Home > The Unwanted Wife (Unwanted #1)(54)

The Unwanted Wife (Unwanted #1)(54)
Author: Natasha Anders

“De Lucci,” he barked once he had it up to his ear. “Si... si...” she sat up and pushed her hair out of her eyes as she tried see his expression in the dim light of the LCD display of the clock. His face closed up tighter than a fist and he bowed his head slightly. Biting her lip, as she fought back the tears, Theresa lay a comforting hand on one tense, naked shoulder.

“Quando?” He asked tersely, his voice hoarse. He said a few more things but Theresa tuned his words out, hearing only the pain he was ruthlessly keeping at bay behind the harshly controlled voice. She lowered her head to his broad shoulder, wanting only to comfort and kept stroking his back as he spoke. He was silent for a long time, before she realised that he was done speaking and that he had lowered the receiver to the bed beside him. She turned her head to look up into his face and realised that he was staring off into the distance. It was still too dark to see much of his face but from the grim set of his jaw it was obvious what the news was.

“When?” she asked gently, reaching for the receiver and placing it gently back into its cradle. He shook himself slightly before turning his head to face her.

“About ten minutes ago,” he whispered and she nodded, lifting a small hand to cup his tense jaw.

“You go and grab a shower, I’ll pack a bag for you...” she clicked on the bedside lamp before awkwardly heaving herself up and off of the bed. He remained where she had left him and she sighed softly, before leaning down to kiss the top of his head gently.

“Come on, Sandro,” she murmured firmly. “You grab that shower and I’ll take care of everything else.” Something about the tone of her voice got through to him and he nodded and got up like someone in a trance before heading to the bathroom. Theresa stood there for a while until she heard the shower going before she waddled out to his room down the hall and packed a bag for him.

Twenty minutes later, when she returned to her guest room, it was to find the shower still running. Concerned she stepped into the bathroom and could barely make out his shape behind the frosted glass of the shower door but she could see enough to tell that he was still in there and not really moving. She sighed and bit her lip before, decision made, she stripped down to her skin and stepped into the cubicle with him. He was standing with his back to the cubicle door, his head bowed beneath the strong spray and his hands braced against the tiled wall, long arms outstretched in front of him and muscles tensed. He didn’t seem to realise she was there until her small hands touched the bunched muscles of his shoulders. She could feel his instinctive jerk of surprise beneath her touch and very gently moved her hands until they crept down under his arms and around to his broad chest. She could feel his bone deep tremors and with gentle insistence tugged him back towards her until she was able to rest her cheek against the warm, wet skin of his back. Her hands were splayed across his chest and she could feel the strong beat of his heart beneath her touch.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, dropping warm kisses across the skin of his back. “I’m so sorry, Sandro.” He shuddered violently before turning with a groan and gathering her into his arms, hunching his body around hers and burying his face in her still-dry hair. They stood that way for a long time before he lifted his ravaged face and looked down at her. His eyes were wet with tears and he reached up to cup her face before lowering his lips to hers and kissing her hungrily. He did nothing more than that just kissed her like he would never get the chance to do so again. He kissed like a man who knew that he would have to go without sustenance for an unknown amount of time. Finally, chest heaving, he lifted his head and stared intently down into her dazed face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered gently. “The most beautiful thing in my life. I don’t want to leave you here. Not now.”

“I’ll be fine,” she reassured, this time she was the one to reach up and stroke his worried face. “The baby will be fine. I have Lisa and Rick... You have to take care of your family now, Sandro.”

“You’re my family too,” he repeated his words of the previous afternoon. “I have to take care of you too.”

“No,” she reached around him to shut off the water and met his eyes squarely. “I can take care of myself. And to be honest, having you here when you should be with your family, will simply add to my stress.” He said nothing for a few moments before shutting his eyes and nodding abruptly.

“Okay,” he inhaled deeply. “Okay, I’ll arrange my flight immediately.” She opened the door and reached for a couple of the heated towels hanging from the railing beside the shower cubicle, handing one over to him before wrapping one around herself, happy to be covering up her huge frame again.

An hour later she and Sandro were standing on the doorstep. The chauffeur of the driving service they sometimes used when they were going out to parties, stood waiting patiently beneath an umbrella next to the shiny black sedan parked out front.

“Promise me that you’ll eat well,” Sandro urged and she nodded sombrely, knowing that he would need to have his head clear for what was to come. “And you’ll contact Elisa and Richard if you feel unwell.” Another nod. “And you will remember to take your vitamins?”

His voice was starting to get hoarse with emotion and she gave him a wavering smile before nodding again.

“I promise...”

“You say this... but you forget... I know you,” he shook his head in frustration. “It is important for your health, cara and you no remember to take. It drive me crazy. I worry...” it was a sign of his anxiety and stress that his normally impeccable, lightly-accented English had failed him so completely and she stepped toward him and went on tip-toe to drop a kiss onto one of his lean cheeks.

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