The Billionaire’s Prodigal Wife
Chapter 31

Since she had suggested it initially, Savannah had been ruthless in trying to convince Mackenna to go out with her and the other doctors and nurses to the new dance club. Savannah wanted to show off her dance moves and everyone except Mackenna and Nuncio were on board.

Nuncio in no uncertain terms wanted nothing to do with the idea. He refused to even bring it up to Alessandro, very aware his employer would say no and Mackenna was secretly grateful.

The last thing she felt like doing was dancing provocatively when her heart was still feeling so bruised.

Instead, she encouraged them all to go on without her.

As Savannah stood in their tiny bathroom wearing a tiny sequined number making her legs appear miles long, she pouted in the mirror at Mackenna standing behind her. “Are you sure you don’t want to come? I believe it would do you a world of good.”

“Dancing the merengue and getting wasted isn’t appealing to me right now Savannah. I’m just not ready.”

“Okay,” Savannah turned and gripped her hands. “Do you want me to cancel? I will stay in. We can order pizza and drink wine.”

“No,” Mackenna shook her head, squeezing Savannah’s hands in response. “Please go, have a good time. I have a new book I want to start reading. I’m going to sit quietly and read. Besides, the last thing you all need is a bunch of paparazzi hounding you everywhere I go.”

They had not gone away since Alessandro’s return to Phoenix. News of his donation to the orthopedic wing had been a sensation. The revelation the orthopedic wing was at the same hospital his wife worked at was a whole other level. Alessandro was being dragged through the mud, not one single news outlet believed for a moment he had not known his wife worked at the hospital where his lover had been transported. They were calling him cruel and callous. Worse, they were hounding her at every turn asking her to comment on the allegations of his infidelity.

She walked Savannah to the door and hid her grin at Nuncio’s intake of breath as she stepped into his view. There was a spark, but he was too professional to flirt around on the job and Savannah was giving him the cold shoulder for not responding to her advances.

Mackenna saw the way her bodyguard was letting his gaze go up and down Savannah’s body and wondered how long before he said something. It took seconds.

“You’re wearing that to a club?”

Savannah raised her eyebrows in his direction. “Yes, it’s made exactly for this purpose.”

“One wrong move and the entire club will see your bits,” he tossed at her.

“They are my bits to show off, if I wish Nuncio.” Savannah shot back. She looked to Mackenna, “I take it back, I don’t like him.”

“You should get changed.” He glared at her. “The dress is too short.”

Mackenna cleared her throat as the room filled with tension. “Yeah, um, I’m going to go to my bedroom now. You two sort out whatever,” she waved her hand between them, “this is.”

She retreated to her bedroom ignoring the hissed arguments carrying down the hall to her tiny room. She lay on the bed with her book propped on her knee and started to read the introduction to her book. It was another book on grief, supposed to help her process her feelings of sadness and shame. Her counselor was helping as well but there was only so much talking could do. Every book she read she desperately searched for some tiny bit of wisdom to dull the ache in her heart.

The sound of a slamming door rattled the entire apartment followed by Nuncio’s yell of frustration and she gave a grin at the noise. She had a feeling her friend was going to have a security agent on her bad side for a while.

Her phone buzzed as a text message popped up. She lifted it from beside her and grinned at the long message Savannah had sent. A bang on her bedroom door had her putting her phone on her chest Nuncio opened her door, poking his head through. He looked positively murderous.

“Can I help you?” she tried not to laugh. Her phone buzzed again on her chest, and he looked to the phone. His intention was clear as he strode into her room to take it from her. “No, you are not invading my privacy by reading my private messages.”

He stood with his hands on his h**s torn between ripping the phone from her and respecting her as his employer. He turned on his heel. “Alessandro is in the living room.”

She sat up angrily. “You couldn’t give me warning he was coming?”

“You couldn’t warn me she was wearing a dress with her a*s-cheeks hanging out?”

She looked at her phone and typed a hasty reply to her friend and stuck her tongue out on his departing back. Nuncio was becoming the brother she never knew she had needed, and she enjoyed winding him up. She started to settle back down but then remembered he said Alessandro was here.

She g*****d and walked the few steps to the living room to see him standing in her living room, his back to her, his hands clasped behind him. His broad shoulders were tense, and she felt herself instantly responding in kind, her fingers tightening around the book she’d forgotten to put down on her bed. Nuncio walked out the front door leaving them alone.

“Why are you here?” her voice broke and she cleared her throat. “Alessandro?”

“What’s with him? He’s angrier than usual,” Alessandro tossed his head in the direction of the door.

“Savannah pissed him off.” She wasn’t about to divulge his employee’s love life to him. It was Nuncio’s to discuss, not hers.

“She could piss off a cloister of nuns,” Alessandro gave a half smile and noted the grin on his wife’s face. How he missed her smile.

He studied her intently. “You look tired.”

“I worked all week,” she shrugged avoiding his gaze.

“You are not out with Savannah?”

“No,” she swallowed deeply, aware there wasn’t much place to put her gaze when he filled the entire space. She finally looked at him. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to ask you to dinner.”

“No,” she wanted to scream at him but took a slow breath. “I ate already.”

“Mackenna, we need to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” Mackenna felt her chest tighten uncomfortably. She’d been having more frequent panic attacks since she’d gotten back from Milan and felt her breath catch.

“Why are you not out with Savannah?” he changed his tactics.

“The salsa and merengue don’t appeal to me tonight,” she shrugged.

“Because you are sad,” he commented quietly.

“Understatement of the century,” she responded and realizing he wasn’t going away any time soon, stepped past him to the chair. She almost paused as she caught a whiff of his cologne. The man smelled divine. She grabbed a throw from the sofa and covered her legs, dropping her book on her lap.

“New book?” he caught sight of the title, different to the one she’d had last time. She had always been a devout reader, interested in learning whatever she could about the subject she was interested in. Right now, she was obviously consumed with grief.

“Yeah, counselor suggested it.” She closed her eyes for a minute wishing the small talk would end and he’d get to the point. She opened them again and found he was sitting on the sofa studying her closely. “Now what?”

“I know you tell me Nuncio is making you eat but you’re still very pale and I don’t think you’re sleeping well.”

“I didn’t take my sleeping tablet the last two nights as I’m trying to wean off them. It’s not working. I also started a new medication today for depression and it’s making me a bit groggy.”

“You are depressed.” It was a statement not a question, but it held a ring of surprise. It was not like her. She was a strong woman.

“Everyone feels sadness sometimes Alessandro, right now, I’m very deep in it and while I’m trying to keep doing what my grandparents would want me to do, it is hard and so I need help. There is no weakness in admitting you need help. So yes, I saw my doctor yesterday at the advice of my counsellor and discussed a medication to assist me getting through all of the loss I’ve been through.” She held his gaze but then when his eyes watered with unshed tears she looked away.

“I too loved your grandparents Mackenna, I spoke to them both weekly. I miss them,” his voice was soft as if he were afraid to say it to her.

“My grandfather wanted your head on a platter the last time I saw him, but as angry as he was, he still loved you. I know he did.”

“He had every right to be angry with me,” Alessandro admitted causing Mackenna’s mouth to fall open.

“Can you say it again?” she was incredulous. “I think I heard incorrectly.”

“No, you did not hear wrong. Your grandfather and your grandmother had every right to want my head on a platter. Camille too, Savannah as well. I put you through hell. I continue to put you through hell, though I’m wanting to repair this relationship. Mackenna, I know I made mistakes. I’ve made so many and I have much regret. I want to move forward but I can only do so once I have your forgiveness.” He didn’t try to hide the tears spilling down his cheeks.

Her heart ached at his words. She wanted so much to believe him but just yesterday in the doctor’s office waiting room she read a new article where Dulce still proclaimed they were lovers. “Alessandro, I just don’t believe you.” She shrugged and wiped her own tears off her cheeks. “I want to, I won’t lie, I really want to, but you have hurt me so much, so many times I don’t trust you and I don’t believe you.”

“How do I fix this?” he pleaded with her. “I am not willing to lose you. I lost you for five years. I cannot go any longer without you as part of my life.”

She sniffed, wishing he would go so she could go to bed and cry her heart out. She still loved him so much, but he would be the death of her if she returned to him. She couldn’t trust he wouldn’t destroy her in every single way possible. “I don’t know it can be fixed Alessandro.” She whispered quietly.

After several minutes of them both avoiding each other’s gaze he whispered again, “Can I make a suggestion?”

“Yeah, sure,” she exhaled slowly, wondering what absurdity he’d come up with as another ploy to make her move back to him.

“Can we start over? As friends?”

“What?” she stared at him. “Alessandro, you have put me through hell and back and you want us to be friends?”

He shrugged uncomfortably. “You are not the only one who is attending counselling my love. The counsellor suggested to me everything about us was fast, furious, and whirlwind. He suggested I take the time to demonstrate I am genuine but also to be your friend first, your lover and husband second. He thought perhaps you needed a friend more than the latter, especially since your only experience with a husband has been a bit shoddy.” He shot her a remorseful look, his cheeks pink with color.

“Oh,” she didn’t know what to say.

“Give me three months,” he suggested. “Three months of friendship.”

“No s*x,” she looked up suddenly. “I can’t…” she trailed off.

“No s*x,” he agreed and chuckled as her eyes snapped to his in disbelief. “I told you, I’m willing to try. I just need to know you are as well.”

“Okay,” she said unexpectedly and saw the slow grin on his face. She waited for him to jump on her moment of weakness, but he didn’t. Instead, he just smiled and sat there staring at her.

After a few minutes she asked. “So now what?”

“The ball is in your court Mackenna. What do you normally do with friends on a Saturday evening?”

She laughed suddenly. “My best friend works so many hours a week because she’s got debt up to her eyeballs and I’ve been a spendthrift for so long I usually get my books from the library, stay home and read. We would sometimes go dancing but my heart just isn’t in it tonight.”

“You were really going to just sit home tonight and read?” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” she shrugged with a grimace.

“Would it be okay if I sat here with you for awhile?” He held up his phone. “I downloaded the book you had the other day and I’ve been reading it. I could just sit here quietly reading with you if it’s alright?”

She nodded her agreement in stunned silence. Had she not been stone-cold sober, she would have thought she was hallucinating. Alessandro Giordano was asking her to be friends, wanting to sit quietly and read a book, a book on grief and miscarriages of all things and he didn’t want s*x.

His next words absolutely threw her. “Do you want me to make some tea?”