ALISHA STARED AT her reflection in the mirror, her eyes wide at the outrageously sexy outfit she’d chosen for the party tonight.
And this dress she’d had specially commissioned from an up-and-coming British-Indian designer was it. It was an extravaganza for a woman who’d lived in jeans and T-shirts for a decade but Ali wanted to make her parents proud tonight.
She wanted the world to know of her happiness.
She wanted to share it with these people who’d been part of Matta Steel for generations.
She wanted to embrace her part in her papa’s legacy.
She wanted Dante to be proud to call her his wife.
The wide, ruffled skirt of her mauve lehenga had layers upon layers of ruffles, giving her the fairy-tale princess look that was all the vogue on the runway this year. But the true genius of the outfit was in the choli and the dupatta.
When the designer, Maya, had showed the sketch to Ali, her first impulse had been a resounding no. It bared too much, it was too risqué. As far as she knew, a traditional choli lehenga was a wide, full skirt with a blouse that bared her midriff, yes, but covered everything up front with a silky dupatta to trail from her shoulder.
But since Ali had asked for a modern take on it, for something that was traditional and yet looked sensual, Maya insisted she give it a chance. And when Ali had tried it on, it had looked simply stunning.
The blouse was strapless with gossamer mauve sleeves hanging low on her arms leaving her entire neck and shoulders bare. But the silky blouse cupped her breasts from beneath, like a lover’s hands, leaving the upper curves bare. Since she didn’t have big boobs, it wasn’t so much the cleavage that was outrageous but the way it covered only the lower half.
The dupatta, which was a silky shawl in the same mauve, shimmered with intricate silver thread work, hung from one shoulder.
At Ali’s insistence, Maya had hitched it across her chest and pinned it to the skirt. So the effect was the mirage of the dupatta covering her torso on one side while her breasts played peekaboo on the other.
Big chandelier earrings hung from her ears while she left her hair down to show off the new haircut. She had made her eyes up into a subtly smoky kohl look and had dusted dark blush onto her cheeks. A light pink shimmering gloss on her lips and she was done.
She was ready to meet the world.
And she was ready to meet her husband whom she hadn’t seen in three weeks.
She had so much news to share with him, so many plans to make, so many things to look forward to that she felt as if she was bubbling over with happiness.
* * *
Ali had wanted to shock and surprise Dante but she was the one who got the surprise of the century as she stepped out of the chauffeured Mercedes that evening.
Matta Mansion glittered like a new bride on the night of the Diwali party, decorated with hanging lights everywhere. Focus lights from the grounds made the white marble facade glitter like an Indian palace of old. The gardens beyond had been decorated with fairy lights, every brass and copper artwork that had been the highlight of her mom’s art collection polished to a sheen.
Ali walked into the ballroom and gasped. Thousands of red, earthenware diyas with cotton wicks had already been lit and cast shadows on walls. She had no idea how Dante’s staff had managed to lay their hands on so many of them. No idea how he’d found out all the lovely Hindu traditions that surrounded the festival of Diwali and had them implemented. Especially when he’d been in Tokyo for three weeks.
A small trio of players were seated on a divan behind the main dais, decorated with flowing silks, playing shehnai and tabla. The scent of fresh flowers filled every nook and cranny. Just the delicious aroma of all the sweets the chefs had laid out on the massive buffet table had her mouth watering.
Ali stood on the second-floor balcony and looked out over the gardens. In another hour, every inch of space would be crammed with guests Dante had insisted they invite. Dusk was just an hour away. Once everyone was here, Dante would welcome them all.
They would light some sparklers and then there would be a feast.
Tears filled her eyes as unbidden, a memory came to her, drowning her.
Of her mama decorating the house just like this when Ali had been maybe four. Of throwing open the doors to every member of staff and employee of Matta Mansion. Of dressing Ali and Vikram in traditional clothes while she herself had worn a bright red sari and the diamond necklace that Alisha now owned. Of her papa picking her up and then kissing her mama on the forehead.
“Ali?”
Ali turned so fast that she almost tripped on the hem of her lehenga.
Dressed in a conservative black suit with a white shirt underneath, Dante looked suave and powerful and utterly masculine. Air left her lungs in a hurried rush. The platinum cuff links she had left for him on his study table glimmered at his cuffs. That unruly hair was combed back, highlighting the harsh features, rendering him absolutely magnificent.
“You look…incredible.”
The husky, rough tone of his words made butterflies flutter in her belly. Suddenly, she was glad she’d gone with Maya’s outrageous creation.
His hands landed on her shoulders, the rough pads of them slithering against her bare skin. Dark eyes studied her with lingering intensity. His gaze moved from her hair to her shoulders, lingering for just a few seconds on the way the choli cupped her breasts. Her nipples tightened, her blood thick as honey in her veins.
“I should have believed you when you said I’d be floored, Alisha.” The way he said her full name made her smile. Exasperation coated his words. “Asking me to foot the bill for that dress is tricking me. It bares too much, Ali.”
“It’s called a lehenga,” she said swishing the wide skirt in her hands with a brazen smile. “I told the designer to make it the most spectacularly sexy outfit London has seen in a while. I told her it should befit the wife of a gorgeous, arrogant, wonderful husband. I told her the world should remember the night when Alisha Matta—”
“Vittori.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Alisha Vittori. You’re Alisha Vittori. Not Matta anymore.”
Alisha Vittori.
It was just a name, and yet her heart thudded against her rib cage.
She scrunched her nose and his jaw tightened. “Nobody really changes their name these days.”
“Mrs. Puri, in all her omniscience, it seems, was right. I find I’m a traditionalist at heart. I want my wife to take my name. I want the entire world to know that, while you have me wrapped around your finger, I have a claim on you too. I never want there to be a doubt about why I want you as my wife.”
The voices downstairs floated away leaving Dante and her alone in their own world. His finger rubbed her collarbone, relentless heat spewing from the small touch.
With a groan, he covered her mouth with his. Completely. Utterly. The kiss was tenderness itself. Soft. Inviting. Opening up the whole world and putting it at her feet.
It seemed as if it was the very essence of the man he was—full of depth beneath the isolation he set upon himself, full of emotion and passion that he was determined to deny. A heart so big and that gave generously while remaining closed off to receiving anything in return.
He venerated her with those soft lips, his eyes shining because she’d given him everything. He knew it, she knew it. The words didn’t need to be said. It was as she’d guessed—the only way into Dante’s heart, the only way to carve a small place for herself in there, was to surrender everything. To lay everything open at his feet.
She felt as if she was stripped to flesh and bone, all her armor falling away. As if his kiss was what she was made for.
He deepened the kiss, his fingers in her hair, his hold on her heart tightening.
It spoke of things he would never say. It showed her that she had a place in his heart too, however small. It told her that this arrogant, powerful man was no more in control of the bond between them than she was.
He kissed her as if she were the most precious thing he had ever held. He extracted a tiny velvet box from his jacket and her heart raced.
Every inch of her trembled as he pulled out a delicate-looking necklace. Three diamonds glittered in the middle of the thin chain, while tiny black beads lined up on either side. Ali stood, stunned, as he pushed her hair back and hooked the delicate chain behind her neck. It was a mangalsutra, the chain a husband put on his wife in the Hindu tradition.
His fingers lingered at her nape, his chin resting on her head.
She kept her head bowed, fighting the tears prickling behind her eyes. Fighting for breath. Struggling to stay still while the ground rocked from under her.
As if he understood, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her trembling legs held by the cradle of his powerful thighs.
“Mrs. Puri told me that I wasn’t being fair. That your father would have demanded that I do right by you. That I was doing everything by my family’s traditions, leaving yours out.”
“She called you and took you to task?” Ali demanded. “She worships the ground you walk on.”
The few seconds he waited resonated with his reluctance. “I called her and asked her to explain how things had been done with your parents. And she walked me through them. Ali, if you want a Hindu wedding or a reception, or a mehendi night or a bachelorette party, whatever you want, I want you to have it. I don’t want you to resent me ten years down the line because I cheated you out of some tradition or custom. I don’t want you to tell me in thirty years that I didn’t give you a bride’s trousseau as custom demands. I want you to have everything you desire, cara mia.”
He had the whole mansion looking like it had during her childhood. Like a beautiful bride waiting for her groom.
He had decided that they would resurrect the tradition of the Diwali party, which had been her mother’s yearly extravaganza. He’d invited so many of the old staff, Matta employees, charity workers, even Jai.
He had asked Mrs. Puri so that he could do right by her family’s traditions.
And he claimed, again and again, that he had no heart to give. That he wasn’t a romantic. That he didn’t do relationships. That he didn’t do love. Her heart seemed to have crawled into her throat and lodged there. Making even breathing difficult.
“Look at me, Alisha,” he said in that commanding tone of his.
Chin quivering, Ali did. If he kissed her, she would melt into him. He was everything she had ever wanted and she felt as if she were in some fairyland where all her wishes were being granted. Terror filled her when she thought of that midnight stroke that would return everything back to reality, to a world without him.
“Will you be my wife, Ali?”
She took his hands in hers, tears running down her cheeks, and brought his hand to her cheek. “I don’t need ceremonies to define this thing between us. The first time I walked into your bedroom, I became your wife, Dante. You’re making me cry and I look like something the cat dragged in when I cry…and—oh, no, my makeup,” she wailed.
Laughing, he produced a handkerchief and carefully blotted her cheeks. “You’re always beautiful and it will drive me insane the whole evening that other men will see you in that outfit.”
“Did Mrs. Puri tell you that according to Hindu traditions, you’re stuck with me for seven lifetimes?”
He nodded and there was such tenderness in his eyes that it stole her breath. “I’m hoping that this is the first one. Shall we go down?”
“It’s not fair,” she whined.
He frowned. “What’s not fair?”
“It’s been three weeks and I’m dying to get you into bed, or against the wall, and there are all these people waiting for us…”
He pressed a chaste kiss to her temple as if to tease her even more. “Patience, tesoro. Remember, good things come to those who wait.”
And he was worth the wait.
* * *
By the time they had seen the last guest off and were riding the elevator toward Dante’s penthouse, it was past one in the morning.
Ali was so tired she felt like she could fall asleep standing up.
His arm around her shoulders, Dante pulled her to his side until all her weight was against him. His mouth was soft at her temple. And then he nuzzled her throat, the gesture less sexual and more tender. “Bed for you, I think. I’ve been waiting all evening to get you out of your…lehenga,” he said gingerly, trying out the word, “but I’ll do it to put you to bed.”
Ali smiled so widely that she thought her mouth would crack. “No, no, no. I have a million things to tell you, plans to make for us and it’s been killing me to wait.”
His gaze lingered on the shadows under her eyes. “Ali, we can do it tomorrow morning. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Please, Dante.”
He laughed and pressed a swift kiss to her mouth. “Well, if you ask nicely like that, si.”
Excitement replacing the exhaustion, Ali hit the number for the floor to her studio. “First thing on the agenda for tonight—do you want to see my work?”
The anticipation and the pure joy that filled his eyes made him look breathtakingly beautiful. “Si, please.”
She took his hand and dragged him with her. Just as they reached the door to the studio, she halted. “Actually, that’s not the first item.”
“Ali, I hate that I’ve made you so insecure with my cruel words, but please, cara mia.”
“No. It’s not that. I…I just… I came up with this during the party.”
His smile disappeared. “No, you can’t be friends with Jai. I had Izzy invite him because you said he was looking for capital for his start-up and it would be good for him to network and meet some of the shareholders. It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that your ex in your life is not something I can tolerate. Please don’t—”
She wanted to argue just for the heck of it. But Dante was taking tentative steps toward communicating his feelings with her and really, she didn’t even want Jai in her life. They had nothing in common anymore. Instead she said, “Okay. I won’t.”
He looked so shocked by her easy acceptance that she laughed out loud.
“Just like that?”
Going on her toes, she whispered, “Today’s your lucky day, mister.” She swiped her tongue over his lower lip until he opened for her. “I hope you take complete advantage of it. Of me.” His answer was to kiss the hell out of her, until she forgot her own name.
He was panting when he pulled away, lust etched on every inch of his face. “If you want me to listen to all the items on your agenda, you had better keep your hands to yourself, cara mia.”
Out of breath herself, Ali nodded.
It took her several minutes to retrace their conversation. “So, the first thing is that today, I… Having the party at the mansion, it made me realize…I want to live there. I mean, us, I want us to live there. To make our home there, make it a happy place again, fill it with good memories and laughter and…” She swallowed the word love at the last second.
“I think it would have made both Mama and Papa and even Vikram happy, don’t you think? We can—” heat swarmed her cheeks at the intensity of his gaze “—like you said, when we’re ready, we… I do want a big family and the grounds and the house would be perfect to raise an army of kids.”
“An army?” he said in such a low voice that she laughed again.
“Si.”
“Okay. We’ll live at Matta Mansion.”
She took his hand and rubbed the palm against her cheek. Her heart was in danger of exploding out of her chest. “Just like that?” she said, trying to breathe over the lump in her throat.
“Today’s your lucky day. I hope you take advantage of that, bella mia.”
I love you so much. The words flitted to her lips but Ali swallowed them away. She didn’t want to bring awkwardness to such a beautiful day and she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.
Instead, she just nodded, took his hand and pulled him into her studio.
* * *
Dante had no idea what to expect. His disparaging comments before still shamed him. So he had forced himself to keep an open mind, to support and encourage her when she needed it, to catch her if she faced disappointment. Not because he thought she would fail but because art was such a subjective world and he just…he wanted to be there for her.
As Ali turned on the huge industrial-strength lights he’d had the workmen install when he had purchased two flats and had them converted into a large open studio for her, he told himself that whatever she showed him, he would praise her, he would encourage her effort. He would—
A number of blown-up framed photographs stood leaning against the walls all around him.
He found himself at an utter loss for words.
Each print was a candid shot—a starkly beautiful life moment captured in time. One was a naked woman in the kitchen of that restaurant in Bangkok—no hint of vulnerability in her face as she met the camera head-on. One was a woman feeding her child—utter bliss on her face. One was a man on his knees in front of a woman with his mouth on her sex, one of a woman covered in bruises from fingerprints on her neck to the impression of shoes on her belly and it went on and on and on.
Every single one of them was hauntingly beautiful, tender and yet real at the same time—life in all its glory and indignity—and each one spoke volumes of the extraordinary talent and perspective of the woman who had captured them.
Shame and pride warred within him, and still he had no words to say.
“Dante?” she whispered, no tentativeness or need for validation in her words.
Standing amid her black-and-white and color prints, she was a goddess.
He went to her, took her hands, kissed her knuckles. Searched his mind for the right words. Cristo, what could he say that would tell her how humbled he felt that she had shared them with him.
“I don’t know why you did it, but thank you for buying me that camera all those years ago.”
He shook his head, emotion clogging his throat. “Don’t…lay this at my feet, bella. If I hadn’t, you’d have found another way to make it happen. You’re…your work is…” he laughed. “Your papa…he would have been so proud, Ali. He would have been elated to see how extraordinary you are.”
Tears overflowed in her eyes and fell down onto her cheeks. She came to him like lightning and fire and he caught her in his embrace. Held her while she cried. Glad that for once in his life, he’d found the right words to say to her.
Hoping that every time she came to him for something like this, he had enough to give her what she needed.
Hoping that, for the first time in his life, his past hadn’t robbed him completely of his ability to give affection, to receive the love she gave him.
* * *
Ali had no idea how long she stayed in Dante’s arms like that. All she knew was that life couldn’t get more beautiful. Or more giving. He was so solid and real and wonderful in her arms that she never wanted to let go. The moment was so tender and loving and complete she almost changed her mind. Almost.
But she didn’t want to start their new life hiding something so important from him. She didn’t want to make this decision on her own. She shouldn’t have to. Especially since it affected them both. And she was sure, whether he agreed with her or not, he would want to know.
So, as much as she wanted to stay in his arms and beg him to take her to bed, she took a long breath, filled her lungs with the essence of him and pulled back slightly. “Do I look all grungy then?” she said, still trying to find the right words. “I have too much makeup on to be crying every other second.”
He didn’t smile. A little line appeared between his brows, as if he knew she was delaying. But then, he did know her very well.
“What is the third thing on your agenda?”
She stepped out of his embrace completely and faced him. “My agent wants me to do an exhibit, as soon as possible, actually. Her team is trying to decide which gallery will display it best. And she told me that they’re all trying to get it to theirs. It will start in London, and based on the reception, it might…go to other cities, like New York, Beijing. We’re still talking about the details.
“It’s all happening so fast. I’ve hired an employment agency and put out ads for employees for the charity too.”
“That’s fantastic news. The world should see your talent. And it looks like you’re doing the best thing for the charity. You can still be involved at a higher level. Are you worried about the travel?”
Ali shook her head and swallowed the misgivings in her throat. “No, no… That’s not it. It’s just that something else has come up too. Do you remember that photography apprenticeship I had wanted to go on but that never happened?”
He didn’t completely withdraw, but his mouth tightened. “Si.”
Ali looked down at her laced fingers. Christ, why was this so hard? Why did it suddenly feel like there was an ocean between them already? “My agent showed some of my work to this American entrepreneur/philanthropist who puts together teams to work in some of the remotest areas of the world, like Tibet, Bosnia, Haiti. You know, sometimes they’re war zones, sometimes it’s just a rebuilding effort to clean up after natural disasters.
“Anyway, he got in touch with me a week ago, out of the blue. No introductions. Not his agent reaching out to mine. Just called me one afternoon when I was here and asked me if I could meet him in a couple of hours because he was leaving London that night.
“Two minutes into the meeting, he asked me to join his team on the next expedition. Apparently, he always hires a world-renowned photographer to capture the expedition, sort of to bring those things to the world’s notice. My agent told me he’s never asked anyone as young as me before, but apparently, when she forwarded some of my work to him, he instantly decided that he wanted me. I’ve been reading up all about his teams and the trips they take, and I realized what an honor it is to be chosen.”
Dante covered the distance between them and hugged her tightly. “I’m not surprised.”
Some of her tension dissolved. When he held her like that, it felt as if there wasn’t anything she couldn’t conquer. “Yeah?”
He tipped her chin up. “You didn’t say yes?”
“No. I… First, I was just so stunned. It took me a while to realize what a big compliment it was to my work. Not until I Googled the hell out of him. And then that night, my agent asked me what I was waiting for. I told her I’d have to talk to you. I mean, it’s a decision that affects both of us, our life together and I… It didn’t feel right to just say yes and then tell you about it afterward. I wanted to talk to you about it. It’s been so hard to just sit on it while you were in Tokyo.”
Once again, Dante had no words. He kept thinking he had the measure of her and she kept surprising him. His chest felt tight, as if his heart was too big for it. “Ali…” His hands shook as he gathered her to him. “I’m glad you waited to discuss it with me although it’s not necessary. This is your career and I want it to go from height to height until the whole world takes pleasure in your work.”
She nodded but her anxiety was like a cloak around her. He hated to see her smile dim. He pushed the hair back from her shoulder and covered the silky bare skin. “What is worrying you? Is there a fee you have to pay? Don’t worry about finances or the charity.”
“No, there isn’t. Of course, I don’t get paid either because it’s a privilege to join his team.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“The next trip that he wants me to go on…will leave in a month.”
“And?”
“I’ll be gone for at least eighteen months. Might be more. If I agree and sign the contract, I’m bound by it. I can’t just up and leave if I don’t like it. Of course, there will be scheduled breaks but I’m told they won’t be long.”
It was like a punch to his stomach. He couldn’t imagine not seeing her for eighteen months. Cristo, he felt like a teenager saying goodbye to his first crush. It felt like a lifetime. “I see,” he said, just to give himself time to gather his fragmented thoughts.
Ali hid her face in his chest, as if afraid of his reaction. The graceful line of her profile, the small tremors he could feel in her shoulders… This was the opportunity of a lifetime.
He couldn’t be selfish. Her commitment to their marriage, to him, it was more than he’d ever expected to have in life. She was more than he’d ever expected to have. “There’s nothing to it but that you go. Si, it will be hard not to see each other for that long but I… I’m going nowhere. Our life together is going nowhere.
“Just don’t…fall in love with some guy on this expedition.” The words fell away before he could prevent them. He cringed at how pathetic and insecure he sounded. But there was no arresting that chain of thought. He pulled her left hand up, the diamond winking at him. “Remember that you belong to me, cara mia.”
Brown eyes glared at him through thick lashes. “It’s not funny, Dante. Do you really not trust me?”
He rubbed his thumb over her cheek, compulsively. “Of course I trust you. You’re just…” He blew out a big breath. Damn it, he’d always been strong and he needed to be strong for her in this. He couldn’t use her affection for him to sway her. She would come to hate him for it and he couldn’t bear that.
“Eighteen months is a long time!” He slammed his head back. That was the exact opposite of what he meant to say.
“Exactemente!” Instead of looking upset, she nodded her head fiercely. “I was hoping you’d say that. I don’t think I can go that long without seeing you. No, I know I can’t. These two-and three-week trips to Tokyo have been bad enough.” She nuzzled into his neck, and he felt the flick of her tongue at his throat. The bite of her teeth at his pulse. He hardened instantly against the soft curve of her bottom and she groaned. “I…was hoping you’d come with me.”
Dios mio, when she moved like that, all he could think of was to be inside her. Eighteen months was a long time, his brain repeated the thing on a loop. It took him a couple of minutes to process her last sentence. “What?”
She pulled back so that she could look into his eyes. “You know, like a long honeymoon. Except instead of luxury hotels as you’re used to, it will be tents or huts or whatever accommodation they give us. We wouldn’t have to be apart at all. I checked with my agent and his team and they said spouses are welcome. Of course they’ll expect you to pitch in, but I don’t see that as a problem. That way eighteen months will just be a breeze and then we can return—”
“Stop, Alisha! Just…stop talking.” He felt as if she’d knocked him down.
She turned those big eyes on him. Expectant. Wide. Full of hope and happiness.
But nothing could stop his answer. “I can’t just take eighteen months off. I run a billion-dollar company.”
“I know. I mean I’m sure you can stay in contact with your teams even in the remotest areas. The voting shares have been officially transferred so you don’t have to worry about a coup or any such thing. Izzy told me how Uncle Nitin tried to sabotage the Japanese deal and how that forced you to finally put him on a leash. So he’s not a worry anymore either.”
Dante stiffened. “What Nitin almost got away with proves that I need to be at the helm. I can’t just walk away.”
She leaped out of his arms, as if being near him was unbearable. Shaking her head, clutching her midriff. As if he was supposed to agree instantly to her madcap idea. “No one’s asking you to quit Matta Steel. I don’t think what you do is easy or small. I know that thousands of livelihoods depend on the company. If you’re willing to at least give this thought, I’m sure it’ll be a matter of snapping your fingers to have the technology to support it ready.”
Dante paced the floor, feeling as if there was some dark force coming at him but he couldn’t do anything to avoid it. As if he was losing her, but there was nothing he could do to hold on to her.
What she was suggesting was…unthinkable. The company was everything to him. “I can’t go away for eighteen months, Ali. I just can’t. What you’re suggesting is childish and… I understand you’re excited and got carried away but it’s not that simple.”
“Ask me not to go then. This is a great opportunity to build my career, to bring exposure to my work, yes. But at the end of the day, it is only one way. Ask me to give it up for you, for us, for our marriage and I’ll do it. I’ll happily stay, Dante. Please, just ask me. Demand it of me.”
“No! Don’t do that, not for me. I don’t deserve it. Damn it, Ali… I can’t give you anything in return for such a sacrifice.” The words piled out of his mouth, a strange tightening in his throat. It felt as if she was cutting his very breath off. Felling him at every turn. Like his heart was in her hand and she was fisting it tight.
“It’s not a sacrifice, Dante. That’s what you don’t seem to understand. I love you. I want to spend my life with you. I want to make our marriage a priority. I just… Don’t cut me down at every turn. Please, Dante.”
He didn’t want her sacrifice. It would choke him for the rest of their lives. “I can’t ask you to set your career aside for me. For us.”
* * *
Hurt made her stomach so tight that Ali felt as if she couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t even going to consider any option she presented. He refused to take a step toward her, and he forbade her from taking one toward him. She pulled at her hair, fear beating a tattoo in her veins. “So how does this work then? What if, after this trip, I go on another one? How will this marriage work then?”
“You’re asking me hypothetical questions to which I have no answers. Matta Steel is my lifeblood. I can’t shirk my responsibilities. I can’t risk something I have given decades to.”
“Won’t or can’t, Dante?” she said, anger coming to her rescue. “What’s the point of being a bloody billionaire if you can’t even be your own boss? What’s the point of this marriage if we are together when it’s convenient for your career and mine? When you won’t let me give myself to it completely and neither will you? You would have us live in this strange…limbo just because you fear love?”
A cold frost filled his eyes, turning his gray eyes unbearably distant. Even cruel. He was a stranger again. A man she hated. A man who had not an ounce of tenderness in him. A man who cared about nothing but the company. “Don’t make this small thing between us into a transaction, Alisha. Don’t twist this into some sort of big, romantic gesture that I’m supposed to do for you to prove what you mean to me.
“You don’t get to dictate how this marriage works. Now or in the future. I can’t just step away from the company I’ve given everything to, from the role for which I married you in the first place. I’m not my father. I never will be.”
She nodded, suddenly everything so clear to her naively wishful heart. “But I’m not asking you to make a big, romantic gesture. I’m not asking you to give up Matta Steel. I’m just…”
It wasn’t that he wasn’t even giving her idea a chance. It was the rigidity with which he did it. He’d always draw careful, clear lines between them. Always be a little out of her reach. Always decide what their relationship would be and would not be. Push him a little and he trampled her. Demand a little more than he wanted to give and he would crush her heart.
God, she’d been so stupid. She’d imagined them in some tent under the stars in some remote location, weaving an even stronger bond for life. She’d imagined having him all to herself. She’d built so many castles in the air.
The idea of walking away from their life together before it had even begun made her chest ache. “No. You won’t even give this thing between us a chance. God, Dante, you don’t even know how to take that I’m happy and what I’m willing to give. You’re so terrified that I’ll demand some price for not going. For simply loving you. What do I have to do to prove that I won’t? How long will I have to worry what I say or do will make you think I’m asking something you can’t give. That I’m asking too much of you. It will always be me reaching out. Always be me waiting for you to love me, maybe just a little.”
“I can’t… I won’t be manipulated in this relationship, Alisha.”
“Then there’s nothing more to be said except goodbye.”
“Ali—”
“I’m going back to the mansion. Don’t come after me, please. Not tonight. I… I’ll leave soon and it will provide you with the perfect excuse to tell your precious media. And don’t worry, your reputation will be pristine, just like always. I won’t tell the world I fell in love with a man who truly doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”
Every instinct in her clamored to wait for him. To let him catch her, to let him hold her, to let him chase away the pain in her heart. But he was the one breaking it. He was the one throwing it away, the one who didn’t realize what her love truly meant. He would always measure it like a transaction, always think of it as a weakness.
She had put her world, her heart, at his feet. And he had simply kicked it away.
So she held her head high and went back to the elevator.
She’d lived alone before, she’d somehow made it through, and she would do it this time too. Even if it felt like the pieces of her were too many ever to mend again.