A Hunger for the Forbidden - By Maisey Yates Page 0,24
black. He took a drink and waited a moment, letting the strong brew do its magic.
“Alessia,” he said, his voice rusty, the whiskey burn seeming to linger, “last night … did I hurt you?”
“In what way?” she asked, leaning back in her chair, her dark eyes unflinching.
“Physically.”
“No.”
The wave of relief that washed over him was profound, strong. “I’m pleased to hear it.”
“Emotionally, on the other hand, I’m not sure I faired so well.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, let’s see, my husband got drunk on our wedding night instead of coming to bed with me. What do you think?”
“I’m sorry if I wounded your pride,” he said, “that wasn’t my intention.” What he’d been after was oblivion, which he should have known wasn’t a safe pursuit.
“Wouldn’t your pride have been wounded if I’d done the same?”
“I would have ripped the bottle out of your hand. You’re pregnant.”
There hadn’t been a lot of time for him to really pause and think through the implications of that. It had all been about securing the marriage. Staying a step ahead of the press at all times. Making sure Alessia was legally bound to him.
“Hence the herbal tea,” she said, raising her cup to him. “And the pregnancy wasn’t really my point.”
“Alessia … this can’t be a normal marriage.”
“Why not?” she asked, sitting up straighter.
“Because it simply can’t be. I’m a busy man, I travel a lot. I was never going to marry … I never would have married.”
“I don’t see why we can’t have a normal marriage anyway. A lot of men and women travel for business, it doesn’t mean they don’t get married.”
“I don’t love you.”
Alessia felt like he’d slapped her. His words were so bald, so true and unflinching. And they cut a swath of devastation through her. “I didn’t ask you to,” she said, because it was the only truth she could bring herself to speak.
“Perhaps not, but a wife expects it from her husband.”
“I doubt my father loved my mother, and if he did, it wasn’t the kind of love I would like to submit to. What about yours?”
“Obsession, perhaps, was a better word. My father loved Lia’s mother, I’m sure of that. I’m not certain he loved mine. At least, not enough to stay away from other women. And my mother was—is, for that matter—very good at escaping unpleasant truths by way of drugs and alcohol.” His headache mocked him, a reminder that he’d used alcohol for the very same reason last night.
“Perhaps it was their marriages that weren’t normal. Perhaps—”
“Alessia, don’t. I think you saw last night that I’m not exactly a brilliant candidate for husband or father of the year.”
“So try to be. Don’t just tell me you can’t, Matteo, or that you don’t want to. Be better. That’s what I’m trying to do. I’m trying to be stronger, to do the right thing.”
“Yes, because that’s what you do,” he said, his tone dry. “You make things better, because it makes you feel better, and as long as you feel good you assume all is right with your world. You trust your moral compass.”
“Well, yes, I suppose that’s true.”
“I don’t trust mine. I want things I shouldn’t want. I have already taken what I didn’t have the right to take.”
“If you mean my virginity, I will throw this herbal tea in your face,” she said, pregnancy hormones coming to the rescue, bringing an intense surge of anger.
“I’m not so crass, but yes. Your body, you, you aren’t for me.”
“For Alessandro? That’s who I was for?”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“The hell it’s not, Matteo!” she shouted, not caring if she hurt his head. Him and his head could go to hell. “You’re just like him. You think I can’t make my own decisions? That I don’t know my own mind? My body belongs to me, not to you, not to my father, not to Alessandro. I didn’t give myself to you, I took you. I made you tremble beneath my hands, and I could do it again. Don’t treat me like some fragile thing. Don’t treat me like you have to protect me from myself.”
He stayed calm, maddeningly so, his focus on his cup of coffee. “It’s not you I’m protecting you from.”
“It’s you?”
A smile, void of humor, curved his lips. “I don’t trust me, Alessia, why should you?”
“Well, let me put you at ease, Matteo. I don’t trust anyone. Just because I jumped into bed with you doesn’t mean you’re the exception. I just think you’re hot.” She was