Page 49 of Hidden Heir, Italian Wife

“Jealousy is not a compliment, you know,” she continued with ire. “It tells me that you don’t trust me.”

“It’s hard to trust you, Bree. You made him sound like he’d broken your heart. Like it was over.”

“Hedid. It is.”

“Well, lucky him, having that much effect on you.”

“Are you serious right now? His feelings for me are not within my control, but you know what? It’s nice thatsomeoneloves me.”

He snapped a look at her.

Her heart was pounding with emotions that had climbed way out of control, but this was an undercurrent she’d been avoiding and now found herself unable to escape. She was flailing in it.

“You think I don’t hear you tell Sofia every single day that you love her?” she asked with a catch in her voice. “And wonder if I’ll ever hear it?”

“Doyouloveme?” he asked bluntly.

She was starting to think she did. He was clawing her apart right now with a chilly attitude and a few dispassionate words.

She would be damned if she would admit it, though, not when he was being such an ass. Not when he didn’t trust her and was only being possessive.

“That wasn’t our deal, was it?” She fought to keep her voice steady. “This marriage is practical.” In this moment, it was a certifiable nightmare.

“But you loved him. You were still in love with him when we slept together in Como,” he said grittily.

“You knew that,” she shot back.

“Do you still?”

“No.”

He only stared at her, skeptical.

“You’re being very insulting right now.” She crossed her arms.

“You aren’t committed to this marriage.That’sinsulting.”

The door beeped and opened.

“Papà!” Sofia ran straight to Jax and he picked her up.

“I didn’t think you’d be back already.” Melissa set down her bag to remove her coat. “I told Nanny to take a few hours off. I was going to order lunch and watch a movie with Sofia.”

“Shopping fatigue. I’m going to take a bubble bath,” Bree said with a strained smile.

“Me too?” Sofia asked.

“Sure.” She could do with a dose of innocent enthusiasm and unconditional love.

An hour later, when Sofia’s fingers and toes were wrinkly, Jax came into the bathroom to say that lunch had arrived. He rinsed Sofia in the shower, then wrapped her in a towel to carry her out to dress her.

Bree showered her own bubbles from her skin, stepping out in time for Jax to return.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” she said, tucking the edge of the towel beneath her arm. “Maybe I didn’t give up my apartment, but I still gave up a lot to marry you. I know it doesn’t seem like it. Not when you’re giving me shopping trips to Paris, but I knew who I was when I was a single mom climbing the corporate ladder. Now I’m someone’s wife in a strange country with no friends. I don’t have Mom around the corner to lean on. Every weekend I’m paraded through some black-tie event where I have to pretend I belong. You have me looking at villas on the Island of Capri, for Pete’s sake! That’s notme, Jax. Forgive me for clinging to a few pieces of myself that are familiar.”

“We got it, by the way. The villa on Capri. That’s what I came in to tell you.” He leaned on the counter, arms folded, ankles crossed.

“The one with the pool?” She hugged the towel around her a little tighter. “And the gardens and the view?” It had been built in the nineteenth century, but modernized into something so charming, she hadn’t believed she was standing in it. Now she would live in it.

---