made it home at a decent time most evenings.
Now it was Alessandra holing herself away, burying herself in work. Avoiding him as much as she could.
It was the only way she could keep herself sane.
She’d never imagined marriage would be so hard emotionally, a feeling exacerbated at Stefan’s wedding to the beautiful Clio a couple of weeks ago. It had been a wonderful occasion but watching them exchange their vows had brought everything back about her own wedding day and the hope she’d been foolish enough to allow through.
She’d never imagined she would feel so emotional towards him.
‘No problems,’ he said. ‘The contract was signed.’
‘How did Kerstin get on?’ Good. Her voice was normal as she spoke the German’s name.
‘Very well. She’s staying in Hong Kong for a few days.’
Kerstin had started working for him a couple of weeks before. Right at the exact time as Alessandra’s nutrition control had taken on a life of its own.
Typically of Christian, as soon as he’d decided on a course of action he implemented it immediately. He’d decided they should marry—a month later it was done. He’d decided to employ Kerstin—a fortnight later she was his new protégée.
‘That’s good.’ Taking a seat at her desk, she fired up her laptop.
‘Are you working?’
‘We don’t have to leave for half an hour.’
‘I wanted to talk.’
‘About?’
‘We need to start looking for a proper house here in Milan. One we can raise a child in.’
She shrugged. ‘Go ahead.’
‘I’ve spoken to a property agent.’
‘Naturally.’
‘I’ve shortlisted a couple of homes we can look at after we’ve seen the obstetrician.’
She could feel his eyes upon her as she placed her memory stick into the side of the laptop. Her hands trembled.
‘We need to get moving on this,’ he continued. ‘I’ve asked the agent to provide a valuation for this place too.’
She snapped her head round to stare at him. ‘I don’t want to sell it.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘We agreed…’
‘No, you agreed. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.’
Christian counted to ten in his head, fighting to keep his features neutral.
He pushed his bowl across the table and got to his feet. ‘We should leave now.’
‘We’ve plenty of time.’
‘It’s always good to be ahead of the traffic.’
He didn’t want to argue with her, especially not prior to their appointment with the obstetrician, but if he stayed another minute in this damned apartment he would go crazy.
He’d given her carte blanche to redecorate all his homes to her own taste so she would come to think of them as her homes too, and what did he get in return? Nothing.
This was Alessandra’s apartment, not his. She had no intention of ever making it theirs.
It probably wouldn’t bother him so much if not for the fact that the distance between them now came from her, a state of affairs that had grown since the embassy function. Even at Stefan’s wedding she’d been distant, when normally she thrived at social events.
If he’d thought she was happy with the status quo it wouldn’t disturb him so much but, whenever he looked in her eyes, all he saw was unhappiness. When she was with him, she withdrew into herself. He was doing everything in his power to bring her spark back but she resisted at every turn. There were times when he thought he saw glimmers of it, generally if a magazine was released with her photography in it or if they passed a billboard she’d created—her face would light up like an enchanted child’s.
It pained him to see her so withdrawn. It unnerved him. It reminded him too much of how things had been with his mother, when nothing he did made any difference to her mood.
Today, he was determined to get to the bottom of it—he would learn whatever it was troubling her and fix it, whether she wanted to talk about it or not.
She must have seen the no-nonsense light in his eyes for she pursed her lips together, slapped the lid of her laptop down and grabbed her handbag.
‘Let’s go, then.’
All was good with the obstetrician. Alessandra was healthy. Her blood pressure was normal. Their baby’s heartbeat was strong. Yes. All was good. Christian always left those appointments feeling lighter.
The good feelings dissipated quicker than normal this time. They’d visited a number of homes in excellent parts of Milan, all large enough to raise a football team, if they so wished, with rooms to spare. Alessandra’s interest had been minimal. Grudging.
It only added to his intuition that something was seriously wrong with her.
‘Let’s get something to eat,’ he said after the third viewing. Maybe she was tired.
She didn’t argue. ‘Where do you want to go?’
He was about to suggest somewhere quiet where they could talk but had a flashback of their date and the trendy restaurant she had led them to. The lively atmosphere there had certainly played its part, along with the alcohol, in loosening them up. Maybe it would have the same effect on her again. ‘Let’s go to Nandini’s.’
He shook the agent by the hand, promised to be in touch soon and waited for Alessandra to get into the back of the waiting car.
Instead she met his eye. ‘Can we walk? It’s not far.’
He gazed down at her feet. Only small heels on the black boots she wore. Almost practical. Ever the fashionista, though, she wore a black-and-white drop-waisted mini-dress. The gap between the hem of the dress and the top of her boots was tantalising him to the point of distraction.
If anyone looked closely or from a profile view, they would see the hint of a burgeoning bump beneath it.
They walked in silence down the bustling streets, past tourists and locals alike, gazing through windows at the glamorous wares of the now closed shops, and into a narrow street packed with cafés and bars. People sat on tables outside, smoking, eating, drinking and enjoying the weather.
When they’d dined in Nandini’s that last time, it had been a Friday evening and the place had been full of people ready to let their hair down after a hard week of work.
Tonight,
