24

MILLIE
Summoning a taxi, I settled into its confines and directed it to carry me home, to the familiar embrace of our apartment building. As I entered the lobby, the receptionist’s phone came alive, undoubtedly signaling my arrival. “Well-trained dog,” I mused inwardly, though I managed a strained smile as I stepped into the elevator. The card slid effortlessly into place, dictating the lift’s ascent to the desired floor. Outwardly, I appeared composed now, the tempest within me momentarily stilled.
Questions clouded my thoughts like mist. Was Gio waiting for me in the penthouse, or had he embarked on a relentless pursuit? Perhaps he had relinquished his personal quest and entrusted his henchmen with the task. In those moments when Gio’s arms enveloped me or his lips met mine, I dared to hope for reciprocated affection. As we had shared meals, I had allowed myself to entertain the idea that my heart might sway in his direction.
The penthouse’s entrance greeted me as I pushed open the door. There stood Dario, a visible wave of relief washing over him as our eyes met. A quick call confirmed my presence for someone on the other end. “She’s here,” Dario intoned, his phone conversation ending shortly thereafter.
“Where’s Gio?” I couldn’t help but inject a note of acerbity into my question. “Reveling with his paramour?”
A crease formed on Dario’s forehead, mirroring the turmoil within me. “Searching for you,” he replied evenly.
“It’s surprising he even bothers, isn’t it? He could have sent you or any of his other loyal underlings. After all, you execute his every whim. Even offer cover when he seeks solace elsewhere.” My words were a lash, unfurled without clear purpose, even to myself.
Walking away, I retreated from the verbal exchange, his voice fading behind me. “Where are you going?”
“To shed this facade and cleanse myself. Should you wish to be an audience, consider yourself invited.” The stairs carried me upward, Dario’s gaze tracking my ascent. Shutting the bedroom door forcefully, I secured my solitude, the click of the lock sealing me in. The bathroom offered a refuge, a cascade of water intended to cleanse both body and mind. However, no amount of heat could wash away the mental images that had insidiously taken root. Gio entwined with Alyssa, her smile a twisted accomplice to my torment. The rhythmic collision of their bodies echoed in my thoughts, a symphony of betrayal and desire.
The bedroom door protested in response to vehement knocking, the sound intruding upon my post-shower solitude. Swathing myself in a towel, I emerged from the bathroom, every step measured. The air held a tension I couldn’t ignore.
“Millie, open this door!” His voice resonated with frustration, each word a blunt demand.
With deliberate slowness, I allowed the towel to slip away, replacing it with a silk nightgown that whispered against my skin. My motions held a quiet defiance, an assertion of my autonomy.
“I swear, I’ll break the damn door down if you don’t open it.”
The audacity of his threat ignited a flicker of amusement within me. Perhaps the door would claim its victory and leave him nursing a humbled shoulder.
“Millie, for the love of God, let me in!”
Fatigue had depleted my patience. I yearned for the day to fold into the embrace of night, to surrender my memories to the oblivion of sleep. Releasing the lock, I turned away, returning to the bed. The door swung open forcefully, crashing against the wall as Gio stormed in. His grip found purchase on my arm, a blaze of anger sparking within me. How dare he lay hands on me with the same fingers that had caressed her?
“Keep away from me!” The words tore from my throat, my body wrenching free from his hold. He was a tempest, eyes ablaze with emotions too tumultuous to decipher. His appearance was disheveled, shirt askew, hair in disarray. Sebastian lingered in the doorway, flanked by Dario and Valerio a few steps behind.
“Where have you been?” His voice, a low growl, reached me, his hand extending once again. I stumbled back, evading his touch. “No! Never touch me again. Not with those hands that trace her contours.”
His countenance froze, a mask of stillness descending upon him. “Leave us. All of you. Now.”
Sebastian pivoted, and in the wake of his exit, Dario and Valerio retreated from view.
“Tell me, where were you?”
“I want you to understand, beyond any doubt, that I would never betray you in that way. The cornerstone of any marriage, to me, is unwavering loyalty. Please, ease your concerns now, because my commitment to you is absolute,” I uttered those words with a vehement force. “My body belongs only to you, despite my sharp tone. I was merely walking around the city.”
“Alone? And at night?” The disbelief hung heavily in the air.
I locked my gaze onto his, attempting to convey the depth of my resentment for what I had witnessed, and how deeply his disregard had wounded me. “Gio, you forfeit your right to be angry with me, considering what I saw today. You were the one who betrayed us.”
Gio’s response was a snarl, but it was his retort that truly stung. “How can you call it betrayal when our marriage itself is a sham? I can’t be expected to live in celibacy until you decide you can tolerate my presence.”
The audacity of his words infuriated me. Alongside my father, he had orchestrated a life that barred me from even speaking to other men until he claimed me as his wife. “Heaven forbid. How audacious of me to anticipate faithfulness from my husband. How dare I hope for such basic decency from a monster?”
“Monster? I’ve treated you with respect,” he shot back.
“Respect?” The pitch of my voice climbed higher, fueled by a mixture of anger and pain. “I caught you with another woman! Maybe I should go out, find a stranger, and bring him here to have his way with me right before your eyes. How would that sit with you?”
Suddenly, he propelled me onto the bed, his weight pinning my arms above me. Through the tendrils of fear, I mustered the courage to challenge him further. “Go ahead. Take me. Then I’d truly have reason to despise you.” His eyes held a terror I had never seen before.
His grip on my wrists was vise-like as I held my ground, unflinching. His gaze bore into mine, his breathing ragged. Slowly, his face shifted, pressing into my shoulder, a deep breath escaping him. “Millie,” he breathed, a mix of desperation and torment in his voice.
I turned my face away, shutting my eyes tightly, feeling the thud of my heart against my chest. His hold loosened on my wrists, but I kept them raised. He moved, his face now buried in the curve of my neck. The tension in the room was palpable. “Don’t touch me with her scent on you,” I choked out.
He retreated, sitting up. “I’m going to take a shower now. We both need to cool off, and then we must talk.”
“What’s left to discuss?” I queried, my voice carrying the weight of resignation.
“Our future, our marriage,” he replied.
I lowered my arms, staring at him incredulously. “You had an affair right in front of me. Do you truly believe there’s anything left to salvage?”
“I never wanted you to witness that,” his voice carried a trace of remorse.
“Why? So you could indulge in your betrayal away from my sight?”
He sighed, fingers working on the buttons of his shirt. “Allow me to shower. You’re right, I shouldn’t compound my disrespect by touching you like this.”
I shrugged, a hollow feeling settling in my chest. At this moment, I couldn’t fathom ever wanting his touch again, regardless of the number of showers he took. He vanished into the bathroom, the sound of the shower running for an extended period. I huddled against the headboard, sheets drawn up to my hips, as Gio finally emerged. My gaze averted as he discarded his towel and donned boxer shorts. He slipped into bed beside me, his back against the headboard. There was no attempt to bridge the distance. “Did you cry?” his voice held a perplexed note.
“Did you truly believe I wouldn’t care?”
“In our world, many women welcome their husbands’ affairs or mistresses. As you said, love marriages are rare. If a wife rejects her husband’s touch, she often turns a blind eye to his infidelity to fulfill his needs.”
I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping me. “His needs.”
“I don’t lay claim to being virtuous, Millie. I’ve never pretended otherwise. Virtue is a scarce commodity in our world.”