Chapter 10
Millie
I sighed as I flipped my phone face down and returned my gaze to my open laptop.
My fingers hovered over the keys as I tried to force my attention back to my coursework.
It was coming up to Christmas break, and classes were ramping up to fit in as much as possible before our two weeks off.
If it weren't for the fact that I voice-recorded my classes and re-read my notes every night, I would be seriously concerned about my university placement.
My head was clouded with so much personal strife that I didn't know whether I was coming or going.
And now, just when I had my concentration back, Alessio decided to text me at the most inopportune time, wrecking my rhythm and clogging my thoughts with confusion.
Because his message both annoyed and thrilled me.
It was the same mix of emotions that flooded me when I arrived home early today from class, only to be greeted by Alessio. He'd come home to have lunch with me before going back to the office, and I hated that spike of high in my chest when he flashed me that lazy smile.
But, as with most things concerning Alessio, that high was temporary, and I was immediately wary of his intentions. Especially since I'd stopped adding my class times to our shared calendar, so I had no idea how he knew my schedule.
He'd also been home early nearly every night for dinner, but instead of being deluded into thinking Alessio was finally carving out time for me, I simply wondered just how long his attentiveness would last.
I didn't believe in coincidences, so the fact that he was back to playing the dutiful and considerate husband after he discovered Archie and me at The Glen did not go unnoticed. Because hadn't he behaved the same when Annabelle had ambushed me?
Back then, I'd soaked up all his attention, cautiously excited and naive to hope that we were finally turning a new corner in our marriage.
Only for Alessio to abruptly pull back and return to his old ways.
Those weeks of darkness, when I'd just started to bask in the small ray of light he'd bestowed me, had been a hard blow to recover from.
It had been two weeks since he'd caught me at The Glen, and we hadn't talked about it since. When we arrived home after an uncomfortable and silent ride, I'd fully expected him to dissect every step I'd taken that led me there.
But to my surprise, he quickly absconded to his office and had stayed there all night. Day two hadn't been any different, but by the third day, he had emerged from whatever mood he'd been in and carried on as usual.
My cheeks heated when I thought back to that pivotal moment—the moment I stepped onto the foyer feeling all types of conflicted—and hearing Alessio's shocked and guttural voice.
At first, I couldn't actually believe that he was there.
It was just so random; he had no connection to Wimbledon or The Glen, the hotel wasn't one of his, and it wouldn't be the type of establishment he would stay at.
It was a three-star hotel at best, and Alessio made no secret about preferring the finer things in life.
Once I'd established that, no, I wasn't imagining things and that it really was my husband standing there looking like a strong wind could knock him over, disbelief soon gave way to horror and shame.
I couldn't even have an affair right. My second attempt at an undercover rendezvous, and I was rumbled. By my husband. The embarrassment and guilt still wouldn't leave me.
Realising that I'd been staring at a dark screen for fifteen minutes, I quickly snapped out of my morose thoughts and slammed my laptop shut. Alessio would be home soon, and I needed to shower and change.
By the time I came down again, it was just after six.
"Millie?"
My heart kicked up a traitorous beat as I casually strolled into the dining room to greet my husband.
His dark eyes glimmered in appreciation as he took in my appearance. "Are you hungry?"
I wasn't really, but I knew Alessio was trying to extend an olive branch. If only I hadn't seen this act before.
"Yes, I suppose I could eat something. I did enquire with Rose about dinner, but she said—"
"Ah, yes." He rubbed the back of his neck, and for the first time since I'd known him, he looked almost nervous. "I've actually sorted dinner."
My brow furrowed. "You…did?"
"Well, I didn't cook it myself. I had Rose organise something a little special for us."
"Oh." I racked my brain, trying to recall whether I'd missed an important date. There were no birthdays to celebrate, and it definitely was not our anniversary.
I trailed behind him, curiosity hooking me as he made his way to the terrace. My brow raised, and I slowed my steps when I spied the elaborate set-up.
There was a small table in the middle of the patio, adorned with a white tablecloth.
A small vase and a single candle had been placed in the centre, and a silver ice bucket with a sealed wine bottle was positioned to the side of the table.
Two large heaters were glowing red, facing the table.
A soft tartan-patterned throw was also neatly folded over one chair for added warmth.
"Wow." It was the only word I could muster because I was genuinely stunned. "What's the occasion?"
He looked a little disappointed at my lacklustre response, but he still surged forward and pulled out my throw-covered seat.
He stared at me with an expectant look, so with a murmured thanks, I took my seat.
Heat surrounded me, and I quickly grabbed the corners of the throw as he curled it around my shoulders.
"No reason," he responded as he folded his long limbs into the chair opposite. "You've been studying so hard, and I've been working long hours. I thought we could use tonight to reconnect."
"Oh." Despite my guards being high, a pretty flush climbed my cheeks. "Well, this is all very nice. Thank you."
He picked up the bottle of wine from the ice bucket and, with expert hands, I watched him open it and pour the expensive liquid into two glasses.
I clasped the stem he extended and immediately downed two large gulps, hoping to calm my nerves.
The crisp taste went down smoothly, and it was a great effort not to down the whole thing.
Nerves consumed my stomach, a feeling that was unusual around Alessio. How many times had I sat opposite my husband and enjoyed a romantic meal? Okay, not that often, but more than enough times not to feel awkward and uncomfortable around him. I needed to get out of my head.
Meanwhile, Alessio made no effort to drink his wine. Instead, he stared at his glass with a thoughtful expression. I took advantage of his private musings to study his features beneath my long lashes, noting the subtle changes.
The extra lines around his mouth made me wonder whether he was burning the candle at both ends in his effort to be home early with me.
He was usually gone by six in the morning and stayed in his study until close to midnight.
His thick hair was also slightly longer, but only by an inch.
Anyone else wouldn't have noticed the small differences, only someone who knew him intimately, inside and out.
My mouth tightened, and I glanced away. What did that make me? A foolish, obsessed wife who had fallen helplessly in love with a husband who would likely never return her feelings.
The silence stretched between us, and I made no effort to fill it.
Despite Alessio's change of behaviour, our marriage felt even more fractured than before.
Was this what a marriage in our world was supposed to feel like?
Yes, Alessio and I hadn't gotten off to the greatest start, but once we decided to give our marriage a go, we quickly found our footing and fell naturally into a rhythm that suited us. Comfortable. Passionate.
Easy.
There were no demands, no awkwardness. I simply looked at our synced calendars and planned accordingly. A business dinner? I memorised the names of his associates and their wives. A charity gala? I had his suit laid out and a donation placed in our name.
He rarely took me on business trips, and I never enquired about going. Mainly because I couldn't bear to listen to him fumble around for an excuse as to why I couldn't accompany him. Deep down, I knew that my husband conducted his clandestine affairs on business trips abroad.
When he returned from his trips, Rose, our housekeeper, unpacked his suitcase.
Of course, there were times when I was tempted to rummage through his belongings when he came home.
Like a suspicious and desperate wife, I wondered whether he kept a box of condoms tucked in a pocket, or perhaps I would catch the sweet scent of a fragrance that did not belong.
A red stain on his collar, maybe? Every cliche proof of an unfaithful spouse had ruminated in my mind more than once.
But in the end, what would be the point? One could argue that I had no room for complaints or demands. Alessio had been honest with me from the start, and even if he hadn't, it was understood that in our world, men could have their lovers whilst wives looked the other way.
Alessio finally took a drink of his wine, the smooth column of his throat moving as he swallowed. A memory came to me suddenly, of the last time we made love. I'd kissed that strong throat while he groaned in pleasure, his hands gripping my hips as I slowly rode him.
The noise of the patio doors opening interrupted my fantasy. Rose appeared, carrying two plates, her plump face wide with a smile. She set down our starters: twice-baked goat cheese soufflés with apple and walnut salad.
"Oh, this looks absolutely stunning. Thank you, Rose."
"You're welcome, Mrs Ferrante." she beamed. "Mr Ferrante."