Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 142043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
She skips up to the door and opens it.
And stops. Shocked.
“Hello, Alessia.”
The blood drains from her face as she stares at the man standing on the doorstep. “Anatoli,” she whispers as fear clogs her throat.
Chapter Three
Alessia cannot believe he’s audacious enough to return to her father’s home dressed in his fine Italian coat and expensive brogues. Yet Anatoli makes no move to come in. He just stares at her with eyes that blaze an icy blue. Then he swallows, as if he’s going to say something, or from nerves; Alessia doesn’t know. Instinctively, she takes a step back as her heart begins to pound and a shiver skitters up her spine, either from his presence or the chilly February air.
What does he want?
“Don’t go. Please.” He puts his foot on the threshold so she cannot close the door, his eyes beseeching her.
“What do you want?” she snaps as her outrage fuels her courage.
How dare he show up here!
She doesn’t want to engage with him on any level. She glances behind her to see if anyone has come to see what’s going on—but there’s no one. She’s on her own.
“I want to talk to you.”
“We said all we needed to say on Saturday.”
“Alessia. Please. I came to… apologize. For everything.”
“What?” Alessia feels like the air’s being sucked from her lungs. She’s stunned.
“Can we talk? Please. You owe me that. I brought you back here.”
A surge of anger rises from deep within her chest. “No, Anatoli! You kidnapped me,” she snarls. “I was happy in London, and you took me away from all that. And put me in a difficult situation. You must go. I have nothing to say to you.”
“I mishandled everything. So badly. I see that. I have had time to think. Let me plead my case. Please. I won’t touch you.”
“No! Go!”
“Alessia. We’re betrothed! You are the most beautiful, maddening, and talented woman I have ever known. I love you.”
“No. No. No!” Alessia closes her eyes, trying to contain her shock and outrage. “You don’t know how to love. Please go.” She tries to close the door, but his foot prevents her, and he splays his hand on the door, holding it steady.
“How can you marry someone that will take you away from your homeland? Our homeland? You are an Albanian woman to your soul. You will miss your mother. You’ll never belong in England. The English are such terrible snobs. They’ll despise you. They’ll look down on you. You’ll never be accepted there.”
His words slice through her, their weight stirring her darkest fears.
Is he right? Will Maxim’s family and friends despise her?
Anatoli’s gaze intensifies as he senses her doubts. “I speak your language, carissima. I understand you. I acted stupidly. Badly. I can change. You’ve been in the West. You expect more, and you deserve more. I get that, and I can give you more. So much more. I will accept your child. Treat him or her as my own. Alessia, please. I love you.” He steps forward and boldly takes her hand between each of his, imploring her and staring into her eyes. “You will make me a better man. I need you,” he whispers, his desperation evident in every syllable.
Alessia tugs her hand free and meets his intense gaze. “Let me go, Anatoli.” She takes a deep breath, her heart in her mouth, and finding a courage she didn’t know she possessed, she reaches up and caresses his cheek. He leans his face into her hand as his eyes sear hers. “If you love me, let me go. I won’t make you happy. I’m not the woman for you.” He opens his mouth to speak—she suspects to contradict her—but she places her finger over his mouth. “No, I’m not.”
“You are,” he whispers, his breath warm on her finger.
She drops her hand. “No. You want to find someone who will light up when you walk into a room.”
“I have,” he whispers.
“No! That’s not me.”
“You did once.”
“An age ago. But you…you hurt me. So much so, I had to get away. There’s no coming back from that.”
He blanches.
“You’re not that person for me,” Alessia continues. “You’ll never make me happy.”
“I could work at being that person.”
“I’ve already met him, Anatoli. I love him. We’re to be married this week.”
“What?” His mouth drops open—he’s stunned.
“Please. Go. There’s nothing for you here,” Alessia whispers.
He steps back in disbelief, his expression desolate.
“I hope you find your person,” she says.
“Carissima…”
“Goodbye, Anatoli.” Alessia, her heart still in her mouth, closes the door as her mother calls her.
“Alessia? What’s keeping you?” Shpresa appears in the hallway.
“It’s okay. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Who was it?”
“Mama, I need a minute.”
Frowning, Shpresa studies her daughter, then nods and returns to the family room. Alessia blows out a breath, trying to expel the frenzied fear and emotion that’s choking her. She peers through the spy hole in the door and watches as Anatoli trudges with long strides up the driveway to where his car is parked. His shoulders are squared, a picture of a man determined, not defeated. It’s a chilling sight.