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Di CESARE PREGNANT MISTRESS - Chapter 46
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To her dismay, he did not argue. ‘I’ll have Battista prepare a room tomorrow,’ he snapped. ‘Go back to sleep now.’
Alexander rolled onto his side and switched off the bedside lamp, so that the room was plunged into a darkness that was as black and heavy as his mood. He felt a bitter, burning sensation in his gullet, as if he had drunk poison. Why the hell did it matter that she still dreamed of her ex-husband? he asked himself angrily. He had heard the pain in her voice earlier, when she’d told him how she had loved Fabian Harper, and it was clear that his infidelity had broken her heart. Did she still have feelings for her ex, despite the despicable way he had treated her? Was that the reason her eyes had shimmered with tears when he had kissed her at the end of their wedding ceremony? She’d been wishing that it was Fabian she had just promised to spend the rest of her life with rather than him?
But she had married him, Alexander thought savagely. She was expecting his child, and the health and well-being of his unborn son was the only thing he cared about. With that settled, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep. But it didn’t come, and by dawn his eyes felt gritty and a lead weight seemed to have settled in his chest.
When Stephanie opened her eyes the next morning she found she was alone, and the only sign that Alexander had slept beside her all night was a faint indentation on his pillow. She wondered if he was still annoyed with her for waking him in the night. She couldn’t even remember the dream that had left her sobbing. It had certainly been a traumatic wedding night—but for all the wrong reasons, she acknowledged dismally, recalling his tight-lipped expression when he had shaken her awake.
She could hear rain hammering against the window, and when she pulled back the curtains the Tuscan countryside was hidden behind a veil of grey mist. The river that usually gurgled gently at the side of the house was fuller than she had ever seen it, and white frothy waves danced across the surface as it hurtled down into the valley.
Alexander was in the kitchen when she went downstairs. He looked remote and forbidding, in black jeans and a matching jumper, but heart-stoppingly sexy, with his hair falling onto his brow and faint dark stubble shading his jaw. Stephanie was immediately conscious that her loose-fitting trousers and tunic top were hardly a turn-on, and she quickly subsided into a chair opposite him at the table, so that he couldn’t see her swollen stomach.
‘You’re going to be twice the size you are now,’ her mother had laughingly informed her when they had been shopping for her wedding outfit.
Stephanie felt quite happy about the visible sign that her little son was growing bigger, but from Alexander’s expression she was sure he found her lack of waistline unattractive, and she wished he would stop looking at her.
‘You’d better decide which room you want,’ he said tersely, while he poured her a glass of fruit juice and buttered one of the still-warm rolls that the housekeeper must have baked that morning. ‘I’ll leave you to explain to Battista why you are moving into your own room, and she can carry your things you are not to get over-tired,’ he warned her as he handed her the roll and passed her the cherry jam that he knew was her favourite. ‘Anyway, there’s no rush. I’m going back to Florence.
I have an early meeting tomorrow morning,’ he continued at her obvious surprise, ‘and I have some paperwork to catch on first. After that I’m flying to Paris, and then Amsterdam, and I won’t be back until the end of the week. So you’ll be quite safe to sleep in my bed for the next few nights.’
She flushed at the mockery in his tone and put down the roll after one bite, as the image of him rushing back to meet Donata at his apartment destroyed her appetite. ‘I’ll move my things into another room as soon as you’ve gone,’ she said stonily, ‘I want my own space.’
‘As you wish.’ Alexander scraped back his chair and stood up. ‘I’ll go now, and then you’ll have all the space you could possibly wish for.’ He ****** his arms into his leather jacket and stood towering over her, so impossibly beautiful that Stephanie longed to throw herself into his arms and beg him to stay with her. Their marriage had got off to a truly terrible start, and she had no idea how to retrieve the situation.
‘It’s lucky we didn’t arrange a honeymoon if you’re so busy at work,’ she muttered, knowing she sounded like a petulant teenager, but unable to stop herself.
Alexander turned in the doorway and glared at her. ‘A honeymoon is the usual way to start normal married life, I agree. But, as you pointed out, bella, our marriage is far from normal. Our wedding night was evidence of that.’
‘You mean because we didn’t have sex?’ Stephanie flung at him, stung by his implied accusation that she hadn’t delivered the goods on their wedding night.
‘I mean because you spent the night dreaming about your ex-husband,’ Alexander replied icily, before he strode out and slammed the front door so hard that the Villa trembled on its foundations.
What on earth did he mean? Stephanie moved to the window and watched listlessly as he hurtled down the drive so fast that the car’s tyres squealed on the wet gravel. Fabian was the last person she would ever dream about—although he had featured in a few of her nightmares. She could almost believe that Alexander had sounded jealous, but now she really was entering the realms of fantasy, she acknowledged as she headed back upstairs. She didn’t know if he really had an early business meeting tomorrow, or whether he was racing off to see his mistress, and although she told herself she didn’t care, she could not hold back her tears as she buried her face on his pillow and wept for everything that their marriage could have been if only he had loved her.