I stopped sleeping in the penthouse. I tried, but even with a full staff and the best entertainment money could buy keeping me company, it felt unbearably empty without Alessandra. Everything reminded me of her—the dresses in the closet, the white lilies lining the hall, the lingering floral scent of her shampoo in our bed.
Instead, I took up residence in my office, where I already had a sleeping area set up for the all-nighters I occasionally had to pull. My phone buzzed with an incoming call. As always, my heart tripped over hope it was Alessandra before disappointment set in. Unknown number. It was the fourth such call today. I didn’t know how they found my private cell number, which was unlisted and only available to a small group of vetted contacts, but it was getting damn annoying. I’d picked up the first time and heard nothing but silence.
If it weren’t for Alessandra, I’d get a new number tomorrow and be done with it.
It’d been two weeks since she showed up at the office and demanded I sign the papers. Her fucker of a lawyer kept hounding me, and no matter what I did, she refused to see me. Gifts. Calls. I’d even booked a damn session at Manhattan’s top marriage counselor, which she hadn’t shown up to.
I rubbed a hand over my face and tried to focus on the screen. I was still dealing with the SEC investigation into DBG Bank, which was picking up steam and throwing our office into chaos. Something about it bugged me, though I couldn’t quite pinpoint why.
Finally, after thirty minutes of fruitless effort, I gave up and called it a night. Since it was only ten and I couldn’t stand the thought of sleeping in the silent office this early, I grabbed my jacket off the back of my chair and headed to the one place that had any hope of making me forget about Alessandra, if only for a little while.
The New York branch of the Valhalla Club sat on a heavily guarded estate on the Upper East Side. That much private land was unheard of in Manhattan these days, but the club was founded over a century ago, when there’d been more leeway for a group of extremely wealthy, extremely connected families to claim dominion over a vast swath of real estate.
Valhalla hadn’t changed in that it remained an exclusive society for the world’s richest and most powerful, but its reach had expanded past its New York flagship and into every major city across the globe, including London, Shanghai, Tokyo, Cape Town, and São Paulo.
I wouldn’t have had a snowball’s chance in hell of becoming a member had it not been for Dante Russo, a descendant of one of Valhalla’s founding fathers.
“You look like hell,” Dante said as I approached the bar where he sat with Kai Young, CEO of the Young media empire.
“Great to see you too, Russo.” I took the seat on Dante’s other side and ordered a bourbon.
Dante had been one of my first investors. He ran the Russo Group, the world’s largest luxury goods conglomerate, and a combination of luck, timing, and sheer perseverance had wrestled him away from his investment guy to my fledgling company. Where Dante went, the rest of high society eventually followed, including Kai, who’d also become a good friend over the years.
I knew I was the odd one out in the trio. Both Kai and Dante came from money so old, it belonged in a museum, whereas my billions were brand new, but at the end of the day, money was money. Not even the pedigree snobs at Valhalla dared snub me openly when I controlled the fate of their investments.
“He’s right,” Kai said mildly. “You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”
Because I haven’t.
“Keep it up and you’ll scare away your investors,” Dante added. “Your face was ugly enough without adding the dark circles and scowl to the mix.”
I snorted. “Look who’s talking.” He’d gotten in so many fights, his nose was permanently fucked up, though that hadn’t stopped women from throwing themselves at him before he got married.
“Vivian likes my face just fine.”
“She’s your wife. She’s obligated to pretend.” Like how Alessandra pretended she was happy when she wasn’t. A sharp pang grabbed hold of my heart and twisted.
I tossed back my drink, trying to lose myself in the burn of alcohol while Dante and Kai exchanged glances. I hadn’t told them what happened with Alessandra, but she was good friends with Vivian and Isabella, Kai’s girlfriend. I assumed they’d filled their partners in on what happened.
“Speaking of wives, how are things with Ále?” Kai asked, his tone so placid, he might as well be talking about the weather.
“Heard she served you divorce papers at work.” Unlike Kai, Dante possessed the tact of a socially inept bull.
My shoulders tensed. “That was a misunderstanding.”
“No one hires Cole fucking Pearson for a misunderstanding.” A touch of sympathy crossed Dante’s face. “Tell me you’re not brushing this off. If you divorce, your assets—”
“I know what happens to my assets.” The logical part of me said I should care more; I didn’t. “We’re not getting divorced.” I reached for my lighter, but for once, the familiar flicks of the flint wheel couldn’t calm the storm raging inside me. “We’ll work it out. Go to counseling, take a nice long trip somewhere.”
I’d forgotten about the time she asked for couples’ therapy until she brought it up at my office. It’d been three years ago, and I’d been swamped with a huge acquisition at the time. She’d only asked once, so I’d figured it was an impulsive request rather than the sign of a long-standing issue.
When we were dating, Alessandra never hesitated to tell me when she had a problem.
We just needed to reconnect, that was all. We could recreate our honeymoon in Jamaica or spend two weeks traveling through Japan. I couldn’t realistically take more time than that off work, but two weeks would be enough, right? Once Alessandra and I spent time alone together, we’d be fine. That’d been her reason for going to marriage counseling in the first place.
Dante and Kai remained silent.
“What?” Irritation crept into my veins. I was already on edge from exhaustion, stress, and a strange ache that seemed to follow me everywhere.
I didn’t need my friends’ silent judgment too. “I don’t think a vacation or counseling is going to solve your problems,” Dante said.
“Why the hell not?”
He gave me an incredulous look. “You missed your ten-year wedding anniversary. I forgot about a dinner party once and Vivian wouldn’t talk to me for days. If I missed an anniversary…” He grimaced. “Let’s not go there.”
“What Dante is trying to say is, a few weeks at a luxury resort won’t make up for years of suppressed feelings,” Kai cut in, diplomatic as always.
“Clearly, Alessandra has been…discontent for a while. The anniversary was the straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak. You can’t buy your way out of it.”
I stared at them.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Dante said. “Let’s stop beating around the bush. You’re the problem, Dom. Even someone who’s met you both once can tell you barely paid attention to Alessandra when she was around. How many times have you stayed at the event while she went home because she didn’t feel well? How many dinners did you take with clients instead of with her?”
He shook his head. “Your obsession with work is good for my portfolio, so I’m not complaining about that. But you can’t be surprised Alessandra’s fed up.”
“There’s no short-term fix for something like this,” Kai said, his tone a touch gentler than Dante’s. “It requires an entire lifestyle and mindset shift.”
“You sound like a fitness coach commercial.” On. Off. I flicked my lighter with unsteady hands.
Despite my blithe reply, my mind whirled with chaos. Dante made the same points Alessandra had, but whereas hers had cut with precision, his punched me right in the gut.
It was one thing for the other person to point out the flaws in a relationship. It was another for a third party to do so with unerring accuracy, especially when I’d thought everything had been fine. Not great, but not horrible. Obviously, I’d been wrong.
On. Off. The tiny flame blurred as snippets from the past few years streamed past my mind’s eye.
When had our marriage devolved to the state it was now? Alessandra and I used to eat dinner together every night. We had an unmissable date night every Friday, and we never went to bed without telling each other about our days. Then I started Davenport Capital and things changed, slowly but surely.
“I’m sorry, amor, but the investor is only in town tonight,” I said. “He heads one of the biggest insurance companies in the country. If I can get him onboard…”
“It’s okay. I get it.” Alessandra gave me a soft, reassuring kiss. “You’ll just have to make it up to me later.”
Guilt loosened its grip on my muscles. “I will. I promise.”
It was my first time missing our sacred Friday date night. I hated letting her down, but I needed investors and snagging Wollensky would be a huge coup.
One of these days, the whole world would know the name Dominic Davenport, and with recognition came status, money, power—everything I’d ever dreamed of. Once that happened, I could make it up to Alessandra a thousand times over.
“If you miss next week’s date, though, we’ll have a problem,” she teased, chasing away images of private jets and black Amex cards. “I practically had to pledge my firstborn to get a reservation at Le Fleur.”
I laughed. “I’m sure our firstborn will understand.” I curled an arm around her waist and pulled her closer for another kiss. “Thank you for understanding,” I murmured. “This is just one time. It won’t happen again.”
Except it had. Just one time turned into two, then three, until we entered a new normal. I’d assumed she was okay with it because she rarely expressed otherwise except for that one time with the counseling. But the way she got quieter and quieter over the years, the way she left events early when she wasn’t hosting them and utter lack of surprise when I canceled plans…
Waves of realization crashed over me, stunning me into near immobility. Fuck.
“Like I said, lifestyle and mindset shift.” Kai read my expression like a book. He lifted his glass to his lips and arched an eyebrow. “The question is, are you willing to do it?”
