The sun had set during their drive and the interior of the car was faintly lit.
“We have been on display for three whole weeks now, ever since the news broke. I thought a quiet night would do us some good. There’s no pressure to be in the spotlight tonight.”
“I would like advance notice about these things. Especially if I’m to appear in good humor.”
“I asked you for one evening, Alessandra, for an important thing.”
“It would be nice if things that were important to me were valued just as equally by you.”
“Cristo! What the hell’s bothering you?”
“There are certain things I can’t forgive, Vincenzo. I just can’t.”
“Yes, cara. And we’re both constantly testing those certain limits, aren’t we?”
“Everything you do with me is for the media—I understand that. Your damned PR team used that kiss at the nightclub to its full extent. To put a romantic spin on the whole thing. Used it to cloud the very real threat you pose to Leo and Massimo.”
“This whole charade was your plan. Do you think that I forget for one moment that you came back to me for your own damned reasons, however noble they are? That not for a single hour will you forget your ties to that blasted family? You’re the one who wanted to show the world that you’re settling down into a life of domesticity and stability, bella.”
“Yes. And it’s enough that we’re parading ourselves in front of this media circus. That we pretend as if we can’t keep our hands off each other. But some things are not for public consumption. Some things are not…”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“The picture of our wedding. The only one we have. The one I asked that passing local to click. Neither your PR team nor your wonderful assistant asked me for permission before they released that picture to the press.”
His disbelief showed in the jerk of his head. “Alessandra—”
“You entered this marriage for God knows what reasons of your own. I have tried to put those behind me. I’ve convinced myself that what I want doesn’t matter anymore. That this is all for Charlie. I have tucked away my foolish hopes.
“But that picture…it’s precious to me. That moment was real, at least it was to me. In fact, it was the most real moment of my life, and you used it to manipulate the world.
“You stole it from me.”
* * *
“You stole it from me.”
Alessandra’s words echoed inside Vincenzo’s head as he made the rounds on the beautiful, moonlit terrace of Antonio’s small house and greeted acquaintances and friends he hadn’t seen in a long time. Even in the dark of the car’s interior, he’d seen the glint of hurt in those beautiful eyes. The catch in her words.
Reminding him that beneath the fiery woman who’d strutted so confidently across the runway, beneath the woman that challenged him at every step, beneath the mantle of responsibility she’d put on for her half brother, his wife was vulnerable.
To him, his actions, his words.
And that very quality he’d wanted to see in her sat uncomfortably in his chest. Weighting him down.
It made him want to banish the hurt from her eyes. Made him want to protect her from anything in the world that could cause her pain. Including him.
Dio santo! If that wasn’t messed up, he didn’t know what was.
He turned to look at the tall, elegant figure of his wife, standing amidst a group of people, a soft smile playing around her lips. The same lips that had whispered such provocative words in his ear, pushing him to the edge of his control.
She was tallest of the group, and the most beautiful, by a wide margin. And yet when one of the teenagers Vincenzo had known for a while, Marco, approached her and said something, she nodded and laughed. Boxing, they were talking about boxing, he knew.
She handed off her wineglass to someone else, got into position with an animated smile and showed Marco her mean right hook. The toned curve of her arm, the flash of thigh as she pulled the inner skirt up to stretch her legs into a fighting stance, the utter joy in her eyes as she ducked Marco’s left fist… She looked incredibly sexy.
He could see the people he worked with reassess their opinion of her. Could sense their shock as they realized there was so much more to Alessandra than her looks.
“She’s not what I expected from you,” Antonio said, handing Vincenzo a glass of the bubbly champagne that they had been toasted with earlier.
Vincenzo looked at the man who had given him a sense of purpose when he’d been lost. Not just moral support. Antonio had provided seed money when he’d been starting out. He’d helped Vincenzo go from strength to strength. He owed everything he had to the older man. But… Some things, Vincenzo considered private. Off-limits. Even to Antonio.
It was the most real moment of my life.
Suddenly, he understood what Alessandra meant by that, and regret filled him.
He took a sip of his champagne. Laughter and shouts surrounded him as Alessandra’s fist gently connected with another youth’s angular chin. “What did you expect?”
Antonio shrugged, his weathered face splitting into a smile that didn’t really reach his eyes. “An international supermodel, Vincenzo! Parties, and designer dresses and the high life…all sparkle and no substance.”
Vincenzo didn’t like hearing Alessandra reduced to being some one-dimensional bimbo. “Alessandra’s more than just a supermodel. Give her a chance, Antonio.”
“All of us fall victim to stereotyping, si?” The older man laughed at his own joke. “Hearing that you married is shocking in itself. You never even hinted at wanting to settle down in all these years.”
“No, it was never on my mind.”
“If I
