shoulder before he leans in to murmur into my ear, sending a shiver straight through me. “And you wear them just to torture me.”
I’m wearing tailored off-white trousers—mid-waist, straight cut—paired with a light green spaghetti-strap top and flats. Nothing extravagant. Yet the way he looks at me, I might as well be in nothing but fancy lace.
Laughing, I turn back to him and wrap my arms around his neck.
“I came to pick you up so we can have pizza at that place nearby, the one with live music you love,” I say. “After that... you can take me home and show me exactly how much you enjoy seeing me in these trousers.”
Alexander closes his eyes and drops his forehead to mine, a deep groan tearing from his throat.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Cecilia,” he says, his voice rough.
I smile and kiss him again. “The best kind,” I murmur.
