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“Oh, Max.” She spun around, looking first at him and then with a frown, at the diamond necklace. “Tell me that’s not real?”
It was a silly thing to ask, given the size of his fortune.
“It’s not real.”
She half rolled her eyes. “What’s it for?”
“You.”
“I said ‘what’, not ‘who’.”
“It’s perfect with the dress.”
And it was. Ten emeralds, each with a teardrop shape, were suspended on a cord of diamonds. Each teardrop was surrounded by diamonds, so the effect was incredibly shiny and eye catching. Alessia watched as Max moved it into position, placing it around her throat, so it hung in the indent of her clavicle, like a princess’s necklace.
His fingers brushed the flesh at the back of her throat as he clipped it into place.
“Do you like it?” His accent was heavier when he spoke.
He saw her throat shift as she swallowed. “It’s very beautiful, Max. But you didn’t have to do this.”
Something about her manner confused him – as though buying her jewellery was too much, as though it wasn’t appropriate. “It’s nothing,” he waved his hand through the air, stepping back and intentionally downplaying the gift. “Just a trinket. Shall we go?”
* * *
All of Europe’s glitterati were packed into the ancient temple on the outskirts of Rome. Elevated on one of the hills, it offered a spectacular view back over the city and il vaticano, but it was inside that the view truly sparkled.
Guests were dripping in head to toe couture, from designer shoes to gowns to jewels that were almost as extravagant as those Max had gifted her with an hour earlier. Self-consciously, she lifted her fingertips to her throat, running her hand over the stunning necklace.
It wasn’t just that it was unexpected, nor unprecedented, and it wasn’t even that it must have cost at least a hundred thousand euro – probably twice that. It was that Max had seen it and thought of her. Max had bought it for her, specifically, just as he had the dresses, and this gown. His hand in the small of her back was a constant presence. He guided her through the crowd, introducing her where necessary.
“I heard that you’d married again,” one of the very beautiful socialites drawled. It was an innocuous comment but her tone implied, ‘what a shame’.
“I hope this time lasts longer than the first time. What was it? Six months?” another added, not bothering to hide her cattiness.
Beside her, Massimo drew Alessia closer. “We intend for it to last a lifetime,” he murmured, the words powerless to undo the sharpness of the other women’s comments. Alessia didn’t show how they’d affected her, but as they walked away, she felt Massimo’s intent gaze on her profile.
“They’re just bored,” he said with a lift of his shoulders.
“Yes.” But the memories were right there, haunting her, removing the pleasure she’d felt in dressing for this evening. Memories of how she’d felt as an innocent twenty year old on the few occasions she’d attended something with Massimo. Those nights had been few and far between – usually only when her father was in town and insisted on it, and it had been impossible to show him the true nature of their marriage. On those rare occasions they’d put a brave face on it and gone out like a ‘normal’ couple. And Alessia had endured snide comments, sidelong glances, and without any assurance of knowing that Massimo found her desirable at all. She’d felt like a fraud and a phony and she felt a whisper of that now, despite the way he held her close, despite the memories of how much he wanted her fuelling her brain as well.
“It bothers you?”
“Less so now than it used to.” She plucked a glass of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter before remembering she couldn’t take a sip. She replaced it only for Massimo to say to the man, “Please bring my wife a drink.”
“Of course. What would you like, signora?”
“An orange juice,” she said with no idea if she felt like one or not.
“What do you mean, exactly?”
“I’m sorry?”
“You said it bothers you less now than it used to?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “It’s fine.”
