Authors: Natasha Anders
Theresa was overwhelmed as she stared down at the tiny, wailing infant her chest and 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 stroking the soft skin and tufts of still-wet hair, gently. “She’s so very beautiful, Theresa.”
“Yes,” she muttered automatically. “I suppose she 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 in no time at all.”
“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 too. 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?” She 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 hate myself for being this way but she’s not what I was expecting. I 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 met your daughter and gave 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.
“She’s my daughter and I’ll damned well see her when I want to,” the other man blustered, confirming that he was, indeed, Jackson Noble III.
“So that you can damage her more than you already have?” Sandro asked, almost shaking with rage. “I won’t let you get close enough to hurt her like that again. And you can forget about getting that grandson you want anytime soon. I refuse to give you the pleasure.”
“Well then stay married to her until you do, or give up the vineyard,” her father sneered.
“The vineyard never meant as much to me as it did my father. You can have the damned place back. I want your grasping paws out of my business and the taint of your presence away from my marriage. You won’t be getting your hooks into Theresa again and you most certainly will not be any kind of presence in our children’s lives.”
“Sandro…” Theresa sat up slightly. “It’s okay. I want to speak with him.”
“Theresa…” his voice shook with anger as he stepped into her slightly darkened room. “No.”
“It’s okay,” she smiled, her lips trembling. “He doesn’t have the power to hurt me anymore. I want to see him.”
“Theresa…”
“Sandro.” Her voice was firm and brooked no argument and he sighed, before stepping aside to let her father in.
“Father,” she nodded warily as she watched the large, handsome man whose affection and approval she had craved her entire life enter the room.
“Theresa, you look none the worse for wear,” he observed in the cold, distant voice he always used on her and she immediately went back to that insecure little girl who had never understood why her daddy didn’t hug her and didn’t want to spend time with her.
“Have you seen my daughter yet?” She asked, her voice strong and sure. Not betraying the little girl who still lurked somewhere inside.
“Not yet, no…” he seemed uncertain. Seeing the new strength in her and not sure what to make of it.
“It’s funny…” she suddenly observed. “What having a baby does to you, you would go out of your way to protect that new life from anybody who would threaten its happiness. I won’t allow you to hurt my baby the way you hurt me. I don’t want you in her life… not unless you’re prepared to love her in the way you were unable to love me: wholeheartedly and unconditionally.” As if on cue a nurse brought a fretting, pink-wrapped bundle into the room. She paused for a moment, sensing the tension in the room… before pasting a bright smile onto her lips and bringing the baby over to Theresa.
“I think that it’s past time this little one meets her mother properly,” Theresa’s entire face lit up and her heart filled with overwhelming love as the nurse placed the beautiful infant into her arms. She finally took inventory… counting fingers and toes, stroking downy black hair, and velvety skin. She even enjoyed it when the little one opened her rosebud of a mouth and started to wail angrily.
“Hello there sweetheart,” she whispered. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” The nurse brusquely proceeded to give her a crash course in breast-feeding, ignoring the way Theresa’s face flamed when the older woman started talking about breast pumps and let-down reflexes. Her father shifted uncomfortably while Sandro sat down at her bedside, a mixture of smug amusement, overwhelming pride and bewildered love on his face. She had never seen him look more vulnerable, or more protective… he sent a glare of warning her father’s way, before his unsettling gaze shifted back to her. Theresa, in the meantime, was struggling to conceal her milk-swollen breast from them after the nurse unceremoniously yanked the bodice of her nightgown down. The woman obviously thought that Theresa had nothing to be embarrassed about in front of husband and father. She fumbled with a towel but it was Sandro who reached across and draped it over her shoulder to cover her breast and the baby’s head. The baby finally found her nipple and latched on with enough force to make her wince. He concealed her from her father but kept the towel up on his side so that he could watch, ignoring her flustered glare.
“She’s got a pretty healthy appetite, doesn’t she?” He muttered in fascination, his voice alive with adoration. “Does that hurt?” Theresa shook her head slightly in response and snuck a glance up at her father who was unused to being so completely ignored and clearly did not it.
“Jackson, we’ll discuss the details of the broken contract at a later date. You can have back the vineyard and you’re more than welcome to keep the damned money but your daughter’s mine, as is the beautiful baby she’s given me. Sue me for breach of contract if you must.”
“I don’t want that useless piece of land back, we could renegotiate the terms…” her father sounded almost desperate and Theresa suddenly lost patience with both men.
“Stop talking about me like I’m an expensive piece of meat,” she seethed. “Take your sordid business elsewhere. I want it nowhere near my baby. Father, I’ve given you my conditions.”
“You’re so brave now, aren’t you?” Her father sneered. “But if push came to shove, I wonder how strong you’d be?”
“I’m stronger than you’ll ever know, father,” she smiled serenely. “Years of constant rejection from the people you love can leave you with pretty tough skin. You can’t hurt me anymore. I don’t want nor need your version love. I find that I no longer want nor need you in my life…”
“Yes,
so
brave now that you have your loving husband’s support,” The man’s words were laced with bitterness. “But while he may love your baby, Theresa, he’ll never love
you
. He has Francesca Delvecchio and, yes, he’s Italian enough to want that baby of yours so it’s just a matter of time before he finds a way to get her away from you…” Theresa blinked, her sudden fear showing, as her father presented a scenario she had never once considered. She couldn’t prevent herself from glancing over at Sandro, whose face was dark with fury and his entire body coiled with tension, he looked like he was about to tear her father’s throat out.
“I think it’s time you left, father,” she whispered painfully and her father sneered one last time before he pivoted on his heel and strode from the room.
“Don’t you
dare
believe what he just said, Theresa,” Sandro whispered rawly, focusing his glare on her. “Don’t you bloody dare!”
“I know you love her, Sandro…” she whispered. Not sure if she meant the baby or Francesca and she could tell by the look of uncertainty on his face that he wasn’t sure who she meant either and so was at a loss as to how to respond. “Would you try to take her from me?”
“
No
!” He practically shouted and the baby started. Theresa soothed her with slight rocking motions until she started suckling again. He reined in his temper and gentled his voice with visible effort. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I’d
never
hurt you like that.”
“But you want her…” again the ambiguity and his frown deepened.
“If you mean
the baby
, then yes of course I want her. But it’s a package deal for me, I want
both
of you. You’re my family. I don’t want a life separate from yours. I want
our
life. The one we’ve been building together these last few months.”
“What do you mean? All we ever talked about was divorcing…” she asked in confusion.
“I’m referring to all those nights together… the movies, the games, the conversations… what the hell was that if not relationship-building? We
know
we’re great in bed together. But we’d never really tried all the other stuff that couples do. The last few of months, we
did
do those things. We may have done things a little backward,
cara
but that doesn’t mean that we can’t have a solid marriage like Rick and Lisa’s. The only one of us who’d ever mentioned divorce was
you
. I don’t bloody want a divorce. I want
us
. Together.”
“I think…”she whispered so softly he could barely hear her and had to lean in closer to make out her words. “I think that you’re a wonderful man, Sandro. A decent man and because of that… I know that you’d do anything to make things right. You’d make any sacrifice to give Lily and me a normal life. But I can’t let you do that. I can’t let you keep forfeiting the things you want just because you think it’s the right thing to do.”
“This again,” he muttered impatiently. “I went from demon to saint in pretty short order, didn’t I? I want you to listen to me very
, very
carefully Theresa because I won’t be saying this again. I’m not a saint. I’m being very selfish when I say that I want you and our baby with me and when I say that I want us to be a family. I have duties back in Italy, people I love and need to take care of but right now I don’t give a
damn
about any of that right now because I want to spend my every waking moment with you and this baby. This life I’ve built with you, it’s the only one that matters to me anymore. So please stop
telling
me what I really want and try listening to me for a change.” Theresa stared up at him uncertainly. Dare she believe that he meant this? That it wasn’t just a really good act? She cleared her throat, trying to formulate a response but he leaned over and kissed her gently, stilling the words.