Alessandro had counted on her mother’s arrival as a distraction that would ease the sting of his departure. He had arranged for Margarita Svensson to fly on a private jet, timed perfectly for the morning of their wedding, and yet, she had not shown up. It had shaken him, despite the fact that Ann-Sophie knew nothing about this plan. He, too, had not expected his own parents’ presence, despite the fact that Masimo had mentioned the wedding to them the week before. Both he and Ann-Sophie had been forged by these parental relationships, and they would serve as guide on whatnotto do, he told himself. He was also counting on this to mean that Ann-Sophie would accept the limits in their own relationship because he would not abandon the child.
But those moments in the church today had not just been about the child. He had felt something stir inside him as he looked into the endless rivers of her eyes and spoke his promises of love. For a few, beautiful moments at the altar, as his end goal played out, he found he was not thinking of goals or next steps or any of the tactics he used to keep himself in safe territory. It was hard to make sense of what had happened there, as he spoke his vows. Everything that drove him seemed to fade, and it was only Ann-Sophie.
Now, as he sat in the formal dining room of the villa, lit by candles, he knew he should take this as a warning sign. He knew he had to leave. And he would.
After the night was over.
Alessandro focused on Ann-Sophie as she talked with Catarina and Massimo, so comfortably, and something about that made the turmoil inside grow stronger.
So he rose to his feet and looked from Catarina to Massimo. “We’ll see you in the morning.”
Ann-Sophie’s cheeks turned a delightful pink, and she glanced at Alessandro, then back at his brother and his wife. “Please excuse this man’s manners. I don’t know where he got his reputation for being a smooth talker.”
Massimo let out a little bark of laughter. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Ann-Sophie’s amused smile turned hotter as they started through the halls and climbed the ancient stairs. But instead of leading her to the bedroom they had shared, he turned down a different hall and led her to the very end of it. When he opened the door, he felt a surge of satisfaction at the catch of her breath as Ann-Sophie took in their surroundings.
The room was much larger than the one they had stayed in. It was the master suite that his grandparents had occupied for a time before they gave the villa over to his parents, and it was covered with flowers. Olivia and Cinzia had spent the morning gathering tangles of rambling rose in white and every shade of pink, and the room sighed with the heavy scent. The flowering vines hung from the tall windows and twined around the balcony. The French doors were open, letting the warm breeze blow new life into this place, pushing out the ghosts of the past. Bouquets of wildflowers from the hillside sat on the bureaus and tables, and the room was bathed in the glow of the sunset.
Alessandro didn’t speak. He simply led her along a path of rose petals to the enormous bed, covered in a billowy cloud-like duvet. A sudden rush of joy overtook him as Ann-Sophie stood in front of him.His wife. Her smile was warm and intimate, and he ached with a desire that he didn’t fully understand, and a thought ran through his head, one he realized had been building inside him. Maybe this could work. Maybe he could change. Maybe she and the baby would change him and these emotions that bubbled inside him would no longer lead to anger and destruction. He let the temptation of these thoughts guide each touch.
Slowly, he undressed her, memorizing the way it felt to run his hands up her growing belly as he lifted the dress, tracing the fullness of her breasts and the dip of her collarbone. He kissed every one of these places, closing his eyes and memorizing them with his lips. When he finished, she lifted his hand from his own shirt, silently insisting that she undress him, too. She removed his cuff links, studying his hands, and unfastened each button on his shirt. His muscles tensed as her hands explored. Her blue eyes were focused, as if she was discovering something new. It all felt new, as if she was uncovering the layers he kept between himself and the world. Suddenly he was being exposed, and yet, he didn’t stop her. He gritted his teeth against each flash of desire and let her take her time until they both stood naked, facing each other. He traced a line up her arm, over her shoulders and up her slim neck until he was cupping her jaw. And then he kissed her.
His body was on fire and his instincts told him to bring them to the ecstasy they both craved, but he held back, just kissing her with the aching desire mixed with something else he wasn’t going to contemplate. Her hands explored his body, a whisper over the planes of his chest and the ridges of his abs, until it was too much. Wordlessly, he pulled back. And they stood there for a moment, gazes matched, until that became a different kind of too much. So he led her to the bed and he fixed the pillows so she was comfortable. And then he kneeled before her and entered her. Her eyes met his as she let out a gasp, and he clenched his teeth against the insatiable need to lose himself in the pleasure, in this one place he allowed himself total abandon.
But tonight she held his gaze, and tonight he couldn’t look away. Slowly, he began to move, tilting his hips, finding the angle that made her gasp, then luxuriating in that angle with hard, long thrusts. Still, her gaze was on his, open and vulnerable, and he had no idea what she saw in his, but she didn’t look away. The pleasure between them grew until she gasped and moaned and fell over the edge of bliss. As he followed her, he could have sworn that he saw tears well in her eyes before she closed them, and it felt as if something had torn inside of him, something that felt ominously irreparable.
He lay beside her in silence in the aftermath, touching. She stroked his cheek and ran her hand over his biceps, and he flexed his muscles playfully, teasing out a smile from her. They hadn’t spoken a word, and yet it felt as if he had somehow bared his soul to her and she had done the same. And neither of them had looked away.
He had no idea when they drifted off to sleep, but sometime in the early morning, Alessandro started awake. He sat up in bed, looking for whatever had startled him. An uneasy feeling washed over him, and yet when he looked next to him, there was Ann-Sophie with a sleepy smile. A flicker of relief cut through the unease, but as he bent down to kiss her, a voice floated through the open window, so sickeningly familiar. It cut through all the hopes that had run through his mind and exposed them for the lie they were. Nothing would change.
Chapter Ten
“OLIVIA. INEEDyou at once. I simply cannot handle all this baggage alone…”
The voice coming through the open French doors sounded irritated, as if the woman speaking was unaware of the exasperated tone she was using at—Ann-Sophie checked the stately clock that ticked on the wall—6:14 a.m.?
“I apologize,Signora—”
Before Olivia’s voice had reached the end of the last word, the other woman’s voice began again. “Travel has been a complete nightmare. The storms ruined the last three days in Seychelles, and then, the pilot had the nerve to tell us that he would not fly in the weather. Can you imagine? So I asked him what we were paying him for. Why were we paying the salary of a pilot who won’t fly? I demanded the very moment that the airport would allow that we would leave. Which happened to be late at night. As you can imagine, sleeping on the plane, no matter how comfortable they say the beds are on planes, they just never lit live up to expectations. And then…”
The words were now muffled in the distance, leaving only hints of that distinctive voice. Ann-Sophie rubbed her eyes and tried to get her thoughts in order. She opened her mouth to ask Alessandro what was going on, but when she turned to him, his expression had gone blank. The only hint of emotion was an ominous tightness in his jaw.
His mother.It had to be her. Just her voice had taken every ounce of softness, every hint of raw vulnerability that she had seen in him the night before, and turned it all to stone. She lifted her hand to his face, but he flinched and moved away.
“My parents have arrived, only a day late for the wedding.” His voice was hard. “I should introduce you.”
He managed to make this sound like a threat. Ann-Sophie told herself that this was painful for him, but the past night he had opened himself to her. They could get through this. So she got dressed and brushed her hair. When they started down the staircase, the hand he offered her felt like the one he had offered on the walk home from the doctor’s clinic, out of duty rather than care. Ever the gentleman, she thought darkly.
They walked through the endless halls, following that voice and its endless string of commentary and complaints. Ann-Sophie felt as if they were walking to their execution. The thought was a bit dramatic, but when she glanced at Alessandro and squeezed his hand, searching for their connection, he didn’t look at her. Instead, he released her hand and continued into the dining room, where Olivia and Cinzia were bringing platters of food to the table.
“Good morning,” said Olivia, giving Alessandro what looked like a worried glance. But Alessandro didn’t seem to notice. He was looking at his parents.
His mother was, in the most objective sense, lovely, a combination of nature and money that made the most of her features. She wore a cream silk blouse and matching wool trousers that accentuated her fashionably thin figure, and her hair was twisted in a neat updo that suggested careful preparation rather than a night of hardship. She was talking to Alessandro’s father, who was reading the newspaper and murmuring in agreement. Neither of his parents seemed to notice their entry until they stood next to the table.
His mother’s gaze lifted to her son with a flicker of disappointment. “Alessandro, where is your brother? We were told he was here. We need to talk to him about our flat in Milan, which was simply not usable when we arrived, after hours of horrendous travel.”
Alessandro’s jaw tightened. “Mother, Father, I would like you to meet my wife, Ann-Sophie.”
