Page 59 of King of Greed

Dominic

Florianópolis’s Public Market occupied an old colonial building right in the city center. A walk down any of its aisles revealed dozensof vendors selling clothes, food, ceramics, and local handcrafts. The air was alive with the sounds of English and Portuguese as tour guides led their groups through the maze and locals bartered in their native languages.

Alessandra and I grabbed a quick breakfast of coxinhas (chicken croquettes) and ate them while browsing the stalls.

“Which one do you like better?” She held up two scarves. “I can’t decide.”

I stared at them. They looked exactly the same. “That one.” I gestured at the one on the right.

“Perfect. Thanks.” She bought the one on the left. “Why are you laughing?”

“No reason.” I knew she’d choose the left one. When it came to shopping, she always went with the option I discarded. I suspected she didn’t trust my taste in women’s fashion, and I would’ve been offended had I not agreed with her.

I snuck a glance at her as we moved on to the next stall. I’d deliberately kept our schedule open in Florianópolis. I didn’t want to overwhelm her or force her to spend every minute with me while we were here. We had several days here; I figured we’d take it slow and see what she wanted to do, which was why I’d been pleasantly surprised when she proposed visiting the market.

I preferred the Michelin-starred chefs and gourmet restaurants, but Alessandra loved street food.

“Did you have work this morning?” she asked. “I heard…um, I thought I heard you talking to Caroline.”

“I had a quick call.” Caroline was my eyes and ears while I was gone, and she delivered detailed reports over the phone every week. One of my clients was in New York this weekend, but I wasn’t flying back to appease his ego when I would much rather be in Brazil with Alessandra.

“Speaking of work, how’s the store going?” I asked. “I hearIsabella is in charge while you’re here.” Kai was nothing if not meticulous when it came to relaying information.

“Yeah, her and Monty.” Alessandra laughed. “I think her snake almost gave one of the contractors a heart attack the other day, but apparently, it’s a great taskmaster. Everyone’s too scared to slack off with a python glaring at them.”

Ball pythons were one of the friendliest species of snake, but I supposed the average person only saw thesnakepart.

“I don’t know much about pressed flowers, but if you need any help on the business and finance side, let me know.” I should’ve offered when she’d started her online shop two years ago, but my head had been so stuck in the sand I hadn’t realized she’d created an entire fucking business until weeks after it launched. She hadn’t said a word, probably because she’d thought I was too busy to care. Kai was the one who’d mentioned it to me.

Alessandra’s chin lowered. “Thank you.”

“I should’ve been there for the original launch.” Shame held me hostage. “Starting a company is a big deal.”

“It’s okay. It was just an Etsy shop at the time. It’s not like I was entering the Fortune 500.”

I didn’t smile at her joke. It wasn’t okay, or our relationship wouldn’t be where it was right now.

“I mean it. If you need anything at all, call me. If I’m in a meeting, my office knows to put you through.” Considering how well Floria Designs was doing, she didn’t need my help, but the overture was there.

An ember of pride flared to life. I hated missing a milestone as big as the launch of her first business, but I was so fucking proud of what she’d built.

“Why pressed flowers?” I asked, desperate to keep the conversation flowing. If we stopped, she’d withdraw again, and I wanted to prolong this moment for as long as possible.

“Honestly, I was bored and needed a hobby.” Pink tinted Alessandra’s cheeks. “I’ve always loved flowers, and I came across a DIY tutorial on how to press them. I tried it, it was fun, and, well.” She shrugged. “The rest is history.”

“What made you decide to turn it from a hobby into a business?”

“I don’t know.” Her face took on a far-off expression. “I guess I wanted something I could call my own. Everything we had belonged to you. Our house, our cars, our clothes. Even if I bought them, you paid for them. It got to a point where I…” She swallowed. “Where I felt like I wasn’t my own person anymore. I needed something to remind me I mattered. Me, as an individual, not as a wife or daughter or sister.”

We’d stopped walking. I didn’t know when we’d stopped or how long we’d been standing there, but I couldn’t move if I’d wanted to.

I knew Alessandra had been unhappy with our marriage. After all, we were divorced. But I hadn’t realized how deep-seated her unhappiness was, not just with our relationship but with herself.

I’d thought covering all our expenses and ensuring she never wanted for anything would make us happier. We’d struggled so fucking much in our early years, and I never wanted us to fall back into that hole again. What I hadn’t accounted for were the things we’d needed that weren’t material.

Time. Attention. Consideration.

They couldn’t be bought, and in my rush to bury any possible problem with money, I’d completely lost sight of that fact.

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