The Unwanted Wife (Unwanted #1)(44)
“What does it matter what I think?” she asked bitterly.
“It matters.” His large hands cupped her face and he rested his forehead on hers. “It matters very much, Theresa.”
“No.” She shook her head slightly. “It doesn’t.” She put her hands to his broad chest, wanting to push him away, but the rain had soaked through his white shirt, plastering it to his skin and turning it so transparent that he may as well have been naked. So instead of pushing, her hands stroked and petted and he moaned hungrily before touching his lips to hers. Theresa didn’t even pretend to fight. She melted into him and wrapped her arms around him. She dug her fingers into his back as she arched up against him and opened her mouth to his hot, demanding tongue. His hands were wrapped in her wet hair and he tugged her head back to gain better access to her mouth as his tongue hungrily probed at hers. He left not one inch of her mouth unexplored.
The sound of a car horn close by brought them to their senses, and they jumped apart guiltily, both flushed and breathing rapidly, both shaking uncontrollably. Theresa stared up into Sandro’s dazed eyes and blinked at the vulnerability that she thought she saw there.
“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” he murmured hoarsely, and she stared back at him uncomprehendingly.
“You were just being honest,” she whispered, and his brows slammed together in a formidable frown.
“No! I mean…yes I was, but you misunderstood me.” He sounded completely muddled, and Theresa stared up into him in wonder. She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of this overly emotional man standing before her.
“So make me understand,” she invited after a long and uncomfortable pause. He seemed shocked by the invitation and for a moment looked unable to respond.
“I meant that the baby’s sex made no difference to me either way because I would love it regardless of what it was,” he said in a rush, and she gaped up at him incredulously for a moment before placing both hands on his chest and pushing him away violently. He was taken by surprise and staggered back, nearly sprawling to the wet pavement before catching himself and finding his balance.
“Why would you say that? Why would you lie like that? I don’t deserve it, Sandro. I haven’t done anything to deserve any of this but you keep finding new and creative ways to hurt me.” She went back to fumbling in her bag and finally found her keys.
“Don’t try to pretend that you care,” she hissed at him. “I know you don’t. Five more months of this and you’ll be free to go back to your Francesca and start your real life with a real wife and babies that you will really love!” He seemed stunned by her attack but her mention of Francesca brought his eyes sharply up to hers.
“What? You didn’t think that I knew about your precious Francesca? The woman you love, the woman you wanted to marry before my father forced you into this sham? I know you see her every time you go back to Italy, just like I know you were speaking to her last night and will be going to her when you go back this week!” She was practically screaming now, frustrated by the way he just stood there. Like someone who’d been caught in a bomb blast, he looked dazed.
She was starting to feel strange, lightheaded and nauseous. She braced her hands on the roof of her car and tried to steady herself, aware that Sandro was moving toward her. His hands reached for her and she weakly tried to evade his grasp, but the movement made her even dizzier and she swayed slightly. Sandro’s arms wrapped around her and she was too faint to really care.
“Theresa, cara. I’m here. You’re okay…”
Those were the last desperate words she heard from her husband before everything went black.
“When I said she shouldn’t overtax herself, I meant both physically and emotionally, Mr. De Lucci.” Theresa heard the sharp admonishment in the slightly familiar voice and frowned as she tried to hear over the weird buzzing sound in her head. “What on earth were you thinking, upsetting her like this less than half an hour after the procedure she’d just been through?”
“Will she be okay?” Theresa heard Sandro’s unusually subdued voice over the rapidly subsiding buzz and she wondered at the strange panicky edge in it.
“She bled a little, which is never a good sign. I’m not willing to take any chances, not after this. I want her to remain in bed for at least a week. Complete bed rest.”
“I can’t stay in bed all week,” Theresa protested, opening her eyes. Sandro surged forward to grab one of her limp hands.
“Theresa, thank God! How are you feeling?”
“Like I was hit by a bus,” she admitted shakily, lifting her eyes to the doctor, who stood on the other side of the cot. “My baby? Is he all right?”
“Your baby’s just fine. In fact the baby is doing a hell of a lot better than you are right now, Mrs. De Lucci. I want you to stay in bed for a week; you are to do nothing, is that understood?”
“I take it that I am allowed bathroom breaks?” she asked sarcastically.
“You can get as snippy as you like with me, young lady, but if you want a healthy, full-term baby, you will do what I say! Or I will be forced to hospitalize you to ensure that you get the prescribed bed rest.”
“She’ll do what you’ve ordered, doctor,” Sandro assured grimly, and Theresa bit her lip and nodded. She wouldn’t risk her baby’s life out of sheer perversity.