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“We missed two years of Jack’s life,” Gabe pointed out, then backtracked. “Though you were a shit to her, so I can’t really blame Elodie.”
Fiero laughed, a hollow sound. “I was. I was such a bastard, but looking back, I loved her so much – I just couldn’t make sense of what I was feeling.”
Massimo envied Fiero that clarity of thought. If he loved Alessia, it would be easier to understand why his reactions were so all over the place. But this wasn’t about love. It was more complicated, and less satisfying.
“None of us had a great example of happy, loving parents,” Fiero continued. “We’re all reinventing the wheel as we go. If you want my advice, it’s that you need to be honest with Alessia – even when it makes no sense to you. She’s smarter than you are. Tell her what’s bothering you and let her be the one to sort it out.”
Massimo lifted one side of his lips, in what might have passed for silent agreement, but inwardly, he knew that wasn’t the answer. Maybe there wasn’t an answer, beyond time and patience. And just maybe even that wouldn’t be enough.
* * *
“What the hell are you doing?”
Midway through pushing a box back on top of a shelf in the attic, Alessia spun about, a guilty expression on her face. It died at the sight of Massimo though. The suit he wore was a dark navy blue, the shirt a crisp, snowy white that set off the gold of his tan, and in the pocket of his jacket there was a white pocket square. He looked untouchable and perfect. She hadn’t seen him the night before – he’d returned late, sometime after midnight. She’d feigned sleep in her own room, but she heard him pause at her door, felt his presence there, and held her breath – waiting, wanting, wishing he would push the door inwards and come to her.
And in the morning, she’d hated herself for that weakness.
“Looking for something,” Alessia forced her gaze back to the box.
“Christo, you shouldn’t be doing that.” He was right behind her, his hands on her thighs, steadying her where she stood on top of a dining chair. But she’d been fine before he’d arrived – perfectly stable – and now her legs felt decidedly wobbly.
“I’m okay.” Her voice was low and husky.
“What do you need? I can get it for you.”
She jerked her gaze downwards, her eyes landing on his autocratic face, his dark hair, and something squeezed hard inside of her. She forced herself to ignore it.
“I…” Great. She couldn’t form a sentence. He was so close, his touch so distracting. Frustrated, she shook her head. “Christmas. It’s almost Christmas and there are no decorations.”
His expression showed confusion. “We decorate at Villa Fortune.” A sense of guilt assailed him – why hadn’t he taken her the night before? Everyone in his family loved her – as his conversation with Gabe and Fiero had reminded him.
Her heart did a little loop the loop. At some point, she’d have to go back there. It was a place she’d always loved – as a child, it had been so full of warmth and noise, a beautiful family home that filled her with happiness, but now? Despite the fact she remained close with the other Montebellos, and knew they’d always welcome her, they were still Massimo’s family. Going there as his wife would require her to act a part, and the idea of playing happy families with this man felt dangerous and wrong. The idea of lying to Yaya! She’d done it once, except it hadn’t really been a lie because she’d thought she loved her husband, so for her, playing the part of the doting newly wed was easy. But now the stars had fallen from her eyes – there was no getting away from the brittle falsity of this marriage. She shook her head a little, forcing herself back to the present.
“I know there are some decorations here though. I bought them…” the words trailed off into silence. Last time. There was so much in that admission, so much remembering and nostalgia, so much pain. It hadn’t been much – just a few ornaments, though each had been imbued with the weight of all her childish hopes. “These were the decorations I bought for our first Christmas together,” she’d imagined telling her children in future years, without realising there would be no future Christmasses shared.
“I remember.” A throaty admission. “Let me look.”
“It’s fine. I can reach.” She moved her gaze back to the top of the shelf. “I know I put them here somewhere. I could have sworn they were in that box.”
“Alessia, do not make me lift you down.”
Her eyes widened as she stared down at him, her skin pricking with curiosity. Danger bells sounded but she stayed where she was, a wry smile twisting her lips. “I think you’d find that a lot harder than you might have six months ago.”
His expression shifted, as if to say ‘challenge accepted’, and then his strong hands were pressing to her hips, lifting her off the chair as though she weighed nothing. He slid her downwards, her curves pressed to his body so she was breathless and light-headed by the time her feet hit the ground. Her eyes stayed locked to his, her lips parted as breath after breath burst from her body.
Neither spoke. Neither moved. His expression was impossible to decipher, his eyes roaming her face, his lungs shifting with every breath he took.
Oh, how she wanted to lift up and kiss him! It took all of her willpower to remind herself of her resolution. They might have slept together a few nights ago but that had been a mistake.
She took a step ba
ck, jabbing her leg on the chair by accident. She spun away before he could see her reaction.
“I’m sure they’re up there.” It broke the spell. He lifted his gaze to the top of the cupboard, his eyes roaming the boxes.
“Si,” he agreed, turning around and taking in the room. Much of what was stored here was personal files his assistant required him to keep for taxation purposes, as well as some old family heirlooms. It made sense that Alessia had stashed the Christmas decorations here, though he’d found it strange she’d chosen the morning after Christmas to pack the tree away. At Villa Fortune, the tree was still sparkling with festive merriment and ancient lights well into January, usually.
“Let me look.” He climbed up onto the chair, scanning the boxes.
