Accidental Bride by Cristina Lollabrigida

ChapterEight

A few nights later,Alessandra and Drake lounged in the living room, talking and laughing over a glass of wine while waiting for their late dinner to be delivered. She sat with her legs tucked beneath her, and Drake’s arm was thrown over the back of the sofa.

She gazed longingly at her husband, wanting to push an errant brown strand off his forehead. He was so handsome when he was relaxed and smiling. She found men who showed their teeth while smiling quite appealing. However, she knew that deception could lurk behind a brilliant set of teeth.

She felt like she could let her guard down in the relaxed atmosphere. Since returning home, Drake had remained attentive. And while there was no further physical intimacy between them, they seemed to be on the right path.

They drifted closer on the sofa to the point their knees almost touched. All the cues were there, and Alessandra thought Drake would kiss her at any moment. She shifted to open her body up, signaling that she was willing to follow his lead. He moved his hand from the back of the sofa to caress her bare shoulder where her robe had slipped. His lips drew so close that his breath tickled her lips. She shivered with anticipation and puckered her lips.

The doorbell rang, interrupting the moment. Assuming it was the takeout they’d ordered, Alessandra offered to answer the door. It wasn’t a delivery but a striking, well-dressed woman with sleek blonde hair.

“I’d like to see my husband.”

The air escaped Alessandra’s lungs. She’d forgotten how to breathe. Husband?

She was staring into the cold ice-blue eyes of Riley, Drake’s ex-fiancée. It pained Alessandra to admit the other woman was stunning in a black plaid tweed jacket and skirt.

Riley was everything Alessandra wasn’t. She was tall and sophisticated, carrying herself like a true socialite. Of course, a handsome, rich man like Drake wouldn’t date anyone less than supermodel worthy.

Alessandra felt self-conscious around the woman who moved with such a dignified presence. Standing at 5’4”, she carried a few extra pounds on her hourglass frame that concentrated in her breasts and hips, while Riley towered half a foot over Alessandra in her stilettos.

“Who’s at the door?” Drake called from the living room.

Upon hearing Drake’s voice, Riley tilted her head and walked past Alessandra while giving her a disapproving glance. Her heels clicked against the hardwood, and Alessandra trudged behind her in bare feet.

“Well, if this isn’t a cozy picture,” Riley quipped. “Who the hell is this tramp, and why is she wearing my underwear, Drake?”

Alessandra had replaced the lacy panties Drake ruined the morning after their wedding. Tonight, she wore a pink lacy baby doll with matching panties. The only part of her lingerie that belonged to Riley was the robe.

Drake jumped off the couch and quickly closed and tied the red silk robe, concealing the matching boxers. He crossed his arms as his eyes darkened.

“Riley? What are you doing here?” He clenched his jaw.

“Hello to you too, darling.” She finger-waved. “Now, are you ready to answer my question? How about you dismiss the maid so we can have a private conversation.”

Alessandra stepped next to Drake and flashed her diamond ring in Riley’s face. “I’m not a maid. I’m his wife.”

She remembered what her father had said about Riley leaving Drake for money. Riley certainly wasn’t dressed like a woman who was hurting for money. Alessandra assumed clothing was the same as emotion.

In high society, there is an unwritten expectation to maintain appearances at all times. Show off your designer labels so no one knows you’re hurting for money. Keep a smile on your face so no one knows how painful the welts on your back are.

Alessandra looked from Riley to her husband. This was their marital home, and she’d be damned if Riley took another stab at Drake or ran her out of the house.

“If you wouldn’t mind giving the adults some privacy,” Riley said patronizingly.

“This is my house now. You don’t get to come in here and make demands,” Alessandra said, wanting nothing more than to wipe the saccharine smile from Riley’s face.

“Alessandra, please. Give me a moment alone with Riley.” Drake’s stern voice stunned Alessandra.

She turned sharply towards him to engage in an argument. “I’m your wife, Drake. I’m staying right here.”

A shiver ran down her spine as his eyes flashed with a dangerous threat of punishment. She backed down but didn’t leave.

“Why is she here, Drake? Isn’t she a bit young for you? You’ve been calling me all week, begging me to come home. And you’ve let this bimbo help herself to clothes from my closet and lounge in my underwear.”

“What does she mean, Drake?” Alessandra was dismayed.

“I’m sorry, Alessandra,” he said.

Alessandra searched Drake’s eyes for answers she desperately needed, but his silence spoke volumes. She recollected the phone call she had unintentionally overheard on their honeymoon, now knowing he was speaking to his ex. Despite feeling dizzy and eyes stinging from unshed tears, Alessandra remained strong. She refused to let anyone see her shed a tear.

“Riley took money to stand you up at the altar, and you’ve been begging her to return this whole time? All I’ve done is try to show you I’m in this. Yet you continue to hurt me. You’re a fucking asshole, Drake Walker! I never should’ve trusted you.”

Drake grabbed Alessandra’s arms roughly. “That’s enough, Alessandra.”

She wrenched free from his grip, rounding on Riley. “Did Drake tell you how he moaned my name while I sucked his cock? How he ate my pussy like he was starving after?”

“Oh honey, that doesn’t make you a wife. It makes you a whore.”

Another blow akin to a slap, and she was done. She could no longer ignore the writing on the wall. Their marriage was doomed from the start. Alessandra just hadn’t expected it to end like this. Unable to stomach any more, she walked to the guest room closet and threw items into her suitcase.

Alessandra couldn’t leave in her underwear and decided to stick it to Drake and Riley by wearing something of hers. She took scissors to a pair of white jeans, turning them into cut-off shorts, showing off the lotus mandala tattoo on her thigh. She pulled on a black zip-up hoodie, zippering it to her navel—exposing the black lace bra and sheer black top underneath—and a black belt with a chunky silver buckle to accentuate her waistline.

Alessandra turned in the mirror, satisfied with her look and not caring how petty the move was. She grabbed her belongings and made her way to the elevator. Jamming the button was a vain hope because Riley caught up to her.

“Are you homeless? Can’t you afford clothes of your own?” Riley laughed in derision.

“Do you think my perky tits, curvaceous body, and ass that Drake loves do this outfit justice? I’m sure it looks better on me than a prune-faced bitch like you.” Alessandra knew she was acting immaturely but didn’t care. She was heartbroken, and lashing out was the only way to keep herself in one piece.

Riley’s face turned puce, and she pursed her lips as though sucking on a sour lemon. Alessandra turned to the door next to the elevator. She’d take the stairs if needed.

Drake reached out to stop her. “Please give me a chance to explain. It’s late, don’t leave.”

The desperation in Drake’s voice had Alessandra hesitating. She looked into his eyes and saw pain that mirrored her own. But Riley grabbed his arm and stroked the exposed part of his chest.

Alessandra shook her head. There was an intimacy between the two that she couldn’t compete with. “It’s clear we’ve made our choices, Mr. Walker. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

“Alessandra—”

“Let her go, Drake,” Riley said.

Alessandra passed the young delivery man on her way out. She’d be damned if Riley ate her dinner, so she snatched the food from his hand and dumped it in the garbage.

Blazing street lamps greeted her as she stumbled onto the sidewalk. Jenny’s blue sedan sat in the loading zone with the hazards flashing. Jenny reached for Alessandra’s bag and placed it in the trunk.

As soon as Alessandra settled into the seat, she couldn’t hold back anymore and burst into tears. Jenny placed a comforting hand on Alessandra’s shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay, Alessandra.”

Though Jenny worked for the Russo family, she was the closest thing Alessandra had to a friend. She was the only one Alessandra could turn to for help.

Alessandra couldn’t stop speaking until she had purged all her emotions. “He was engaged to someone else before we got married. How could I be so stupid? Of course, he’d call and beg her to return. You don’t fall out of love with someone just because you marry someone else. I can’t compete with her, Jenny. I need you to draw up divorce papers for me.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” Jenny asked.

“My marriage is a sham. Marcello doesn’t need my help anymore. Luca already told me the judge gave him a new court date.”

“What about your father and Luca?”

“Father said I’ll belong to Luca—the monster-you-know kind of thing. I’m done being used for their gain. Just because I’m a woman doesn’t make me a pawn. I’m leaving the city.”

Alessandra rubbed the scar on her wrist. Jenny expressed sympathy through her dark eyes as the two women silently communicated. “If you’re sure this is what you want to do, I’ll help you however I can.”

They arrived at Jenny’s Bucktown loft. Alessandra was surprised at how modest the interior was. A simple white sofa and matching loveseat took up most of the living room. There was an ottoman instead of a coffee table and two distressed wooden side tables. As Alessandra looked around, she was nonplussed to find it lacking any of her brother’s personal effects.

Jenny offered to make Alessandra something to eat, but she had no appetite. She then attempted to entice her guest with ice cream and a movie.

“I’m sorry. If it’s all right with you, I’ll just head to bed.” Alessandra wasn’t in the mood for company.

Jenny showed Alessandra to the guest room to help her settle in comfortably and brought her fresh linens. “I’m just down the hall if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Jenny.”

Alessandra showered and pulled on a cami and stretchy pajama pants. As she got comfortable in bed, her phone illuminated on the nightstand. There were several missed calls and a single text from Drake.

Drake: Please talk to me, Alessandra. I’m sorry about Riley. I’m sorry for everything.

Alessandra: Leave me alone, Drake. If you have anything to say, contact my lawyer.

Alessandra shared Jenny’s contact details before shutting off her phone. Burying her face in a pillow and forgetting how her marriage had fallen apart in the last few hours was all she wanted to do, but instead, she stared at the ceiling for hours, trying to figure out how to break free of her cage and move on with her life.