The Billionaire’s Prodigal Wife
Chapter 38

As the music kicked up, Mackenna caught sight of Savannah approaching the floor with Nuncio and she grinned. The boys were either in for a treat or a meltdown. Even on nights when they hadn’t been able to afford a night on the town, she and Savannah had danced in their tiny apartment, mastering the steps to the merengue, the salsa, the samba, the mambo, and the rumba. There were nights they had danced until the morning when they both had to work.

The music was cathartic and the energy in learning to move masterfully to the rhythm often pushed them into a frenzy, sometimes until they fell laughing to the floor like a pair of fools. But the salsa was Mackenna’s favorite, and she knew Maisy had run straight to the DJ as soon as Alessandro had headed in her direction to insist, he play music for her.

This was her scene and for the first time ever, it was Alessandro coming into her world and being a part of it and not the other way around. All the past hurts, the pain, the heartache, she forced away as he took her hand and as the tempo of the music increased overhead, she grinned widely at him before dropping his hand and spinning away from him, whisking her h**s, and beckoning with his finger for him to chase. When he laughed and gripped her hand and pulled her back towards him, her hands at chest she let her feet move to the rhythm of the music, quickly and effortlessly, her steps in sync with the drumbeat.

For a moment she laughed as he paused, knowing Alessandro had underestimated her ability to dance. This was not him dancing her around a kitchen while he serenaded her. This was her, owning her sexuality and being seductive and remaining completely in control of the situation.

He c****d his head to the side as he watched her spin her h**s as she twirled around in front of him allowing a good view of her a*s shaking to the beat. As she playfully leaned into him, he reached his hand out only to spin away from him, letting her fingers trail over his shoulder as she twirled under his arm.

Savannah had dated a man, the man who had turned them onto this kind of dancing, who had said the best way for a woman to dance was to imagine herself a minx. A seductress who in her mind was not going home with her partner at the end of the night but wanted to leave him dreaming of her all night. Savannah had joked she’d already screwed up by bringing him home and they had laughed but it was advice Mackenna had taken to heart. It was how she channelled the dance. Now for the first time in her life, she had a partner she genuinely wanted to chase her, and she spun around him.

She laughed merrily as he caught her game and danced with her, his h**s and feet moving with hers in rhythmic harmony and she was breathless by the time the song ended and she spun into his arms and rested her head on his chest.

“You little vixen,” he whispered in her ear. “You’ve been holding out.”

She giggled as the music changed again into a merengue and she allowed him to catch her hands to his chest in the typical pose of the dance and they danced seductively, their h**s never touching but moving as if bound by magnetism.

After several dances she was parched, and she pulled him towards the bar. She kept hold of his hand over her shoulder, casually and happily as she ordered another vodka and cranberry and kept swaying to the music.

“Some lothario taught you to move like that?” Alessandro asked as they took their drinks to the end of the bar away from the noise.

She fanned her face with her hand, aware she was a bit overheated. “A guy Savannah dated for a short time got us hooked on it. We even took free classes at the community center because we had so much fun. It’s a good way to release some energy.”

He gave her a look. “This is building up energy, not releasing it.”

She laughed at his meaning and took a sip of her drink unsure of how to respond. He snaked his arm around her middle and pulled her closer. He sat on a barstool and had her standing between his thighs.

“I do not know if I like the notion you’ve danced like this with other men.”

“Ah, but I’ve never gone home with them.” She batted her eyelashes. “Nothing wrong with harmless flirting and usually,” she touched his chest, “I dance with the paid dancers.”

“The what?” he appeared confused by her comment.

“Look around Alessandro.” She pointed to the dance floor. “Do you not notice there is an abundance of women here who are probably single and yet they all dance?” She watched as his eyes travelled the room and even noted Maisy and Cassidy were dancing up a storm. “Instead of servers, these clubs have dancers to dance with the girls, female dancers too but mostly male. Now,” she taunted him, “some of the guys have a reputation but for the most part, they are here to do their job.”

“What if they want to do more than dance?” he asked curiously.

She patted his chest reassuringly. “They’re working. I’m sure some of them supplement their income with a little more than just dancing but it’s never been for me to pay for such a thing.”

“I would hope not,” he grimaced at her taking a sip of his drink.

“What is this?” She leaned over and sniffed the tumbler.

“Negroni,” he grinned and held it up for her to taste. He laughed outright when she sipped it then choked.

“It’s pure alcohol,” she shivered as it burned down her throat.

“My love, I do not drink juice with a spritz of vodka,” he teased.

“How are you still standing?” When they had been together, they often shared bottles of wine or a cocktail such as vermouth or amaretto, but rarely did she see him drinking hard liquor. This was foreign to her, and she was intrigued.

“The secret is to not drink twenty of them,” he rested his free hand on her h*p continuing to sway to the music. “You really love to dance.”

“I do,” she smiled at his question. “You’re an exceptionally good dancer. I knew you would be. You’ve danced me around the living room often enough.”

“Had I known you could move like this, I’d have done much more than waltz you through the salon,” he patted her h*p.

“Savannah and I tried belly dancing too.” The alcohol was really kicking in now as she felt her words slur. She put her hands over her mouth as if she had revealed a deep secret.

“I would very much like to watch.” He watched with narrowed eyes as she shook her head no. “No?”

“No,” she whispered, “my belly jiggles too much. It was horrifying. Savannah and I did the six weeks and never went back.”

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms completely around her. “Your belly is perfect.”

“Dulce said I’m fat.”

The words came out of nowhere and hung between them and she saw the shock register on his face, and she was mortified. Damn the vodka and her insecurities.

“She is wrong, you are perfect. I could wring her neck for making you feel anything other than perfect.” He tilted her chin with his finger. “Never forget this, there is nothing I would change about you.”

“Not even my jiggly bits?”

His hand brazenly palmed her breast, in full view of anyone who dared to watch them in their own corner of the club. “I especially love the jiggly bits.”

She slapped his hand away and saw the big smirk on his face. “We’re in public.”

“I’m aware, I’ve had to remind myself four hundred times on the dance floor we are in public. I almost popped the button on my trousers.”

“Alessandro!” She put her hand on her cheek as her face flamed at his words. Her cheeks burned as he pulled her hand down and rested it along his thigh and she realized it was not his thigh. “Oh god,” her eyes moved from her hand to his face before she yanked her hand back. “What are you doing?”

“Being friendly,” he let her stand back a bit as she collected herself. “Mackenna, I missed you this week. I just wanted to come home to you. I am trying to be your friend and be respectful, but it is hard.”

“So are you,” she tossed back and was rewarded when he threw his head back and laughed loudly.

“Touché,” he finished his drink and set it on the bar behind him. “Shall we go back to the dance floor and cause me more discomfort?”

“Yes please.” She reached past him and set her drink on the bar, deliberately brushing her breasts against his arm.

“Tease,” he tapped her bottom with an open palm.

When they got to the dance floor, Mackenna noted Derrick and Padma were dancing a storm, neither of them knowing what they were doing but having fun all the same.

“Jealous?” Alessandro asked curiously while they observed the couple.

“Yeah, I mean look at her, I want to dance with her too. She’s gorgeous.” Her words had him laughing again and she turned into his arms. “Alessandro, you’ve ruined me for men.”

“Good.”

Eventually Savannah was dragging her back to the bathroom and Padma followed close behind.

“Are you having fun?” Savannah asked her curiously. “You and Alessandro dance well together.”

“We do, don’t we.” She met her friend’s eyes in the mirror as she reapplied her lipstick.

Padma called out from the stall, “you two are burning up the place. If I opened the dictionary to the word s*x your faces would be right, there.”

“They’re just friends,” Savannah quipped with a grin, “right Mac? He’s giving you three months of friendship with no s*x on the table.”

“So don’t do it on the table,” Padma retorted causing all three of them to erupt into gales of laughter.

“I’m so confused and so very drunk,” Mackenna stared at herself in the mirror. “He actually came back from Milan just because Nuncio told him we were going out.”

“He’s jealous and possessive. It’s not new Mac,” Savannah pulled a face. “I’m not saying it’s healthy behavior but at least he’s owning it. He admitted it at dinner in front of all of us.”

Padma came out of the stall and squeezed between them to wash her hands. “What I want to know is what is the real story with Derrick and you,” she looked at Mackenna. “Am I getting leftovers?”

Mackenna made a face. “No. Derrick asked me out a couple of times, but I wouldn’t because I was still married. I didn’t want to date anyone until I got divorced. We’ve flirted but nothing more. I think he’s a great guy and he’s been a great friend but as much as I hate to admit it, God if my shrink were here, she’d high-five me, I’m still in love with the jealous, possessive overbearing oaf in the club.”

Padma wasn’t surprised by this “So you’ll get back with him?”

“I don’t know, I can’t see how.”

“But why?” Padma was confused. “It’s clear he loves you and you just said you love him.”

She looked at Savannah, but the woman was making her say it all aloud. “Stupid vodka, bathroom girl talks and new friends,” she made a face as Padma laughed. “Short story is, Dulce is his protégé. She’s been telling me for years they sleep together. He thought I was making it up out of jealousy. I left. She got hurt and ended up on Portman’s table. We collided. She finally admitted she’d been the one telling me they were lovers. He wanted me back and then he didn’t,” she didn’t elaborate on Savannah’s make-out session with the model. “I went back to Milan, had the car accident, lost our baby and my grandparents. She still works for him. I came back home and here we are.”

“Wait, you were pregnant.”

“Yup.”

“Oh Mac, I’m so sorry. From the outside it made no sense but no wonder you’re so screwed up in the head over this guy.”

“The guy who caused the car accident was a private investigator Alessandro hired to replace Mackenna,” Savannah added in. “He went far beyond what he was instructed to do, and Alessandro had clearly said to just locate her and leave her but at the end of the day, he hired him.”

Padma gripped her arms. “I’m so sorry for all your losses. I promise to never tell anyone what you shared. If you ever need an extra shoulder to cry on, I’m here.”

“I appreciate it,” she hugged the woman tightly. “However, we have now all just killed my buzz in the worst way. Savannah, what’s happening with you and Nuncio?”

“He scares the hell out of me. He’s so bloody intense.”

“She’ll be at work walking crooked Monday morning,” Padma’s eyebrows wiggled suggestively.

“No, I don’t do intense. I do fun and carefree and,” at Mackenna’s smirk she stopped. “I really want to do the intense thing don’t I?”

“Yeah, you do.” Mackenna laughed. “You like him Savannah and he’s a really good guy.”

“Not the kind to stay in Phoenix, his home is in Milan,” she reminded her of the conversation they had.

“I’m not going back to Milan,” Mackenna said. “There is nothing but heartache for me there. Maybe Alessandro will assign him to me here forever.”

“Fingers crossed,” Savannah held her hands up with her digits intertwined.