The Unwanted Wife Part 10

Theresa made a concerted effort to pull herself together, embarra.s.sed by her mini breakdown. Rick was on the other side of the bed; he had Rhys cradled to his chest in a baby sling and was holding one of her hands with both of his, adding his silent support to her obvious distress.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that," she choked out slightly and Rick grinned down into her distraught face.

"Hormones. You know what you-know-who was like. The cost of tissues was bankrupting me," he said in a stage-whisper, jerking his jaw in Lisa's direction and Theresa half-giggled, half-sobbed in reaction before looking around the room in confusion.

"Where's Sandro?" She asked warily.

"Never thought I'd ever feel sorry for the guy," Rick told her half-seriously. "But when you turned on the waterworks, the poor dude looked like someone who'd just been told that both his best friend and dog had died in the same freak accident. He hovered for a few seconds before hot-footing it out of here like the hounds of h.e.l.l were on his tail."

"Well..." Theresa shrugged bravely. "This is more than he signed up for."

"Oh please," Lisa rolled her eyes disdainfully. "This is exactly what he signed up for. He wanted you pregnant, remember?"

"I remember," Theresa nodded forlornly.

"Look, far be it from me to defend the guy..." Rick intervened reasonably. "I mean you know I can't stand him after the way he treated you and I would have cleaned his clock ages ago if you hadn't called me off, Terri... but quite honestly the man looked downright pitiful just now. Not your typical ruthless Sandro."

"I've been seeing a change in him lately, too, Theresa," Lisa said.

"Please," Theresa shook her head. "He's the same as he's always been. He wants out of this marriage and so do I."

"Theresa..." Lisa murmured in her most reasonable voice.

"Lisa, don't defend him... you don't know what he's done..." and suddenly it all came out, how he'd blackmailed her to prevent her from divorcing him, using Lisa's loan as his leverage. "He probably gave you that loan so that he would have some kind of future hold over me if I ever stepped out of line!" Rick and Lisa exchanged a meaningful look before Rick shrugged, seeming to answer some unspoken question from Lisa.

"Theresa," her cousin still clasped one of her hands tightly. "I know about that."

"You do?" She was shocked by that. "How? How long have you known?"

"Sandro confessed all the last time you two came by. Remember? He wanted to talk to me alone?" Theresa nodded dazedly. "For whatever reasons, he doesn't want or need that leverage anymore, he offered to write off my debt entirely. I refused... but I get the feeling that he's going to do it anyway."

"That's what he wanted to talk about that day?" Theresa gasped incredulously.

"Yes and he made me swear not to tell you about it... but I suppose these are extenuating circ.u.mstances," Lisa nodded and Theresa frowned in concentration.

"But I don't understand any of this... why would he do that?" She asked in confusion before her face cleared up and she laughed at her own stupidity. "Well, he doesn't really need the leverage anymore, does he? Not when I'm doing exactly what he wants? But to clear the debt before the baby's born still doesn't make sense... unless..."

"Is this a private conversation or can anyone join in?" Rick interrupted her musing drily and she blinked up at him. "I think you're over-a.n.a.lyzing. From what Lisa tells me he was desperate to cancel that debt. She thinks, and I'm inclined to agree after what I just saw, that he wants a clean slate with you but doesn't really know how to go about it."

"Well, I live with him and I know you're both wrong," she maintained stubbornly, shoving all those Scrabble and chess nights to the back of her mind, determinedly trying not to think about the companionable meals and the silent support he lent her at every doctor's appointment. "He's in love with someone else! I'd say another woman, only in this case, I think I'm probably the other woman."

"What the h.e.l.l is that supposed to mean?" Rick asked furiously.

"He was in love with her before my father forced him into this marriage. She's the woman he wants to have a family with. I'm the one who screwed up his life, Rick... not vice versa. Once I have this baby we'll go our separate ways and both be happier for it."

"This is so messed up," Rick shook his head in disgust. "What about you and the baby? Don't you count for anything?"

"I would hate it if he stayed out of some outdated sense of duty... I'm worth more than that, don't you think?"

"Absolutely," Lisa whispered, squeezing Theresa's narrow shoulders rea.s.suringly before sitting down on the chair beside the bed and leaning toward Theresa. "So you felt the baby move?"

Theresa's eyes lit up with remembered joy.

"It was amazing," she nodded and both Rick and Lisa went misty as they verbally recalled Rhys's first movements. "After the fright I got, it was such a relief to feel him moving around in there."

"Is he doing any wriggling now? His Auntie Lisa wants to meet him," Theresa shook her head with a slight laugh.

"He's all quiet right now," she rested her hand on her stomach. "I can't believe I have to stay in bed for a week."

"Yeah that's a bit c.r.a.p," Lisa nodded sympathetically. "So glad I wasn't confined to bed at any time during my pregnancy."

"G.o.d, if only... she was like a little dynamo, I had to force her to slow down," Rick recalled with a shudder.

"Do you think I could stay with you for the next week or so?" Theresa asked hesitantly and Rick and Lisa both frowned before nodding.

"Of course," Lisa said. "But why?"

"Sandro's going to Italy for a week and before this happened I had every intention of staying in my own home but..."

"If you think I'm going to Italy with you confined to bed, you can d.a.m.ned well think again," Sandro's gruff voice suddenly interrupted from the doorway and three heads swiveled towards him. He looked... strange. His hair was disheveled, his suit wrinkled and his tie loosened. He was also clutching a wilted bunch of flowers in one hand and gaily wrapped square box in the other. Added to that he had an incongruous bunch of foil helium balloons trailing behind him and it was the latter that caught and held everybody's attention. They were colourful, some were downright garish and most of them either read Happy Birthday or Happy Anniversary and one woefully out of place dolphin had the legend "Yippee for SUMMER" emblazoned across its side, a very optimistic sentiment considering it was July and the middle of winter.

"Sandro, bro..." Rick managed in a voice that barely trembled with laughter. "Did you go raiding all the wards in the hospital for those?"

"These were all the seriously under-stocked gift shop had," Sandro grumbled, obviously sensitive to Rick's mockery, which raised Theresa's brows because she had never heard her self-a.s.sured husband sound so defensive before.

"Thank you, Sandro," she said before Rick could come back with anything else. "I love helium balloons."

"I know you do," he said fiercely... surging forward until he elbowed Rick aside and stood staring down at her intently. "I know that you like helium balloons and pink gerbera daisies. I know that you like truffles," he shoved the gift-wrapped box, which probably contained truffles, and wilted pink daisies into her arms. "I do know things about you, Theresa. I've been learning."

"Uhm..." okay? Right, so he remembered the conversation they'd had months ago when she'd accused him of knowing nothing about her and he'd obviously been paying attention during their evenings together but what on earth was he trying to prove with this? "Thank you."

It was all she could think of to say and she saw both Rick and Lisa wince and watched Sandro's shoulders droop slightly before he nodded.

"You're welcome," he muttered in a devastatingly unemotional voice, as he took a step back from the bed. "I've postponed my trip to Italy. I want to make sure that you get the rest you're supposed to."

"Okay," she nodded.

"Good..." he seemed to be at a loss for a moment looking unsure of his next move, before he reached out to stroke one soft cheek. "Are you feeling better?"

"Fine," she whispered. "A little tired."

"Righty-o..." Rick sing-songed. "That's our cue to vamoose..."

"Oh but I didn't mean..." Theresa was appalled that they thought she was hinting that she wanted them to leave.

"No, you didn't," Lisa smiled don't at her. "But you are tired and you do need your rest. I'll leave the clothes right here," she dropped a small canvas bag onto the visitor's chair. "Call if you need anything."

After a flurry of hugs and kisses they were gone, leaving her grim-faced silent husband behind. Theresa sneaked a glance up at said grim-faced, silent husband and was suddenly attacked by a fit of irreverent giggles. Now that n.o.body was around to witness it she felt free to laugh at the image he presented. He looked like an underdressed, forlorn clown with those balloons clutched in his hand.

"What?" He asked, the grim facade melting away in the face of her amus.e.m.e.nt.

"It's just... those balloons, Sandro..." she snorted, trying to control the giggles and his own, devastating grin lit up his face.

"I know, right?" He shook his head sadly as he tied the balloons to her bedpost. "A hospital without a single 'get-well-soon' balloon in sight. Craziness."

"Thank you for them anyway. They always brighten up a room."

"I remember you saying that when you talked about a friend's tenth birthday party. You wanted some for your own..." but she hadn't even had a party that year, much less balloons. She didn't even know why she'd confessed that sorry tale to him. There was an awkward silence while he stood hovering at her bedside.

"You don't have to stay, Sandro..." she whispered. "Why don't you go into the office and get some work done? I am sure you have better things to do than hang around here."

"I'm exactly where I want to be," he gritted implacably. He reached over and took the truffles and flowers from her arms. Dumping the box on her bedside table and sticking the flowers into the half full plastic water canister that a nurse had left on the over bed table. He dragged up the chair that Lisa had recently abandoned, moving the bag to the floor and sitting down almost defiantly.

"Okay," she was too tired to argue and truth be told, rather relieved to have him there. For a long time neither of them said anything, he leaned back in the uncomfortable looking chair and stared off into s.p.a.ce, while Theresa lowered her lashes and watched him surrept.i.tiously, marveling at his absolute stillness. He was usually filled with so much restless energy, always on the move, typing away at his laptop or fiddling with his BlackBerry or barking orders into the telephone and when he wasn't doing anything work-related, he would swim endless laps or work out in their home gym. She had never seen him simply sitting down and staring off into the distance and it disturbed her in a way that she could not quite define.

"Do you think my father will come to see me?" Theresa broke the silence nearly half an hour later, having half-dozed in the interim. Sandro's eyes met hers and he shook his head grimly.

"Highly unlikely, since he doesn't know you're here," he shrugged and she gasped, struggling to sit up.

"But how could you not tell him?" She asked, rather offended on her father's behalf. The man was a bully and a tyrant but he was her father.

"The doctor said you shouldn't be upset and I can't quite envision a visit from your father being anything other than stressful for you," he said sarcastically. He was right, her father would antagonize Sandro, which would upset her and they would all wind up arguing. It was always the same. She sank back feeling depressed and sad and Sandro's gaze gentled.

"I'll call him if you want me to, Theresa," he offered quietly and she shook her head, suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge to quite simply burst into tears again.

"You're right, a visit from him wouldn't be very pleasant," she said in an alarmingly wobbly voice. "But I keep hoping..." She left the rest unspoken but he seemed to understand.

"I know," he hesitantly reached for one of the limp hands resting on her stomach, engulfing it in both of his.

"I don't know why he's like that," she kept her eyes averted. "All of my life, I tried so hard to make him love me but he never could. For a short while I thought I found what I was looking for, someone who could love me..." she was barely aware of what she was saying, her blurred gaze remained fixed on their joined hands. There was a long silence, while they both contemplated their entwined fingers and Sandro finally sighed heavily.

"Why don't you take a little nap?" He suggested gently. "I'll be here to keep an eye on things." What things he thought he had to keep an eye on, she had no idea but just having him there made her feel better and she lay back with a contented sigh and was asleep almost immediately.

Chapter Eight.

"You are an extremely difficult patient, cara," Sandro gritted out from between his teeth three days later. It was mid-afternoon and he had walked into her workroom, only to find her guiltily standing in the middle of the room. She was clutching the sketchbook that she had crept upstairs to retrieve, to her chest.

"I was bored," she whined. "So I thought if I had my sketchbook handy, I could work on some designs."

"Why didn't you call me or Phumsile to get it for you?"

"You were catching up on some work," and he had missed enough of it already, taking the week off to stay with her. "And Phumsile has dashed out to do some shopping."

"This is ridiculous," he growled, reaching her in one stride and swinging her up into his strong arms as if she were a featherweight. "You're being impossible. Why didn't you watch some TV, or read a book or take a nap, or anything until Phumsile got back?"

"Because I'm bored now," she complained sulkily and he muttered something in Italian beneath his breath.

"What does that mean?" She demanded to know and he slanted a wry sidelong glance at her before snorting softly.

"I said, 'G.o.d save me from stubborn women'," he obligingly translated and she scowled.

"I am not stubborn," she insisted stubbornly and his gorgeous lips twitched in amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Of course not," he shook his dark head in a most condescending manner, that Theresa immediately took exception to.

"And you don't have to patronize me," she seethed. "I'm not made of gla.s.s..."

"You're just spoiling for a fight aren't you?" He mused, his lips curling up slightly and she simply folded her arms over her chest and kept her gaze mutinously fixed on his strong jaw. He sighed dramatically and hoisted her further up against his chest before making his way downstairs. When they got back to her room he deposited her gently onto the side of her bed and stood staring down at her implacably with his hands shoved into the pockets of his navy blue cargo pants. She loved him in cargo pants, they rode low on his lean hips and certainly did wonderful things for his already gorgeous backside. Now, while he brooded above her, her mouth went dry at the picture of masculine perfection he presented in those pants and his favourite old t-shirt, a torn, stretched grey thing with a Batman emblem on the front. His hair was a mess and he was in serious need of a shave but he looked absolutely gorgeous and she was suddenly breathless with desire for him.

His eyes narrowed speculatively on her suddenly flushed face and he seemed to clue in to what was happening immediately, the corners of his lips tugged upward as he stretched suddenly, adding a jaw-popping yawn to the movement. His t-shirt rode up over his toned, ridged abdomen, revealing his smooth bronze skin and Theresa nearly groaned out loud as she squelched the urge to reach out and stroke the satiny skin on display just inches from her face. The elaborate stretch finally ended and he groaned as he rolled his head on his shoulders, working the kinks out of his neck.

"I'm exhausted," he informed her huskily, sinking down beside her and she hurriedly scooted closer to the headboard. He ignored the evasive movement and threw himself backward, lying down with his knees over the side of the bed and his feet braced on the floor. Once again his shirt had ridden up and Theresa stared at the tempting skin of his ripped torso mutely. He lifted his hands to cover his face, hitching the shirt up even further, and he sighed again. "Just let me rest here for a couple of minutes, cara. I need to recover my strength after hauling you down those stairs. You have put on a lot of weight over these last few months..." she was so captivated by the delectable picture he made, laid out like a buffet in front of a starving woman, that it took a moment for the words to sink in. When they did, she yelped in outrage and thumped his hard bicep in response. His mouth, the only part of his face that she could see beneath his hands, shifted into a lazy smile.

"You hit like a girl," he smirked, keeping his eyes covered and she attempted to hit him again, only he was ready for her this time and grabbed her clenched fist to tug her towards him until she was awkwardly sprawled on top of him. She tried to shift off him but his arm tightened like an iron band around her waist, keeping her in place with the barest of efforts.

"Let me go," she demanded between clenched teeth, wriggling urgently as she tried to get away from him. To her frustration she could barely move and eventually she wore herself out and stopped moving. Her hands were braced on his hard broad chest as she tried to keep her upper body away from his, one of her feet was dangling over the side of the bed and the other was trapped between his legs. She glared down into his face but his eyes were closed and he looked so relaxed that for an implausible moment she actually believed that he might have fallen asleep. His eyelids lazily drifted up when she stopped moving.

"Just relax will you?" He implored wearily.

"I can't relax like this," she whispered and he groaned before, with seemingly great effort, he shifted until they were both lying in the middle of the large bed. He was on his back, his sock-clad feet, he had somehow managed to kick off his sneaker in the process, crossed at the ankles, with her stretched out beside him, one hard arm was wrapped around her waist and the other was curled up beneath his head. How he had managed to change their positions without once releasing her remained a mystery to her.

"You're still not relaxed," he observed after a few minutes of silence and she lifted her head from where it was resting just beneath his armpit and frowned grumpily up into his face.

"Of course I'm not," she snapped. "How am I supposed to relax when you're exactly where I don't want you to be?"

"You brought this upon yourself," he shrugged in unconcern.

"How on earth did I do that?"

"By not following the doctor's orders," he mumbled, sounding half-asleep. "This is the only way I can be sure that you'll b.l.o.o.d.y well stay in bed."

"I'm not going to have s.e.x with you," she finally said and he sighed, the sound so long-suffering that Theresa's hackles rose.

"No. But you are going to sleep with me," he informed her, his voice filled with grim purpose. "So you might as well relax." She said nothing, merely remaining tensed up like a coiled spring beside him. The hand he had resting at her waist began sweeping lazily up and down her side, while he brought his other arm around to lay his large hand low on her abdomen, where the baby rested. She tensed even further at his actions but he did nothing more threatening that pet and stroke her gently. Gradually she began to relax, allowing her thoughts to drift slightly.

"Have you thought of names for the baby yet?" He asked after nearly half an hour of increasingly comfortable silence and Theresa was so relaxed by that time that she couldn't even summon up any outrage at what she considered a forbidden topic.

"Hmmm..." she moaned, inhaling his warm, clean scent with visible pleasure. "I like the names Kieran and Ethan. Liam maybe but I'm leaning toward Alex..." her voice trailed off awkwardly as she realized what she had revealed and hoped that he wouldn't notice. But this was Sandro and he was sharper than the proverbial tack.

"Alex?" He observed casually. "Alexander?"

Stupid, stupid fool! She berated herself angrily. How could she have revealed that she was leaning towards naming her son after him? He said nothing further on the subject and she relaxed after a few tense minutes.