The Unwanted Wife

Chapter 3

"It wasn't working for me," she muttered defiantly. That bruised his masculine ego; she sensed it in the way he tensed.

"You weren't faking those responses," he negated stiffly.

"No, I wasn't. You're really very good..." she agreed, realising too late that she didn't sound very convincing at all. "It just isn't enough for me anymore."

"I'm not enough for you anymore?" He asked flatly and she knew she had to tread carefully here.

"That's not quite what I meant..."

"Oh?"

"Sandro, you're being deliberately dense." Okay that wasn't quite the right thing to say either. She could practically feel him bristling next to her.

"It'll probably be best if you didn't say anything else, Theresa..."

"Look you're deliberately misunderstanding me here..." She began.

"Not another word..." He warned.

"But..." suddenly she was on the flat of her back with him straddling her hips. She gasped and writhed as she tried to dislodge him.

"I warned you," he growled.

"Get off me," she hissed angrily pushing futilely at his hot, naked chest.

"No." He settled himself more firmly against her, moving his hips until her thighs reluctantly parted and he was lodged between them. Her t-shirt had ridden up to her waist, leaving only her small bikini panties as a barrier between them. She was achingly aware of his bare flesh rubbing against the tender skin of her inner thighs and felt herself responding, moving with him, wanting more contact. He groaned and buried his face in her neck, his lips nuzzling her neck, moving up over her jaw line, her chin, skirting past her mouth before finally brushing over her cheek and capturing one sensitive earlobe between his teeth. It was the blatant avoidance of her mouth that quite effectively doused the flame that had started a slow burn in her gut.

"This is not what I want," she said firmly, using all her strength to push him away but he wouldn't budge.

"Yes it is," he whispered into her ear.

"If you do this, it'll be against my will," she asserted desperately. "And you know what that's called!" He froze abruptly, before moving off her and back to his side of the bed.

"You would accuse me of something so despicable?" He sounded mortally offended but Theresa wasn't about to allow herself to be swayed.

"If the shoe fits..."

"What does that mean?" He growled. "Some damned ambiguous idiom that doesn't apply to this situation at all! There was no force involved in what just happened."

"You pinned me down and refused to get off me when I asked you to. That's a pretty clear example of force..." he didn't respond and merely lay there seething in outraged silence. She had once again succeeded in bruising his masculine pride and Theresa was human and petty enough to give herself a mental high five. They didn't speak at all after that and Theresa eventually fell into a restless sleep.

The air at breakfast the following morning was still thick with tension. The unobtrusive staff had set out the usual Sunday morning breakfast buffet on the sunny patio next to the pool before disappearing back into the woodwork. Sandro didn't like distractions on Sunday mornings, so he preferred not to see the staff and usually, even though he insisted Theresa have all meals with him for "appearances" sake, he ignored her in favour of his Sunday Times. That morning, despite the fact that he had the usual barrier of his newspaper up between him and the rest of the world, meaning her, she could all but feel his fury. Finally, after an unbearably tense half an hour, he balled the paper up between his fists and tossed it aside before glaring at her across the glass table.

"I want to know exactly where you were yesterday, Theresa," he demanded fiercely.

"Why do you even care?" She asked tiredly. "You've certainly disappeared without explanation enough times for the both of us."

"We're not talking about me here," he pointed out.

"No but I think it's time we do talk about you, about your outrageous behaviour, about the other women and the blatant disregard for the fact that you're married!"

"I don't feel married!" He sounded almost defensive.

"No?" She retorted recklessly. "Well maybe I don't feel married either! Maybe I'm ready to be outrageous. Maybe I'm ready for other men and extra marital affairs too!"

"This had better not be your way of telling me that you were with another man last night, Theresa," he warned ominously, his voice eerily calm. Theresa recklessly ignored the warning in his voice and plunged on regardless.

"So what if that's exactly what I'm telling you?" She asked daringly. "What will you do about it? Make my life hell? Well surprise surprise... it's already hell! Do your worst!"

"What's his name?" He insisted in a lethally calm voice that sent an involuntary shudder down her spine. She suddenly recognised that she had pushed him too far but she knew that even if she backed down now, it wouldn't assuage his anger. "Theresa, who the hell is he?"

Even though Theresa knew that he would never physically harm her, she couldn't help but feel an instinctive friction of fear. She knew that he had a tight leash on his temper but right now that leash seemed strained to breaking point.

"I... I was speaking hypothetically," she stuttered, abandoning all pretence of bravado and feeling unbelievably intimidated.

"I don't believe you," he bit out furiously.

"I wasn't with anybody, I just needed a break!"

"A break..." he repeated with flat contempt.

"Yes a break! A break from you and from this life... I don't want to be in this marriage anymore. I want out... I want away from you! Please.... I just want a divorce, Sandro. Please."

"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.

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The Unwanted Wife

The Unwanted Wife

Natasha Anders

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Chapter Two

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The air at breakfast the following morning was still thick with tension. The unobtrusive staff had set out the usual Sunday morning breakfast buffet on the sunny patio next to the pool before disappearing back into the woodwork. Sandro didn't like distractions on Sunday mornings, so he preferred not to see the staff and usually, even though he insisted Theresa have all meals with him for "appearances" sake, he ignored her in favour of his Sunday Times. That morning, despite the fact that he had the usual barrier of his newspaper up between him and the rest of the world, meaning her, she could all but feel his fury. Finally, after an unbearably tense half an hour, he balled the paper up between his fists and tossed it aside before glaring at her across the glass table.

"I want to know exactly where you were yesterday, Theresa," he demanded fiercely.

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"Why do you even care?" She asked tiredly. "You've certainly disappeared without explanation enough times for the both of us."

"We're not talking about me here," he pointed out.

"No but I think it's time we do talk about you, about your outrageous behaviour, about the other women and the blatant disregard for the fact that you're married!"

"I don't feel married!" He sounded almost defensive.

"No?" She retorted recklessly. "Well maybe I don't feel married either! Maybe I'm ready to be outrageous. Maybe I'm ready for other men and extra marital affairs too!"

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"This had better not be your way of telling me that you were with another man last night, Theresa," he warned ominously, his voice eerily calm. Theresa recklessly ignored the warning in his voice and plunged on regardless.

"So what if that's exactly what I'm telling you?" She asked daringly. "What will you do about it? Make my life hell? Well surprise surprise... it's already hell! Do your worst!"

"What's his name?" He insisted in a lethally calm voice that sent an involuntary shudder down her spine. She suddenly recognised that she had pushed him too far but she knew that even if she backed down now, it wouldn't assuage his anger. "Theresa, who the hell is he?"

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Even though Theresa knew that he would never physically harm her, she couldn't help but feel an instinctive frisson of fear. She knew that he had a tight leash on his temper but right now that leash seemed strained to breaking point.

"I... I was speaking hypothetically," she stuttered, abandoning all pretence of bravado and feeling unbelievably intimidated.

"I don't believe you," he bit out furiously.

"I wasn't with anybody, I just needed a break!"

"A break..." he repeated with flat contempt.

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"Yes a break! A break from you and from this life... I don't want to be in this marriage anymore. I want out... I want away from you! Please.... I just want a divorce, Sandro. Please."

"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?"

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"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.

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"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.

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"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 naive 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.