The Unwanted Wife (4 page)

“You’ll get your divorce when I get my son,” he reminded ruthlessly.

“That’s so sick,” she protested. “Why would you even
want
a child with a woman you despise?” He didn’t respond, instead he sent an odd probing little look over her strained face.

“You honestly
don’t
know, do you?” he breathed in disbelief and she blinked in confusion.

“Know what?” She asked blankly, distracted by the rapt look on his face. Again he didn’t reply. “Know
what
?”

“Why did you marry me?” He asked suddenly.

“You
know
why…” she was outraged by the way he was rubbing salt in the wound unable to believe, even after a year and a half of similar treatment, that he could be so cruel.

“Humour me,” he prompted and she exhaled shakily, before getting up with as much dignity as she could muster. She felt shaky and nauseous and couldn’t stomach being around him anymore. She took an unsteady step away from the table, swaying so badly that he jumped up and clasped one large hand around her slender arm to steady her.

“Theresa?” He sounded almost shaken.

“I’m fine,” she shrugged off his hand. “I just got up too quickly. Now please excuse me, I have things to do!”

“Wait…” he said urgently. “I asked you a question.”

“A stupid question that you already know the answer to,” she retorted.

“Maybe I’d like to hear the answer again,” he was being a total ass about this and not for the first time in her life, Theresa felt like hitting him.

“Oh,
God
, why do you insist on doing this?” She groaned.

“You really
loved
me, didn’t you?” He breathed in amazement and she shot him a haunted look before turning away.

“You may rest assured that whatever I felt for you a year ago is no longer an issue. I want a divorce, nothing you do or say can induce me to stay with you…” she insisted and he surprised her by nodding thoughtfully.

“Yes. I’m beginning to realise that,” he acknowledged softly. There was nothing more to be said and she left the room with her head held high and her dignity intact.

She was a mass of nerves when she finally got to the bedroom and sank down on the bed, feeling quivery and still vaguely nauseous. She felt like she had just gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer but she also felt like he had actually listened to her and that she had made some headway. Feeling like she needed to speak to someone about what had just happened, she picked up the telephone receiver from its cradle on the nightstand but she was taken aback to hear ringing on the other end. Realising that Sandro was on the extension downstairs she was about to put the phone down when the ringing stopped abruptly.

“Jackson Noble,” her father’s voice snapped into her ear and her eyes widened in shock. Sandro and her father did
not
get along and she was surprised to realise that Sandro had actually willingly called the older man. More than a little curious, she hesitated before replacing the receiver but that brief hesitation proved to be enough to keep her riveted to the phone.

“Your daughter wants a divorce,” was his opening sally and Theresa’s fingers tightened around the phone.

“What are you talking about? Divorce is not an option and you
know
that!” Her father astounded her by responding.

“Yes,” Sandro’s voice was dryer than the desert in summer. “
I
know that but it appears that
she
does not. You didn’t tell her about our agreement?”
What agreement
?

“Of course not,” Jackson Noble III scoffed contemptuously. “She would never have married you if I had… the little twit fancied herself in
love
with you!” Her father laughed harshly and Theresa winced. Her free arm wrapped around her midriff as she tried to keep her nausea at bay. Sandro did not react to her father’s last statement.

“I thought she knew… that she’d gone into this marriage consenting to sell herself for the sake of your sadistic little contract. Daddy’s good little girl to the very end!” He finally said after a long pause.

“Would it have changed your mind if you’d known you were marrying a naïve little fool, who thought you epitomized her every dream come true?”

“And she has no idea what the terms of our agreement are?” Sandro finally asked slowly.

“Well I assumed she would discover them from you eventually…”

“Are you telling me that she married me believing that I was
in love with her
?” He sounded humiliatingly incredulous that Theresa would ever have believed him in love with her.

“Of course,” her father snorted, she could practically hear the careless shrug in her words.

“And you just went ahead and let her believe that?”

“I know it was a ridiculous assumption on her part but it played right into our hands. It was like watching a sleepy kitten fall in love with a roaring lion,” her father laughed, he actually
laughed
, after saying that. “But I doubt she would have married you otherwise.”

“‘Played into
our
hands’? There’s no
us
here, Jackson. I had nothing to do with your obscene little scheme.”

“Oh spare me your sanctimonious drivel, Sandro…” her father scoffed. “It smacks of hypocrisy when you gained a hell of a lot out of this deal. And even if you’d known about Theresa’s expectations it would have made no difference to the eventual outcome. You know that as well as I do.”

“She’s your
daughter
!” Sandro suddenly roared furiously. “That should have meant something to you.”

“Of course it meant something to me… it meant that she could at last be of some use to me! Her role in my life is now quite vital. So you’d better keep her happy, get her pregnant and stop her prattling on about divorce. You
know
what you stand to lose if your marriage dissolves before I get what I want.”

“I had a
life
before this ridiculous arrangement… and I would like to get back to it at some point,” Sandro finally intoned and Theresa bit her lip hard to stop herself from crying out at the knowledge that her husband had always considered their marriage to be something outside of his
real
life! She had never met his family, all of whom lived in Italy. He visited them every second month for at least two weeks and never bothered asking her to join him. Of course he had never wanted them to meet her, not when she was just his “temporary” and unwanted wife.

“Well you
know
what it would take to get out and I’m amazed that it’s taken you so long to accomplish that task.” Sandro remained silent.

“You know we had a setback, it’s been difficult to recover from that!” He finally responded. Theresa’s brow furrowed and her sweaty hand tightened around the receiver which was practically welded to her ear. She tried to figure out what they were talking about… what was this goal that would set her free? It had something to do with a mutual business interest if the conversation was anything to go by. She would do
anything
to help Sandro accomplish whatever he needed to if it meant she could get out sooner. And once she was free she would walk away from them both and never look back.

“Yes… that damned girl can’t do anything right, can she?” Her father suddenly grated and Theresa’s head came up when she realised that they were talking about her. What on earth did… “The one thing you’d expect the woman to be able to do and she botched even that.”
Oh God
! Theresa finally realised what they had been referring to in such dry, legal terms and she nearly doubled over in pain.

“No-one was to blame for what happened,” Sandro shocked her by saying. “It was just one of those things…”

“Regardless,” her father dismissed. “Sire a boy on the brat and be done with it. Surely the task shouldn’t be too difficult for a strapping young man like you? After that, you’re most welcome to obtain your divorce and live happily ever after with that Francesca woman of yours. The Love of your Life that’s what the Press once called her, right?”

Francesca
? Theresa didn’t know what to process first, the fact that this whole marriage had been about her being a broodmare for whatever sick goal they had in mind, or the fact that Sandro had been/
was
(?) in love with another woman. Both bits of information hurt so much that Theresa felt like she had been physically assaulted. She’d always assumed that Sandro’s desire for a son was fuelled by his Italian male ego; the need to propagate his seed and all that. The thought that it was part of some kind of bargain that he had made with her father had never even crossed her mind! Even though she had hated the way he could never touch her without that ultimate goal in mind, she had always believed that it was something
he
wanted; a son to carry on his name and an heir to inherit his fortune. Instead the baby would only ever have been a way for him to gain his freedom and carry on his life with
Francesca
.

But what was supposed to happen to her and the baby once Sandro had fulfilled his end of the bargain? Would he simply leave and forget about them? The one thing she had
never
doubted was that if Sandro wanted a son, he would
love
the child. Now she wasn’t even sure of that! Sandro seemed to despise her so much she now knew that even though any baby they had would carry his name, it would ultimately be neglected and unloved by its father just like she had been by hers. She couldn’t allow that to happen… this made her even
more
determined not to have a child.

As for her father’s role in all this, she certainly knew why
he
wanted a grandson, absolutely
no
mystery there! He had always bemoaned his lack of male progeny to carry on his line and his business. Theresa had never been good enough to inherit, he had always made that quite clear but she had never realised how far he would go to ensure a male heir. It was all so archaic… she was so wrapped up in her painful thoughts that it took her a while to register the low buzzing in her ear and realise that the two men had disconnected their call. She very carefully, as if it was the most fragile thing in the world, replaced the receiver in its cradle and sat quite still for a long time before suddenly exploding into action and dashing to the en-suite bathroom where she violently threw up the meagre portion she had had for breakfast.

After she was done she rinsed her mouth and headed back to the bedroom and crawled into the centre of the huge bed, where she sat with her knees drawn up to her chest and her face buried in her hands. She was hurting too much to even cry and was shaking so badly that her teeth were chattering. She didn’t know what to do or where to turn. She needed to get out of this situation, as far away from both of them as she possibly could. Possible solutions and scenarios kept marching their way through her traumatised mind but nothing viable presented itself. There was still Sandro’s threat against Lisa’s business to consider, she also had no real money of her own and she knew that with their considerable resources her father and husband would find her before she could get very far.

She was still mulling it over when a soft knock sounded on the bedroom door. It swung open before she could respond and her big, dark,
beautiful
husband stood framed in the doorway. His eyes swept over her small, dishevelled form as she sat in the middle of the bed, her knees still drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her folded legs.

“You’ve been in here for nearly three hours, Theresa,” he said in a quiet voice. It was the kind of voice one would use when talking to an unbroken, high-strung horse.
Three hours
? Theresa hadn’t realised that it had been that long and when she moved, her muscles screamed in protest. She had actually been sitting in one position for nearly that long. She gingerly and with visible effort stretched her arms and legs, trying not to wince in agony as her blood started circulating more freely.

“I didn’t realise,” she murmured, pushing her long hair out of her eyes. “I was going to visit Lisa.”

“Why?” He asked sharply and she shrugged.

“Something to do,” was her casual response.

“I thought…” He hesitated and Theresa’s eyes snapped up to his face in surprise, the hesitation was so unusual in her supremely confident husband. “I thought we could have lunch together… go out somewhere. We haven’t done that in a while.”

“Try never,” she half-laughed incredulously and his brows beetled slightly.

“Of course we have…” he began.

“Once,” she nodded. “About a month
before
we were married. I remember that once quite vividly because I felt like a heroine in my own personal fairytale. The giddy, foolish, not-quite-so-fair maiden having a meal with her dark, broody, oh-so-handsome prince who couldn’t be bothered to string together two sentences the entire time and checked his watch every five minutes like he had someplace much more important to be. But of course, I didn’t care, that was just the way you were and I ‘loved’…” she sneered the word. “…you anyway. We never went out again after that.”

“Of course we did,” despite his assertion, he looked remarkably uncomfortable; he shifted his shoulders restlessly and shoved his hands into his jean pockets.

“Those other times were official work-related dinners, the ones you
have
to take your wife to.” He frowned even more but chose not to respond to her statement.

“Well, then I’d say it’s about time we went out together don’t you?” He asked in an artificially cheerful voice and Theresa slanted her head as she tried to read his expression. As usual he was giving nothing away. Her lips tilted slightly in a cynical and unamused smile.

“I don’t think so, Sandro,” she shook her head. “I think I’ll go to my cousin’s place like I’d originally planned.” He nodded thoughtfully, swaying back and forth on his heels in an uncharacteristically restless manner.

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “What time were you planning to leave?”