Chapter 5

The day after I got home from the hospital, Donatello found me in the study.

“Let me take you on a vacation,” he said. “A cruise. The Mediterranean. We can… make up for the honeymoon we never had.”

I knew this was just an apology for not picking me up. I was already used to his broken promises, so it didn't hurt anymore.

But a honeymoon…

My fingers tightened on my pen.

Because our marriage was a secret, we never had a wedding. He’d said we would do the honeymoon “later.” For three years, “later” never came.

A month ago, his words might have made me cry with happiness.

But now, I just looked at him quietly for a long time.

“Okay,” I heard myself say.

This was the last time, anyway. A final, decent end to a marriage that was anything but.

On the day we left, the yacht was waiting at a private marina.

As I stepped onto the deck with my suitcase, the first person I saw was Angelina.

She was wearing a white linen dress, her hair blowing in the sea breeze, laughing about something with her brother, Marcus.

My knuckles turned white on the handle of my suitcase.

Donatello came up behind me, his voice low in my ear. “Angelina heard I was going on the water and said she’d always wanted to try a cruise… Marcus was worried, so he came along. Don’t worry. This won’t affect us.”

Affect us.

I laughed silently to myself. Our honeymoon was a party from the start.

Angelina saw me and froze for a second before walking over. “Donatello, why bring your lawyer on vacation? Is there important business to handle?”

Before I could answer, I felt Donatello’s gaze on me, tense and sharp.

I lowered my eyes and offered a gentle smile. “Miss Bianchi, I’m actually going through a divorce myself right now. Mr. Vexille heard we were in a similar situation and thought it might be good for us to… talk.”

Angelina looked surprised, then her eyes filled with pity. She took my hand. “Miss Merouin, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Behind me, Donatello let out a very soft sigh of relief.

At sunset, I was sitting alone on the deck when Angelina came to find me.

“Miss Merouin,” she began, looking at the fiery sunset. “Why are you getting a divorce?”

I turned to meet her clear, sympathetic eyes. I took a moment before answering slowly. “My husband… he’s in love with someone else.”

Angelina’s eyelashes fluttered. She clutched her wine glass, her own eyes instantly turning red.

“How could any man do that…” she whispered, her voice filled with genuine anger. “Don’t worry, Miss Merouin. Donatello will help you. He hates men like that.”

I just smiled and said nothing.

“How are your divorce proceedings going?” I asked, changing the subject.

At that, a faint blush appeared on her pale cheeks.

“Donatello… he assigned four bodyguards to me, 24/7,” she said, looking down. “When my ex was at his worst, he had his men take him away. I still don’t even know where he is… He told me I’d never have to be afraid again.”

When she spoke, her eyes sparkled.

I took a sip of champagne. It was cold going down, but a bitter warmth spread through my chest.

Finally, I asked the question.

“Angelina… are you in love with him?”

Her face turned beet red.

“I…” She bit her lip. “I always just thought of him as a big brother. When I was a kid, boys at school would bully me, and he’d bring his guys and teach them a lesson. When I was older, some gang was harassing my family, and he wiped the entire gang off the map in a week…”

Her eyes lit up as she spoke, then quickly dimmed.

“But I always thought he just saw me as a little sister. It wasn’t until the day I got divorced that my brother told me… Donatello has been in love with me for years.”

The sea breeze suddenly felt freezing.

So that was it. He wasn’t incapable of being gentle. He wasn’t born cold.

He just didn’t love me.

The realization was like a tiny, sharp needle, slowly sinking into the deepest part of my heart.

“Miss Merouin?” Angelina looked at me, worried. “You look pale…”

“I’m fine,” I managed a smile. “Just a little cold.”

She squeezed my hand gratefully, as if she’d found her only confidante. “Miss Merouin, what about you? What do you… think of Donatello?”

I looked into her innocent eyes and felt a strange mix of humor and sorrow.

“I’m just his employee,” I said softly. “I don’t really know him.”

I paused, then added, “But I can tell he’s loved you for a very long time.”

Angelina’s face was completely flushed.

At dinner, Donatello sat at the head of the long, elegant table. His gaze almost never left Angelina.

“You don’t eat raw beef, so I had the chef cook this tartare to medium.”

“I had them leave the hazelnuts out of the dessert. You’re allergic.”

“I swapped the wine for a Barolo. You said you liked it at Marcus’s house.”

I just listened in silence, a ghost at the feast.

After dinner, Donatello walked a slightly tipsy me back to my cabin. The hallway lights were dim. He held my arm, his tone uncharacteristically gentle.

“Avril, thank you for being so understanding tonight,” he said quietly. “Angelina… she’s been in a bad place. She needs a little extra care.”

“I know.”

He hesitated, as if steeling himself. “At the family conference next year…” He looked at me, his gaze more serious than I’d ever seen it. “I’m going to announce our marriage.”

Next year.

I turned and looked out the porthole, saying nothing.

I didn’t want to wait anymore.