Page 28 of His Wife

“Alexius,” Maximo calls. “Standing here on the open strip makes my eye twitch, man. We need to go.”

Alexius takes my hand, leading me to the car. I glance back at the plane one last time before slipping into the back seat, still unable to comprehend that this is reality. I’m in Rome, wearing a beige designer wool coat, with knee-boots and jeans worth more money than I made in a year as a waitress. And not to mention the man sitting beside me, a gorgeous, attractive, powerful king with eyes that can steal my soul and a toxic touch that chains me up and leaves me breathless.

I have no idea how long we spend in the car. I’m too enthralled by the streets of Rome to keep up with time. There are so many people not even the overcast weather can keep them from experiencing the rich scenery.

“Dolce far niente,” Alexius says, and I glance at him with confusion. He smirks. “Pleasant idleness. The sweetness of doing nothing. That’s the main thing that draws people here.” He looks out his passenger side window. “It’s the only place in the world where you can find entertainment, peace, romance, and freedom by simply doing…nothing.”

“My imagination could never have done it justice,” I say. “It’s like we’ve left one world and entered another.”

“Maximo, have you informed the hotel that we’re on our way?”

“They have the back entrance secured for our arrival.”

“Are they there yet?” Alexius asks.

“Silvestro and his wife arrived yesterday afternoon.”

“Saint?”

“They’re scheduled to arrive later tonight.”

Alexius scoffs. “Bastard loves making people wait.”

I lean closer and whisper, “Are they the business associates we’re here to meet?”

“Yes. We’re all staying at the same hotel, so meeting up is easier and safer.” He glances my way again. “Hotel Hassler is one of the most prestigious hotels in the heart of the city. I suspect you’re going to love it.”

“It can be a trailer park, and I’ll love it,” I reply with an excited grin, and Alexius seems amused as he watches me.

We arrive at the hotel, but we’re escorted through the back so fast it’s impossible to take anything in and appreciate our surroundings. All I get are glimpses of pristine marble floors, dark wood, and shades of umber, timeless elegance gleaming from every corner.

“Penthouse,” Maximo says to the elevator attendant as the steel doors close. The man is as subtle as a heart attack with his hand on the gun at his side, glaring at the attendant as if he was daring him to make one wrong move.

“Is he always like this?” I ask Alexius.

“He takes a piss one-handed, so he has a hand on his gun at all times.”

I inch closer to Alexius, staring at Maximo as if he’s about to go savage in this tiny, enclosed space.

Alexius snickers, finding my apprehension amusing, but takes the opening to snake an arm around my waist, pulling me against him. It’s impossible not to soak in his heat, loving how it feels to have his arm around me—an age-old act of showing ownership and affection with one simple move. I’ve come to appreciate these seemingly insignificant moments with him, moments that aren’t meant to be bricks on a path to happiness but merely junctures to enjoy on your way.

The elevator chimes, and the doors open, revealing the exquisite Botticino marble floors, polished to shiny perfection. As we step into the suite, bouquets of peonies welcome us with their sweet, rosy scent. The flowers aren’t white, but rather a pale blush—delicate and romantic.

Every inch, every corner is pristine, elegant, and open, the air fresh and clean. The walnut wood-paneled walls give the living space a refined look—a fusion of earthy tones and warmth with shades of fawn. Two large traditional columns separate the sitting room from the dining room, the mirrored walls creating the illusion of endless space around the black dining table. There are no words to describe it. It’s like our own little paradise in the most romantic city in the world.

“Better than a trailer park?” Alexius smirks, and I can’t stop myself from smiling.

“This is beautiful.” I twirl in the middle of the foyer, looking up at the high ceilings and then at the ample living space in front of me. “And all this space.”

“It’s a three-thousand five-hundred and fifty-two-square-foot suite.”

I gape at him. “Just for the two of us?”

He nods.

“That’s insane.”

“Come on. I want to show you something.” He slips off his coat and places it over the beige sofa as we pass, walking out the large double glass doors and onto the terrace. I don’t even notice the late afternoon chill caressing my cheeks as I stare out at the outdoor space that’s like something out of a dream. Potted plants are placed on the border walls that surround the terrace, and green vines weave along black steel trellises. It’s a lush vegetation utopia with a beauty not even the overcast skies can touch. I’m mesmerized and can almost feel the magic in the air, like everything is alive and charged with energy.

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