The Unwanted Wife (2 page)

She sighed heavily and started to do the dishes. She liked to do little household tasks despite the fact that Sandro, who was the president of the bank his father owned, “had more money than God” as her father had once put it. Theresa had even enthusiastically insisted on doing some of the cooking herself. They employed a housecleaning staff, as was practical since they lived in a ten bedroom, five bathroom monster of a house but on Saturdays the staff had the day off and Theresa liked pick up after herself and Sandro instead of letting the staff get to it when they returned. Sandro didn’t pretend to understand her need to have a hand in the every day running of the house and had mockingly accused her of playing house once, shortly after their wedding. He had never seemed to notice it again after that. She stared down at the dishes she had ready to be placed in the dishwasher and quite abruptly abandoned the task halfway through before heading upstairs and leaving Sandro still in the kitchen.

She changed her clothes from sweat suit to jeans and t-shirt, dragging her pale, shoulder length Titian hair into a ponytail and tugging on a denim jacket to ward off the early autumn chill. She passed by the den where he had retreated with his laptop, probably to get some work done, on her way to the front door.

“I’m going out,” she casually called through the open door and his head jerked up while his eyes flared with some indefinable emotion.

“Where…” he began.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone,” she dashed out before he could utter another syllable, grabbing her shoulder bag and car keys on the way out. She had her reliable little silver Mini Cooper fired up by the time he eventually made it down to the front door. With a cheery little wave that she
knew
had to grate, she reversed out of the driveway and headed out. She had
no
clue where she was going and knew that there would be hell to pay when she got back but it felt good just to do something so defiantly out of character. Her cellular phone started ringing seconds later and when she stopped at a red light; she switched it off and tossed it aside.

It was still early, barely nine and because it was Saturday the roads were a bit congested. Still, she felt free and she headed from the relative tranquillity of Clifton, one of the wealthiest suburbs in Cape Town, towards the city. Usually she would go to Newlands and spend the day with Rick and Lisa… but she knew that it was the first place Sandro would look. He knew how limited her social life was. Instead, she thought of all the things she
could
do with this unexpected time and, deciding to stick with the trend of the day, opted for the most out of character thing she could think of… she went to the movies. It was the purest form of escapism she could think of and if there was anything that Theresa desperately wanted, it was to escape from her life. So she spent her day, going from one cinema to the next; laughing, crying, cringing or jumping, depending on the plot. It was the most unproductive day she had ever spent in her life and she
loved
it!

By the time the last show of the day finished it was after midnight and she had a throbbing headache from nothing but darkness and the flickering light of the projector and a slightly upset stomach from a diet of soda and popcorn. It was as she was heading back to her car, that the sudden reality of her situation sank in and she started trembling. She didn’t know what to expect from Sandro… she had never seen him display anything other than icy control, even in bed but it was the first time she had ever done anything like this and while she knew he would never physically hurt her, she also
knew
that emotionally, his potential to hurt her was unlimited. She cringed at the thought of his icy sarcasm and reluctantly made her way home. The house was ablaze with light when she got back and the dread made her stomach heave. She swallowed down her nausea and bravely parked her car and headed toward the front door. It was wrenched open before she even had the chance to get her keys out.

She gulped slightly at the huge form of her husband looming in the doorway and stifled a yelp when he grabbed her arm and yanked her inside. He slammed the door shut, gripping both shoulders in his huge hands and backed her up until she was leaning against the door. It took her a few seconds to get over her disorientation and realise that he wasn’t hurting her, his gaze was feverishly raking up and down her trembling body, until apparently satisfied that everything was in relatively good condition he raised his eyes to meet hers full on.

His eyes, which she’d had so little opportunity to actually look into, were heartbreakingly beautiful. They were chocolate brown and set between incredibly thick, blue-black lashes and beneath sweeping brows and right now they were smouldering with something that, in any other man, might have been described as fury. His hands released her shoulders and crept up to her face… she flinched slightly at the contact but they remained gentle, moving to cup her jaw, his large thumbs brushing over her cheeks. Her breathing became ragged when he leaned toward her, dipping his head closer to hers… he was so near now she could feel his clean, warm breath on her face. He tilted her jaw slightly and she groaned, aching for his lips on hers, wanting it so desperately her legs had just about turned to jelly and the only thing that kept her from falling to a puddle at his feet was his own huge body braced against hers. She could feel his erection throbbing against her stomach and knew he wanted it as desperately as she did… His lush mouth was centimetres away from hers and when he finally spoke, his lips brushed against her mouth.

“You pull a stunt like this again
tesoro mia
and I swear to
God
, you’ll regret it!” She flinched away from him as reality brought her back down to earth with a thump. He let her go and she slid down the door to land at his feet. He raked a contemptuous gaze over her, the ice back and the fire gone…

“Where have you been?” He asked calmly. She staggered to her feet, humiliated that she had allowed him to affect her to such an extent that she would fall at his feet. She tilted her head back defiantly and refused to answer him. “Theresa… I’m warning you…”

“Warn away…”she taunted shakily. “You want to stay married? Fine. But I refuse to let you walk all over me anymore. It’s time you start showing me some respect!”

“How the hell am I supposed to respect someone who sold herself to the highest bidder?” He growled with tight control and she gasped, stung. “I have
no
respect for you, Theresa… not even as the potential mother of my child because, quite frankly, you can’t even do
that
right.”

She lost it,
completely
, and for the first time in her entire life Theresa resorted to violence. She launched herself at him, hissing, spitting and scratching like a cat! In that moment she hated him so much that it felt like a living thing trying to claw its way out of her to get at him. When she came back to herself, she realised that he had her in his arms, her back to his front, her wrists in his hands and her arms crossed over her chest. They were both out of breath and she realised that there were terrible mewling sounds coming from the back of her throat, the words of hate she had repeatedly hurled at him, having long ago faded into incoherent sobs. His lips were in her hair, just above her left ear and he was making soothing sounds, not hurting her, just restraining her with his superior strength. She went limp, hanging defeated from his arms.

“I’m sorry…” she froze; the words were so quiet she was not sure she’d heard him correctly. “That was… cruel and wrong of me.” More words? She didn’t know how to respond and so chose not to say anything. She felt him swallowing, before he gingerly released her wrists and stepped away from her. She made a show of rubbing them, even though he hadn’t hurt her at all… instead;
she
seemed to have inflicted most of the damage on both of them. A few of her nails were broken and her fists were bruised from when she had managed to land a few angry punches against his hard body. She turned around to face him and was shocked to realise that she had made him bleed. He had scratches on his hands and face, a deep, angry-looking one in his neck… he also had bite marks on his muscled forearms and a darkening bruise on his jaw, where she’d managed to land a lucky punch. He saw her eyes land on the bruise and ruefully rubbed at it.

“You pack a mean punch,” he said sheepishly, he looked idly down at her hands, before swearing softly. “You’ve hurt yourself.” He lifted one and grimaced down at the bruises and broken nails. She snatched her hand from his; she was not sure what this weird act was about and definitely did
not
trust it. His eyes darkened at her mistrustful glare and he shoved his hands into his pockets. She pushed her way past him before heading toward the staircase

“Theresa…” she stopped with her back to him. “I really am sorry about what I said… It wasn’t true.” She knew his apology was insincere because while he hadn’t ever said the words, she knew that he blamed her for the baby she had lost early on in their marriage. The fact that she hadn’t conceived since had merely cemented his low opinion of her. So she had no idea why he felt the need to apologise for words he had definitely meant.

“I’m going to bed,” she whispered, ignoring the apology and still not looking at him.

“Yes…” He moved out of her way and buried his hands in his trouser pockets. She was intensely aware of his eyes boring into her back as she walked away from him and held her head up as she ascended the stairs to the second floor.

She made her way to one of the luxurious guest rooms and tears welled in her eyes, Alessandro’s cruel words had struck a nerve. Theresa had always felt guilty about the baby she had lost after just five months of marriage and three months of pregnancy, she had always felt that the miscarriage was her fault because when she had realised that she was pregnant she had wished the child away and worse, after she had lost the baby she had been ashamed to realise that relief was mingled in along with the heartbreak. She had hated herself for that, had felt that there was something wrong with her for wishing her own child out of existence. She had never shared what she had felt with Sandro and they had mourned the tiny life’s passing separately, never talking about it. Now she suspected he had known all along and that had simply increased his contempt for her.

Despite her extreme depression after the miscarriage she had worked through it on her own, Rick and Lisa hadn’t even known about her pregnancy. She had felt so terrible about her reaction to the baby that she had never told them, feeling that her behaviour had been indefensible. But tonight, Sandro’s cruel taunts had quite simply sent her over the edge and she was ashamed to recall how completely she had lost it.

She sighed, trying to shake herself out of her maudlin mood and after a quick shower; she fell into bed wearing only the t-shirt and panties which she had quickly grabbed from her chest on drawers in the master suite. Despite the drama of the day, she fell asleep almost immediately. She didn’t know
how
long she had been asleep before she heard the quiet knock on the door. She immediately awoke and sat up, pushing her tangled hair out of her face.

“Theresa! Open the damned door!” He angrily thumped on the wood again and this time it was loud enough to make her jump up and hurriedly unlock and open the door, for fear that he would wake the live-in housekeeper. Despite the fact that his voice had been only a harsh whisper through the wood, she was in
no
doubt that he was absolutely livid. She stood staring up at him in the dim light and was surprised by the flash of hot fury on his face, which was so quickly masked beneath the more familiar mask of icy indifference, that she wasn’t sure if she had imagined the unaccustomed emotion or not.

“What are you doing in here?” He asked stiffly.

“I’ve decided to move into this room,” she informed quietly and his jaw clenched. She had anticipated having this conversation but not until morning. Sandro was full of surprises today… she had known that he would be upset about her moving out of their bedroom but it was completely out of character for him to actually come thumping on her bedroom door demanding an explanation in the dead of night! She had expected a cold and controlled conversation about it over the breakfast table. The light from the landing was just bright enough for her to see the stormy emotion brewing in his eyes and she swallowed a lump of disappointment when the emotion was doused in ice.

“I can see that,” he gritted out. “I think the pertinent question is
why
?” And she could see that it just about
killed
him to ask it.

“I’d feel like a hypocrite if I stayed in the master bedroom with you,” she shrugged again. “Just this morning I told you I wanted a divorce, so it wouldn’t feel right if I continued to share your bed as if we’d never had that conversation.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he dismissed.

“No… I think I’m actually making sense for the first time in nearly two years.”

“My
wife
…” he placed a lot of sarcastic emphasis on the last word. “…sleeps with me. You
will
come back to our bedroom if I have to drag you there kicking and screaming!”

“I.I… m.may have to
sleep
with you, Sandro,” she conceded, knowing that if he chose to do as he threatened, she would definitely lose to his superior size and strength. “But I won’t be having sex with you anymore…”

“You would deny me, your
husband
, this basic marital right?” He sounded frankly astonished by that, as astonished as Theresa felt for even daring to say the words.

“Yes.” His eyes narrowed and he took a threatening step toward her.

“What’s to stop me from simply
taking
what belongs to me?” He asked speculatively, his eyes raking dismissively over her thin, shivering, t-shirt clad body and Theresa crossed her arms over her chest and hunched her shoulders defensively.

“I don’t belong to you,” she said softly.