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Just thinking about my husband made my chest ache. I already missed him, which in itself was ridiculous since we’d just seen each other this morning. Was it because I had spent practically every waking moment by his side since our wedding night? Or was it something else?
Was it because I had real feelings for him?
Drawing in a breath, I looked in the mirror behind the door, deciding to focus on my outfit and not the fact that I craved Aleksey the way I did. I had gone for an understated look tonight: a sheer black shirt over a cami top and a pair of skinny jeans. My hair was pulled back into a high ponytail. Father had already sent word by text that he wanted to have dinner together, and I knew I had to go in there as Aleksey’s wife and not Ludovico’s daughter.
He was never going to take me seriously, no matter what sort of title I had. It was the truth of it all.
What he didn’t realize was that I had a hidden agenda. I needed answers to my own questions, starting with the fact of why he didn’t give me Luca’s pin. He knew what it meant to me, and he had no use for it.
Had he thrown it in the trash when Aleksey sent it back? Perhaps. It was something he would do.
Glancing at my watch, I opened the door and made my way down to the dining room, where the delicious smells of dinner filled the air. Even though I was five minutes early, Father was already at the table, his phone pressed to his ear.
“I don’t give a shit about who you have to call,” he barked into the phone, not even looking up as I entered. “You make it happen, or I will forget that you ever existed and everyone else will as well!”
I took my customary seat, pulling the napkin off the plate as I did so. Household staff immediately swarmed in and I allowed them to pour me both wine and water, not wanting to tip off my father just yet that I was pregnant. I gave them a faint smile, looked at the salad that had been set before me, and remembered the days when Father would only allow me to eat salads at home.
He had been concerned, as he put it, about my figure and the fact that I was “projecting” a lazy image of myself that was unbecoming.
As a result, salads became a way of life for months, until he was satisfied that I looked my part and moved on to something else.
I’d hated salads in this house ever since then.
A few minutes later, he ended the call and placed his cell in the pocket of his suit coat.
“Elia.” He greeted me with an almost bored tone to his voice.
“Father.”
“Frankly, I’m surprised he has sent you back so soon. I didn’t think he would grow tired of you so quickly.”
I gripped my fork in my hand, keeping my anger under control. “My husband thought I would like to come home for a visit,” I said, my tone the same false pleasantry that I had used for years. “Was he wrong?”
His eyes finally met mine, and I saw the tightness of his mouth. “Of course not. You are my daughter and my heir. You are welcome in my home any time you would like.”
His home. The day he died, I would burn this damn house to the ground. “Thank you, Father.”
“Had I known,” he continued as I stabbed at the salad with my fork. “I would have invited some of our friends to join us. You are fortunate that I was in town.”
“I’m sorry for not letting you know ahead of time,” I murmured and forced myself to shove the lettuce into my mouth. The familiar empty taste on my tongue nearly had me gagging, but I persevered. I was not about to show my father weakness. “I’m glad to be home,” I lied.
He grunted and we lapsed into silence, the only sounds our silverware scraping across the porcelain plates as we ate.
I left the customary amount of salad on my plate and pushed it aside, wondering what would happen if I had brought my husband with me. Alone with my father, I was terrified of what he might do or his next action. But if Aleksey were at my side, I wouldn’t fear him so badly.
Sadness crept into my soul as I thought about Aleksey. What was he doing? Was he worried about me like I was about him? Did he miss me?
“You haven’t touched your wine, Elia.” Father’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Of course he would notice that.
“I have a headache tonight,” I lied, picking up the water instead. “From traveling.”
His shrewd eyes locked on me and narrowed. “Don’t lie to me, Elia.”
I didn’t respond as I took a gulp of my water, my stomach clenching. There was no doubt in my mind that he knew. He always had ways of knowing. “I…”
He waved a hand in my direction, silencing me. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”
And there it was. The way it had always been. He’d figured out my secrets without so much as a single question. There was no point hiding any longer.
