Rossellini's Revenge Affair

by Yvonne Lindsay

  “I thought you might like to unwind a bit first.”

  Raffaele growled a response, neither in confirmation nor denial.

  “Step in,” she instructed.

  “Do you plan to join me?” He asked as he stepped into the swirling fragrant water.

  “Of course. How else will I be able to massage out the tension in your shoulders?” She smiled, gently and placed a bottle of oil on the edge of the bath pedestal. “Is that okay?”

  “Yes, that is more than okay.” He stepped into the bath and lowered himself in the soothing water. A ragged sigh shuddered from him as he relished the relaxing rhythm of the jets of water as they massaged against his lower back.

  Lana untied the sash of her robe and tilted her shoulders, letting the fabric slither in a waterfall over her body, pooling at her feet. His eyes drank in the sight of her, the slender length of her legs, the gentle curve of her hips, the narrowness of her waist and above to the compact shape of her breasts. Her nipples tightened before his gaze, the buds peaking enticingly. Blood pooled low in his groin as he hardened even more. Since he’d met Lana he’d remained in a constant state of physical awareness. No other woman had ever tempted him this much.

  “Move forward a little, let me sit behind you,” she whispered in his ear, her breath a warm fan of air against his skin.

  He did as she bade and held back a groan of anticipation as he felt her body slide in behind him, and her legs press against the outside of his thighs. He heard her slick her hands with massage oil then felt their glorious strength as she began to massage his back in sweeping circular strokes. Her fingers kneaded the knotted muscle at his neck, his shoulders, and lower down his spine. Inch by slow inch the tension in his body dissipated and he began to relax.

  Then her hands slipped around to his waist and he felt the pressure of her breasts against his back as she hugged him to her and massaged across his belly, then up to circle his chest and to pluck at his nipples before soothing them again with a flat palmed stroke that worked its way steadily down his body, to his waist, then lower to his straining erection.

  Her fingers slid around him, stroking gently, and he felt the warm press of her lips against his back.

  Raffaele reached down and stilled her hand. He swivelled slightly in the large bath and reached for her slender form, gripping her by her waist and sliding her around in the water until she straddled his groin. The heat of her body enticed him to lift her, to sink her slowly over his body and assuage the demanding need that pumped through him, almost overruling rational thought. But he wanted to wait, to extend the anticipation of that glorious moment for as long as he could bear it.

  He grabbed he bottle of massage oil and squeezed a small amount into his hands.

  “Now, it is my turn to relax you.”

  He slicked the oil over her shoulders and down her arms, her slenderness striking him anew. Had she lost more weight in the past week? A pang of guilt lanced through him that he hadn’t taken more notice of how she was coping, or whether she’d been looking after herself.

  He stroked back up her arms and across her prominent collar bone before caressing her breasts, coating them with oil then massaging their firm roundness, rubbing his thumbs across their tight peaks. Her hips rocked forward against his erection, driving a moan of want from her lips. He leaned forward to capture the sound in his mouth, sliding his tongue against her lips in a possessive sweep. She shuddered against him, her hips rocking again.

  He deepened the kiss, tangling his tongue with hers, suckling at her lips as if she were his sole nourishment. He slid one hand down past the curve of her waist and traced the line of her pelvis, then deeper into the neatly trimmed nest of curls that hid her inner core. He brushed against her clitoris with one finger and smiled as she jerked against his touch.

  “More, please, Raffaele, more!” she implored against his lips.

  In answer he circled the hooded bundle of nerves with a slow gentle motion, increasing the pressure and frequency until a pink flush started to spread across her chest and her eyes glazed with passion.

  Her entire body bunched on the point of release and in the precise moment he felt her begin to shatter against him he lifted her and slid inside the welcoming sheath of her body. Sensation poured through him in a forceful wave of desire then focussed on that one point of where their bodies joined. In that one simple thrust he climaxed, pushing deep inside her, feeling every pull of her inner muscles as a command to pleasure.

  Lana collapsed against Raffaele’s chest. This was supposed to have been about him, about giving him release and comfort. Not about bringing her to mindless pleasure. She tried to lift her head from his shoulder but she felt as weak as a kitten, and instead she melded into his body, into the water lapping around them.

  There was a distinct chill to the water when, some time later, she felt him shift beneath her and, too tired to protest, allowed him to withdraw from her body.

  “Cara, we must get out of the bath or we will turn into frozen fish.” There was a humour to his voice that Lana had never heard before. It energised her enough to lift her head from the curve of his shoulder and to nuzzle against his neck.

  “If you insist,” she agreed.

  She extricated her limbs from about his body, and reluctantly stepped from the bath, a tiny shiver of cold racking her body. Raffaele reached past her and grabbed a large thick bath towel and wrapped it about her before getting another for himself. Once they were dry they went together to the bedroom and slid between the sheets, their bodies spooning together as though they’d been together for years instead of only a matter of weeks.

  Dawn broke with watery sunshine pushing through the tall bedroom windows. Lana lay in Raffaele’s arms and relished the comfort she found there. Reluctant to move and disturb what was the first decent sleep he’d had in almost a week, she simply allowed herself to savour the warmth of his body as it sheltered her. A bubble of pleasure grew deep inside of her. She’d felt so empty in the harrowing days after Kyle’s death. She would never have imagined in all the world that she’d have the chance to rebuild this deep sense of belonging ever again, let alone so soon.

  Raffaele’s hand spread across her belly and pulled her tight against him, her buttocks pressing against his hips and the firm evidence that he was awake and wanting her again. His hand slid down between her legs, playing with her there until liquid heat seared her senses. He parted her folds with gentle fingers, and slid inside her, his body stilling once they were joined.

  They lay like that for several minutes, Lana clenching against his hardened length—wanting more yet, unexpectedly, afraid to ask. The truth of her feelings for Raffaele bore down upon her with frightening speed. She was falling in love with him and suddenly the prospect of not being able to wake with him each new day filled her with fear. Could she begin to hope that his feelings towards her might have changed? That they might be able to have a future together, as a family?

  Her breath caught as Raffaele began to move, at first slowly, allowing her body to expand and stretch as he pressed deep against the entrance to her womb, then with increasing speed as the fever of need overtook him. His fingers continued to caress her and her orgasm hit hard, making her buck against him as wave after increasing wave of blissful satisfaction radiated through her body.

  He cried out in his release—a harsh sound of pure surrender that filled her heart with the hope that he wanted her so much, that she could give him so much pleasure.

  Twelve

  As the perspiration dried on their bodies and their heart rates returned to a normal rhythm Lana formulated her words carefully. Her whole future hinged on Raffaele’s response. If his hunger for her was any indication, she hoped she could begin to believe that his feelings for her may in fact mirror that hunger. But she’d never know if she didn’t ask. Suddenly, it was imperative that she know.

  “Raffaele?”

  “Mmm.” He nuzzled against the back of her neck and she could feel the s
mile on his lips against her skin.

  “I’ve been thinking.”

  “Si?”

  He pulled away slightly and Lana felt a frisson of foreboding. Dismissing the sensation as being fanciful, she carried on. “Yes. About the guardianship of Bella.” She rolled over in the bed to face him, to try to gauge from his expression how well he’d receive her suggestion.

  “Continue.” His voice was pitched low, with a note of wariness that underlined his suspicion.

  Lana took a deep breath and forged on. “I never realised just how much I would fall in love with her. She’s stolen my heart. I know there’s so little that I can do for her right now, but I want to be a part of her future. I want to be there for her.”

  Raffaele pushed up from the bed and stood next to it, oblivious to the picture he made—his form as strong and well-defined as if it had been carved from marble by Michelangelo himself. His dark brows drew together in a formidable straight line, his grey eyes were colour of flint.

  “You are saying you’ve changed your mind?”

  Lana pushed up to sit and face him. There was something in the tone of his voice that made her gather the tangled sheets from about her waist and to lift them to cover her breasts, to shield her from his angry stare. What had she said that was so wrong? Surely he wanted what was best for Bella.

  “I know it looks that way, but think about it, Raffaele. Bella needs two parents. She’s had a hard enough start in life without the objective care she’ll get from a nanny, or even a succession of nannies. She needs people around her who will love her and be there for her—always.”

  “Be there for her like her parents would have?” Raffaele sliced through the air with a hand. “Enough! Bella would have had two loving parents there for her every day of her life if Kyle hadn’t been coming back to you the day of the accident. If you were a real wife, you would have known something was wrong with your marriage. You should have let him divorce you when your marriage started to falter.”

  “How can you say that? I didn’t know anything was wrong—I thought he loved me!” And it was true. Lana had offered him the chance to walk away from their marriage when they’d learned the truth about her infertility. He’d refused, emphatically. “I always believed he was working when he was away. If I’m responsible for anything, it’s that I didn’t recognise when we started to drift apart when we couldn’t have a child of our own. I couldn’t see it then, I was too lost in trying to live through my own grief.” So lost in her grief that she hadn’t been able to see her husband’s and had effectively closed him out of her life altogether. She’d never seen it before now, never acknowledged it, but now it was painfully clear. The truth was a searing brand on her heart.

  “And you feel he owes it to you? His child? In death he has given to you the one thing you couldn’t have while he was living?” His voice seethed with steaming accusation.

  This wasn’t going how she’d planned at all. Raffaele had twisted her words, had put a spin on them that she couldn’t refute. Yes, it was true. In death Kyle had given her the one thing above everything she’d ever wanted. The one thing she’d never be able to have herself. A child. Spending time with Bella in the special care unit over the past few days had forced her to face anew her grief at not being able to bear a child of her own. But at the same time, the tiny babe’s fight for life had given Lana renewed hope. And as each hour Bella grew stronger, she also took a stronger hold on Lana’s heart.

  “You don’t understand me, Raffaele. I love Bella. I want to be a part of her life. Together with you. By your side, if you’ll let me.”

  “And if I choose not to let you? What then? Will you fight the parental order? Will you assert your right to guardianship?”

  “You’re not listening to me, Raffaele. I don’t want to have to do it that way.”

  “To have to do it that way?” His voice began to rise, giving way to the anger that flamed in his eyes and held his body in rigid check. “So you’re saying that you will if you don’t get what you want?”

  From his jacket pocket Raffaele’s cell phone started to ring.

  “I’m saying nothing of the kind. I want to be with Bella. I want to be with you!”

  “Do not bother to speak of this any more. You have shown your true colours to me. And to think I had begun to believe in your sincerity, begun to have feelings for you!”

  His last words hung on the air as Raffaele strode across the room and pulled the phone from his breast pocket. “Rossellini!” he answered.

  Lana watched in horror as the colour drained from his face, leaving it a sickly grey. In a voice she barely recognised as his, he thanked the caller and let the phone drop to the floor.

  “What is it? Was it the hospital?” Lana scrambled from the bed, the sheets still wrapped around her.

  Raffaele lifted his head, his eyes swimming with tears. “She is gone. My beautiful baby sister is gone.” He rose to his feet, his face a frozen mask of pain. “And instead of being by her side as she let go of our world, I was with you! You! The wife of the man she loved. Through you, I have betrayed my sister, my whole family.”

  “It wasn’t like that. You didn’t betray Maria. You needed rest, you needed to come home, and maybe she needed you to leave her so she could let go.” Lana reached a hand to touch him, to attempt to offer him some form of comfort, but he shook her off.

  “Do not touch me. Because of you, I was not there for my sister when she died. I can never forgive myself for that. I want you gone. From this house, from my life.”

  He strode to his wardrobe and Lana heard the screech of hangers as he dragged clothing from the wardrobe and went through to the bathroom. On numb legs she staggered after him.

  “Surely you don’t mean that. You’re not thinking straight. You’ve just had terrible news. Please, Raffaele, don’t be hasty.”

  “Hasty? I am not hasty. I wanted to wait until I had the parenting order, to make certain that I had every legal right to Bella before seeing the back of you. I see no need now to wait. When I first met you, all I wanted was to bring you some measure of the pain you inflicted on my family when you would not give Kyle a divorce. Instead, I foolishly handed you a weapon to inflict more pain. I will not give you any further power. You can be certain of that.”

  “More pain? You’re calling our lovemaking more pain?”

  “Call it what you will. It is over now.”

  He stepped into the shower stall and flicked on the taps, through the glass she saw him flinch as the cold spray hit his body. The reality of his words hit home, slamming into her heart, her mind, with the full weight of a wrecking ball.

  “You planned this?” she whispered in disbelief. Ice ran in her veins. Had she been a complete dreamer to believe he’d been falling in love with her, as she had with him? She couldn’t have been so mistaken. By his own confession a few minutes ago, he’d admitted having feelings for her. Could he quell them so easily? She made it back to the bed before her legs gave out beneath her. Once again she’d been a fool for love—a failure. She was too shocked to cry, too full of pain to move so much as a muscle. Lost as she was in her thoughts she didn’t hear Raffaele finish in the en suite and she jumped as he re-entered the bedroom, shrugging into his jacket and straightening his tie. He flicked a glance at her as if she was nothing more than a stranger as if the intimacies they’d shared had been nothing—meant nothing. Her passionate lover was gone, instead a coldly lethal businessman stood in his place.

  “I am going to the hospital to make arrangements for Maria’s body.” Raffaele crossed over to a dresser and withdrew a cheque book. A few quick strokes of his pen and he ripped the sheet from the book. “I believe this was the sum we agreed upon. Make sure you are gone before I return.”

  “Raffaele, please, don’t be like this. You’re in shock, let me help you. I love you and I think, if you’ll only let yourself admit it, you’re falling in love with me, too. Can’t we try to work through this?”

  “Love? D
o not confuse sentiment with reality. How could I ever love the woman who destroyed the light in our family?”

  He dropped the cheque on the bed beside her, then, he was gone. With that parting action he’d turned her into little more than a whore. Lana stared at the cheque, at the figure carved in thick black ink, and finally gave way to the tears that had built with increasing pressure behind her lids.

  Lana eventually forced herself to move off the bed and to shower and gather her things together. She was back where she started. With nothing but the clothing on her back. She neatly folded and packaged the items Raffaele had bought her into plastic sacks, labelling them carefully on the outside. He could see to their disposal wherever he chose. Her fingers lingered over the negligee and the underwear he’d selected. She’d been stupid not to see he had a hidden agenda. A crazy quixotic fool to think for a minute that he could ever contemplate thoughts of a future with her.

  When she was satisfied she’d removed every last trace of her presence from the house she knew she had only one thing left to do. She took a box of matches from the kitchen and stepped outside to the poolside patio. The cool breeze sent a chill through her and dark clouds gathered threateningly in the sky overhead. Lana looked around at the surrounding olive grove, the loggia at the end of the patio, where she’d envisaged hosting summer barbecues, and the long rectangular pool. She squeezed her eyes shut against the image that sprang vividly to mind of Raffaele and herself playing in the water with Bella. Of watching the dark haired fragile babe growing into a healthy, chubby toddler. That future would never be hers.

  She opened her eyes again and struck a match, holding it to the edge of the cheque Raffaele had given her and watched the flames lick over the coloured paper, consuming the ink, consuming the end of her dreams. The light breeze kept the flame alive, as the cheque turned to flakes of ash, then bore the remnants in the air. The flames snapped at her fingers where she held the last remaining corner of the cheque, forcing her to let go and leave the scrap to fall unheeded to the floor.