The Billionaire’s Prodigal Wife (Mackenna and Alessandro) novel Chapter 3

In the morning she made her way to the clerk’s office after stopping to talk to a few of her grandparents’ neighbors. Her grandfather never left her side and when it was time to sign the papers and her hands trembled so bad, she couldn’t put the ink to paper, he’d held her in his arms while she sobbed uncontrollably.

“It should not be this hard,” she cried against his shoulder.

“You love him still Mackenna,” her grandfather whispered softly. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“He does not love me. He wants only to own me. He kept me hidden like he was ashamed of me, as if he were worried the world would find out he had married beneath him.” She wiped her tears angrily as she begged for her anger to return so she could complete the task she had set out to do. “He would prance all over the place with that harlot on his arm and she would call me and tell me she watched him sleep because he was exhausted from her lovemaking.” She grabbed the pen angrily ignoring the wide eyes of the clerk. “This ends today.”

“Actually, it won’t end today. This is just the beginning of this process.” The clerk eyed at her with a frown.

Her lawyer Camille rolled her eyes and patted her shoulder. “It is the end for you Mackenna. Once I advise the judge of the way he’s harassed your family, the judge will certainly side with you and your personal information, your whereabouts and your employer will remain confidential. I will speak with the judge today. You can begin to relax now. The rest of your life is ahead of you and the past is just the past.”

To celebrate, she’ decided to go shopping for new shoes and a matching suit for work. Her grandfather had declined to accompany her on the trip, but her grandmother was more than happy to tag along. They shopped all day and the next day they went out again to finish the rest of the list she’d made of required items to take back to Phoenix. She’d been in Milan for three days and already she could feel the weight of her grandmother’s cooking resting on her hips.

She was exiting a shop on Corso Buenos Aires when the sight of a tall dark man made her heart stop and her footsteps falter. Her grandmother’s eyes followed her gaze and then gripped Mackenna’s hand. “He is in Paris, remember. He’s just yet another tall dark Italian man are a dime a dozen in this city.” Her voice trailed to a whisper as the man turned around and locked eyes with her granddaughter. Sofia made the sign of the cross over her body. “Madre de Dio, he looks angry”

“I’m starting to think he has a microchip embedded in me which turns on whenever I step on Italian soil,” Mackenna whispered fearfully as Alessandro folded his telephone shut and made his way purposefully through the heavy traffic in her direction.

“It is unbelievable.” Sofia agreed as she clutched Mackenna’s arm. “I would encourage you to try to avoid him, but I don’t think it is possible. There is nowhere to go.”

From the way he gained ground on her, his strides easily two to her one, she knew even if she tried to throw herself under a nearby bus, he’d reach her before impact. She steeled herself for the flash of anger and the furious tirade of anger to come. She kept her face straight and tried to steady the thundering of her heart as she took in him. He hadn’t changed an ounce in five years. Tall, dark, lean, and strong and the amber eyes drilling right to her core were all present, as if a checklist had been done in preparation of the assault on her senses. She waited for it as he approached. He had never been one to avoid give her a dressing down in public or anywhere for the matter and so as he drew closer, she felt her feet bracing against the asphalt for the impact it would make.

His fingers dug painfully as they squeezed her shoulders, ensuring she couldn’t run, “and so, the prodigal wife returns.”

“Alessandro, let me go.” She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he was too strong. “You’re hurting me.”

“Do you know what pain is, Mackenna?” He asked coldly. “Do you really know what pain is?”

She ignored his sarcastic words. “You’re supposed to be in Paris. It’s fashion week.”

“That’s right and you are deliberately toying with my work and contractual obligations.” He motioned to a security agent behind him. “Help Signora Giordano to the car with her bags please.”

“We are not going with you Alessandro.” Mackenna argued with him and stopped the man from taking the bags and ushering her grandmother to the car.

“Mackenna, I am not going to quarrel with you over this in the middle of a street.” Alessandro glared furiously down at her, his toes touching hers.

“Good, then back off and let me go.” She tugged her hands away from the firm grip he had on her, but he held her fast.

“Get it in the limo now.” He spit through his clenched jaw.

“No.” She hissed back. “Go back to Paris. I’m sure Dulce is unable to function without you at her side.”

Her grandmother took her hand. “Mackenna, people are staring and there is a photographer coming down the street. Perhaps we should let Alessandro drive us back to the apartment and he can come in and speak to you there.”

Mackenna could see how much her grandmother was mortified by their argument. She was a private person, quiet, shy, and reserved. Although their voices were hissed whispers, they were attracting attention on the busy street and Mackenna instantly felt badly for embarrassing her. “I’m sorry Nonna. Let’s get you home.”