No, he was more than she’d ever expected to have in her life.
A week ago, he had surprised her by joining her on the flight to New York, even though she knew he’d been busy with his own global interests.
He’d been incredibly patient when Charlie had refused to even meet his gaze, reassuring Alex that he knew how to handle the little boy.
He had also made time to spend an entire day with Charlie and her, arranging an impromptu picnic at Central Park, playing the tourist with them. At the end of the day, Charlie had asked Vincenzo when he’d visit again.
“What’s important to you is important to me,” he’d said simply when she had inquired.
Except the Brunettis.
Even a single mention of either Greta, or Leo or Massimo, and instantly, he transformed into a man Alex didn’t understand. A man that she was increasingly afraid for. How long could a person sustain such hatred, such anger and not be changed by it? When it was finally over, what would be left for her?
Alex sighed and poured out a glass of water when the private elevator pinged behind her. Like a teenage girl, her heart beat faster, her skin prickled with anticipation as footsteps echoed down the sitting room and then into the bedroom where she stood by the French doors.
She hadn’t seen him in four days. A meager four days, and yet it felt like a lifetime. “Hey,” she said, leaning her wobbling knees against the cold glass, her throat already parched again.
He stood still, framed by the rounded archway and suddenly the distance between them felt like a chasm. A chasm he was creating between them.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, knowing that she was overreacting and yet unable to stop the thread of fear unspooling in her belly.
“You said you wouldn’t interfere in this anymore. You said you’d chosen your path, that you chose me.”
“I did.”
“Then what do you call all the maneuverings you’ve set into motion behind my back? I can’t leave you alone for a few days? Cristo, no wonder Antonio thinks I’m whipped.”
“What maneuverings? What are you talking about?” She had never seen him so angry and his anger brought out hers. Suddenly, the magic she’d found in the city with him seemed to evaporate right in front of her eyes. “Also, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t discuss our marriage with that bitter old man.”
His eyes narrowed. “That bitter old man is the only father figure I’ve ever had. That bitter old man is the only reason I stand before you as a successful businessman instead of a criminal languishing behind bars.”
As quickly as it came, her anger got swept away. She reached him and clasped his jaw in her hands. He hadn’t shaved in a while, and the stubble was a raspy purr against her palm. Dark smudges cradled his eyes. And all she wanted was to kiss away the bitterness from those proud features. “I forget how hard you’ve worked to get to this place.”
He stiffened. “Do not pity me, Alessandra.”
She smiled, her chest swimming with a most peculiar cocktail of emotions. “Antonio deserves my respect if nothing else. I’m sorry for speaking of him in such a manner. But—” she chose her words carefully “—he’s determined to tether you to the past so tightly, V…” She pressed her mouth against his, desperate for a taste of him. Every word Antonio said to him, every meeting pulled Vincenzo away from the possibility of the future they could share. From finally releasing all the bitterness and anger he’d nursed for so long. From her. “And it terrifies the hell out of me.”
That he didn’t offer her words of reassurance made her belly swoop. Fear coated her skin with a cold chill and she started shivering.
There was change on the horizon—good and bad—so many chances that she could be split open and everything in her urged to run away again.
Instead, she embraced the fear and ache. She tightened her arms around him and let the vulnerability wash over her. Drown her. The lazy flick of his tongue against hers, the solid feel of him in her arms, the scent of him in her blood anchored her amidst her own fears. Rooted her.
Could the very man who might break her also give her strength to stay strong?
She’d have laughed at the question if it wasn’t her heart in the balance.
His hands untangled hers from him. “You told Leonardo and Massimo about Antonio, about all the others.”
“I didn’t think it was a secret.”
“I was a fool to believe that you would…” He moved away, his face set in tense lines, his mouth pinched.
As if she had truly betrayed him.
Suddenly, she felt as if she’d been given a painful insight into his thoughts.
Was that what Vincenzo expected of her? That she would betray him, abandon him at some point? That she would simply choose to walk away from all this?
But instead of feeling anger that he should trust her so little, Alex realized something else. This wasn’t about his trust in her, this was about his own inability to trust. These were the scars left by a painful childhood where he hadn’t had anyone to depend on. Anyone in his corner.
Her tone softened. “What Antonio wants for you is not healthy. So of course he’ll paint this as some kind of deception on my part.”
“I’m not discussing this with you.”
“So don’t,” she said, suddenly angry herself. “We will add it to the list of things I’m not allowed to mention if I want to keep the delicate boat of our marriage from capsizing.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m not allowed to even
