The Unwanted Wife(37)

“They could,” he insisted stubbornly.

“Unlikely.” He didn’t respond, merely continued to sit by her bedside. They were both silent for a few minutes.

“Why are you here?” Theresa asked tiredly.

“Because this is where I want to be,” he responded, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

“Why do you want to be here?” she persisted.

“You’re my wife, cara. You’re having my baby.” He reached out and covered one of her hands with his. “I belong here.”

“You don’t belong here,” she whispered hoarsely.

“I do.”

“You have another life, a family that wants you to come home, a woman you love and who loves you. You don’t have to be here, Sandro.” She shook her head tiredly, tears seeping from beneath her eyelids.

“I have this life, with you. It’s the only one that matters to me,” he insisted. “I have a wife who loved me once, and who maybe…someday…would dare to love and trust me again? I don’t have to be here…but I want to be here.”

“Too many things have happened between us. More than two years of pain,” she whispered rawly, and his hand contracted around hers. “I can’t go back to being the naive girl who loved you with all her heart.”

“But maybe…the woman who replaced the girl could find a way to love the flawed man she’d once placed on a pedestal he had no business being on?”

“You’ve hurt me so many times,” she confessed, opening her eyes and meeting his full on. He flinched slightly beneath the accusatory glare.

“I know.”

“In so many ways.”

“I know.”

“Why should I forgive you and love you again? Why should I open up my heart to a man who could easily crush it in the palms of his hands?”

“You probably shouldn’t.” He smiled bitterly. “But I wish you would.”

“I can’t,” she whispered, tears drenching her pale cheeks, and he nodded slightly, reaching out to wipe at the tears.

“I know,” he said again, before lapsing into silence.




Her water broke four hours later, and she was moved to the delivery room. She and Sandro hadn’t exchanged any further meaningful conversation, he’d just continued to soothe her and coach her through the ever-increasing pain. She didn’t ever say it but she was pretty grateful to have him there. Even though he was as nervous and edgy as a cat in a barrel between contractions, he was a solid rock during them.

Four intensely nerve-wracking, sweaty, and pain-riddled hours later, during which time Sandro supported her, swore at her doctors, threatened the nurses, and seemed to come close to breaking down into tears on several occasions, Theresa finally gave one last painful push. There was a rush of activity at the foot of the bed as Theresa felt an overwhelming flood of relief. Sandro’s eyes remained glued to her face, bright and feverish above the surgical mask they had forced him to wear. He dragged down the mask and leaned down toward her, until his mouth was so close to her ear she could feel his hot and moist breath fanning over her overheated skin.

“You’re amazing, cara mia. So incredible…”

She jerked her head away from his mouth and turned her face to stare at him in bewilderment, rocked by the emotion she heard in his voice. But his attention was now on the doctor and the squalling, naked, and tiny bundle the man held cradled in his gentle and capable hands.

“Here’s the little lady who’s been causing all that fuss and bother,” the man said jovially. “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. De Lucci, you have a beautiful and perfectly healthy baby girl.”

Theresa’s breath hitched in her chest at the man’s words, and her eyes remained glued to Sandro’s face. But instead of the rapidly concealed disappointment she would have expected to see, she witnessed something she would never have believed if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes: she watched her husband fall hopelessly and helplessly head over heels in love with the outraged bundle of femininity the doctor placed onto Theresa’s chest.

Theresa was overwhelmed as she stared down at the tiny, wailing infant on her chest and immediately loved her with all her heart. While at the same time, Theresa was not entirely sure what to do with this baby girl who should have been a boy.

“She’s beautiful,” the smitten Sandro crooned, dropping a large hand to the baby’s tiny head and gently stroking the soft skin and tufts of still-wet hair. “She’s so very beautiful, Theresa.”

“Yes,” she muttered automatically. “She really is.” He frowned down at her, puzzled by her response or lack thereof.

“Theresa…what’s wrong?”

“Your wife is exhausted, Mr. De Lucci,” the doctor said brusquely. “Give her time to recover, and I’m sure she’ll be fawning all over this little beauty.”

“Yes. I’m tired,” Theresa said remotely, and Sandro’s brow furrowed. He watched as Theresa absently stroked the baby’s down-soft back, without once looking down at the infant, and knew that something was terribly wrong.





CHAPTER ELEVEN

She’s gorgeous, Terri,” Lisa gushed, and Theresa smiled tiredly, nodding her appreciation of the comment. Lisa seemed not to notice her lack of enthusiasm, or if she did, probably dismissed it as exhaustion. Rick had been in earlier but was at work at the moment. Sandro was leaning against a wall, arms crossed over his broad chest and legs crossed at the ankles. He said nothing but Theresa was aware of him watching her every move with brooding intensity.

It was just over a day since the baby had been born, and Sandro had gone home only to shower and change and to bring her a change of clothes. He’d also packed a bag for the baby, filling it with the tiny little pink and white things he’d bought months ago while Theresa had been industriously buying toys and clothes for a baby boy.

“Have you thought of names yet?” Lisa was asking, and Theresa winced slightly at the memory of a conversation she’d once had with Sandro. He must’ve have remembered too because he made a caustic sound.

“Last time we talked about it,” he spoke for the first time since Lisa had arrived ten minutes before, “she had her heart set on Kieran, Liam, Ethan, or Alexander.” Lisa frowned at that.

“Only boys’ names?” Lisa asked in confusion.

“You forget, your cousin was obsessed with having a son,” he taunted. “What a pity for her that she failed so dismally at achieving her goal.” Theresa’s soft mouth quivered at the slight, and his eyes darkened at the sight but he kept pressing. “She’s so torn up by this inability of hers to do anything right, that she hasn’t even bothered to look at our daughter. Or hold her. Or even attempt to feed her. Why hassle with a mere girl child when it won’t get her out of her miserable marriage with me? When it won’t win her the affection of her thrice-damned father?”

“Theresa?” Lisa prompted gently, watching as tears spilled onto Theresa’s pale cheeks. Sandro cursed rawly before levering himself from the wall and sitting down on the bed to wrap her in his strong arms.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “I’m a bastard. Just don’t cry.”

“You’re not a bastard,” she sobbed. “You’re right. I can’t look at her. I can’t hold her. I don’t understand why I feel this way. I hate myself for feeling this way. I just wanted to make this all right. I wanted to have that son and release you from your obligation to me. I wanted to finally do something right in my father’s eyes. Everything would have been perfect.”

“Do you hate our baby?” he asked painfully, keeping his face buried in her hair.

“Of course not. I love her so much it hurts. But I feel like such a failure.”

“Oh God, sweetheart, just let all it go,” he groaned. “Let yourself love her. Allow yourself to be happy.”

“But what about you? I promised you…”

“For God’s sake, just stop it.” He shook her slightly. “I told you before, I don’t want out of this marriage. And if you give me nothing but daughters for the next twenty years, I would consider myself blessed.”

She made a muffled sound as she buried her face in his neck and wept. She so desperately wanted to believe him. He rocked her soothingly and after a long while, he released her and gently lowered her until her head rested on the pillow.

“Why don’t you rest, cara, and when you wake up, I think it’s time you meet your daughter and give her a proper welcome into this world.” Theresa stared up into his dark, handsome face, barely noticing when her cousin got up and left, squeezing Sandro’s taut shoulder on her way out. Her vision started to blur after a while and she fell asleep still trustingly clutching one of her husband’s large, capable hands in both of hers.




She awoke to the sound of angry, hushed voices and blinked groggily as she tried to get her bearings.

“I don’t want you anywhere near her.” She heard Sandro hiss furiously and tried to concentrate on the drama unfolding in her doorway where she could see two large men silhouetted. One was unmistakably Sandro, and the other…she narrowed her eyes slightly, trying to focus a bit better. It looked like her father.