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ALEX ROLLED OFF her in a lightning-quick movement and Milly scrambled off the bed and raced to the bathroom, barely managing to shut the door before she heaved into the toilet. She should not have drunk that champagne. She’d never had a head or, for that matter, a stomach for alcohol, and the tension of the last hour had made it worse.
She knelt by the toilet, her cheek resting on the rim, feeling more wretched than she’d ever thought it was possible to feel. She hadn’t expected violins and roses as Anna had wanted, of course she hadn’t. She considered herself a practical person. And yet that...that...
That had been her wedding night. She sat up slowly, her body aching in strange places. She hadn’t expected to feel so overwhelmed. She understood why Alex had called it the marital act. It had certainly felt binding. But she’d wanted to be touched, and caressed, and kissed, and none of that had happened, except for a few exquisite moments at the beginning, moments that she now treasured because she feared they would be so rare. Why had Alex stopped? Should she have done something differently? Perhaps if she had, he would have kept on with the lovely kisses and caresses her heart and body both cried out for.
Instead, those tantalising flickers of pleasure she’d felt when Alex had touched her had never had the opportunity to fan into flame. She felt unsated, a restless ache at her centre that she knew only Alex could satisfy, and yet, despite those wonderful moments that had given her such hope as well as pleasure, it seemed as if he didn’t want to. Didn’t desire her, at least not enough to prolong what had happened between them. Should she really be surprised? He’d never indicated in any way that he responded to her physically, little mouse that she was.
Milly drew a ragged breath and then reached for the thick terrycloth robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, grateful to swathe herself in its soft warmth. She dreaded leaving the bathroom and facing Alex again, but she knew she couldn’t stay in here for ever.
She rinsed her mouth, combed her fingers through her hair, and gave her bleak reflection a wry look. Surely things could only get better. If they were able to get worse...but, no.
They’d talk, she decided. She’d tell him that she didn’t care about romance, but the bedroom side of things could surely be better. What man wouldn’t want to hear that?
One who doesn’t desire you.
Flinching at the thought, she took a deep breath and then opened a door and stepped into the bedroom.
It was empty.
Milly gazed around the space, taking in the rumpled duvet, the single candle still burning. Alex was gone...and so were his clothes. Her stomach cramped at the thought. Was that it? She hadn’t thought they were going to cuddle all night, of course, but...
She’d expected a little more than this. She had to keep giving herself reality checks, because, no matter what she told herself, she still came up against disappointment again and again. He didn’t think of her with romance or even affection. He didn’t desire her physically. When was she going to get it through her thick skull?
She sat on the edge of the bed, still unwilling to let go of the frail thread of hope. Perhaps he’d gone to get some food or drink, or...something. Surely he wouldn’t just disappear.
Except he had. She waited for half an hour before she acknowledged he wasn’t coming back. Feeling sick at heart, she ventured out of his bedroom. As she tiptoed down hallways and peeked in empty rooms, she realised he wasn’t even in the villa. He hadn’t just left the room, he’d left the whole house. Left her. Disconsolate, feeling more rejected than ever, Milly crept back to her own room and her own bed.
She woke some time after dawn, groggy from lack of sleep, her body still aching along with her heart. She hadn’t heard Alex come back, and she had a leaden certainty weighing her down inside that he hadn’t. She didn’t know where he was, and he hadn’t seen fit to tell her. Was that indicative of how their whole marriage was going to be?
By lunchtime Alex was still nowhere to be seen. Yiannis drove Anna back home, and she came into the house on a wave of enthusiasm, her bright eyes and ready smile making Milly realise afresh how much her sister wanted a fairy tale. And why shouldn’t she? She’d had precious little happiness in her life.
‘So?’ Anna asked as she came into the kitchen where Milly was making a salad for lunch. ‘How was it?’ She held up a hand, pretending to shudder. ‘Please don’t give me any details. I just mean...was it romantic?’
That would be a big fat no, Milly thought sourly. After being on her own all morning she was starting to feel angry as well as incredibly hurt. Couldn’t Alex at least have said where he was? What if he was hurt or lost, and she didn’t even know it? And yet she doubted he was.
‘It was fine,’ she said as diplomatically as she could. ‘It’s going to take time, Anna. It’s not a rom-com, okay?’
‘I know.’ Anna looked indignant, but it didn’t last long. ‘Did you like the candles? And the champagne?’
Milly thought of Alex snuffing them out with brusque precision. ‘Very nice touches,’ she murmured. ‘Thank you.’
Alex did not make an appearance for the rest of the day—or that night. After her initial hurt, Milly decided she was relieved. It was easier to spend time with Anna without worrying that Alex was going to come frowning in on them. And if she kept telling herself that, she thought wryly, she might even start to believe it.
Anna, fortunately, had bought Milly’s excuse that Alex had pressing work to do, and she didn’t nag too much about where he was. Like Milly, she was enjoying the sister time they so rarely had.
After dinner, they piled on the sofa together and watched a rom-com, a big bowl of popcorn on their laps. Milly couldn’t remember the last time they’d done something like that together—it had to have been before their parents had got divorced, when Anna was only seven or eight. Having her sister snuggling against her once again was a balm to her bruised heart. This was why she’d married Alexandro Santos. Not for whatever did or didn’t happen in their relationship—or in their bedroom.
Still, both she and Anna felt the gap when the film had finished, and Anna was heading off to bed.
‘Where’s Alex?’ she asked uncertainly as Milly took their dirty dishes to the kitchen.
‘He’s working,’ she said as matter-of-factly as she could, trying to hide the hurt and confusion she felt. ‘Don’t worry, Anna. Remember he’s mega-rich?’ Milly tried for a smile. ‘He’s got to make that money, you know. He’ll be back soon.’
But the words felt hollow as she headed up to her own bedroom, wondering where her husband was—and when he would come back.
She found out the next day, from Yiannis.
‘Alex went to Athens?’ Milly stared at him in disbelief as he stood in the kitchen doorway, looking resolute but also a bit shamefaced at the news he had to deliver. Anna was still asleep; Milly had arisen at the crack of dawn, too restless to stay in bed. ‘But why?’
