The Somelier's Secret

Alexandra Rossi.

Everything felt dark and painful.

I was supposed to celebrate Tristan’s birthday tonight with a cake I baked and his favorite foods, which I had been cooking since the afternoon.

We were supposed to talk and blow out the candles together while praying for Tristan’s new year of maturity.

I should have been doing all that tonight, but once again, I had to swallow the bitter pill when Tristan broke his promise.

“You’ll come home early tonight, right?”

I asked him this morning, hoping he would come home early and skip the nightclub party at the luxurious hotel, just this once, after two years.

“What’s wrong?”

Tristan asked, his cold gaze piercing my heart like an icy glacier, leaving me breathless.

“Today...it’s your birthday,” I replied, lowering my head.

“So?” Tristan raised his voice.

He strolled toward me and hissed loudly into my ear.

“I have no intention of celebrating anything with you tonight, Alexa!” Tristan snapped. “Not tonight or any night after this!”

Tears welled up in my eyes and threatened to spill over.

My heart pounded with anger and disappointment that had built up over time.

I held back my emotions, biting my lips as tightly as possible to keep them closed.

I tried to breathe in and out continuously, while forcing a bitter smile on my face for the umpteenth time in front of him.

“I know,” I whispered.

Tristan didn’t respond.

He left, leaving the meal I had prepared since dawn untouched.

Only the sound of his car roaring away from our driveway remained.

Yet none of his actions could break my spirit.

While cooking our dinner and making a small heart-shaped birthday cake decorated with his favorite theme, I tried to strengthen my resolve once more and pinned my hopes on a miracle on his birthday.

I made sure that every single dish served was his favorite.

I strengthened my heart, resolve, and hopes once more.

Tonight, I will apologize to him.

Not to make him uncomfortable, but to mend our relationship, which has drifted apart.

I prepared myself to look as beautiful as possible so Tristan wouldn’t complain about my appearance.

I wore my jewelry so he wouldn’t think I had always neglected his gifts.

I even called the best makeup artist to ensure I looked my best to welcome Tristan home. I wanted my husband to see the fresh, alluring face he had first fallen in love with.

However, all my efforts felt futile when I saw Tristan returning home with a woman.

His new car was parked there past midnight. Their laughter as they walked toward the wine cellar behind our vineyard made me follow them, my mind full of questions.

Who was the woman Tristan brought home, and why?

Then I saw her climb onto my husband’s lap and share passionate, intimate kisses with him.

They kissed, sweated, and moaned in a way that made my stomach churn with nausea.

I wanted nothing more than to burst between them and immediately separate them.

But my body felt frozen, as if nailed to the ground, with a large rock pressing down on my chest.

Pain, burning, and hurt.

I was utterly shattered.

Every part of my body felt as if it were melting in the fire burning inside my heart.

My mouth was silent, and only tears fell endlessly as I watched everything unfold.

“What if your wife finds out we’re here, dear?” Isabella asked.

Yes, the woman my husband had brought into our wine cellar was Isabella Thortorn, the Laurent Group’s model and brand ambassador.

“She wouldn’t dare do anything,” Tristan growled, moving Isabella onto his lap.

“I...I’m afraid she’ll cause a scene and report—“

Isabella’s words trailed off as she joined him in softly moaning. Then she hugged Tristan tightly while closing her eyes.

The scene was heart-wrenching and painful, yet I couldn’t stop watching.

“She won’t dare touch you, darling,” Tristan said.

My husband gently moved Isabella off his lap, hugged her tightly, and continued kissing her.

Meanwhile, I stood frozen, my mind blank and my ears straining to hear every word of this madness.

“If she dares to touch you or hurt you, I’ll make sure she ends up back on the streets and loses her precious tongue!”

My head spun, and my vision blurred.

Everything felt more painful until I couldn’t bear the pressure anymore, and everything went dark.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a room covered in blankets, the soft scent of lavender calming me.

I gasped and tried to move, but was even more shocked to find Tristan sleeping soundly beside me.

Yes, Tristan.

The man who was still vividly etched in my memory from last night—kissing her and threatening to cut out my tongue if I hurt Isabella.

The same man was now asleep beside me.

There was no smell of alcohol, no scent of another woman’s perfume, and no disgusting sweat like I had seen last night.

Just Tristan Laurent, my husband, asleep in his pajamas with his hand tucked between my legs.

“Tris ... tan?”

I tried to process everything.

I tried to understand what had just happened, wondering if all my memories of last night were a dream or something else had happened. Then, Tristan pulled me forcefully into his embrace.

Burying his face in my neck, he inhaled my scent like an addict. Then he smiled and said in my ear.

“Are you awake?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

“You—“ My words trailed off as Tristan suddenly flipped me over and pressed his lips against mine.

He kissed, licked, and devoured my lips as if they were food that had him very hungry.

One of his hands slipped under my nightgown, causing me to moan in the middle of our kiss. The other held both my arms above my head while he touched me.

There was no conversation between us, only the sound of our lips sucking each other and soft moans escaping, one by one, unable to be held back.

My breathing labored; I was suffocating, yet enjoying it. Whether it was a dream or reality, I didn’t intend to stop Tristan.

That morning, Tristan made me his again.

I was the only one; he had my heart so easily without saying a word.

“I love you, Alexa.”

Just one word from him bound me even deeper to our marriage.

***