Chapter 1: Alessandra

ONCE UPON A TIME, I'D LOVED MY HUSBAND.

His beauty, his ambition, his intelligence. The wildflowers he'd plucked

for me on his way home from agraveyard shift, and the gentle kisses he'd

trailed over my shoulder when I stubbornly refused to heed my alarm clock.

But once upon atime was a long time ago, and now, as I watched him

walk through the door for the first time in weeks, all I felt was a deep, dull

ache in the places where love once resided.

"You're home early," I said, even though it was near midnight. "How

was work?"

"Fine." Dominic shrugged out of his coat, revealing an immaculate gray

suit and crisp white shirt. Both custom-made, both costing upward of four

figures. Only the best for Dominic Davenport, the so-called King of Wall

Street. "Work was work."

He gave me a perfunctory kiss on the lips. A familiar whiff of citrus and

sandalwood brushed my senses and made my heart squeeze. He'd worn the

same cologne since I gifted it to him a decade ago during ourfirst trip to

Brazil. I used to find the loyalty romantic, but the new cynic in me

whispered it was only because he couldn't be bothered to find a new scent.

Dominic didn't care about anything that didn't make him money.

He flicked hiseyes over thelipstick-smudged wine glasses and

remnants of Chinese takeout on the coffee table. Our housekeeper was on

vacation, and I'd been in the middle of cleaning up when Dominic came

home.

"Did you have friends over?" he asked, sounding only marginally

interested.

"Just the girls." My friends and I had celebrated a financial milestone

for my small pressed flower business, which was nearing its two-year

anniversary, but I didn't bother sharing the accomplishment with my

husband. "We were supposed to go out to dinner, but we stayed in at the last

minute instead."

"Sounds nice." Dominic had already moved on to his phone. He had a

strict no-email policy, so he was probably checking the Asian stock

markets.

A knot formed in my throat.

He was still as breathtakingly handsome as the first time I saw him in

our college library. Dark blond hair, navy eyes, a sculpted face set in a

semi-permanent pensive expression. It wasn't a face that smiled easily, but I

liked that about him. There was no fakeness; if he smiled, he meant it.

When was the last time either of us had smiled at the other the way we

used to?

When was the last time he touched me

Not for sex, but for casual

affection.

The knot pulled tighter, restricting the flow of oxygen. I swallowed past

it and forced my lips to curve upward.

"Speaking of dinner, don't forget our

trip this weekend. We have a Friday night reservation in DC."

"I won't." He tapped something on his screen.

"Dom." My voice firmed. "It's important."

I'd put up withdozens of missed dates, canceled trips, andbroken

promises over the years, but our ten-year wedding anniversary was one of a

kind. It was unmissable.

Dominic finally glanced up. "I won't forget. I promise." Something

flickered in his eyes. "Ten years already. It's hard to believe."

"Yes." My cheeks might crack from the force of my smile. "It is." I

hesitated, then added, "Are you hungry? I can heat up some food and you

can tell me about your day."

He had a bad habit of forgetting to eat when he was working. Knowing

him, he hadn't touched anything except coffee since lunch. I used to visit

his office and make sure he ate when he was starting out, but those visits

stopped after Davenport Capital took off and he became too busy.

"No, I have some client things to take care of. I'll grab something later."

He was back on his phone, his brow furrowed in a deep frown.

"But…" I thought you were done with work for the day. Isn't that why

you're home?

I bit back my question. There was no use asking things I already knew

the answer to.

Dominic was never done with work. It was the world's most demanding

mistress.

"Don't wait up for me. I'll be inmy office for a while." His lips grazed

my cheek on his way past me. "Good night."

He was already gone by the time I responded. "Good night."

The words echoed in our palatial, empty living room. It was the first

night I'd been awake to see Dominic come home in weeks, and our

conversation had ended before it really began.

I blinked back an embarrassingsting of tears. So what if my husband

felt like a stranger? Ifeltlike a stranger to myself sometimes when I looked

in the mirror.

At the end of the day, I was married to one of the richest men on Wall

Street, I lived in a beautiful house most people would kill for, and I owned a

small but thriving business doing what I loved. I had no good reason to cry.

Get it together.

I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and plucked the empty

takeout boxes off the coffee table. By the time I finished cleaning up, the

pressure behind my eyes had disappeared like it'd never been there at all.