Chapter 28 Charlotte
Charlotte
Six scorching days passed, and I saw a lot of Rome and very little of Cole, which was fine by me.
I spent my days exploring bustling piazzas and eating caramel gelato fast before it melted all over my hand.
Renata did a good job of explaining the sights, even if I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was babysitting me.
At the hotel bar, I sipped a perfectly zesty and sweet cold limoncello.
“May I join you?” Cole’s clipped voice drifted to my ears.
If you must. I looked at him and shrugged.
Cole had barely spoken to me for days. He could sit wherever he wanted, and I didn’t have enough fucks left to give after the way he’d treated me on our honeymoon.
He’d been kind to me the night of the migraine, but ever since he’d treated me like a sickness to be avoided.
I hadn’t expected him to act like a real husband, but neither had I expected to feel like a huge inconvenience.
Amazing that he’d dragged himself away from his phone.
How could anyone come to the most beautiful city in the world and never leave the hotel room?
The man was a pathological workaholic. It was tragic, really.
Some mornings, I was sick to my stomach with grief, but at least I was pushing myself to keep going and explore.
He sat and ordered himself mineral water and another limoncello for me. “It’s late. Aren’t you coming to bed? What are you doing down here alone?”
“I’m hiding from my husband.”
He straightened a couple of coasters so that they were perfectly aligned before putting his glass on one. “I see.”
I shouldn’t have been so angry. He was right. I’d signed the contract. I should have known I’d be looking around this city alone. He drank his water quietly. Of course he would put the onus on me to make conversation.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I’m hiding from my husband?”
He arched a dark brow. “Not especially.”
Tough luck. You’re going to hear it anyway. “Because he’s an arsehole. He’s such an arsehole it’s literally on his Wikipedia page.”
A wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows. “You know you can’t trust these things. I’m sure it’s not verified.”
“No. I trust it. But I don’t care about him, anyway.
” I drained the rest of my limoncello and put the glass down too heavily on the bar.
“It doesn’t matter that he’s an arsehole.
I only married him for his money. He’s an excessively rich arsehole.
” And excessively sexy, but he won’t be hearing that from me. His head is already too big.
He ran his elegant fingers up through the condensation on the side of his glass. “And why do you think he’s an arsehole?”
“Everyone does.”
“Right, but why do you?”
“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
His gaze met mine. “Try.”
Fine. If that’s what he wanted. I wasn’t in a good mood tonight. Rome was wonderful, but Cole’s behavior this week and all the walking around in the heat had made me tired and irritable.
I pierced him with a sharp look. “For a start, he brings me here to this beautiful place and then he ignores me and makes me feel like I’m invisible. He hardly ever talks to me. He’d be happy with casual sex but looks physically ill at the idea of any kind of commitment.”
I could have stopped there, but all this shit-talking while he watched me moodily was cathartic, so I sucked in a breath and plowed on.
“He’s rude and patronizing. He acts jealous and possessive even though he couldn’t care less about me. Years ago, he ghosted me and treated me like dirt. I thought I loved him once, but I was just a deluded kid. A long time ago. He’s never cared about me.”
He turned his face away. His clipped, unfeeling voice twisted like ice around my heart. “I’m surprised you married him if he’s that bad.”
“Like I said, he’s very rich, and everything ends. Anything with an end can be endured.”
His voice dripped with icy disdain. “Is that how you feel? Your husband is something to be endured?”
“Yes.”
His disaffected gaze roved over me. “Pity you’re stuck with him. I just hope he’s paying you well.” He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket. “I have to go back to work.”
Of course you do. He turned his back on me and disappeared.