Chapter Six
Mimi hated the idea of leaving the close-by hotel when Luca had to stay in the hospital.
Her suite at a nearby DiCarlo hotel, which was a two-minute walk, was close to paradise.
But it was nearly a month since Luca had been born. The team of doctors had assured Renzo that her own medical needs had been stabilized and that she should continue recuperating in a more restful and comfortable environment.
Although she thought it was Renzo who wanted her in a more comfortable environment.
Because her new husband was an arrogant, high-handed billionaire who thought he knew the best for her, he’d deemed that Mimi would leave the nearby hotel and move into his penthouse. And hadn’t seen fit to inform her until the last minute.
She had thought they were going for a quick boat ride.
Instead, it was only as the sleek wooden motorboat eased toward the dock that Renzo deigned to inform her she was leaving the hotel.
Trapped in the awe-inspiring sight ahead of her—the building was a striking blend of modern luxury and Venetian tradition with its smooth sandstone facade gleaming in the setting sun—she had stared open-mouthed. It was close to the Grand Canal but far removed from its touristy chaos.
The soft slap of water against the dock mingled with the distant hum of gondoliers’ songs and the occasional clatter of footsteps on cobblestones.
The air carried a blend of salt from the lagoon, the faint metallic tang of the boat’s engine, and the floral sweetness wafting from planters lining the building’s private landing.
It annoyed her that he was making her decisions for her, and yet there was too much to take in. Especially after being ensconced amid the cloying sterility of the hospital and the hotel for a month.
The staggering luxury of his home only increased her discomfort as they rode the private elevator to the penthouse. When the doors opened, she got lost in the view once again.
The city stretched out before her through floor-to-ceiling windows, a breathtaking mix of shimmering water, Gothic architecture, and the golden glow of streetlights reflected on the canals.
Renzo dropped her little overnight bag on the sleek coffee table, his tall frame at ease in the starkly modern surroundings. “Welcome to your new home, bella,” he said calmly, holding his hand out to her. “I would carry you over the threshold, but I think you’re not in the mood.”
So he knows that I am angry?
Mimi stared at his hand with its long fingers and square nails. As familiar as her own. The memory of how gently and carefully those large hands could hold their son tugged at her heartstrings even now.
The sight of their tiny son cradled against his broad chest was fast turning into her favorite thing in the world.
For some foolish reason that wasn’t based in reality, she had assumed that Renzo would falter at holding such a fragile newborn or that, like some of her friends’ partners, he would balk at being a hands-on father.
But nothing was off-limits in his role as an attentive, first-time father, and if possible, her ovaries had melted at how easily he slipped into the role.
The idea of building a true connection to him and nurturing their new family for real had seeded deep inside her heart, despite her struggles to keep herself outside the fake dream she was living in.
As a husband, though…she didn’t know what to expect from him.
She knew that he had been rocked to his core that Luca had been born early and that there were complications with his birth. But all along, he’d been there for her, every step of the way, every hour.
In the last few days, however, he had retreated.
The smushing hugs and the quick kisses at her temple and the wrapping his arm around her…he had touched her less and less. And the realization that she missed it hit her smack in the face.
Was it because she wasn’t a near-hysterical, needy woman anymore? How could she be angry that he was making decisions for her and yet want him to hold her as if she were precious for as long as possible?
He’d also been gone more and more, work diverting his attention from her and even Luca.
It was exactly what she had prepared for, what she had known would happen, and yet it left her restless, distressed even. Ridiculous because this was real life, and he owed her nothing more than what he’d already given her.
“I know you’re angry with me, cara.” Renzo’s voice gentled as if he were dealing with a wounded animal that might take a bite out of his hand any moment.
He moved to stand by the windows, watching her with those sharp, assessing eyes.
“But you’re so exhausted that you’re weaving where you stand. Won’t you come in?”
She didn’t miss that he had modified the command into a request. Feeling like a recalcitrant child, Mimi walked in, her footsteps barely audible on the polished wood floors.
The living room was a study in understated luxury—sleek Italian furniture, a low glass coffee table, and abstract art that somehow complemented the ancient city spread out below them. A wide terrace wrapped around the penthouse, with glimpses of the glittering lagoon visible even from inside.
Exhausted wasn’t the right word for the feeling in her body. She felt…empty. Hollow. Her chest ached with grief she couldn’t explain.
“I’ve arranged for everything you might need,” he said, gesturing subtly around the penthouse.
“There’s a chef on call who will deliver freshly made meals four times a day.
A nurse if you feel unwell, a lactation specialist to help you pump.
And then there’s the housekeeper, though she won’t disturb you unless you call for her.
There’s also a nutritionist, a mobility coach, and—”
“Are you that desperate for me to get back into shape?” she said, infuriated by his directions.
The effort he’d gone to should have comforted her.
Yet the clinical perfection of it all—the penthouse, the arrangements, the instructions—only deepened the sense of isolation.
“Am I to transform myself into the perfect trophy wife suitable for the name DiCarlo?”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” he said, nostrils flaring. “The doctors recommended that you would spring back better if you incorporate light exercise and stretching. I wanted you to have an expert so that you don’t hurt yourself. As for turning you into something you’re not…”
“I don’t want your bloody experts, Renzo,” she snapped. Did he have to remind her that she’d never fit into this sophisticated life? And why the hell did that hurt so much? “Take me back. You had no right to bring me here without consulting me.”
He moved closer, tension radiating from him. And for a reason she couldn’t fathom, Mimi ate up the tension. She liked that he was at least discomfited by all this. God, was she turning into a drama queen like her mother and Pia? Why did she feel this unnerving urge to shatter his self-composure?
“I tried to bring it up,” Renzo said. “You refused to discuss it.”
“Because I want to stay back at the hotel where I’m close to him.
” Her voice broke on a catch, her breath coming in harsh pants.
Every inch of her ached, her muscles felt heavy, and yet nothing could touch the monumental void in her chest. She knew she was clinging to her infant son and yet, suddenly, it felt like there was no place for her anywhere else.
“I don’t want to be here.” She covered the few steps between them, thrusting herself into his space with a belligerence she’d never displayed with anyone in her life. “Or was the hotel bill becoming too much for you?” It sounded ridiculous to even her own ears.
His sigh, more than anything, made a spark of shame flicker in her chest. “You will not provoke me tonight, bella.” He lifted his hand to her face, seemed to think better of it, and pulled away.
“It isn’t good for you anymore at the hospital, Mimi.
The nurses told me you were constantly obsessed with his stats.
They said you raised the alarm a few times because you were worried that his breathing might have changed.
You even wander over there in the middle of the night. ”
A prickling heat behind her eyes made the vision of him shimmer. God, she was so tired of crying. How could her tear ducts make more of them? “So they were spying on me for you?”
His hands clasped her upper arms, his grip firm and yet somehow gentle. Tight lines fanned out from his eyes and his mouth. The shimmering vision solidified, the deep trenches exhaustion had carved into his face becoming clearer.
While she’d been obsessing over Luca, Renzo had been working long days and nights, only stopping to spend time with her and Luca.
And not for one moment had he shown even a glimpse of impatience or tiredness.
His strength, both mental and physical, seemed to be relentless.
The small spark of shame in her chest burned brighter.
“No, bella. They are worried about your mental health, as am I. Luca will come home one of these days, and I’m sure you want to be recovered and well for him, sì? Staying there isn’t helping you, Mimi.”
“What if something happens to him while I’m gone? While I’m sitting here in the lap of luxury sipping some disgusting green juice?”
Renzo tilted his head, his brows drawing together. “That’s only your fear speaking. You said yourself how much you trusted the neonatal specialist.”
“I will go mad here, Renzo. I can’t—”
“Give me three days and nights, cara.” The tips of his fingers pressed against her clavicle on both sides.
And the touch, more than his words, pulled her from the edge of hysteria.
“If you can’t bear it, I’ll take you back.
And in the meantime, we will visit him three times a day.
If I am assured that you’re eating and sleeping properly. ”