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“I’m not as mysterious as you want to believe. I’ve told you there were criminal elements that threatened my father’s business. That left me with a distaste for being at anyone’s mercy. Money is power and that’s why I like having an abundance of it.” He turned to face her as he sipped. “None of that means I don’t want to hear about the things that worry you. I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what’s broken.”
“We’re broken. How can you not see that?” she cried.
“We’re going through a rough patch,” he dismissed as he lifted the drink to his lips. “A lot is changing very quickly. We’ll adapt and be fine.”
Profound disappointment rang through her. How could she show him where and how she was broken if he wasn’t willing to do the same?
“I will always be here for you, Alexandra. You can trust me. I hope you believe that.”
She didn’t. That was the hard truth of the matter. Every time she thought about revealing her secrets and her heart, she remembered how he had praised her for her self-sufficiency the day they married. She was the isolated yin to his autonomous yang.
That was the reason she was afraid to breathe. She felt as though she stood alone on a pile of crumbling rocks that would disappear at any moment and didn’t trust him to catch her.
He swallowed his drink in two gulps. “I’ll get some work done before we go out tonight.”
She couldn’t think of anything she wanted to do less than attend a premiere, then rub elbows with famous stars, politicians, and dry-necked aristocrats.
“I’ll have a nap,” she claimed, doubting she’d get a single wink.
For the first time, he left without kissing her or even looking back.
For the next three weeks, they went through the motions of their marriage, but things remained off.
It was as much Rafael’s fault as Alexandra’s. She had asked him for basic facts about himself and he hadn’t wanted to share them.
Why did he need a billion dollars? Twice? So he would always have a bed and a solid roof and he wouldn’t have to hide like a rodent behind a dumpster. So he could prove that he was worthy of his wife.
In many ways, he was more similar than different from the criminals who had extorted from his father. In order to best them, he’d had to meet them at their level. He had paid protection fees and bribes and even turned to blackmail a time or two. He had run cons and double-crossed devils. He had felt the blade of a knife score the skin of his throat and had taken that knife then used it to send his opponent running, trailing red.
That the man had subsequently died was as much the fault of the illegal doctor who had treated him as the wound Rafael had inflicted. Rafael could call it self-defense, but it didn’t erase the literal blood on his hands.
Eventually, he’d been deemed impossible to kill or cow. Since then, he had been able to stay this side of the law, but that only encouraged challenges from legitimate players—who all pretended their own fortunes hadn’t been built on long-ago piracy and privateering and other unsavory acts.
The rise from middle-class roots to millionaire was the story he preferred to tell. No one, least of all his wife, needed to know he came from the gutter. It was too humiliating to revisit. Irrelevant. He much preferred her to see him as he was now—rich and successful. Powerful. Untouchable.
He preferred to blame their surrogate for the growing distance in their relationship, rather than this wall he kept so stubbornly around himself.
At least Molly didn’t seem to intrude on their sex life. He and Alexandra made love with frequent and devastating passion, which was the reason it didn’t bother him that Molly hadn’t yet left her employment. Alexandra was talking about joining her on the island when she moved to their villa and that thought caused an itch of possessiveness inside his chest.
They were in Rome, getting ready for a gala, when Alexandra frowned at her phone “Hmph.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure. Molly says, ‘Everything is fine, but I’ve hit a snag with putting in my notice. Call when you have a minute so I can explain.’” Alexandra’s attention skimmed past him to where her team of stylists were arriving, wheeling in a rack of gowns and carrying their cases of implements into the spare bedroom of their hotel suite. Her shoulders fell. “I’ll call her tomorrow. After we get tonight out of the way.”
Tonight’s gala was an important one. Ostensibly, it was an art auction to raise funds for orphaned children, something Rafael was more than happy to support, but the attendees were tycoons from across Europe. He and Alexandra had been given a seat at Table One. It was the equivalent of being given the secret handshake and a decoder ring. Rafael was taking his place as One Of Them.
Whether Gio Casella would be at that table remained to be seen. Rafael’s almost inked deal with him was definitely the reason Rafael was being seated there. The rumor of their budding partnership was giving the impression Rafael was a direct vector to the Casella Corporation, exactly as Rafael had hoped. Accepting the royal treatment for that was a tiny bit premature, but only by a few days. He and Gio were scheduled to meet in Athens for a photo op next week.
Perhaps he had been testy about work, Rafael acknowledged with an inward sigh. This partnership and the benefits it would bring were looming large in his mind, but maybe he should let that be enough for a while.
He mentally scoffed at himself. Him? Take his foot off the accelerator? That wasn’t in his nature. But he definitely needed to give more attention to his marriage, especially with the baby coming.
He left the suite for a few hours. He had meetings, but he picked up a peace offering for Alexandra and returned to dress in his tuxedo.
Her stylist had sent him a snapshot of the strapless corset gown she’d chosen, so he knew the collar of five strings of diamonds would suit it. A radiant-cut pink diamond would sit in the hollow of her throat and match the watermelon pink of the silk she wore.
That should have meant he was prepared when she emerged from the bedroom, but even though he regularly saw her in glamorous regalia, she still had the power to squeeze the breath from his lungs. She wore long pink gloves and upswept hair and glossy pink lips.
