Rossellini's Revenge Affair

by Yvonne Lindsay

He quickly placed the wine glasses on the top of the tall chest of drawers to one side of the room, and dropped to his knees in front of her. She barely acknowledged him as he took one of her hands in his.

  “Lana, tell me. What is it?”

  “It’s too hard, Raffaele. I can’t do it. It just hurts too much.”

  “What are you talking about? You’ve done marvellous work here today.”

  She lifted her head to face him, the flat emptiness in her eyes shocking him to his core.

  “I mean it. You have no idea of what you’re asking of me, of what it’s doing to me inside.”

  “So tell me. Make me understand.” She couldn’t renege on her promise now. A part of him wanted to give vent to the instinctive and reactive anger her words fuelled deep inside, but reason told him to stop and listen. Reason and a sudden desire to know more, understand more.

  “I’ve done all this before. Created a nursery, chosen every last piece of equipment, clothing, bedding, towels—and had to give it all away when I couldn’t have a child of my own. This has brought it all back to me again. The wanting, and not having. Do you have any idea of what its like to be told you can’t have a child? To be told you’re imperfect, not completely whole? You take so much for granted your whole life and then out of the blue, one day you’re told you can’t be what you want to be, you can’t do what you want to do.

  “Kyle and I went through every possible procedure you can imagine to conceive, but it was all futile. All along I was the one who was flawed, I was the one who failed us both. I’d forced myself to forget what it felt like, to forget how much I’d wanted a baby.”

  “You did not try adoption?” Raffaele asked quietly, his fingers stroking the back of her hand.

  “Kyle wouldn’t hear of it. He said we didn’t need to have a baby to be a family. That we were enough. That I was enough for him. But I wasn’t, was I? I wasn’t enough. If he’d been telling me the truth he wouldn’t have fallen in love with your sister. He wouldn’t have fathered a child with her.”

  She pulled her hand free and pushed out of the rocking chair to walk over to a shelving unit filled with soft toys. Into the final space she inserted the teddy she’d been hugging to her body as if it could heal the emptiness Raffaele knew scored her inside. The words she’d painted of Kyle showed a different side to the smooth and urbane businessman he’d introduced to Maria. Had he inadvertently set the chain of events in motion that had led to Lana’s devastation, both financially and emotionally?

  He could not doubt the veracity of her words. The truth spoke in every syllable that fell from her lips. The extent of what she had gone through today showed in every line of her body. He could sympathise with what she was going through, he’d be inhuman not to acknowledge her pain. But one thing and one thing drove him and, from her, he had to know.

  “You are not withdrawing from our arrangement?” His voice was colder than he’d intended, more direct.

  She took in a deep breath and faced him. “You would let me pull out?”

  “Of course not.” Not in a million years would he fail to fulfil his promise to his sister.

  “Then no, I’m not withdrawing. But don’t expect too much of me, please.”

  “I have already contacted a nanny service to ensure the physical needs of my niece are met. As we stated before, your contribution is purely legal. I do not expect any emotional involvement from you.”

  A bitter smile twisted her lips. “That’s it then. I know exactly where I stand. Just one thing, though, Raffaele. What about us? Where do I stand with you?”

  “I do not expect any emotional involvement from you either.”

  The smile froze on her face and slowly faded away completely. As she turned and left the room Raffaele couldn’t help but wonder if he’d said the right thing. The words had tasted bitter in his mouth, like a lie. But he couldn’t afford to second guess himself. Not anymore. During his visit to the hospital yesterday Maria’s condition had begun to deteriorate.

  He collected the wine glasses from the dresser and went back downstairs. There would be no celebration tonight.

  Raffaele listened to the grandfather clock at the foot of the staircase chime the hour and cursed his inability to sleep. The evening had been peaceful enough. Lana had prepared a simple meal for them which they’d eaten together in the informal dining area off the large family room. She’d retired early and, after completing some work on his laptop, he’d done the same. Sleep had seemed so close, as he slid naked between the Egyptian cotton bed sheets. But now his senses were assailed with the hint of Lana’s fragrance, leaving an indelible imprint of her presence in the room from when she’d made up the bed.

  Without realising he’d made a conscious decision to do so he was out of the bed and had pulled on a pair of pyjama bottoms. His bare feet were soundless as they traversed the stairs and the distance to the downstairs guest suite she’d chosen as her room. No doubt believing herself as far removed from Raffaele and the nursery as possible.

  It wasn’t far enough, he thought, that he couldn’t give into the hunger she’d aroused in him. A hunger he’d tried to quench with what he’d believed was their final encounter this morning. But all it had done was kindle his appetite for more. She was in his blood and his only hope was to purge this hunger by satiating himself in her body until the desire burned itself out.

  At the door to her rooms he hesitated and listened. There was only silence on the other side. For a moment he wondered if he was doing the right thing to be seeking to lose himself in her arms, her body, her heat. It was the total opposite of what he’d set out to do with Lana Whittaker. But for some reason, it was only with her that he could retreat from the weight of his responsibilities, from the growing burden of knowledge that Maria would not be alive for much longer.

  Raffaele reached out to turn the doorknob and pushed her door open, then stepped inside her room. He was only human. He sought relief of far more than a physical nature, and sought also to give it. What he’d said to Lana before hadn’t entirely been the truth.

  He was beginning to be far from uninvolved on an emotional level. Where Lana Whittaker was concerned he felt nothing but the height of emotion. She’d brought everything within him to screaming point—in anger, and in sorrow. She was exactly what he needed right now and, hopefully, so could he be for her.

  Eleven

  For the second morning in a row, Lana woke beside Raffaele Rossellini. She turned her head on the pillow so she could watch in him the early morning light. Even in sleep he looked determined, his face barely relaxed. When he’d come to her last night she’d been surprised, but not so surprised that she wanted to spurn his attention. Every touch, every kiss, every sigh had been an affirmation for her. Proof that she was desirable, proof that she could satisfy a man—even a man as driven as Raffaele.

  Making love with him had been deeply satisfying on many levels, but most importantly she felt as if he’d given her a gift of self. Both herself, and his. Even though he still held himself aloof by day, by night he had proven to be hers and hers alone. While she didn’t understand his murmurings in Italian in the throes of passion, he spoke to her with such gentleness, touched her with such care, she could feel her heart begin to warm toward him in such a way that shocked her with its intensity.

  She had never felt this way with Kyle. He’d swept her off her feet and out from under her father’s watchful gaze while he was travelling on a European tour. With her father’s pressure to welcome Malcolm’s advances, Kyle had been an escape route she’d accepted readily. Their elopement had caused a major furore, culminating in her father cutting her off from his life completely when she’d refused to have the marriage annulled.

  Lana hadn’t thought her life could become any more isolated after that, but in the aftermath of Kyle’s death and the truth of how their marriage had fallen apart around her when she thought everything was still okay had taught her a whole new meaning to isolation.

  Raffaele stir
red and stroked his hand over her hip before settling back into sleep. Instantly desire licked hungry flames across her skin and she snuggled in closer to him. She certainly didn’t feel isolated right now.

  A small smile caressed her lips. His sexual appetite had been voracious during the night, but now it was her turn to stir him awake and pleasure him with her touch. He had given her so much, on so many levels, and she already was growing to know his body almost as well as she knew her own. She slid down the sheets to expose him to her, he was already half aroused. Her loose hair brushed against his stomach, and she felt his skin tauten in reaction under the moist stroke of her tongue as she followed the shadowed line of his hip. As she took his hardening length into her mouth and stroked her tongue around his swollen head she decided this time there’d be no stopping her. This was her gift to give him.

  It was some time later, as they both lay sated by their activities, that Raffaele spoke.

  “You will move into the master suite today.”

  Lana stiffened at his side, her body still pulsing with the aftermath of the orgasm he’d given her. Move into the master suite?

  “I have no desire to come searching for you in the dark of night.” He rolled over to face her. “Let us be honest with one another, Lana. This thing we have between us, it is not something that will burn out swiftly, nor is it something to be ignored. We are consenting adults. Let’s behave as such.”

  She could think of nothing to say, certainly no argument. In Raffaele’s arms she’d enjoyed mind shattering intense pleasure such as she’d only briefly touched the surface of during her marriage. To be able to wake like this morning, every morning, would be wonderful. A light of hope glimmered in her chest. Could it even, perhaps, become permanent? They’d had the rockiest of starts together, but look at them now. Her eyes traced his features hungrily before returning to meet his grey stare as he awaited her answer—the tiny frown between his dark brows his only indication that his patience was running out.

  “If you’re certain?” she answered softly.

  “I would not have suggested it were I not.”

  “Then, yes. Yes, I will move my things in with yours today.”

  A slow lazy smile transformed his face. “Excellente.” He started to say something else but was interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing in the passageway. He took a moment to drop a swift hard kiss on Lana’s lips before striding, in glorious nakedness, to take the call.

  Lana stretched back against the sheets but straightened abruptly as Raffaele came back into the room, his face pale and strained.

  “What is it? Maria?” she asked.

  “She is worsening. The doctors have decided to delay no longer. They operate to take the baby this morning. I will leave for the hospital as soon as possible.”

  “I’m coming with you.” Lana pushed off the bed and rummaged through her things to find some clothing.

  “No!” he protested.

  Lana stopped what she was doing and went over to him, raising her hand to lightly cup his cheek so he could not look away from her. “Raffaele, you need someone with you today. Whatever happens. I want to be with you.”

  Raffaele looked into her eyes, and in them, to his ultimate surprise, began to find solace. As much as it aggravated him to admit it, he wanted her there too. No, he needed her there. Somewhere, from deep inside, he acknowledged she would be the strong silent support he suddenly so desperately needed. He tried to pinpoint the moment when he stopped viewing her as his enemy and started to see her as something else, something more than a means for revenge on his family’s sorrow. But the moment evaded him.

  He turned his face to press a kiss into her palm. “Grazie. Be ready in ten minutes.”

  She was ready in eight and waiting for him in the vestibule as he tore back down the stairs. The journey to the hospital passed in a blur, as did much of the next few days.

  Baby Bella was a fighter and every tiny inch of her as beautiful as her mother. Maria continued to hold onto life with a tenacity that stunned even the doctors. Her life support had been withdrawn a day after the baby’s birth and Raffaele had spent every possible waking moment at his sister’s side. It had been four days since Bella’s birth and still Maria drew breath. A scan had revealed that any hope of recovery was futile, Maria’s brain activity was nil, but something continued to keep her alive and, for however long that happened, he would stay with her.

  Raffaele fought to keep his eyes open. He’d virtually lived at the hospital, while Lana travelled back and forth to the house—each day bringing him a change of attire and silently taking his old clothing away with her again. He would not allow her in the room with Maria and he could see she felt the rejection like a blow, but he knew she spent time in the special care unit with the baby each day.

  They’d been warned that the newborn might not want too much handling; that it could stress her fragile body as technically she should still be cocooned within her mother, but the nurses said that Lana would come and simply watch the wee girl for hours on end. Never offering a word, acknowledging the nurses when spoken to, then silently leaving, only to return and repeat the process the next day.

  She looked shattered. He knew he looked little better. Today he would suggest that she stay away for a few days. In fact he would do it right now. She did not need to run herself ragged. He could visit with both Bella and Maria. Raffaele leaned across the bed and placed a kiss on his sister’s smooth cheek.

  “Ti amo, Maria,” he whispered into her ear, his breath catching in his throat as he did so. He was almost too frightened to leave her side, fearful for any sudden deterioration, but he had to go to Lana, to get her to see sense and stay away until she’d had a decent amount of rest.

  The sound of machinery, interspersed with the mewls of fractious premature infants in the special care unit always took him aback. His eyes scanned the room and he nodded to the duty nurses. Lana was nowhere to be seen but a movement from further down the hall caught his eye.

  He watched as she walked back towards the unit, oblivious to his scrutiny. Every line of her body bespoke an intense weariness, every step she took told the toll that was taken on her.

  Unbidden, a fierce sense of protectiveness welled inside of him. She had to go home, to rest. He stepped forward and noticed the exact moment she became aware of his presence. A light filled her eyes, lifting her exhausted features. His heart beat in double time as he recognised that he could have such an effect on her.

  She closed the gap between them and his heart swelled with something he didn’t want to define. Not on top of everything else—not on top of the life of the infant in the unit behind him, not on top of his sister who he’d left just a few short minutes ago.

  “I want you to go home and rest,” he said as she drew near.

  “Raffaele, I do that every evening.”

  “I know you go home, but you do not rest enough. Look at you. You are so tired you have dark circles under your eyes.” He stroked her skin gently with his thumb, brushing gently against the evidence of her exhaustion. “You need to stay away from the hospital for a few days. Really rest.”

  “I’m no more tired than you,” she protested quietly. “I will go home tonight, but I’ll be back again in the morning.”

  “Lana, I insist.”

  “You can’t make me stay away. I couldn’t anyway. I want to be here. To be with Bella. To be with you when you’ll let me.”

  Raffaele sighed. She was stubborn this fragile looking woman. Her appearance had deceived him from the beginning. He’d never imagined that beneath that slender feminine body beat a heart with a capacity for giving as wide as an ocean, or a backbone as strong as steel.

  “Raffaele?” She interrupted his thoughts.

  “What is it?”

  “Will you come home with me tonight? You need rest, too, and I know you’ve hardly slept in the past four days.”

  “I cannot.”

  “Raffaele, you’re no good to Maria if y
ou’re dead on your feet. Come home with me. Just for one night. Please?”

  He looked at her as she pleaded with him and lifted his hand to her cheek, much as she had a few short days ago. In similar fashion, she turned her face towards the warmth of his palm, her lips pressing against his skin and sending a jolt of need through his body with the force of a thunderbolt.

  He needed her as much as she needed him.

  In that instant he knew they would both be going home tonight for a break in their vigils.

  “Come then, we shall return home together.” He drew Lana into his arms, his body leaping to hungry life at the impression of her form against his. Inside he battled over his need to stay at Maria’s side. Her condition had remained static since the birth of the baby, but right now he craved to give in to the yawning hollowness inside of him and spend some time alone with Lana.

  Later, stepping into the vestibule at the house Raffaele was stunned by how welcoming it felt. Lana had woven a web of homecoming. Somehow she’d still managed to retain that sense of a lived-in home, despite the length of time she spent at the hospital. Raffaele turned to lock the front door then followed Lana up the stairs.

  It struck him anew, how much had changed since Bella’s birth. Back then Lana was still a resident on the ground floor. Obviously she had moved her things upstairs as he’d bidden. His body tightened in anticipation, his skin ultra sensitive to the texture of the cotton shirt he wore. He couldn’t wait to be rid of the trappings of sensible behaviour and to indulge, for however long, in pure sensation.

  He jogged lightly up the stairs and towards the warm glow of light from the master suite. Lana wasn’t in the bedroom, but he could hear her moving about the bathroom over the sound of water gushing from the taps over the bath. He shed his clothing with a swiftness that underlined his need of her and stalked through to the en suite.

  She’d obviously disrobed with the same speed as he. She stood, dressed only in a silky aqua coloured robe. With a graceful hand she sprinkled some lightly spice-scented bath salts in the bath, and bent to swirl them through the water.