Authors: Natasha Anders
“Well, I certainly forked out huge amounts of money for you… that feels like ownership to me.”
“Look, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she protested in frustration and he laughed softly.
“And you’re still singing the same tired old tune,” he mocked. “This is beside the point. I have no wish to rehash these details, it achieves nothing. Come on, we’re going to bed!” He grabbed her hand and tugged her back toward their bedroom a few doors down the hall. She was so shocked by the abrupt gesture that she stumbled along behind him, before instinct kicked in and she dug in her heels, leaving him to practically drag her the last few feet.
Theresa was out of breath and furious when he finally released her hand. They were in the master bedroom, facing each other and she glared at him… refusing to be intimidated by his scowl.
“When did you become the Neanderthal Man, Sandro? I never thought you would resort to caveman tactics…” he didn’t like being called a barbarian, not her suave, sophisticated, rigid husband, she saw it in the way his mouth thinned and his eyes flared. He grabbed her wrist and dragged her up against him.
“You haven’t seen the Neanderthal in me yet,
cara
. I advise you
not
to push me on this, not unless you want things to get really ugly between us,” he was using his whole body to intimidate her, leaning over and into her, nose to nose with her.
“I.I don’t see how things can get any uglier…” she whispered.
“You really don’t want to find out how much worse it can get, trust me on that,” his eyes were boring into hers and her breath was coming in small, shallow gasps. She was suddenly aware of how closely she was pressed against him and felt a betraying flash of heat uncoiling in the pit of her stomach and radiating outward. Even though Sandro never really let himself go in bed, he was
still
an incredible lover and despite, or maybe
because
of, the clinical precision with which he conducted the act, he
always
made sure she climaxed. She would have traded any number of those orgasms for a kiss of course, or even a show of affection afterwards but she couldn’t help her reaction to him. He could always make her melt. Chemistry was a terrible thing, sometimes it simply sparked between the wrong people.
His eyes were still locked with hers and she felt the sudden change in his breathing and his heart rate… he leaned even closer, his mouth nearly touching hers, their breath mingled and came in jagged gasps. If she moved her head, just a fraction of an inch, their lips would be touching… she couldn’t resist and she tensed herself to do just that, when he suddenly swore and stepped away from her. Theresa blinked and felt like someone coming out of a trance.
“Just go to bed,” he put his hand in the small of her back and gave her a gentle push toward the bed.
“I’m not going to have…” she began to protest.
“I know. I’m not exactly in the right frame of mind for it either,” he prodded her again.
“You won’t touch me?”
“Not unless you want me to.” He shrugged as if he didn’t care either way.
“I don’t want you to.” She asserted firmly.
“Then you have nothing to worry about,” he turned away from her stripped off his casual shirt, leaving him abruptly naked from the chest up. As always, he stole her breath away and she had to force herself to turn away from the seductive sight of her half-naked husband and head to bed. She crept beneath the covers and kept her back to him but she was achingly aware of every sound he made as he headed toward the en-suite, discarding even more clothes along the way. For such a precise and controlled man in every other aspect of his life, Alessandro tended to be a bit messy in his own space; it was rather endearing the way he would casually drop a shirt here, a sock there… obviously expecting the magical cleaning fairies to pick up after him. That “magical cleaning fairy” was usually Theresa; she was a bit of a neat freak and would quite compulsively pick up and fold everything he dropped. Well not anymore, she suddenly thought fumingly, he could damned well pick up his own shirts.
She suddenly wryly acknowledged to herself that this resolution would only last as long as it took for the maid to come in and clean it up…the one thing about being fabulously wealthy was that you didn’t
have
to think about mundane things like picking up after yourself. And Alessandro had been spoiled into believing the universe revolved around him since birth. While Theresa’s family had been wealthy too, she had never taken anything for granted, not when she had an emotionally-detached father who quite relentlessly pointed out her every flaw.
She sighed softly and turned over to watch the door of the en-suite, he hadn’t shut it completely and a narrow sliver of light streamed out into the darkened bedroom. Steam was creeping out along the edges of the door and she could smell the spicy scent of his soap as he showered. The shower stopped abruptly and she heard the rustling sounds of him towel-drying. She smiled softly to herself as she heard the towel drop to the floor after he finished. She was achingly familiar with every detail of his nightly ablutions; he usually showered, shaved in the shower and brushed his teeth afterwards. Five minutes later the light in the en-suite went out and he stepped out into the dark bedroom. She could just make out his silhouette enough to realise that he was naked and panicked slightly when she realised that he had absolutely every intention of getting into bed that way.
He usually slept naked but she had honestly believed that he would drag on a shorts or something after the events of that evening. No such luck, she felt him lifting the covers and sliding beneath them. He smelled divine and she had to fight the impulse to turn toward him. He didn’t say a word and made no move toward her, staying on his side of the bed. No surprise there… he usually stayed on his side of the bed anyway, unless he felt the need to work on his long-term project to sire a son, only then would he move toward her, touch her, caress her… do everything but
love
her. Theresa
never
instigated their intimate encounters. She had learned early on that any move toward such intimacy was usually rebuffed and her fragile self-esteem didn’t deal well with rejection, so she had stopped trying.
Ironically enough tonight, after her decree that he not touch her, was the first time in a long time that she was actually tempted to move toward him. She clenched her fists and curled into a ball, trying not to think of all that tempting naked, male flesh lying next to her. She knew he was awake, she could tell from the rhythm of his breathing and obviously he knew
she
was awake, she was way too tense to be asleep.
“Just go to sleep for God’s sake,” his impatient voice suddenly rang out in the darkness. “I said I wouldn’t touch you and I
won’t
… so you can relax!” She tensed even more at the sound of his voice and he swore softly.
“If you can’t sleep, I have the perfect solution for your insomnia,” he murmured suggestively, leaving her in no doubt as to his “solution”.
“You’re not helping matters,” she gritted through clenched teeth and he laughed quietly.
“Well if neither of us can sleep…”
“We haven’t been in bed long enough to fall asleep… just
hush
!” She hissed.
“You know you’re being ridiculous, right?” He murmured in his most patronisingly logical voice. It was a voice that usually drove her absolutely crazy.
“I don’t care
how
ridiculous you think I’m being,” she flipped over to face him and could barely make out his profile in the dark. He was lying on his back, with one arm tucked beneath his head. When he felt her turn over he turned his head to look at her. She could see only the whites of his eyes in the dark. “This is what I want, Sandro.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” he maintained, reaching out to touch her face with one gentle hand. “The sex has always been good between us, Theresa… that’s one thing that’s never been in doubt. It’s the one damned thing that’s working in this marriage.”
“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.
Chapter Two
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 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.
“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.”