The Billionaire’s Prodigal Wife

Chapter 5

“Pathetic excuse for a...” his voice trailed off as her words set in and when she tried to roll off the bed, he yanked her back hard and threw his leg up over her hip and held her captive. “Where do you think you’re going? You are going to explain your statement right now.”

“You want the reasons why I think you’re a terrible husband?” She demanded, her eyes burning with rage as she glared at him. “Do you want the list in alphabetical or numerical, in English or Italian?”

“All of this because you are jealous of my friendship with Dulce.” He grimaced at her. “It is time you grew up Mackenna and realized not all relationships between a man and woman have to be about sex.”

“They do when they involve you.” She shoved on his chest trying to get away from him. “Its all you know how to do. You don’t know how to carry a conversation like a normal human being. It’s just s*x. I should have known you had no intention of taking me to dinner. You were just looking to get laid.”

Her comment stunned him. “Where the hell have you been living you’ve learned such a vocabulary?”

“A bordello.” She returned smartly. “It’s helped me come to grips with my inner s*x-slave, considering it was all you thought of me anyway. The only difference between you and my clients is they pay me cash and you bought me baubles.”

She’d pushed him too far and as soon as the words left her mouth, she knew it. His cheeks reddened with fury under the mocha complexion of his skin, his nostrils were wide and flared and his lips were pulled so tight his gritted teeth were exposed. She could see the fury as if it furled in smoky wisps from his scalp as he grabbed her hands and pinned them over her head.

“No, Alessandro.” She whispered as he tore the buttons off her shirt in one furious movement. Her bra followed in the same tattered pattern as he broke the clasp on the front. “Please Alessandro. I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh, you meant it, Mackenna. It is very clear you think I’ve used you for s*x in the past so why should today be any different?” His knee moved between hers as he held her on her back, pushing her legs wide. “However, let’s make things perfectly clear. You can try to say as you want but you enjoy the s*x as much as I do. Who used who Mackenna?”

She wanted to deny it but then his head lowered, and he sunk his teeth into the soft rounded flesh of her breast, tugging her n****e between his lips in a hard fluid motion that had her back arching off the bed. He suckled her with such ferocity when he moved his head to the other breast, he left behind a purplish love-bite from his efforts.

He had released her hands and they were buried in his hair as he repeated the same offense to the other side and then he trailed the kisses down her flat tummy, dipping his tongue into her navel as his fingers worked with dexterity on the button and zipper of her jeans and then they were tossed carelessly away. Any protests she might have had evaporated in the air around them as his lips found her s*x and his tongue drew up the middle of her.

Time was lost to her as he kissed and sucked and nibbled at the sensitive crux of her womanhood and when a second finger joined the first one he’d slipped inside of her she was sobbing his name into the pillow she yanked over her face as wave after wave of pleasure slammed her with considerable force into the mattress beneath her as the first orgasm, she’d had in almost five years tore through her body.

The pillow was ripped from her face and tossed away as he smashed his lips against hers and replaced his fingers with his thick shaft. There was nothing gentle in the harsh hurried movements he made as he slammed into her, pushing her body up the bed until her head touched the headboard. Her ankles locked around his middle, drawing him upward, deeper inside of her and the adjustment she made allowed for him to hit her g-spot with precision accuracy and his tempo didn’t shift a beat as he brought her to a second rapid climax.

She was surprised when he joined her, releasing so suddenly, his guttural calling of her name as he buried his face in her hair sounding far unlike any noise, he’d ever made with her before, and she knew then he was still angry.

Her arms were over her head, gripping the pillow she had pushed behind her to protect her from the hard wood of the headboard. Her legs still hung over his hips. His elbows were on either side of her face and she kept her eyes closed and her face turned to one side as the sound of his heavy panting filled her ear from where his cheek rested just above hers. They lay not looking at each other for several minutes until their breath was caught.

He rolled off her suddenly, the movement of his withdrawal from her body rough and uncaring and he stood up beside the bed. He grabbed his pants and slipped into them, and it dawned on her she didn’t even recall him taking them off. Humiliation at her wanton behaviour filled her and tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Get dressed,” he barked at her. He started to walk away, and he turned at the sound behind him. “Tears? What did you expect from a man who pays you in baubles for s*x? Were you expecting for me to hold you, cuddle you, and whisper some pillow-talk for you? Consider yourself lucky I’m even buying your dinner considering what just happened was quite possibly the worst s****l experience I’ve ever had.” He slammed into the bathroom and the entire room shook with the force of his rage.

Mackenna sat up in the bed and grabbed her jeans off the floor. Her blouse was useless and so she grabbed his dress shirt and pulled it on. Knowing full well a security agent would be outside the door she grabbed her purse and hooked it over her shoulder but under the shirt. She grabbed an ice bucket off a counter and headed to the door. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and paused. Her lips were full and bruised and her eyes were big and wild. Her hair was mussed and tousled and anyone looking at her would know she had just had s*x and her eyes filled with tears and she brushed them away angrily.

She took a deep breath as the sound of water running in the bathroom told her Alessandro was showering. There was a time when after making love he would have carried her to the shower with him. She felt dirty and soiled from what they’d done, and she wanted nothing more than to run a bar of soap over her entire body. If only she could be cleansed from this feeling, but she hadn’t the time. She grabbed the handle and pulled it open. If she ever wanted to get away from him, it was right now, in this moment, while he was angry and in the shower.

 She smiled a phoney smile in the direction of the two agents at the door before jerking her thumb in the direction of the closed bathroom door. “He wants me to get some ice.”

One of the men’s eyes rounded at the sight before him and she knew what he was seeing. She pushed her hand through her hair and adjusted her arm over her braless breasts as if trying to hide her n*****s. Her husband was a fashion designer, she’d neve been ashamed of n*****s, but she’d play it up for the stunned guard.

He gave her a once over and then grumbled, “hurry up,” before folding his arms over his chest in annoyance.

She gave a fake giggle. “That’s what he said.”

She moved to the ice machine in the tiny recess at the end of the hall and looked around for a path of escape. She leaned back to see the men weren’t really looking at her, but she was definitely in their line of vision. The glass door just opposite the ice machine beckoned and yet she hesitated. She slowly allowed some ice to collect in the bottom of the container and then she stopped as a sob caught in her throat as she leaned against the wall as a sudden truth slammed her.

 She didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay with him. She wanted to be with him. Even after all this time, after all this space, only a little more than an hour in his presence and she wanted nothing more than to go to him in the shower and apologize and have him make love to her the way he had originally wanted to, the way she wanted him to. She was an i***t and a fool, and she stood there with her head against the wall, sobbing at the realization she still loved him as much today as she did the day, she married him. He was going to be the death of her.

The sound of the slamming door opening at the far end of the hall caught her ear and she knew he’d stepped out into the hall. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, aching with what she knew she had to do. Leaving was going to break her into a million pieces and she was unsure if she would survive. He was still now, as much as he was when she’d left him five years ago, a fire which consumed everything in his wake, and she was nothing more than dry brush. She loved him so much. She blinked rapidly at the tears still falling.

 “Where the hell is she?” His voice was hoarse and dry.

“Getting ice.” The man told him with a shrug. “She said you told her to get ice.”

She turned to face him and saw him standing there, a white towel draped over his lean hips, his hair almost black with the dampness from the shower he’d jumped in and out of. His cell phone was in his hand at his side and the expression on his face almost had her dropping the ice bucket on the ground and running to comfort him. The stunned pain at the realization she was running again etched on his face broke her heart and she knew he knew. They stared at each other for several long seconds and then knowing she had to do the only thing best for her, she dropped the bucket to the floor, and she ran. Faster than she had ever run in her life, she shoved the glass door to her side open and she raced down the stairs knowing there was a very real possibility one of the three men at the end of the hall would catch her long before she reached the bottom. She prayed it wasn’t him because she wasn’t sure if he would kill her or if she would simply die from heartbreak.

Her heart pounded as the sound of their heavy footsteps jumping down the stairs more than running echoed in the stairwell, but she didn’t look back and she ran even harder. Even when she made it out the side entrance onto the street she kept running. Mackenna ran until her lungs ached and her sides were pierced with sharp stabbing pains. She ignored the stares from people she brushed past and just kept running. For twenty full minutes she’d run before ducking into a coffee shop and hid in a bathroom. As she stood staring into the mirror, her eyes wide, red-rimmed and swollen, she came to the realisation she’d come full circle. She was ending exactly where she had started the first time, she’d met Alessandro Giordano; hiding in a coffee shop bathroom. She wasn’t hiding far enough.

It didn’t take her as long this time to leave the bathroom as it had the first time. She quickly splashed a palmful of water on her face and then took a deep breath. She ignored the stares of the customers as she exited again and stepped cautiously into the street. She made her way to a taxi stand.

“Can you take me to Bergamo?” thankfully her Italian was as strong as the day she left.

“Bergamo?” the man asked curiously. “It’s a long way for a taxi ride.” The man did not seem keen. “A bus would take you there at half my fare.”

“I’ll pay you four times the fare,” she offered, hating how terrified she felt standing in the open street.

“Get it, get in,” he waved her into the car.

She climbed into the back seat. She ducked her head as she noted Alessandro coming down the street in the direction of the coffee shop, as if he’d know it was where she’d wind up. Curse him and his intuition. She opened her purse and pushed all the money in her purse at him. “There’s almost a thousand Euros there. You can have it all if we go right now.”

The tax driver gave a wide smile and agreed. He stepped on the gas and peeled away. Mackenna looked back through the window to see Alessandro stepping into the coffee shop. She felt safe for the first time since she’d seen him earlier in the day. Then as the car weaved through traffic and she knew she was leaving him behind her put her face in her hands and let the tears fall unchecked.