Chapter 4
Millie
Iremembered the moment I fell in love with Alessio Ferrante.
No, it was not love at first sight. In fact, I disliked him from the moment we met. Oh, he was handsome and charming, yes, but he was also arrogant, spoiled, and a massive playboy. My dreams of having a loving and faithful husband—even one who had been hand-picked for me—were busted.
Then there was the fact that my father was asking me to marry when I'd just completed my A Levels; he practically begged me to put my plans on hold with the added guilt trip about keeping his bloody empire in the family.
So, really, Alessio could have been the complete opposite of what he was, and I still would've been in a foul mood.
On our wedding night, I'd asked him point-blank whether he would keep a mistress. His promise to be discreet did nothing but fan the flames of anger, but at that point, I didn't care who kept his bed warm—as long as it wasn't me.
And when he suggested that I stay at his country estate, I'd been beyond livid.
"But wouldn't it be annoying for you to commute to London each day?" I pressed with crossed arms and a voice dripping with venom.
He'd looked startled at the suggestion—one I knew he would never even consider. "Well, it wouldn't be practical, no. So I could come to see you on the weekends." From the way his eyes flickered around the room, I knew that was a lie.
So I locked him out of our honeymoon penthouse suite and told him to get lost. I was sure by now he thought my father's hotels weren't worth all this trouble.
But nothing prepared me for the indignant rage that came when he still unceremoniously dumped me off at his country estate. I was straight on the phone to my parents, ranting about how I was being treated. But if I thought I'd find a sympathetic ear from them, I was wildly mistaken.
"Darling, your father and I don't want to get in between a married couple or interfere with their tiffs," my mother gently said. "One must learn how to compromise in marriage."
My father was no better, though he had always been hands-off when it came to what he considered “female dramatics.”
I was sure that when and if a union like my parents' occurred, it would be with someone I had built up a friendship and attraction with over time.
And then, eventually, it would turn into something more.
So I was already pissed to all hell at being strong-armed into a union before my time, and I was thoroughly pissed that it was to someone I barely knew or liked.
However, despite all that, I was still willing to buck up and carry on, to make the best of it, and eventually we'd see common ground. Perhaps then, over time, that common ground might turn into like, then respect, then…
But we couldn't bloody well do that if I was stuck in Keating, and he was God knows where! Evidently, I was the only mature one in this non-existent relationship.
Well, stuff him.
I spent two months racking up his credit card with all sorts of frivolous charges.
I purchased everything from a new designer wardrobe to jewellery and shoes.
I then donated most of it to the local charity shop.
When that failed to poke the bear, I decided to buy one—literally.
An animal charity I supported offered the option to "adopt" a grizzly bear, so I selected the maximum charge.
The donation came with a certificate and a plush toy, and since I was in a mood, I sent that stuffed bear to his office, which probably didn't do much to dispel the notion that I wasn't a petulant teenager.
And then I found the perfect gift for him—the ability to sponsor a donkey. I donated five thousand pounds and named the donkey Alessio. I sent him a photo of his namesake with a message:
"An ass for an arse. Your ‘wife’, Millie."
Nothing.
But it still amused me to no end that a donkey was roaming about in his honour.
After those two months, I started to get cabin fever. I spent my days staring out my window like a depressed wife waiting for her husband's return. I ignored calls from my parents, still too miffed at them to speak, but then annoyed that they didn't bother to visit me.
I had to admit, Alessio's property was gorgeous, and I'd been itching to get my hands on the horses I saw roaming around. So, deciding that the only person I was punishing was myself, I broke my self-imposed exile and stepped out for a walk around his large estate.
Gravel crunched under my shoes as I roamed the property, smiling at a gardener pruning trees and another property manager carting around a wheelbarrow.
They all gave me second glances of surprise, probably shocked to finally see me emerge from my sulking.
Christ, they must all think I was some spoiled brat.
After finding the paddocks empty, I kept walking around the corner until I came across large stables where the horses were kept. I made a beeline to the entrance, eager to do something useful.
"Hey there, sweet angel," I purred to a beautiful chestnut horse.
I held my hand out, letting it sniff me before I slowly stroked its smooth neck.
A sad smile curved my mouth as I moved closer to the animal.
I missed my horse. I also missed my chickens, sheep, and two goats.
I was an animal lover and had big plans that involved my love for them.
I'd promised my father to hold off on them for a while until I settled into married life—but I would actually need to have a present husband to practice that.
I wondered if there was a local vet or animal shelter nearby where I could resume my volunteer work.
A loud clang had me jumping, and I immediately stroked the horse's neck to soothe it. I turned to where the sound came from and spied a tall blond male picking up some hay that had fallen off his wheelbarrow.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," I called out. I immediately picked up a pitchfork to assist him. "I must've startled you."
His cheeks reddened before he gave me an embarrassed smile. “It's alright, Mrs Ferrante.”
I hid a grimace. “Please, call me Millie.” I certainly did not feel like a married woman, and I was sure as muck that my husband was not behaving like a married man. “Do you work for Mr—for Alessio?”
I stabbed at the last of the fallen hay before dusting off my hands.
“Yeah." He cleared his throat, still not meeting my gaze. "I'm Tom. My mum's his housekeeper, and my dad's the property manager.”
"Oh, I see. I've met your mum," I acknowledged, thinking back to the kind blonde woman who Alessio had introduced me to before he crawled back into his Aston Martin and sped on out of here.
"I'm so sorry that I haven't been out to meet you all. I've been a little out of sorts lately." Understatement of the bloody year. "But I'm feeling a lot better now. Are these horses for riding?"
He nodded. "Mr Ferrante doesn't really ride anymore, but his little brother and nieces sometimes come 'round for a ride when they're in England."
"Oh. Right. Of course." Was it weird that the farmhand knew more about my husband's family than I did?
I didn't even know he had a brother. I'd only met his father, sister, and his brother-in-law at our wedding.
And apart from his best man, no one else from his side had attended.
Not that I cared. The fewer people who knew about this sham of a union, the better.
"I don’t have riding gear here, so I'll order some." It had been a while since I'd taken Alessio's credit card for a good battering. "Say, is there a vet or animal shelter nearby? I would love to pop in and see if they need some volunteers."
"My uncle's a farm vet. Mainly does house calls, but he has a clinic up the road. I can ask him if he needs help."
"Oh, could you? I would love to meet him. Thank you so much." I flashed him a wide smile that had his cheeks turning apple red.
Seven months later, Alessio finally came to see me.
I was in the barn, helping Tom check a chicken whose wing had been damaged.
“He’s such a spritely bugger.” Tom laughed as I struggled to hold the squawking bird. "There, now. All done."
“Poor baby.” I kissed the top of his moving head before releasing it gently.
Tom burst out laughing.
“What?” I quizzed.
“You have a little mud." He pointed to his cheek.
“Please tell me it’s mud and not—”
His fingers reached out and swiped at my cheek. His touch was soft and lingering. “Definitely mud.”
We grinned widely at each other.
“Millie.”
The intruder's voice cut sharply through the jovial atmosphere, quickly turning it tense. I glanced towards that voice. A voice I hadn't heard in close to a year
Alessio Ferrante was at the entrance of the barn. He looked out of place in his designer suit with his designer sunglasses perched in his shirt pocket. He also looked utterly furious as his dark eyes bounced between us, his brow furrowed in question.
“Mr Ferrante.” Tom quickly stood, dusting his pants off.
I rolled my eyes. Tom was behaving as if the Pope himself were visiting. I took my time standing, keeping a steady eye on the chicken as it bobbed close to Alessio. Was it terrible to wish it would poop on his designer loafers?
"Millie." My name was pushed out between clenched teeth. "Could I see you outside?"
I resisted the urge to let out an impatient sigh. I didn't want to put Tom in an awkward position. I'm sure he thought it odd that Alessio hadn't made an appearance for months.
I made my way slowly and reluctantly to Alessio, keeping my face impassive.
Before I followed him out, I swung back to Tom. “Don’t forget, we’re riding later.”
He gave me a tight smile, the light dying from his usually laughing blue eyes.
“You two seem rather cosy.”
I crossed my arms, trying to ignore how handsome he was in the crisp morning sun. “He’s my friend.”
“He’s staff.”
“Don’t be such a bloody snob," I chastised. "Why are you here?”