wide eyes blinked as though someone had pinched him. “I'm your husband,” he pointed out calmly.
“So?” I shrugged, raising my chin in challenge. “I'm your wife, and I don't know where you are half the time.”
“That's a very unfounded accusation,” he retorted. “As far as I can recall, I haven't left the house in days.”
“I'm not talking about now.”
“Now is the only time that counts,” he asserted and puffed out a harsh, quick breath . “I cannot talk about occasions that I don't remember.”
I sighed in frustration and spared him a pleading look. “Alessandro, please let me get dressed in peace.”
He smirked. “Of course, but first I want to know where you've been…and why you left without saying anything.”
I started fidgeting with the material of my shirt because I couldn't tell him I had gone to see a doctor. That would call for a whole new set of questions I wasn't prepared to answer. Alessandro raised his eyebrows in silent interrogation. Although he remained patient, I knew he wouldn't leave the room without an explanation.
“I've been shopping, okay?” I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“You've been shopping?” he asked, and I nodded. “And you've come home with no bags?”
“I didn't buy anything,” I explained. “I just walked around the shops for a while.”
“In the company of your bodyguard?” he asked, in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Yes. He was there for my protection,” I replied, sensing where this was going.
Alessandro smirked like I had said something ironic. “Was anyone else with you?”
“Why does it matter?”
He shrugged, amusement still edged in his expression. “Humor me, cara.”
“No,” I muttered. “We were alone. There was no one else.”
Slowly, his expression turned serious, and he stared for a few short moments. “I don't like that guy. I'm not sure I want him around you, Olivia.”
“Alessandro, you're acting like a child.” I fought to keep my voice calm, but failed.
“Not at all, cara,” he retorted. “I'm only taking an interest in protecting what's mine.”
“You have nothing to worry about,” I assured him. “I'm not having an affair.”
“I didn't say you were, but I can tell when a man wants a woman and that guy wants you, Olivia,” he claimed, and his voice softened. “I can be understanding to a certain extent, but if I see him lay a finger on you again, I will tear him limb from limb.”
A shiver passed through my entire system. In normal circumstances, Alessandro would just forbid me from seeing Broderick and he'd end up extorting vengeance against him with no questions asked. This warning—no matter how brutal it appeared—was a sign of Alessandro going easy on me. Nevertheless, experience taught me that his kindness could be even worse than his wrath, and I didn't trust him one little bit.
“Broderick is not like that. He wouldn't cross that limit,” I murmured in near panic. “He's just a friend and a loyal employee.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about,” he repeated the phrase I had uttered moments ago, and his eyes returned to the swell of my breasts. I pressed the fabric even tighter against my skin. Alessandro smirked and shook his head. “Don't worry, tesoro...I'll let you get dressed. But I must confess I’m not very amused by this exaggerated modesty you keep displaying in my presence.”
For a few seconds, he remained perfectly still, gazing straight into my eyes as the air around me turned dry, hot and...electric. He snickered like he could feel it too. Then, he was gone, and I let out a deep breath I wasn't even aware I had been holding. All I could think about was that I had to warn Broderick, and keep my distance from him. Alessandro wasn't joking when he'd said he'd tear him limb from limb. Suddenly, my mind clouded with memories of what resulted from Alessandro's jealousy...
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The past (4 years prior)
When Alessandro discovered I was learning Italian in secret, he wasn't angry like I had expected. Instead, he reacted with pride and staggering enthusiasm. I would never forget the moment he'd found those books in my room. The expression on his face was that of rich satisfaction, and he had been more pleased with me than ever before. He even decided to reward my efforts by hiring a private tutor—Mr. de Lucci—who came three times a week in the evenings to teach me. He was a young teacher in his late twenties who had immigrated from Italy two years earlier.
Despite my determination to learn as much as possible, I