Chapter 12 #2
I was shocked at her candour. I had clearly gotten the wrong end of the stick. I assumed that Cesare had had affairs and moved through women like a fish cutting through water.
Katherine turned to me, her cheeks glowing pink at her slip of composure.
"I'm glad that Cesare didn't ruin Alessio.
He was so worried that his colourful love life would've damaged his desire to settle down.
But I'm thrilled that he's found true love.
Cesare thought he'd forced him into a marriage that would make him unhappy, but we can all see how much he loves you. "
Panic and denial slammed my chest. For some odd reason, Alessio's family seemed to have a vastly different idea of what our marriage was than I did.
It was no secret that our union was the joining of two powerful families, yet I had the distinct impression that they considered our match a true romantic success.
A denial hung ready on my tongue, but then my eyes cut to Alessio, and our gazes clashed and held.
Even from across the room, there was an electric heat that kept us fused.
I felt it deep within my soul, burrowed forever in my heart.
Whereas Alessio most likely felt our connection from the edge of his groin to the tip of his appendage.
Katherine caught the look that passed between us and slid me an I-told-you-so wink. Any words of refute would have been contradictory to the heated proof she just witnessed.
Luckily, I was saved from answering when Dante ran up to us, asking his mum if he could have an extra slice of cake. Alessio approached behind him, his eyes hungry on me, sliding down my slender frame in naked appreciation before he met my stare with an unashamed and lazy smile.
My lips twitched as I noted the telltale glassy glint in his eye.
My husband had overindulged to the side of tipsy; a rare oversight for him.
The last, and only time, I had seen him completely sloshed was the day he caught me in the hotel with Archie.
He locked himself in his study all day, and when I heard the door creak open, I peeked down the hall to watch him stagger to the spare room.
When I passed his study the next morning, I could still smell the stifling stench of alcohol fumes.
It had been one of the only times I'd seen my husband's mask of composure slip.
Alessio held his hand out to me, his mouth still tipped in a grin that made him look boyish and carefree. "I would like to dance with my wife."
My heart leapt at his words, and a silent thrill warmed me at hearing his command, at hearing the title he rarely uttered.
My wife
I allowed him to lead me to the dance floor, my hands naturally gliding up his chest and linking my fingers behind his neck. He brought my body flush against his, his hands spanning my waist as we swayed to some soft melody.
"You look beautiful tonight," he murmured.
"You don't look so bad yourself," I softly replied, suddenly shy.
"Are you looking forward to heading back home?" His breath was warm against my cheek. "I know my family can be a lot."
I shot him a look of soft reproach. "Nonsense! I love your family. They're so warm and…and loud."
He laughed, holding me tighter. He knew what I meant. His family were a stark contrast to mine, who were not so vocally boisterous. "Well, I'll be happy to spend time at Grafton House. Although you'll understand if I'm suddenly absent during a game of charades," he quipped.
I giggled, slapping his chest playfully. Parlour games were not Alessio's thing, although he had indulged in a rousing game of blind man’s buff at the kids' insistence.
We were quiet for a moment as we swayed together, content to enjoy each other's company. It wasn't long before the attraction sizzled between us, and I felt his fingers tighten against my waist. His lips ghosted my forehead, and I gave a soft smile.
"Speaking of family," I started, wanting a distraction from the building heat. "I had a lovely conversation with Katherine."
Alessio's powerful frame tightened at my words, and although he still held me close, I could feel his sudden distance.
"Oh?"
"I had no idea that you two grew up together."
He snorted softly, his eyes leaving mine to search the room. Their previously warm depths now held a dark void of disdain.
"I would hardly call it that. She was a hanger-on. A friend of a friend. I barely spoke to her and always thought her a quiet little thing. A few friends swore she had a crush on me, but little did I know she had her sights set on a grander prize."
I leaned back, my brow raised. "Don't be cruel," I admonished, and he shrugged carelessly.
"I admit, I did think theirs was a convenient match—an exchange of wealth and stability for the stroke of an ego," I continued. "But I think she truly loves your father. Apparently, she'd been crushing on him for quite some time."
"Yes…well. She's certainly managed to achieve what no other woman has, apart from my mother. An heir and a male spare."
"Alessio—"
"Must we talk of such things?" he growled, his head bending down to rest close to mine. "I'd much rather be discussing my lovely wife and all the wicked things I will do to her later."
And just like that, the subject was closed. We spent the rest of the night by each other's side, enjoying the company of his friends and family. Alessio discussed business with his father whilst I gossiped nearby with his sister and Katherine.
Every once in a while, my concerned gaze would pull towards Alessio. It bothered me slightly that he was so bitter over his father's marriage to Katherine. I did not doubt that part of his anger was her age, but I could also sense a coldness in my husband’s attitude towards his father.
My father, for all his faults, doted on me in his own way, and we got along well enough. I could have a long debate with him about the current state of our government or on a book we had both read. We were comfortable and warm when in each other's presence, and I knew he loved me.
With Alessio, he'd worked with his father nearly every day from a young age.
Even now, his father was supposed to be semi-retired, yet he still muddled in his current business affairs.
They should be close. Yet when I thought back on their relationship, it suddenly occurred to me that I'd never seen Alessio converse with his dad about anything other than business.
There were no jokes or hugs. No simple words of affection.
It wasn't a male thing, either, as I'd seen how warm and comfortable Alessio was with the other men in his family.
It was two in the morning when Alessio steered me towards our wing, bidding everyone a goodnight.
The party would still carry on until the wee hours of dawn, and usually Alessio would be right there alongside them.
For my husband to retire early from his family's Christmas party was completely out of character for him, but he seemed eager to leave them be.
When we made it to the privacy of our rooms, with the muted sounds of the party still following us, Alessio made swift work of my dress and bra.
His eager hands covered my bare breasts, kneading them in that roughened, desperate way that I loved.
"If we weren't with family, I would've crowded you into a corner and had my wicked way with you."
I whimpered, turning my head and meeting his mouth in a heated kiss. He tasted like whisky and sin, and everything I shouldn't want.
His hands massaged my globes, his fingers pinching at the hardened tips before he rubbed them gently.
I was lost in the feel of him, his aura of masculine pleasure burned me from the top of my head down to the tips of my toes—toes, that were curling in wanton need as his mouth touched my sensitive breasts.
Without warning, he lifted me into his arms and dumped me roughly onto the bed.
I didn't mind. As gentle as he was as a lover, he also had a side to him that was dark and desperate, where marks were left and cheeks were slapped a rosy red.
This was my favourite Alessio. Wild and uninhibited.
His tightly wound propriety flew out the window and was replaced by a crude and rough seducer.
And I bloody loved it. Because in that moment, when his mask slipped and his eyes shone with fervour, it also exposed the man I suspected was the real Alessio.
My fingers dug into his scalp as his mouth sought out the wetness between my thighs. His fingers slid inside me, helped along by my slick heat. He pumped his digits as his tongue danced around my clit.
"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck," I moaned.
"That's it, come on my tongue. Let me taste you," he urged.
I came hard and loud, but before I could recover, Alessio had me flipped and on my hands and knees. I buried my face in the mattress, tilting my hips up to give me greater access.
"Alessio!" I gasped when I felt his thumb circle that other hole. He gathered more wetness from my pussy before smearing it around my tight pucker.
I breathed deeply as I felt his stiff cock sink into my eager pussy, at the same time, his thumb breached my back entrance.
"You're always so responsive when I play with this little arse." He groaned as his hips pumped me slowly.
I turned my head, breathing deeply as he thrust hard inside me.
"Yesss, Alessio. More," I urged.
And then he was fucking me. Hard and fast. His strokes were violent, and the air around us seeped of heady sex and sweat. Moans and harsh words of encouragement echoed around as he took me higher and higher in a swirl of ecstasy.
My fingers grasped the sheet as I lurched forward in sudden jerks; his movements growing more frantic. One hand slapped a jiggling cheek as his thumb continued to rub me.
Finally, my back arched and my eyes rolled back as I careened off the edge and fell headfirst into a chasm of bliss. Alessio's answering shout of satisfaction was harsh against my ear before he collapsed on top of me.
A long time later, after he had cleaned us both and called a maid to change the soaked sheets—much to my embarrassment—I lay wide awake in the circle of his arms. A rarity for us.
Alessio was not a cuddler. After we had sex, he would press a kiss to my head before turning away to sleep.
It was…nice. More than nice, actually. I felt a deep connection to him despite the rough sex we just had.
There was something so endearing about the contrast of harsh to gentle.
It was just another layer on top of the many reasons I had fallen for this complicated man.
"Did I succeed?" Alessio's low voice suddenly asked.
I frowned, my fingers stopping their slow circle around his forearm. "In what?"
"Making you happy again.”
My breath sucked in, and I glanced up at him. His eyes held a veiled insecurity as they met mine.
"What are you talking about?"
His breath fanned my cheek, and he glanced away, a tic pulsing in his jaw.
"The last time you were happy—truly happy—was when I had brought you here for the first time. We did not arrive on the best of terms, but slowly you started to open up to me. By the time we made love for the first time, I could feel your happiness. It was tangible and real."
"Because I was," I slowly confirmed before thinking. "I was happy. Perhaps a tad naive at the time though."
I licked my lips before I mentioned the one thing I'd guarded deep in my heart.
"After we had sex, I actually thought we were going to have a real marriage. Oh, I knew you'd told me that you would keep a mistress, and I even knew that while I was in Devon you likely carried on as a single man."
His silence spoke volumes, and even though I knew he hadn't been faithful during that time, it still hurt to have it confirmed.
"I didn't care," I insisted. "I disliked you immensely and couldn't care less what you were doing those first few months.
But then, when we came to Sicily, and we started to get to know one another and grew closer…
when you asked if we could give our marriage a real go, I thought you meant that you would forsake other women. "
His groan of regret vibrated through me. "Millie—"
"It was silly of me. After all, my parents had a real marriage, yet I knew they had their own lives outside of each other. Their own lovers to amuse them."
A bitterness crawled up my chest, settling heavy on my throat. "The following morning, I came to your study and overheard you on the phone. You were making hotel plans with another woman in Paris—someone named Marguerite."
His body tensed, and he swore roughly. His arms tightened around me as I lay stiffly in the circle of them. The air of comfort and tenderness was well and truly gone.
"Millie…I don't know what to say."
"I'd obviously let romantic notions interfere with common sense. I was nineteen, you see. You were my first lover, so of course I attached unhealthy expectations to our coupling."
"You did nothing wrong, Millie. I…I should've been clearer with you. I should not have let you assume—" he cut off, and my heart sank at his words.
Alessio didn't regret continuing his affairs after we consummated our marriage. He simply regretted not putting my silly ideas of a love match to bed.
Suddenly ill, I rolled over and out of his arms. "I'm quite tired, and we have an early start. Goodnight."
I could feel the heavy cloak of his regret, but he wisely knew that I was not in the frame of mind to receive his empty words of remorse.
I felt the heat of his body behind me as he curved his large frame against my stiff back.
I didn't want to turn around. I couldn't bear to see the look of pity in his eyes.
The next morning, as the helicopter pulled away from the estate, I stared out of the window and memorised the vast landscape. After all, I wasn't sure I would ever return.