The Billionaire’s Prodigal Wife
Chapter 55

Mackenna stood staring in the bathroom mirror wishing Samuel hadn’t done such a great job on her make-up because she really wanted to splash some water on her face. She was angry and irritated she’d let the woman get under her skin. She had done exactly what she had feared she would do and had ruined the evening and she didn’t even have the excuse of mixing wine with her pain tablets.

The door to the bathroom opened with a creek and she looked up aware it was a public bathroom so any number of patrons could come into the room. She was surprised to see Alessandro there.

“I’m sorry Alessandro, I blew it for you. I am so sorry,” she felt a tear sliding down her cheek.

He reached out and pulled her into his arms and kissed her temple rubbing her back. “You have nothing to apologize for. George and Whitney are tearing Tallulah a new one right now. I came here to hide with you.” He chuckled lowly, the sound making her look up in surprise.

“Really?”

“Yes,” he hugged her tight. “Thank you for all the kind things you said. You didn’t need to.”

“I did. She’s mean and nosy,” she protested, “but I could have held my temper better.”

“You’re half Italian, my love. You could no more hold your temper than I could.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Come, let’s go sit down. We can have dinner. If Whitney and her family stay, we will have dinner together, if not, it will be the two of us. You look beautiful and I am enjoying having you with me.”

“Even if I embarrass you?” she whispered pitifully.

“Never! You could never embarrass me. You are the best thing in my world Mackenna. Come now,” he led her out of the bathroom.

She smiled as she saw Nuncio standing there. “I’m surprised you didn’t follow me in as well.”

“Into the girl’s bathroom?” he wrinkled his nose. “Your life wasn’t in danger so no. I am not going into the girls room.”

He escorted them back to their table and Mackenna took a breath as everyone stood up as Alessandro pulled out her chair.

“I apologize for my outburst,” Mackenna said quietly.

“No, you have nothing to apologize for,” Whitney spoke sharply. “My mother was absolutely out of line and,” she glared at her mother, “well?”

“I’m sorry for being so intrusive. It is none of my business and you were both very forthcoming and I took my questions too far. I apologize.”

Alessandro nodded. “Apologies all around then,” he rolled his shoulders out, “now the ugliness is out of the way,” he waved to the server, “I’d very much like to get something to eat. I put Mackenna through the wringer this afternoon with a new wardrobe and we are both quite hungry now.”

“Are you sure you want us to stay?” Whitney asked seriously. “I’d completely understand if you told us to get lost.”

“No, please stay,” Mackenna smiled warmly. “I’d like to hope the rest of the evening is salvageable.”

“I have a confession,” Tallulah remarked with a grin. “I thought you were a doormat, and he was a bully. You’re a bit of a spitfire, aren’t you? He has his hands full.”

“Mom!” Whitney turned fully to face her. “Enough.”

Alessandro chuckled, “the day I met Mackenna was the first time I had ever met anyone who didn’t immediately fawn all over me and try to smooth my feathers when they were ruffled.”

“You tried to kill me with your sports car,” she repeated for what was likely the millionth time in their relationship. “Then you had the nerve to yell at me for it.”

“She slapped me and ran.” Alessandro looked to George. “I spent the next day trying to replace her. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to slap her a*s for being a child or take her home.”

The man chuckled, “and you found her.”

“Working at my company no less, she was interning there in our accounting department. I immediately believed God had put her in my path. I had been going through some things with my family pushing me and then this, spitfire, I think is the word you used Tallulah, was dropped in front of me like a gift from the heavens.” He touched her cheek gently, “I married her as fast as I could. Her grandfather told me the day I met him she was special, and he would not tolerate me toying with his only grandchild so if I were going to be part of her life, I was either all in or I could get lost. I went all in.”

Mackenna stood staring in the bathroom mirror wishing Samuel hadn’t done such a great job on her make-up because she really wanted to splash some water on her face. She was angry and irritated she’d let the woman get under her skin. She had done exactly what she had feared she would do and had ruined the evening and she didn’t even have the excuse of mixing wine with her pain tablets.

“Sounds like your grandfather was protective,” George said. “Tallulah’s dad put a shotgun at me when he caught us in the back of my car.”

“Dad!” Whitney’s cheeks turned bright pink as she let her blonde hair cover her face in mortification.

Mackenna laughed at him, “it wasn’t my grandfather Alessandro need fear. It was my grandmother. My mother and I inherited our tempers from her.”

“Yes, Enzo demanded my intentions, and he was blustering and puffed up. Sofia was quiet and said nothing but then she was cooking us dinner in their home, and she made sure I was very aware of her knife skills as she used a cleaver to take a chicken apart.” He mocks shuddered, “she would not say too much but she could reduce you to tears with a simple glance.” He paused suddenly, his eyes filling with unshed tears, “I really miss them.”

Mackenna squeezed his fingers, “me too.” She looked to Whitney and her family, “Alessandro had weekly and sometimes more than weekly contact with my family even when we were separated. He saw them much more than I did since I was here, and they were there. My grandmother told me she had gotten so used to him showing up unexpected she kept his favorite drinks and snacks on hand.”

“I would go to their apartment and sit there for hours in the hopes you would call, and I’d hear your voice,” he admitted.

“You stole their phone bill to see if you could trace the number I was calling from,” she rolled her eyes.

“I stole multiple phone bills,” he grinned suddenly with no remorse. He looked back to his menu, “had I known Dulce breaking her leg would have brought me to you, I would have pushed her off the runway years ago.”

The table gasped and Mackenna laughed. “Sorry, you’ll get used to his odd sense of humour.” She was hoping he was joking. The way his cheeks were pulled up told her he was smiling but his eyes were fixed on his menu. She slapped at his arm, and he looked up with a devilish grin.

“I am joking but in fairness, Dulce has said she would have definitely taken one for team Alessandro.”

“I thought she hated you,” Whitney looked to Mackenna confused.

“Again, as Mackenna has stated before, she has her own reasons for doing what she did and they are hers to disclose but when it was just us, Dulce was Mackenna’s biggest supporter. I did not realize until we were here in Phoenix it was Dulce releasing all the lies to the press and the way she was treating Mackenna when I wasn’t around to hear it. What she portrayed to me as my friend was a completely different side than what the rest of the world was getting. I feel I was played like a fiddle.” Alessandro made a face as if he were tasting something bitter and then smiled suddenly and looked to Tallulah, “I should pay you the rate I pay my counsellor. I’m spilling more tonight than I have in three months of sessions.”

George stared at him. “You go to counselling?”

“Yes,” Alessandro shrugged, “it’s an American thing, isn’t it? In Italy, you just get on with it. I realized my upbringing and my circumstances were keeping me from connecting with my wife on a level I needed to. One of her friends at the hospital suggested I needed help. I thought maybe it couldn’t hurt.”

“Which friend?” This was the first time Mackenna had heard of this.

“Derrick Portman,” he shrugged, “the day Dulce was being released he pulled me aside, told me I was an i***t. Said only an absolute fool would not see how I was being played by my friend and what it was costing me. He said I needed psychiatric help because only a crazy person would pick Dulce over Mac,” he quoted and then looked at her. “I really do not like how they all call you Mac.”

“You’re changing the subject,” she pursed her lips. “Portman said this to you?”

“Yes, he did. He said it, gave me the card of someone he recommended and told me I had better do right by you because you’re too special to let get away.”

“I’ll have his balls for breakfast,” she looked away and back to her menu.

“Why?” Whitney asked enjoying the openness of the couple in front of them.

“Back then, we were not together,” she waved her hand between them, “thus my friend was cavorting with the enemy.”

“Your friend was putting you ahead of his own wants and desires and I respect him for it.” Alessandro corrected. “I have talked to him many times to get his perspective on how to approach things, not just with you but in general. He’s a good person and he’s become a good friend.”

She contemplated it and shook her head. “It’s a good thing he’s my friend, otherwise he and I would be having words.”

The waiter came back to take their orders and Mackenna made a face, “I don’t even know what to order. I’m so far beyond hungry now.”

“Get the linguine,” Alessandro shrugged, “you love pasta, and it comes with a large side of cheese bread.”

George dropped his menu on his plate in surprise. “You’re telling your wife to get carbs?”

“I’m telling my wife to get what she loves.” He took a breath, “George, I know this is a foreign concept in my business and I’m definitely throwing a match on gasoline with my counterparts in haute couture, but this industry has been toxic and shaming women for their bodies for far too long. I enjoy the curves of my wife but it’s what is inside of her which makes me love and adore her. She has heart and passion. She is fiery, spunky, and determined. She makes me think and consider things in ways I never have before. She is my muse. How could I expect my muse to conform to something ninety-nine percent of the population of women could never reach without making themselves terribly ill?” He looked to Whitney his eyes profoundly serious, “I am not interested in having you walk my runway if you are hungry or ill or feeling you have to look a certain way to fit in. I want you because you throw your middle finger up to the world and do things the way you want. If you don’t like something, tell me, and fight me on it. I promise to listen. If you want to gain weight and be four sizes heavier, I don’t care. If you want to be smaller, then that’s okay too. It’s your body. All I ask is you take care of your body. Treat it well. I never want to hear the words diet or sample size in my presence. There is no room in my new line for such things. I want you to be you Whitney, just you.”

Mackenna wiped a tear off her cheek at her husband’s impassioned speech and saw Tallulah do the same. George was stumped and Whitney had leaned back in her chair and was watching him seriously.

“What if I gain five pounds the day before a show?”

“It’s why I hire the best in modistes, they will fix it. God, I remember Mackenna complaining she could gain five pounds once a month,” he looked at her suddenly, his eyes wide. “Did you know many models don’t have monthly cycles because of the abuse they put their bodies through? My mother told me this recently and I was horrified. She said she went several years on such a strict regimen of diet it almost destroyed her organs.” He shook his head. “No, moving forward the women I surround myself with will not be subjected to this kind of torture. I want vibrant healthy women living their best lives to represent this line.”

He seemed oblivious to the stunned gazes around the table as he went back to perusing the menu. “Or men,” he spoke suddenly, “I wouldn’t mind having men or trans men or women or even non-binary on the line. After talking to Samuel, he mentioned a friend of his who would be perfect for one of the dresses we vetoed off your collection today. He said they were struggling to get recognition. I told him to send them to me and we would see what we could do.”

George choked on his water and Mackenna patted his back.

This was the Alessandro she had fallen in love with years ago. The kind, compassionate man who respected people and enjoyed being thrown into situations which could be construed as difficult or embarrassing but leaning into it and learning from it. Supportive and kind. Somehow, along the way he’d lost some of this and she was so proud to be sitting there with him, at his side as he reminded her of all the good things she had once loved so much about him.