comprehend why a young woman would dress in such serious outfits. A part of me still wondered if he knew and his comment was simply meant to taunt me into revealing the truth. “This is what I prefer,” I said simply.
He shrugged. “As long as you feel comfortable.”
There was a moment of awkward silence, and then he dug into his pocket and pulled out a long, thin, black jewelry box. “Here. I bought you something.” He handed me the small case and smiled. “Go ahead. Open it.”
I lifted the lid and beheld the most beautiful set consisting of a diamond necklace and a bracelet. He had bought me similar gifts before, but I could tell this had cost him a fortune. “Alessandro...” I gave him a baffled look.
“It's just a small token of appreciation for all the trouble you've been through lately,” he explained. “Thank you for taking care of me, cara. I know I haven't been the easiest patient.”
Alessandro used the words appreciation and thank you in the same sentence, and I just stared at him dumbly. “I...I don't know what to say.”
“You don't have to say anything,” he retorted softly. “I was hoping you would wear the necklace, but I doubt you have the desire to change out of that dress.”
No, I didn't. I wouldn't. Not even for the sake of pretenses. “I can wear the bracelet,” I reassured, to distract him from the idea of changing into something else. I took it out of the box and Alessandro gently snatched it from my hand.
“Allow me,” he murmured. He placed it around my wrist, then took my fingers between his and kissed the top of my hand.
Goosebumps danced on my skin. “Thank you,” I said at last.
He smiled shortly, and glanced at his watch. “Ready?”
I nodded. Placing his hand against the small of my back, he escorted me to the hallway. I was surprised by Alessandro's insistence to drive us there himself, and I pointed out it might be dangerous. No matter how much he wanted to give the impression he had regained his strength, I knew he had a long way to go before he was fully recovered.
Nevertheless, Alessandro reassured me it would be okay and that he would never put my life in jeopardy. His persuading smugness overpowered my arguments, and I had no other choice but to agree.
He ended up taking me to an Italian restaurant called La Rustica. Already from the outside decor, it was clear this was a much more exclusive and fancier place than Mangiare. When we entered, I was overwhelmed by the immediate attention because almost every pair of eyes glanced our way. The stares we received weren't that of curiosity. It was a mixture of immense respect and fear. I was well aware I wasn't the one they found intimidating. It was my husband who possessed the power to extort admiration and obedience with such insolent ease. Already from the distance, someone called Alessandro's name in an ecstatic voice. When I searched the direction of the noise, I caught sight of a tall, old man advancing toward us.
“Alessandro.” He was smiling as he tapped him on the back. “I’m so happy to see you. I heard about the accident. You were lucky to make it out alive. I’m glad you’ve made a full recovery.”
“Grazie,” Alessandro said in a baffled voice, a deep frown settling over his expression.
While the old man acted like they were old acquaintances, Alessandro gaped at him as though he had no idea who he was. The situation was awkward to say the least, and the old man picked up on it. He shifted to me and smiled as if to diminish the tension.
“Who's the lovely lady?” he asked in Italian.
“My wife, Olivia,” Alessandro answered in that same distant tone.
The man grinned and offered me his hand. “Nice to meet you, Olivia. Tommaso Beliani. Owner of the restaurant.”
“Tommaso...” I heard Alessandro mumble the name as though he had just heard it for the first time ever.
“Nice to meet you too,” I replied in Italian. “You have a lovely restaurant.”
Tommaso's face settled into an expression of sheer admiration while Alessandro glanced at me and paled.
“Tell me...how long have you been married to this gorgeous beauty?” Tommaso asked.
“Five years,” Alessandro said absent-mindedly.
Tommaso’s head whipped to Alessandro, mouth agape in utter outrage. The old man then tsked, scowling at him in a string of Italian curses. “Per meraviglia! Five years and you never once brought her to the restaurant? Gianni