Rossellini's Revenge Affair

by Yvonne Lindsay

  Raffaele had given his consent for his sister’s move to Auckland City Hospital, but only once he’d been convinced without doubt that this would be the best move for both Maria and the little girl the doctors told him she carried. He slipped the sonogram picture they’d taken this morning from his pocket and traced the tiny outline of his little niece.

  Seeing the baby on the sonogram had suddenly made her more real, more defined—and had increased his determination to seek revenge on the woman who’d denied her two loving parents. But his revenge would have to wait.

  Leaving his beloved sister again this morning had been difficult, but to honour his promise to her, he had to return to the one person who could have prevented the whole miserable situation. And now, unfortunately, the one person who held the immediate fate of his niece in her hands.

  There was a click at the door as the lock disengaged. She was back. Relief swamped him but he composed his features and reached for the wine bottle he’d had cooling in an ice bucket and deftly poured two glasses of the golden Marlborough-grown chardonnay. He wouldn’t show her how worried he’d been, nor how close he’d come to reporting her missing.

  “Buona sera, Lana. You had a pleasant day I trust?” He turned and handed her a glass of wine as she came through the door.

  She took the glass automatically, her slender fingers skimming across his and sending a buzz of electricity up his arm in a not so subtle reminder of the effect she had on him. A startled look crossed her pale face at his remark, almost as if she’d expected him to demand to know where she’d been. But that had never been his style. No, he preferred to lure his prey with gentle enticement, slowly but surely bringing them into his net.

  “I wasn’t going to come back, but it seems I have no other choice.”

  Although Lana’s voice was composed she looked exhausted—totally tapped out. Clearly her day had not gone as well as she had expected. His instincts, honed through years of successful business endeavours, were never wrong. She was close to giving into his demands.

  “Have you had anything to eat?”

  “No.” A cynical smile twisted her lips. “I haven’t exactly had the time.” She lifted a hand to brush a strand of hair from her face. Her left hand. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’d like to freshen up a bit.”

  It suddenly occurred to him her hand was bare. Gone were the trappings of marriage. What had she done? In one swift step he was at her side and he grabbed her wrist, twisting it gently so he could examine her hand. Her ring finger still bore the slight indentation of the wedding rings she’d worn, the paler band of skin mute evidence of their departure.

  “Your rings. Where are they?”

  “What does it matter? I don’t need them anymore.” She pulled away from his grasp.

  Yes, that figured, Raffaele thought bitterly and reached for his glass of wine. Her marriage had meant so little to her of course she would shuck off its evidence as easily as one would change one’s underwear.

  “Where are they? They should be secured in the hotel safe if you are not going to wear them.”

  “Well, it seems they’re not as valuable to some people as you might have thought.” An acerbic note slid into her voice and a cynical half smile twisted her bare lips.

  “What do you mean?” Not valuable to her, no doubt. She looked as if she was laughing at some private joke and the expression riled him far more than he wanted to admit. “Of course they had value, they were your wedding rings.”

  “I sold them. They didn’t fetch much but I needed to make a call.”

  She sold her rings to make a call? She tossed off the words so casually. If he hadn’t known better he’d have thought she was trying a little too hard to display such a flippant demeanour.

  “A call you couldn’t make from here?”

  What was she hiding? A lover perhaps? That would make sense. She’d come to his arms easily enough. Jealousy flared with a vicious twist through his mind. The thought of her with another man made his mouth sour and his fingers curl tight around the delicate stem of his glass. Raffaele bit down hard, grinding his teeth firmly together to prevent himself from saying exactly what was on his mind.

  “Yes. Something like that.”

  “Forgive me,” he muttered the words beneath his breath, poor Maria—he should have acted sooner. This was all his fault and it had been completely preventable.

  “Forgive you? For what? There’s nothing to forgive. If anything I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come back here, but I had nowhere else. I couldn’t bring myself to use a boarding house, not when I saw and smelled what it was like there. I’m sorry. I’m abusing your generosity.”

  He hadn’t realised he’d said the words loud enough for her to hear. It was not her forgiveness he sought, but his sister’s. How typical that Lana would think everything was about her. And what was this rubbish she was talking? A boarding house? He could no more see Lana Whittaker in a boarding house than he could see himself forgiving her for the damage she’d wreaked on his sister’s happiness.

  “So, what have you done today? Aside from examine boarding houses.”

  Lana put her untouched glass of wine down on the sideboard with a snap. “Walked, mostly, and tried to figure out what I’m going to do next.”

  Raffaele maintained a stony silence. He wished he could believe that somewhere through the passage of the day she’d spared a thought for his sister’s child, for the request he’d made of her last night.

  “And have you decided what you are doing next?” he prompted. “What of your charity work? Are you still not involved with that?”

  A shadow crossed her face, her turquoise eyes darkened almost to green. “No, I’m not, I no longer work there.”

  “So your philanthropic works have come to an end. I assume then, that it was all for show?”

  “Of course not!” Lana’s cheeks flushed in anger. “What on earth makes you say such a thing?”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but your charity work was for underprivileged children, si?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what is the difference between the strangers you raised funds for—to provide homes and clothes and food for—and a helpless baby?”

  “The difference? The difference is…” Lana’s voice trailed off as she clearly struggled for an answer.

  “The difference is you are so filled with vindictiveness towards your dead husband you would take it out on his child. Perhaps you are right. It is time you found somewhere else to stay.”

  His hand shook slightly as he lifted his glass to his lips and took a generous swallow of wine. Had he gone too far? It was hard to tell. Her face remained expressionless. The anger which flared so swiftly in her intriguingly coloured eyes had been as efficiently snuffed out as a candle’s flame pinched between damp fingers. Then suddenly he noticed a subtle shift in her features, a softening of the set of her lips that only one who watched carefully, and who was beginning to learn the nuances of her moods, could pick up. It was time to swoop in for the kill.

  “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear last night. I am prepared to forgive your husband’s debt to me, to support you and to provide a home and all things necessary to keep you in the comfort you are accustomed to. You won’t even need to attend to the day-to-day care of the baby; I can appoint a nanny to take care of that. Plus there is the allowance I mentioned, a generous one.” He named a sum he thought would take her interest.

  His words washed over her in a buzz of sound but she’d stopped listening as the truth of his earlier statement rocketed through her. He was right. Damn him. She’d been so focussed on her hurt, Kyle’s betrayal and the shock of losing every last possession she’d thought her own she had lost sight of reality. Her father’s continued rejection of her should have peeled the scales from her eyes. Her resemblance to her mother, who had never been mentally strong enough to withstand the rigors of the diplomatic life, had cast her in the same mould in his eyes. Even thought she was his blood, his flesh,
still he denied her. She’d sworn years ago she’d never do the same thing to a child, and yet she had. By refusing to accept guardianship of Kyle’s baby she’d turned the child into as much a victim as she herself—except she had the power to change that. The power to give the baby a stable start in life with a person who loved it unreservedly—who could love it as she would have loved her own.

  Tears stung her eyes but she blinked them determinedly back.

  “I’ll do it.” The words spilled from her mouth before she could think beyond her one greatest desire.

  “You’ve changed your mind? Just like that?” Scepticism creased his brow, his grey eyes grew dark as slate as they bored into her. “How do I know that you will not change it back again as quickly?”

  “I won’t. Not about this. Not now.” Never about something as important as this. As much as she still hated the circumstances that had brought her to this moment, a tiny spark of rightness sputtered to life inside, setting a trail of warmth coursing through her to beat back the numbness and desolation the day had wrought.

  “Forgive me if I seem a little reluctant to accept your sudden change of mind. How do I know that once I set you up in a home you won’t turn back on your decision?”

  Lana was confused. It was as if he was playing a game of cat and mouse, lifting a paw to let her scamper just so far before trapping her again. One minute he was pressing her, demanding she accept the responsibility of guardianship, the next he was undermining her decision as if she was as fickle as the wind. She drew herself up straight, and met his gaze front on.

  “Name your terms, draw up a contract. I’ll do what I have to do.”

  “You will do what you have to do?” His lips curled in disgust. “You make your agreement sound like such hardship. I do not want to find that you have changed your mind and that my niece is relegated to Child Services while I petition the courts. I want your vow not to walk away from your responsibilities to the baby until I have full custody.”

  “I said I’ll do what I have to. I mean it.” She did a double take. “Did I hear you right? Did you say ‘niece’?”

  “I found out this morning.”

  “That’s where you went last night? To Wellington? To be with her?”

  “Yes, Maria went into premature labour last night.”

  “And the baby, is she—”

  “She is still safe within her Mamma.”

  Lana sagged deep into a chair. The weight of what she’d agreed to bore down heavily on her slender shoulders. The little girl, when born, would still require much care. Was she up to that? Could she follow through on her bold statement of just a few moments ago? As if Raffaele could see into the confusion that chased through her mind his next words made her sit up and take notice.

  “I suggest that if you are truly serious about your intention, that you and the baby live with me. If I am supporting you at least the courts cannot deem you to be unsuitable to be the child’s guardian, especially as you have no means to support yourself without my money.”

  Lana fought the urge to flat out argue with him that she wasn’t about to change her mind about something as important as this. But then she realised, change her mind was exactly what she’d done. To his eyes she probably did look as fickle as the direction of the wind. She moistened her lips before answering, aware of his eyes tracking the movement of her tongue as it swept her lips and of the muscle that flexed in his jaw. “Live with you? Where?”

  “On the outskirts of the city I think. Where you can ensure you will have the privacy you need until the mediano longer wishes to pry into your life. Somewhere safe for the baby. I will set up appointments in the morning. We can look for appropriate accommodation together.”

  “But what about your business? How can you spend so much time away. Shouldn’t you be back in Italy?”

  “My brother is managing things capably at home. It is more important to me to be here now. Besides, I’ve been working to expand my interests in this country for some time; it was why I was already here when the accident happened. It will be no hardship to base myself here for however long is necessary.”

  “Then I agree. Get a contract drawn up. I’ll sign whatever I have to.”

  She thought he was going to say something more but then he simply nodded and walked over to stand next to her at the sideboard. He picked up her glass and handed it back to her.

  “A toast, I think. To new beginnings.”

  She raised her glass to his. “Yes. New beginnings.”

  Seven

  Raffaele hired a car late the next morning and they headed south down the motorway, eventually taking the Manukau turnoff. After a short drive through the suburbs they hit rolling green countryside. For a few hours they meandered along the lazy country roads, getting a feel for the land and the district before stopping for lunch at a bustling café in the tiny township of Whitford.

  While Raffaele waited at one of the outdoor tables for their coffees and lunch to arrive, Lana took the opportunity to browse in the gift shop next door. Clever groupings of colours caught her eye as she wandered between the shelves of artfully arranged gifts and the aroma of scented candles teased her nostrils.

  A display of baby’s clothing caught her eye, the tiny white cotton tops and booties eliciting a wistful sigh. For the first time since she and Kyle had given up hope of having a baby of their own, it didn’t strike a painful blow to see the miniature items of clothing. She reached a tentative finger out to touch the fabric. So soft, so gentle. Without realising what she was doing, Lana lifted one of the cotton tops to her cheek, her eyelids fluttered closed as she indulged in the texture against her skin. For the first time in forever, it felt right to want something like this. She’d always wanted Kyle’s baby, but hadn’t ever imagined that it would happen like this.

  Absently Lana selected a pastel coloured horse made out of a patchwork of fabrics, and a pair of socks so small only two of her fingers fit into the top. Mentally she tallied up the prices and her heart skipped as she remembered that she still had the proceeds from selling her rings in her purse. She could buy these if she wanted to. The simple pleasure in knowing she could do so sent her blood singing through her veins and she chose another toy, another T-shirt.

  “Let me take those from you.” Raffaele’s voice rumbled behind her and she started, almost dropping her selections. Raffaele deftly scooped them from her arms before they could tumble to the shop floor. “Is there anything else you’d like?”

  “I can get them myself. I have the money.” Instantly her pleasure in her prospective purchases dimmed and it must have shown on her face.

  “Keep your money. I know how hard won it was for you.” Raffaele gave a tiny bow of his head and took her things over to the counter.

  Inwardly, Lana seethed. Was this how it was going to be? Was he going to cut her out at every opportunity? She turned on her heel and stalked back to the table where she threw herself into the café chair and stared resolutely across the busy road to the shops on the other side. It was childish, she knew, but her disappointment had cut deep. A dark shadow fell across her as Raffaele returned, his purchases in a neatly packaged bundle.

  They sat in stilted silence while they completed their al fresco meal. As Raffaele finished the last of his coffee and replaced his cup on its saucer he followed Lana’s gaze to where she continued to stare fixedly across the road rather than make eye contact with him.

  “Come,” he said, rising from his seat and collecting the package. He gestured across the to estate agent’s window across the street. “The agent should be ready to meet with us now. The area has a good feeling about it, don’t you think?”

  Lana followed Raffaele across the road and into the office that had caught his eye. The agent inside greeted them effusively and briefly outlined the properties he had to show them, offering to take them in his car.

  “No. We will follow you.” Raffaele insisted. “We need to be able to return to the city at a moment’s notice.”
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  The stark reminder that Raffaele might leave at any moment to attend the birth of his niece sent a chill down Lana’s spine. Suddenly it was all too real. Could she really do this?

  “Lana?” His voice penetrated her fear.

  He stood in the doorway, holding open the door for her to precede him to the car. She swiftly gathered her thoughts and ducked past him. Even as she did so the intriguing aroma of his cologne tantalised her nostrils. She breathed in his scent, and tried desperately to ignore the tingle of awareness that crept through her body. She felt his presence beside her as if it was an imprint against her body. Even her heart seemed to beat in time with his stride as they crossed the road back to their parked car.

  In the confines of the luxury sedan she tried to distract herself from the strength of his hands as he capably held the steering wheel, negotiating the car along the road and easing its speed up to the hundred kilometres an hour limit. His warmly tanned skin glowed against the crisp white cuff of his shirt. A smattering of fine dark hairs gave a raw masculine edge to the highly polished persona he presented. From the broad flat width of his wrists his hands tapered into long fingers.

  She’d felt the brand of those fingers at her hips, her breast, and suddenly, desperately, she wanted to feel it again. A tremor shimmered through her body in response to her wayward thoughts.

  “Cold? I will adjust the air-conditioning if you like.”

  “No, it’s all right. Just a sensation, that’s all.”

  “Sensation?” He shot a curious look in her direction before shifting his attention back to the road.

  “Don’t worry. It’s nothing.”

  He nodded in acknowledgement then slowed the vehicle as the Realtor’s car ahead of them slowed and turned left into a side road. The properties that intermittently showed along the road, some behind elaborate stone walls or thick hedges, were large and their infrequency allowed for a great deal of privacy. Lana wondered just what type of property the Realtor was leading them to and just how much Raffaele was prepared to spend. The land out this way was in high demand; the lifestyle spoke for itself in the verdant pastures, the glimpses of tennis courts and swimming pool fences and the sparkle of the ocean a short distance away.