The Duke's Willful Wife (2 page)

Some day, she reassured herself.  There will come a point in her life when she wouldn’t feel this kind of pain or betrayal.  There had been joy at one point.  That period in her work had been a completely different style, but it had lasted for
only
a short period of time.  She knew others
who viewed her work
might see the emotions in her paintings, but she hoped that they didn’t understand them.  Not completely at least. 

An hour later, s
he helped Robert
carefully
pack the paintings into his trunk, ensuring that they were
cautiously
stored so they wouldn’t be damaged, then waved goodbye to him as he drove back down the dusty, gravel road
that was her driveway
.  He’d made her laugh this afternoon, which was a good thing.  He was a
delightful
friend, even though she knew his motivation was more than a little mercenary.  Robert gathered friends only to further his art business.  Everyone had a purpose, either on the supply or demand chain
and he treated each person accordingly. 

Sasha
knew this
about him
and still accepted his friendship, but was also relieved when he drove away
after each visit
, needing his interruptions but appreciating the stillness and peace of her hideaway
even more
after he’d left. 

Back inside, she put the kettle on to heat more water, her mind considering options for what she might paint next.  Thoughts flitted through her mind and she considered and rejected some of them, storing others away.  She was just about to pick up her sketch pad
to work through some ideas
when a
strange
noise in the distance distracted her.  Glancing at the clock, she realized it was later than she thought.  She hadn’t had lunch yet and it was already three o’clock in the afternoon. 

Placing her sketch pad back on the table, she told herself she’d take
just
a peek outside to find out what the odd sound was
breaking the stillness of the early springtime afternoon.  T
hen she’d make a sandwich
and maybe even venture into the village to grab a cup of coffee, talk to some of her old friends a bit and make sure she stretched her social skills slightly
. 

The noise was becoming louder and she tucked her sketch pad down between her overstuffed chair and her
easel
, glancing out the window. 

What she saw made her heart stop for a split second.  Then her stomach dropped, followed immediately by the painful racing of her heart.

A helicopter?

There was only one reason a helicopter would be heading this way.  The town was too quiet, too isolated for any other reason. 

Sure enough, a moment later, the helicopter hovered over the small field in front of her cottage, then slowly descended.  Glancing around
the tree line of her property
, she noted there were already several men standing around the edge of her field, the bulges under their dark suits barely concealing the large weapons
Sasha
knew to be hidden underneath the
deceptive
material. 

As soon as the helicopter touched down, she watched in horror as the one man she’d prayed never to see again
outside of a white fabric canvas
stepped out, his long legs eating up the space between the powerful machine and her
tiny, dilapidated
cottage. 

He wore
expensive
sunglasses and a
perfectly tailored,
summer weight tan suit
with a white shirt opened at the collar
, but nothing could hide the power of this man.  It was physically apparent
both
in the way he walked and the commanding way he approached the world
and her house
,
not to mention
the muscles that were ripped over his body from grueling daily workouts that a lesser man would collapse under. 
No suit could hide the power of that physique, she thought while her mind whirled frantically. 

As he approached
her
door
with that intimidating stride
, she wasn’t sure what to do.  To let him into her house would mean that his whole demeanor would invade the
private
space she’d created, a space that was devoid of any memories of this man. 
To not let him in would be dangerous.  Not that he would allow that though.  When Dante Fuitello wanted in, everyone else needed to just step back.  She’d never known him let anyone stand in his way. 
She had no idea what the consequences would be if someone dared to challenge him, because it simply was never done.  At least she’d never seen or heard of it happening. 

And then he was there, standing in
front of
her house.  The option of not letting him inside was gone and her whole body trembled with memories of their time together, of how passionate and wonderful he could be.  And how brutally cold, impersonal and dispassionate he could turn.  She’d experienced both sides and never wanted either extreme again. 
Her life was calm and, if not peaceful, at least it wasn’t disrupted by the angry words and horrible accusations that had been almost daily life with him.  And the passion, she thought.  Yes, there had been more passion than she thought was possible.  Dante could bring her to the heights of heaven, but life with him could also be a living hell.  Loving him was….difficult. 

The knock on the door was fast and reflected the confidence this man had that the world would reacted exactly as he demanded it would, and it didn’t matter if it was the stock market or a company, somehow the world complied and bowed to this man’s wishes. 

She couldn’t open the door.  So many feelings were clogging her senses right now that her feet were rooted on the floor.  There were no messages from her brain to her feet telling her to move.  She simply stood in the middle of her
small den, staring at the door.

Sasha
should have known that he’d just enter.  Dante wasn’t the kind of man who waited for permission so when the initial knock didn’t provide the desired reaction, he
simply opened the door and walked
in. 

Why hadn’t she locked the door?  Why hadn’t she hidden in her bedroom? 
Why hadn’t she run into the woods at the very first realization of a helicopter approaching? 

As he stepped into her house, he had to duck
underneath the door frame
because he was so tall.  The house
had been
made over two hundred years ago  at a time when people were shorter, but even by today’s standards Dante was huge.  At six feet, three inches tall, he was at least half a head taller than most men.  If that didn’t separate him out from the rest of the world, his black hair and black eyes,
chiseled
facial features that were normally devoid of any emotion except for the rare moments when he was mildly amused, would capture anyone’s attention. 

“What are you doing here?” she finally asked after they’d stood there watching each other for a long
, awkward
moment.

Dante
looked at the one woman who had gotten beneath his guard.  The one person who had never bowed to his bidding, never reacted the way he expected. 
He was surprised at how angry he had become just by entering her world.  He’d thought this would be a simple mission but seeing her standing in front of him, looking like the goddess he’d first glimpsed so long ago, his reaction was probably understandable. 

She’d lost a good deal of weight over the past year.  She’d always been thin but now her jeans hung on her hips and the large shirt that was tied at her waist couldn’t cinch in enough.  It was a man’s shirt anyway and on her delicate frame, it was about ten sizes too large. 

Eyes that had once danced with laughter and excitement over everything, were now large,
brown
saucers in a face that looked….haunted.  She was pale, the only color in her face were those still
beautiful
, soulful, brown
eyes
.  A
nd he had no idea what she’d done with her hair.  He suspected nothing at all which was a crime since this woman’s hair had been the softest, most luxurious thing he’d ever….

Dante forced his mind back to the problem.  “I’ve tried calling you,” he said to break the silence.

Sasha
wasn’t sure how to respond.  When she worked, she shut off her cell phone
so if he’d tried to reach her, he would have gotten her voice mail and she hadn’t checked it yet
.  She tried to speak, but the words were stuck in her throat.  She coughed and tore her hungry eyes away from him.  “Would you like some tea?” she asked, manners coming to save her in this instance.  She wasn’t sure what was the polite comment to make when one’s estranged husband walked through
the
door
unexpectedly
.  

There was no answer but she didn’t care. 
She moved into her tiny kitchen, needing to do something with her hands.  She filled up the kettle and lit the burner, becoming more nervous as he prowled her cottage, looking at all the details.  There wasn’t much to see.  The furniture was
sparse
with only one large chair and
an
ottoman for reading, a side
table and lamp, all of which were
positioned for a body
to
obtain
maximum heat from the
now cold and blackened
fireplace.  There was a
n old, wooden
bookshelf filled with various genres, but that was about it.  Her dining room had been converted to her studio and that contained
several
lights
to help her work
, stacks of varying sized canvases, her eas
el and paints.  There wasn’t a
table and no chairs.  The
two windows and another fireplace
were on the opposite wall,
but the room wasn’t meant for guests, although he prowled through that space as well
but didn’t look very interested, only mildly curious
. 

Sasha
pulled down two cups and fiddled with the
bags of
tea, busying herself until she got up the nerve to ask him why he
had decided to break away from his business empire to visit her quaint little town
. 
While they’d been married, the man had worked fourteen to eighteen hour days, sometimes seven days a week.  He’d rarely taken the time to spend quiet days with her.  At least that was the case when they’d returned to his home in Rome. 

The whole time
he prowled her domain
, she tried to work through in her mind why he was here. 
There had been no communication between the two of them, and even though she’d been expecting notice, she hadn’t received anything from him or his lawyers asking for a divorce. 
Taking a deep breath, she stepped out from her hiding place and faced him, her chin going up defiantly.  “Why did you come here?” she asked, angry that her voice quivered slightly, revealing how emotionally distraught she was with his presence.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“After the accusations you tossed
at me
the last time we were together, I’d rather hoped never to see you again.”

“
A
fter
the perfidy I discovered about you
, I had resolved that very same thing.”

“What you think you discovered.  You’re too distrusting to know what you saw.”
  She snapped her mouth shut quickly.  The last time they’d had this argument she’d sworn she would never defend he
r
self
against his callous words again.  There was just something about this man that made her furious and defensive. 

He shrugged slightly.  “I’m not going to rehash the same, tedious argument with you,
Sasha
.”

She was r
elieved, because this wasn’t a dispute
she could win and maintain her word to a friend. 
“Good.  Then tell me why you’re here and get out of my house.”
  In
her
fantasy world, she lifted him up and tossed him out, just like she felt he’d done to her.  He’d never touched her in anger, but his words had hurt just as badly. 

“Nonna is ill.”

There wasn’t much he could have said that would have broken through her pain and anger at their last parting, but those words
got her attention.  During the nightmarish year that she’d been with this amazing man,
his Grandmother Rennata
had been the one steady, friendly and loving force in her life.  She’d been a true friend and confidant.  “She’s not!”