Chapter 10 #2
She bowed as if she were a servant on Downton Abbey, and Alessio and I exchanged an amused smile.
At seventy, Rose was from a time gone by that strictly adhered to a more formal display of servitude.
Despite encouraging her to use my first name, she stubbornly refused.
At least she'd stopped calling me Ma'am.
I was much too young and ordinary for that.
"Thank you, Rose. You've indeed outdone yourself," Alessio complimented.
I picked up my knife and fork and started to tuck in.
We were quiet for a moment as we enjoyed our delicious food, yet I was hyper aware of the man in front of me.
Every scrape of his knife, every lift of his fork to his mouth, and the way he intermittently took a small sip of his wine or wiped at his mouth with a napkin.
"How are your studies?" Alessio asked once we'd finished and Rose had collected our plates.
I leaned back in my chair as I surveyed him over my wine glass. He'd never really taken an interest in my coursework. A part of me wondered whether he thought this was just a passing fancy of mine to fill time.
"They're going well," I slowly replied, keeping the information purposefully minimal. "Although I am looking forward to the Christmas break."
Alessio nodded, shaking out his hand and fixing a cufflink. "As am I. We'll head to Sicily the day after you break and stay for a week. But don't worry, we'll be back to spend Christmas at your parents' estate."
I cocked a brow at this brand-new information. "You're taking a whole week off or…?"
His lips lifted. "Two weeks," he clarified, shocking me further. He shot me a roguish grin. "What's the point in being the boss if I can't take time off when I feel like it?"
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "Well, yes, but Christmas is the busiest time of year for your industry. Last year, you only stuck around for Christmas lunch before you flew out to Paris that evening."
He was quiet for a moment as he swirled his drink around, a pensive look marring his handsome features. "I'm learning to let go of the reins a bit. I don't want to burn out too young."
"You're barely thirty," I pointed out.
"Yes, and my father couldn't wait to bow out once I'd learned the ropes and was capable. I took over a lot earlier than he did, and I've worked twice as hard."
Stunned, I searched Alessio's taut features as his gaze remained on his almost-empty glass. His voice was steeped in resentment and heavy in mental exhaustion. I had no idea the strain he'd been under.
Rose chose that moment to serve our main course, and I cursed the interruption.
I wanted to pick at his last comment, to understand his world a bit more.
But from the way Alessio greeted Rose with a welcoming smile and complimented her on dinner, I knew he wasn't receptive to diving into the topic anymore.
The scent of succulent char-grilled lamb rump with tomato and feta salad tickled my nostrils, and my stomach twisted with hunger, momentarily distracting me. We fell into another shared silence as we ate, although this time, the cloak of awkwardness that soured our entrée had lifted slightly.
"How about your father?" Alessio asked as we were halfway through our meal. "I take it he wasn't present much during your childhood?"
I placed my fork down and dabbed at my lips with my napkin. I was surprised yet pleased that Alessio wanted to continue our previous conversation. I had the slight impression that talking about his father made him uncomfortable.
We were pivoting into territory that stripped a layer off our artificial marriage. Alessio and I had discussed many things, including our upbringing, but it was mainly about our shared knowledge stemming from our respective aristocratic backgrounds.
"Hmm…he was definitely a workaholic. He was barely home for tea and worked long hours, even during the holidays. It was usually just mum and me and the occasional getaway to our holiday homes in Lake Como or the Alps."
I never realised just how similar my mother's marriage was to mine.
I'd always thought that their marriage was good.
Not the greatest love story ever told, but good enough.
My mother made no demands; she had her charitable organisations that she was a patron of, and her hobbies of tennis and horse riding.
She ignored my father's affairs, and I was certain she'd had a few of her own.
They were friendly and affectionate toward each other, and I did not doubt that there was a great deal of respect between them.
But for the most part, they led pretty separate lives—more so, now that I was out of the house, and perhaps they did not need to continue the pretence.
I'd wanted more from my marriage with Alessio, and in my head, even though we started out as a business merger, I still thought our marriage was above my parents' cold union.
But perhaps I was the only delusional one in this relationship.
"And you still have no interest in carrying on your father's work? You're more than welcome to spend a day with me if you'd like to see how you feel."
I flicked him an amused smile, knowing he was joking. I still retained thirty per cent of shares as per our marriage contract, and if I wanted to sit my arse in on a board meeting and look pretty, I could. But I was happy to be a silent partner.
"No, thank you. I'm not cut out for the business world. I find you need to carry a little ruthlessness to be successful—not in a horrible way, mind you! But I don't have the stomach for it."
He watched me with dark eyes that glittered in the candlelight. I knew I hadn't offended him with my remark. It took a lot to ruffle my husband's feathers.
My smile was thin as I accepted a refill of wine. The alcohol was certainly going to my head as my lips were loosening.
Dinner was swept away with a quick flourish, and a beautiful strawberry panna cotta was served alongside a dessert wine.
Conversation soon moved to politics. It was something we were both passionate about, and with the current world climate, we were painfully aware of our privileged position.
It was one of those things that had drawn me close to Alessio.
Despite his…ruthlessness, he had compassion and was extremely generous to those less fortunate.
He also took an outspoken stance against atrocities happening around the world, which made some of his peers squirm.
We moved seamlessly through topics until that final blanket of tension shifted away, and we were able to laugh and joke with one another.
After our plates were cleared, we sat for a while and continued to enjoy each other's company.
Because I truly was having fun with Alessio.
Our easy banter and undertones of flirtatious quips came fast and plenty.
We volleyed off each other, and I appreciated that he found no offence when I spoke my mind.
Too often, the men of my world preferred their women to be silent hosts and agreeable dolls.
Knowledgeable about politics, economics, and art, but at the bare minimum, never to outshine them.
Alessio held no such sexist beliefs and listened avidly to my opinion, and vice versa.
Finally, after topics were exhausted and another bottle of wine was popped, I felt confident enough—fuelled by the good wine, of course—to broach a subject we needed to address.
"Alessio," I hesitantly started. "What were you doing at The Glen that day?"
The question was enough to squash the pleasant atmosphere we fought so hard to create and maintain. A part of me regretted asking it because we could no longer go on pretending. But at the same time, I didn't want to continue with the charade that everything was and would be fine.
I also wondered if he was having me followed, and that's how he knew. I had a driver, Gordon, who took me to uni in the morning, and I usually dismissed him in favour of taking the tube home. Was he reporting my movements?
Alessio's jaw tightened before he lifted his glass and downed the remaining contents.
"Damon knows the owner," he rasped. "He grew up next door to him and his wife. The hotel's been in his family for generations, but, unfortunately and unsurprisingly, it's now bleeding money. Damon asked me to meet him as a favour, to see if I could impart some advice."
My tense shoulders came down at his explanation. "That was nice of you. I know you didn't need to personally meet up with him. You could've passed it onto one of your hotel managers to inspect."
He stared at his drink for a long moment, his gaze dark and brooding. "Yes, well, Damon is like a brother to me. I was happy to help."
I stared at his profile a while, wondering whether we would have a real conversation about this, or whether it was another part of our marriage we were going to sweep under the rug.
"I'm sorry for mentioning The Glen. I was just curious what you were doing there that day, that's all. It was just such a big coincidence," I probed.
"Yes, and not at all a happy one."
I flinched at his hardened tone but didn't cower under his dark mood.
Alessio kept his gaze on his empty glass for a few moments before he slowly said, "I wanted to talk to you about that."
I sat up straight, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. I often wondered if he even cared about what I'd done. Or whether he was simply annoyed that he had to be confronted by it.
"I want to close our marriage."
I blanched, stunned at his words. "Like…like, divorce?"
Alessio's startled eyes met mine.
"No." His voice had risen a few octaves before he cleared his throat. "No. Not a divorce. I meant…I no longer want an open marriage. In fact, I regret even insisting on one. I want this marriage to be just between us. You and me. No third party."
"You mean a fourth party," I flatly corrected.
"What?"
"A third party suggests that only one of us has someone." I gave him a sardonic smile. "And we both know that's not the case."
His face darkened, and he pointedly ignored my barb. "What I'm trying to say is, I do not want that for us anymore. I will no longer take a mistress. I will be faithful only to you. And you will also stop seeing…him.”
His stare was unwavering, daring me to object. The edges of his mouth tugged slightly in a smirk, and I saw the same answering smugness in his eyes.
"No."
He flinched, his subtle arrogance vanishing. "Millie—"
I scrunched up my napkin and dumped it onto the table. "This is just so bloody typical! You get to have multiple affairs during our marriage, but as soon as you find out that I've had them—"
"Them?"
"You suddenly want to be faithful. Well, too bloody bad, Alessio! I'm sorry you saw me with him, but it was a bleeding shot in the dark coincidence. It won't happen again."
I shoved my chair back and stormed towards the double doors, preparing to escape him in a blaze of furious flair.
"Archibald Gareth Heath."
I stopped in my tracks, my hand pausing on the cold door handle as his voice reached me. The words were low and threatening, enough to send a sliver of fear down my spine. I slowly turned around to face him.
"What did you say?"
He took his time stalking towards me, his movements sleek and sure, like a predator who was about to claim his prey. He wore no expression, simply a mask of indifference.
"Archibald Gareth Heath," he flatly repeated.
"Twenty-two years old, born in Blackpool to Maureen and Kurt Heath.
The family moved to Tunbridge Wells when he was three.
He has a younger brother who is currently taking a gap year teaching English in Thailand.
His parents took over the Bluebell Bar five years ago and currently live in the attached apartment.
Their dream is to run a pub and accommodation, and they have hopes to buy the property from the landlord soon. "
"What—"
"You stop seeing Archibald, aka Archie," he spat out, "and I'll leave him alone. Continue—and I will find out—and I will buy the Bluebell Bar out from under his parents and kick them out without a second thought."
A shallow laugh escaped me as I searched his face for any sign of jest. My blood ran cold at the seriousness I spied. The rigid posture, the firm mouth turned white, the flare of his nostrils, and the narrowed glare of his once-warm brown eyes. Alessio was definitely not joking.
"You-you hypocritical bastard," I finally choked out. My body shook as disbelief and rage tore through me.
Alessio simply gave me a thin smile. "You may not have the stomach for ruthlessness, my dear wife, but I do."
With that, he turned on his heel and left.