The Unwanted Wife(5)

By: Natasha Anders



“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.

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