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‘Did I ever say I wanted you to love me?’ Mia asked in a shaking voice, even though it hurt to say the words, because in her heart and mind she’d been asking him, begging him every day. Had he been able to see that? Had it horrified him?
‘A marriage needs love as its foundation,’ Alessandro stated. ‘Without it, it will always crumble at one point or another. It won’t be strong enough to endure. I’ve realised that now…and I realise that what we have isn’t enough.’
‘So what are you really saying?’ Mia asked, her voice hardening. ‘You want a divorce?’
‘We could probably arrange an annulment, or otherwise, yes, a quiet divorce.’
‘And what about Ella?’ Mia demanded, her voice catching on her daughter’s name. ‘What about her needing a father? You insisted on that—’
‘We’ll arrange visits. I can still be part of her life. I want to be. That won’t change.’
‘Visits.’ Mia felt faint suddenly, her vision blurring, as the awful import of everything Alessandro was saying slammed into her. Slowly she walked to the bed and sank onto its edge, blinking the world back into focus. ‘Why are you telling me this now? Is it because of our argument? What made you realise all this so suddenly?’ Her voice rose and then broke. ‘Was none of this real?’
‘How could it have been?’ Alessandro returned rawly. ‘Considering?’
Tears stung her eyes then and she did her best to blink them back. She felt as if her heart was being wrung like a rag inside her, squeezing out its last painful drops of love. ‘So all this time, you’ve just been pretending? Orchestrating a takeover? You are known to be subtle,’ she added bitterly. ‘Even when it’s hostile.’
‘Don’t think of it like that, Mia…’
‘How am I supposed to think of it?’ she demanded. ‘Either our marriage was real or it wasn’t. Either the vows you made were sacred and binding or they weren’t.’
‘I’m trying to be fair and give you your freedom—’
‘Some freedom. What am I supposed to do now?’
He spread his hands. ‘Whatever you want. I’ll make sure you have a generous settlement. You’ll want for nothing—’
‘I’ll want for everything.’ Mia’s voice broke. ‘Why are you doing this, Alessandro?’
‘Because I told you, I realised that a marriage needs more than what we have to grow—’
‘And you’re so sure you can never, ever love me? Learn to love me, if it’s so important?’ Her voice broke as the full force of rejection hit her. He stayed silent, and she looked up, and for the first time she saw the torment on his face. ‘Or are you worried that I can’t love you?’ she whispered, barely daring to say the words. ‘Is that what this is about, Alessandro? Are you afraid?’
‘I’m not afraid.’
‘Then say the words,’ she demanded. ‘Say, “Mia, I don’t love you and I never will.”’ He stayed silent and she rose, her hands balled into fists by her sides, risking everything on this. ‘Say them.’
‘Mia…’ He stopped and shook his head. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘Well, you’re failing miserably at that, because you already have. Immeasurably. And what I think, Alessandro, is that you don’t want to be hurt. So tell me now that you don’t love me. Make it real.’
He sighed heavily, his gaze averted. ‘I’m not sure I know how to love.’
‘So…’
A hesitation, endless, awful, as he searched her face, steeling himself. ‘No,’ Alessandro said finally. ‘I don’t love you. I… I never will.’
Mia had been bracing herself for it, expecting it, but those two simple, stark words still held the power to fell her. She swayed where she sat and two tears slipped quickly and coldly down her cheeks before she could stop them. She dashed her eyes with the back of her arm and then stood up on wobbly legs.
‘Fine. I’ll pack in the morning.’
‘It’s better this way…’
No, it wasn’t. It wasn’t at all. But at least she knew now. With a leaden heart, Mia walked out of the bedroom—and away from her husband.
He was a coward. Alessandro lay in bed, gritty-eyed as he stared at the ceiling. Mia was sleeping in a guest bedroom, and he missed her presence with a ferocity that undid him…but even more overwhelming and shaming was the truth pounding through him that he hadn’t been brave enough to admit.
I don’t love you.
