The Marriage He Must Keep(29)

The silence grew heavy and loaded. “You were happy in our marriage, Octavia. You can be happy again.”

Because he decreed it?

“It wasn’t a marriage, Alessandro. It was an affair.” Her voice thinned and her cheeks burned. It was hard to face the truth. Hard to speak it. “You took three weeks off work and I had a lover for the first time in my life. We did nothing but eat, swim and make love. Of course I was happy. But the minute we returned to reality, you set me aside.”

The injury of that slow realization, as their sense of closeness was eroded daily by neglect, made her voice unsteady. “I wasn’t sharing your life. I was the sex toy you took to bed at night.”

His head went back. “That’s insulting to both of us.”

“You didn’t have any use for me once we were told I couldn’t have sex.” She looked down at her hands knotting in her lap, peeled three fingers into a salute that she held up. “Three duty visits,” she reminded him.

He looked away. His grip on the stem of his glass looked as if it would snap the delicate strand.

“Is it any wonder I believed Primo when he said you were cheating?” she added.

“I didn’t even think of other women while we were apart. I only want you,” he said in a tone that fell somewhere between frustration and fury.

Yet, when he brought his attention back to her, his eyes glittered with banked lust. He looked at her like he had on their honeymoon. As if he’d battled his way past the guards and was opening the chest of booty.

Her heart stuttered in her chest. Her nerves tingled and the pit of her belly burned as though she’d swallowed half a bottle of gin. She held her breath, trying to withstand the huge rush of sexual excitement that suffused her.

“It’s not like this for everyone, you know,” he said. They were speaking Italian, were alone in the big room, but she blushed as he added, “You were a virgin, so you may not realize that, but we have something not everyone does, cara.”

“The sex doesn’t matter,” she said, the color in her cheeks increasing under his incredulous stare. “It’s not enough,” she clarified, lifting a fatalistic hand, stammering out, “There has to be something else and obviously there isn’t because nothing about me drew you here while I was pregnant. Not even your unborn son.”

The remembered loneliness crept up to sting the backs of her eyes, making it hard for her to continue.

“How are we supposed to have any sort of marriage if you weren’t interested in something as basic as friendship? If all you want from me is my body?” It absolutely crushed her to say it, but she had to face it. “I’m nothing to you. I can’t be nothing, Alessandro.”

“I regret not coming,” he said, catching at her hand before she could tuck it back into her lap. His grip urged her to look at him. His dark brows formed a pained line over a gaze that reflected agony. “I will regret not being here for the rest of our lives because it might have prevented some of this...stage play we’re barely surviving. You and I would not be so far apart right now if I’d used that time to get to know you the way I should have.

“What can I say?” he continued, massaging her hands as though he wanted to work his words into her skin. “I’m arrogant. I believed we had the rest of our lives. Perhaps there was even some immaturity on my part, not quite ready to accept the yoke of marriage. My life has been one of autonomy. I wanted to be married, not domesticated. I’m not proud of that attitude, but I’m man enough to admit that’s where my head was at.”

“And now you’re ready to be domestic?” she chided, letting her hand stay in his because she craved his touch. Even after all this time, all her anger and disappointment and reservations, she wanted to hold still for his touch.

“Now, like many people who only realize the true value of something when they almost lose it, I am ready to commit wholeheartedly to our marriage,” he said in a tone that made it a vow.

Hope pulsed in her arteries. Everything about him weakened her: the control and confidence his posture projected, the handsomeness of his godlike features with that glint of determination in his eyes.

“But I can’t say the same,” she admitted, wavering slightly as he flinched and sent her a fierce look. “I went into this marriage so anxious for it to be perfect, so certain it would be better than my parents’, I never disagreed with any of your decisions. You made all of them. I can’t be that person you married. I won’t.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he said, holding her hand a little tighter as a more avid light came into his eyes, like a hunter pouncing on its prey. “But does your first demand of me have to be that I allow you to leave me and take our son? That’s unreasonable. Try again.”