The Unwanted Wife (23 page)

“You foolish woman, stop fighting me and just
listen
, damn it!” He hissed into her ear... and shocked by her close call she could do nothing but stand trembling in his arms. “She didn’t get it all right; you have more stubborn pride than any person I have ever met. You did not keep me away from my father, I chose to stay.”

“Because of
me
,” she inserted despondently.

“Because I
chose
to be with you,” he emphasised but not really seeing the difference, Theresa simply remained quiet. “Don’t you
see
, Theresa? I wanted to be with
you
!”

“I’m tired, Sandro,” she finally whispered after a long pause, sending a pointed glance down at the restraining hand he had on her elbow. His grip tightened slightly before he reluctantly released her and stepped back to allow her to proceed up the stairs.

When Theresa woke from a restless sleep a few hours before dawn it didn’t take her long to realise that Sandro was lying in bed with her. His big, hard body was curved around hers, his knees spooning in behind hers. He had one arm curled in under her neck and the other slung heavily across her waist, his large hand cupped protectively over her swollen abdomen. She could feel his deep breath against the nape of her neck, indicating that he was asleep and it had been so long since she’d found herself in bed with him that she allowed herself to simply enjoy his relaxed warmth and closeness without the tension that was usually between them when he was awake. Even before they’d started sleeping apart, he’d never simply held her in his sleep… so this was a novel and overwhelmingly enjoyable experience that she couldn’t deprive herself of. She was just about dozing off again, when the telephone buzzed quietly from the nightstand beside her bed. She jerked slightly her and the movement woke Sandro, who was instantly on alert behind her.

“You okay?” he asked groggily and she nodded just as the phone buzzed again.

“Hmmm... who could be calling at...” she squinted at the digital clock beside the phone. “Four in the morning?” She realised who it could be the instant the question escaped her lips and from the sudden tension in Sandro’s body, she knew that he realised it too. He sat up abruptly and she immediately felt cold, as he leaned over her to yank up the receiver.

“De Lucci,” he barked once he had it up to his ear. “
Si
...
si...
” she sat up and pushed her hair out of her eyes as she tried see his expression in the dim light of the LCD display of the clock. His face closed up tighter than a fist and he bowed his head slightly. Biting her lip, as she fought back the tears, Theresa lay a comforting hand on one tense, naked shoulder.

“
Quando
?” He asked tersely, his voice hoarse. He said a few more things but Theresa tuned his words out, hearing only the pain he was ruthlessly keeping at bay behind the harshly controlled voice. She lowered her head to his broad shoulder, wanting only to comfort and kept stroking his back as he spoke. He was silent for a long time, before she realised that he was done speaking and that he had lowered the receiver to the bed beside him. She turned her head to look up into his face and realised that he was staring off into the distance. It was still too dark to see much of his face but from the grim set of his jaw it was obvious what the news was.

“When?” she asked gently, reaching for the receiver and placing it gently back into its cradle. He shook himself slightly before turning his head to face her.

“About ten minutes ago,” he whispered and she nodded, lifting a small hand to cup his tense jaw.

“You go and grab a shower, I’ll pack a bag for you...” she clicked on the bedside lamp before awkwardly heaving herself up and off of the bed. He remained where she had left him and she sighed softly, before leaning down to kiss the top of his head gently.

“Come on, Sandro,” she murmured firmly. “You grab that shower and I’ll take care of everything else.” Something about the tone of her voice got through to him and he nodded and got up like someone in a trance before heading to the bathroom. Theresa stood there for a while until she heard the shower going before she waddled out to his room down the hall and packed a bag for him.

Twenty minutes later, when she returned to her guest room, it was to find the shower still running. Concerned she stepped into the bathroom and could barely make out his shape behind the frosted glass of the shower door but she could see enough to tell that he was still in there and not really moving. She sighed and bit her lip before, decision made, she stripped down to her skin and stepped into the cubicle with him. He was standing with his back to the cubicle door, his head bowed beneath the strong spray and his hands braced against the tiled wall, long arms outstretched in front of him and muscles tensed. He didn’t seem to realise she was there until her small hands touched the bunched muscles of his shoulders. She could feel his instinctive jerk of surprise beneath her touch and very gently moved her hands until they crept down under his arms and around to his broad chest. She could feel his bone deep tremors and with gentle insistence tugged him back towards her until she was able to rest her cheek against the warm, wet skin of his back. Her hands were splayed across his chest and she could feel the strong beat of his heart beneath her touch.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, dropping warm kisses across the skin of his back. “I’m so sorry, Sandro.” He shuddered violently before turning with a groan and gathering her into his arms, hunching his body around hers and burying his face in her still-dry hair. They stood that way for a long time before he lifted his ravaged face and looked down at her. His eyes were wet with tears and he reached up to cup her face before lowering his lips to hers and kissing her hungrily. He did nothing more than that just kissed her like he would never get the chance to do so again. He kissed like a man who knew that he would have to go without sustenance for an unknown amount of time. Finally, chest heaving, he lifted his head and stared intently down into her dazed face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered gently. “The most beautiful thing in my life. I don’t want to leave you here. Not now.”

“I’ll be fine,” she reassured, this time she was the one to reach up and stroke his worried face. “The baby will be fine. I have Lisa and Rick... You have to take care of your family now, Sandro.”

“You’re my family too,” he repeated his words of the previous afternoon. “I have to take care of you too.”

“No,” she reached around him to shut off the water and met his eyes squarely. “I can take care of myself. And to be honest, having you here when you should be with your family, will simply add to my stress.” He said nothing for a few moments before shutting his eyes and nodding abruptly.

“Okay,” he inhaled deeply. “Okay, I’ll arrange my flight immediately.” She opened the door and reached for a couple of the heated towels hanging from the railing beside the shower cubicle, handing one over to him before wrapping one around herself, happy to be covering up her huge frame again.

An hour later she and Sandro were standing on the doorstep. The chauffeur of the driving service they sometimes used when they were going out to parties, stood waiting patiently beneath an umbrella next to the shiny black sedan parked out front.

“Promise me that you’ll eat well,” Sandro urged and she nodded sombrely, knowing that he would need to have his head clear for what was to come. “And you’ll contact Elisa and Richard if you feel unwell.” Another nod. “And you will remember to take your vitamins?”

His voice was starting to get hoarse with emotion and she gave him a wavering smile before nodding again.

“I promise...”

“You say this... but you forget... I know you,” he shook his head in frustration. “It is important for your health,
cara
and you no remember to take. It drive me crazy. I worry...” it was a sign of his anxiety and stress that his normally impeccable, lightly-accented English had failed him so completely and she stepped toward him and went on tip-toe to drop a kiss onto one of his lean cheeks.

“Why don’t you call Phumsile and Lisa once you land?” She suggested gently. “And if you’re worried about me forgetting you can have them remind me.”

“Yes,” he nodded, appeased. “I will. Please, Theresa, call me. Anytime... if you need anything, if you want to talk... call me. I’ll call
you
everyday...”

“That’s good...” she said quietly, not sure if he’d have the time to talk with her everyday but knowing that he needed to make the promise. “Now you’d better go before you miss your flight,” he nodded and dragged her into his arms for a passionate, desperate kiss before letting her go abruptly and striding down the steps toward the car. He paused when he reached the car and turned around for one last, lingering look at her before he climbed in and was gone.

Theresa turned blindly toward the house and once she was inside she felt completely lost. Not sure where to turn or who to turn to she found herself walking towards Sandro’s study. She’d been in the room very few times before and those times had always been in Sandro’s company, now she felt like she was intruding into his domain but it was the one place she felt closest to him. Everything bore his stamp... it was the only room he had insisted on decorating himself. He’d largely left the rest of the house up to Theresa and she now knew it had been because he hadn’t much cared what their home together would look like since he’d never had any intention of it being permanent.

Now, as she looked at the masculine room with its dark, heavy furniture and minimalist, almost Asian decor, she realised how completely different it was from the rest of the house and her heart broke at this additional sign of how doomed their relationship had been from the start. She sank down onto the plush, black leather sofa, curled up into a ball and cried for the life she could have had if she’d just been the woman Sandro had wanted to start off with. Once the bout of self-pity had passed, she sat up and wiped at her eyes before gently running her hands over her distended abdomen.

“You and I will make our own lives, darling,” she promised. “And we’ll be so happy. Just you wait and see.”

Chapter Ten

Sandro had made good on his promise and had enlisted both Lisa and Phumsile’s aid in ensuring that she took her vitamins and rested enough... but that was the only promise he kept. A month passed with barely any word from him, his phonecalls, the few that came, were rushed and impersonal and barely lasted three minutes each time. When Theresa tried to contact him, he was never available, or so the cold female voices on the other end of the line told her. She had no choice but to take them at their word.

She kept track of Sandro’s movements through the news; online, televised and printed, his father’s death and Sandro’s subsequent taking over of an empire were pretty hot news items and barely a day went by that it wasn’t mentioned in some form of news. There had been paparazzi coverage of the funeral, despite the media ban the family had put on proceedings, some intrepid photographer had managed to get a picture of Sandro standing over his father’s open grave, his face closed up tighter than a fist, flanked by his mother and by Francesca who had stood with her hand woven through his arm, offering the support of a lover, the support a wife would offer. A lot had been written about that photograph, a lot of cynical criticism had been aimed at his cold, absent wife and a lot of praise for the stoic Francesca who stood by him through thick and thin.

No word about her difficult pregnancy which made travel nearly impossible for her. A few local reporters had contacted her, wanting her “side of the story” and her refusal to be interviewed or offer any comment had merely added fuel to the fodder that she was unfeeling and cold. The media, when given free rein, were ruthless. For the most part they left her alone, content to write what they wanted and in every article the beautiful, vivacious Francesca was lauded for her unwavering and loving support, while the “plain and anti-social” Theresa was criticised for her seeming neglect of her husband in his time of need.

She sighed quietly, as she stared out at the heavy downpour, missing Sandro so much it hurt and wishing that she could just talk with him. The baby moved restlessly and she winced slightly as a tiny foot caught her just beneath the ribs. She sang a quiet lullaby and ran her hands over the mound of her stomach. She was feeling her burden more and more with each passing day and it was getting increasingly difficult just to make it through the day.

“Theresa?” The quiet voice coming from behind her made her jump nearly out of her skin and she yelped before turning to face Lisa and Rick both of whom stood framed in the doorway of the den.

“God, you startled me,” she gasped as they stepped into the room, neither cracking a smile, both looking relentlessly grim. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

.              “Terri... we have to get you out of here,” Lisa said urgently, rounding the sofa to stand in front of her.

“What? Why?”

“We’ll explain once we’re out of here...”

“No,” she shook her head stubbornly. “Tell me now. Is it Sandro? Was he hurt?”

“He
will
be once I get done with him,” Rick suddenly threatened furiously.

“Rick, not now,” Lisa groaned and Theresa’s eyes settled on the grim-faced man in confusion.

“I don’t understand...” her confused gaze went from Lisa’s frantic expression to Rick’s furious one. “What’s going on?”

“A story just broke in the European newspapers...”

“What story?” She asked in bewilderment and Rick swore softly.

“Sweetheart we can discuss it later, for now we have to leave before the vultures descend.”

“No, Rick,” she maintained stubbornly. “I’m not leaving my home without good reason.” Rick’s jaw clenched and his expression clearly gave away his frustration with her.

“Terri they’re saying that Sandro was blackmailed into marrying you. That he did so for his father. They’re also saying that a
source
close to the family claims that since Sandro has no reason to be with you anymore he’ll be filing for a divorce as soon as he gets back.”