Chapter 4 #3
"I like working with animals," I slowly confided.
He had opened up a lot to me, and I felt comfortable in his presence.
There were butterflies, of course. He was a handsome man, but more than that, I found myself being attracted to him.
To his personality and world views, which were similar to mine.
"It's something I'm extremely passionate about. "
He nodded thoughtfully, his fingers running along the rim of his whisky glass. "A close friend of mine is a patron for a wildlife charity. He and his wife. I'm sure they would love to have you join them. They host a yearly gala and are always seeking extra sponsorship."
It wasn’t Alessio's fault for assuming I had no further aspirations beyond serving on charity boards.
After all, I was only nineteen and hadn't applied to university yet.
Although, in hindsight, he could've asked me.
I also could've volunteered the information, but I decided to keep that part of my dreams to myself.
After all, who knew what curveball life would throw me?
When I'd taken my A levels, I never would've dreamed that I'd be married.
"I admit, apart from a horse I ride on occasion with my nieces and brother, animals aren't something that I've noticed." He shook his head. "No, that's not what I meant."
"It's okay." I laughed. "Not everyone is an animal person. I certainly don't think that makes you a bad person."
"Oh?" He took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes growing hooded as his gaze caressed me. "What kind of person do you think I am?"
The air shifted between us, and I felt my cheeks darken with nerves…and something more carnal. His attention wasn't unwanted. We'd been flirting most of the night. At first, it was subtle—like the warmth of a summer sunrise, slowly spreading its heat until it caressed you from your toes up.
Glances lingered, gazes drifted, and smiles grew lazy and knowing.
My foot had grazed his leg a few times before I felt brave enough to leave it gently leaning against his calf.
I could blame my boldness on the two glasses of wine I'd drunk, but deep down I knew it would be an excuse.
Our chemistry was undeniable, and I knew he felt it too.
"You're shrewd. Ruthless in business. Arrogant and a total control freak," I listed. I lifted my wine glass to my red lips and took a slow sip. My foot slid up his calf, and I watched with a sense of feminine satisfaction as his breath caught.
"But you're also generous. Astute. A loyal friend, an attentive uncle, and a loving older brother. Self-sacrificing," I added.
His amused stare slid over me with interest. He didn't appear flattered. A man of his beauty and wealth didn't need flowery words to boost his ego. Alessio knew exactly who and what he was, and he made no apologies for it.
"Do you know what I see when I look at you?"
I took another sip of my wine, my hand shaking slightly.
"Go on," I encouraged, curious what he would say.
"I think you're intelligent. You speak your mind. You're kind. You're a loyal daughter—you've taken a rather unpleasant situation and made the most of it, with barely a complaint. Not many eighteen-year-olds would be so amenable to a situation that was thrust upon them without their choosing."
Pink slanted my cheeks as I preened under his praise.
"Also," he slowly added. "You're bloody gorgeous. Sexy and alluring. It's fortunate that I've ended up married to someone who is so…irresistible."
His voice was thick like layered honey. His seductive words stuck to my traitorous heart, and instead of scraping them off, my body licked up his compliments and savoured the taste.
I've had the attentions of boys before. I'd accepted their kisses and fumbling gropes.
I'd had my fair share of crushes and obsessions.
But staring at my dark, handsome man of a husband…
I realised that I'd never felt such a strong pull.
He was just so virile, and although I knew his words were well rehearsed and practised, a little bit of my resolve faltered.
When we got back to the villa, Alessio walked me to my room, his hand on the small of my back.
My heart was in my throat, nerves dancing low in my belly.
Not the kind of nerves where you were unsure about what you wanted to happen, more an anticipatory excitement.
No, I was not going to have sex with him; I'd held onto my virginity for too long to give it away after a first date—even though we were married.
A bubble of amusement danced low in my throat when I thought about what a weird sentence that was.
"Care to share the joke?"
I glanced up at Alessio, and any trace of humour quickly faded when I caught the sultry look in his eyes. I could feel the heat between us, and it had nothing to do with how close his body had moved to mine.
His hand reached out to stroke my face, his fingers gentle against the smooth curve of my cheek.
"You are so beautiful," he murmured before his dark head bent, and his lips touched mine.
Sparks flew behind my closed lids as I opened my mouth to welcome his kiss.
I'd never been so thoroughly consumed before.
His taste was warm with a hint of the whisky he'd drunk earlier.
A hand slid into my hair as he continued to move his mouth more urgently against mine.
He groaned, and the sound was met by my small whimper as our tongues moved in a rhythmic dance.
"I want to devour you," he murmured against my lips as his hand slid along my hip.
"Yes," I moaned as I planted small kisses along his jaw.
We stayed that way for a few more minutes, petting and making out like a couple of randy teenagers. Finally, with great reluctance, Alessio pulled back, panting against my mouth.
"We need to stop before I carry you to bed and do everything I’ve dreamed of doing since I saw you tonight."
I was disappointed, but I knew he was right. I wasn't ready to sleep with him. Yet. So we said goodnight, but from that moment on, we were inseparable.
He took me around Sicily on the days he didn't have meetings.
We went to Palermo, where we ate exquisite food and visited churches and palaces.
He took me to the Messina Cathedral, and we sailed to Lipari, where we hired a scooter.
Sitting behind Alessio with my body pressed against his, my arms wrapped around his lean waist, did things to my nether regions that I'd never experienced.
He started to open up a bit about his life.
He didn't have much to do with his mother, who had taken a handsome payout in the divorce and moved to Florida with her second husband; content for Alessio to grow up in a boarding school and be cared for by a slew of nannies.
He saw her once every few years, but she was not very maternal.
Cesare, while he held onto full custody, was not much better in the paternal stakes.
He saw no harm in shipping Alessio off to boarding school in England while he went through a queue of ex-wives.
Alessio adored his brother but was indifferent to his father's wife. He hadn't liked how often his father remarried, and I had a feeling he didn't approve of how young Katherine was and thought her a gold digger.
I enjoyed Katherine's company. I'd gotten to know her better when Alessio and Cesare had been in Rome for their meeting. She was a sweet girl, and I got the impression that she genuinely loved Cesare. But I decided to keep my opinion to myself.
His father's party had been a grand affair with close to seventy guests converging at the villa. Alessio stayed at my side most of the night, proudly introducing me to his friends and relatives as his wife—much to their surprise. And his father's, from the look of shock and happiness on his face.
Day by day, I was falling harder and harder for my husband. And it had only been three weeks. But I couldn't help myself. I'd definitely pre-judged him, although I could hardly blame his attitude when we were first hitched. I hadn't exactly been jumping for joy either.
But now, I couldn't imagine not being with him. And I was so sure he felt the same.
On our last night in Sicily, we finally made love. Our three-week courtship had been building to this moment. We knew it was inevitable.
All my fears about my first time evaporated under his tender hands.
He worshipped my body, his lips and tongue in places that made me blush.
He whispered dirty things in Italian that I could not understand, but the urgency with which he uttered them moved me deeply, and tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.
There was a little discomfort when he finally took me, but he was so gentle that I ended up urging him on, begging him to take me deeper, harder.
I cried out in ecstasy, seeing fireworks behind my lids as I reached that pinnacle of pleasure that I'd read about in my romance books. It was everything I ever imagined and more; so it was unsurprising that in the heat of the moment, a declaration of love was shouted.
"I love you."
The oxygen seemed to be sucked out of the room as those words echoed around us. I felt him stiffen, and I cursed my loose lips.
The smile didn't quite reach his eyes when he pulled back and looked down at me. But then he leaned in and stole another kiss, and the desire between us started to drum up again.
His arms were around me all night, and when I woke, it was to his gentle mouth against my sore pussy.
Work called him away before breakfast, so we made plans to meet for lunch before we flew back to London that evening.
By two p.m., I still hadn’t seen him, so I decided to track him down. Our flight wasn't until eight that night, but I wanted to spend time with him before he went back to work full-time.
I found Cesare in the drawing room, reading a newspaper. “Sorry to bother you, but have you seen Alessio?”
Cesare sent me a friendly smile over his paper. “He’s still in the study. Down the hall and the second door on the right.”
I didn't care if he was in the middle of work; I was going to drag him out and force him to have some fun.
One thing I found with Alessio: he was a big workaholic and kind of a micromanager.
He could delegate, but he had the type of personality where he assumed he could do it better, or if he let go of the reins a bit, then all hell would break loose.
It didn't matter, he was coming out with me for an afternoon swim, maybe we could sneak back off to bed—
“I’ll be in Paris in two days. I’ll send a car to bring you to the hotel. Same room number.”
The breath stalled in my throat as I heard Alessio's deep voice through the crack in the door. He was on the phone, that much was obvious. But with whom? And why was he talking about a hotel room?
“I’m looking forward to seeing you too, Marguerite.”
My stomach dropped, and a strangled sound escaped my throat. Luckily, Alessio hadn't heard me. He was too busy talking in a tone I recognised. Low. Intimate. Flirtatious.
The same voice he used with me.
With a dry mouth and a cramp in my gut, I turned and quietly walked away. Any illusions I had about our marriage turning genuine went out the window.
Fool, fool, fool.
I was a romantic fool to think Alessio would be falling for me.
This was still very much a business arrangement for him.
He was still planning to keep a mistress on the side whilst maintaining a public persona as a devoted husband.
Just like my father, and probably Cesare.
Just like most men in my world. Christ, I'd probably made things so uncomfortable for him after I blurted out my love. After three weeks? How embarrassing.
Humiliated and heartbroken, tears filled my eyes, and I allowed them to fall before swiping them away. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I walked to a dark corner of the yard, away from prying eyes.
So what do you want to do, Millie? Do you want to cry, sulk, and go back to how things were between you two? Or do you want to suck it up and realise how lucky you are to have a husband who has been honest with you? Who you have chemistry with and could give you a good life if you let him?
My parents were content, and others like them. I just needed time to adjust to this new part of my life. I had to let go of any romantic, grand ideas of love and be realistic.
So with one last shuddering breath, I sucked up my feelings and strolled back to the study.
I successfully dragged Alessio out to the pool.
I laughed as we swam laps, sighed contentedly as we cuddled on a sun lounger, and held his hand all the way back to London.
I made no more vows of love and kept my words of affection to a minimum.
To the outside world, we appeared like any other typical, wealthy couple in love. We put up a good front, united in our physical affection and mutual respect, with only a select few knowing the truth about our marriage.
But I was holding on to my own secret. A truth I'd buried so deep inside me that only in my quiet hour did I ever acknowledge it.
I'd never figured out how to stop loving my husband.