Chapter 5: The Request

Three weeks had passed since the wedding. The household had settled into rhythms that felt almost natural—breakfast with Don Rodrigo’s watchful silence, Mateo’s days in the fields, Mia’s management of the house, Alana’s hours bent over ledgers in the cottage.

And the nights.

Some nights Mateo came to Mia. Some nights he went to Alana.

So far, the pattern had been simple enough that no words were needed. But that was about to change.

It was late afternoon when Alana found Mia in the conservatory, reviewing correspondence from her father’s shipping office. The light through the capiz shells turned everything amber and gold.

Alana paused in the doorway, hands clasped in front of her. Mia looked up from the papers, immediately reading the tension in Alana’s posture.

“What is it?” Mia asked, setting down her pen.

Alana stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She kept her voice low, though they were alone.

“He asked for me tonight,” Alana said quietly. “After dinner. He wants me to wait for him in the cottage.”

The words hung in the air between them.

This was the first time Alana had told her beforehand. The first real test of their agreement.

Mia felt something twist in her chest—not quite pain, not quite jealousy, but something close to both. She set the papers aside carefully, buying herself a moment to steady her voice.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said.

Alana’s eyes searched her face. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know yet.” Mia’s honesty surprised even herself. “Ask me tomorrow.”

“I can tell him I’m not well,” Alana offered. “That I have a headache, that—”

“No.” Mia stood, crossed to where Alana stood. “No, that’s not the agreement. You tell me, not to ask permission. Just to tell me. So I know.”

“But if it hurts you—”

“It will hurt more if I’m left wondering. If I wake alone and don’t know where he is. If I see you the next day and have to pretend I don’t know.” Mia reached out, took Alana’s hand. “This way, at least the pain is honest.”

Alana’s fingers tightened around hers. “I wish it didn’t have to hurt at all.”

“So do I.” Mia managed a small, wry smile. “But we’re not living in that world. We’re living in this one. And in this one, you just kept your promise to me.”

Alana looked down at their joined hands. “He’ll be urgent tonight. He always is when he’s been in the fields all day, working hard. It won’t last long.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want you to know,” Alana interrupted softly. “It won’t be like when he’s with you. When he comes to me, it’s ... quick. Efficient. He gets what he needs and then he sleeps. Sometimes he’s gone before dawn.”

Mia absorbed this, the image of it forming unwanted in her mind. Mateo in the cottage. Alana beneath him or kneeling before him. His breathing rough and urgent. The sounds he made.

She pushed the images away.

“Will you come back here after?” Mia asked. “To your room here, I mean. Or will you stay in the cottage?”

“I don’t know. He usually falls asleep after. Sometimes I slip away, sometimes I stay.” Alana paused. “Which would you prefer?”

Mia thought about it. About waking alone in the big bed knowing Mateo was in the cottage with Alana. About waiting to see if Alana returned, listening for footsteps in the hall.

“Come back,” she said. “If you can. Even if it’s late. I’ll leave my door unlocked. You can ... you can sleep in the sitting room if you don’t want to wake me. But come back here. To the house.”