by Joy, Melita
Even though she’d opted for comfy shorts, T-shirt and joggers she started to feel the heat, was working up a sweat and thought it best to head back to the apartment. Her early morning visit was also weighing on her mind making it difficult to enjoy the city.
“I want to know exactly who she met up with in Rome and what she was doing in there for over an hour,” he slammed down the phone frustrated. Leilani was turning into somewhat of a mystery, and he didn’t like the disadvantage. He continued to work waiting for the callback. His head of security Savino would be prompt, he always was. Renato only hired the most competent staff in their area of expertise which is why he had brought the business to the success it currently was. If you wanted a quality product and business then you had to pay for the best the whole way through. Too many companies cut corners, and it was their ultimate undoing.
Within fifteen minutes, Renato got the call. “The man she saw today runs a few different businesses; his prime income is from freelancing for magazines.”
“What else does he do?”
“He spent a few years as a Polizia ufiziali and now does temporary security roles. He married a Sicilian woman ten years ago, and they have three sons together. He has had several discreet affairs, his wife completely unaware.”
Renato was fuming that Leilani was consorting with this scum. When she got home, he would put an end to their relationship. It was time to put the business proposition forward.
Leilani froze in her tracks as a man rushed towards her and took her photograph firing off rapid Italian questions at her. “I don’t understand, no Italian,” she regretted not learning a few key phrases and couldn’t comprehend why he was taking her photo. Renato’s words of not all areas being safe came rushing back to her. She tried to get around the man as politely as possible, but he kept putting himself in her way, and she started to panic.
“Please move,” she pleaded uselessly. He clearly had no grasp of English and even if he did she doubted he would budge. To her consternation, another man approached her also with camera in hand. However, this one knew English. “Is it true you are Renato Favalli’s new lover?”
“No, absolutely not,” she stated emphatically.
“As unlikely as it would seem,” he sneered, “We have all seen the photos of you sneaking from his apartments early this morning. How do you comment?”
“I have nothing to say. Please step out of my way,” she insisted her voice rising with the increasing anxiety she was feeling.
The reporters wouldn’t budge so she turned around and started to run. She was no athlete but somehow in the crowd of people she managed to lose them and herself. Leilani had no idea where she was so she grabbed her phone to see if she could use the navigation system. Unfortunately, she had no service in Italy, darn she was supposed to put the global roaming on, why was she always so disorganised. She found a quiet step to sit on and pulled out her maps. It was much easier to follow the directions on a map when she’d had plenty of time to study the route first. The most difficult part was trying to find a location on a huge map when she didn’t know where she was.
She walked around looking for a few street signs to try to pinpoint her location. All the streets had via something or other which was obviously the word for street or road. Finally, she found her location on the map and realised that she had gone quite a distance from the apartment. She roughly mapped out the direction she would need to walk, the long way, to avoid those insistent reporters. Leilani didn’t think the day could get much worse when a dark luxury sedan screeched up beside her, and the door flung open.
Leilani felt real fear, “Get in the car, now,” demanded a familiar but lethally angry voice.
She jumped back and looked into the car and the seething face of Renato. “Oh, um, I’d rather walk if you don’t mind,” she stuttered.
He tossed a couple of magazines and papers out onto the road. There were photos of Leilani leaving the airport with Renato and a more damaging one of her scurrying out of his house this morning. There were captions that were all in Italian and probably a good thing as she could only imagine them referring to what looked like an early morning walk of shame.
“You are not safe walking; the press will continue to find you and hound you. Something you should have thought about before you tipped them off. Now get in the car before I get out and drag you in here myself.”
On the basis of self-preservation Leilani quickly got into the front passenger seat of the car shrinking as close to the door as possibly. They drove on in silence for a period before she finally plucked up the courage to try and clear up the misunderstanding. “Renato, I’m sorry that those photos made the paper…”
“Did they pay you well?” he cut her off.
“No, I…”
“You should have asked for more then. You obviously undersold the information you have.”
“No, I mean I didn’t…”
“Enough. I’m not interested in anything else you have to say on this topic. The damage is done.”
“Where are we going?” Leilani asked as assertively as she could. They were not heading back to the apartment.
“We are going to my village near Naples.”
“N, Naples,” God she hated that she sounded like a scared rabbit. She couldn’t understand what was wrong with her. Then again she was sitting in a car with an angry Italian that she did not know from a bar of soap, and he was taking her to Naples. “Please let me out of the car.”
He glanced her way and snorted derisively, “Do not flatter yourself Leilani. I’m not abducting you to have my wicked way with you. You have put us both in an untenable situation, and it is now not possible for us to stay in Rome. The public have taken a great interest in the story that has come out, and we will not be left alone. I’m taking you to my refuge; it is a press proof property, and we can lay low until the story dies down.”
“How long will that take?”
“Until the next newsworthy story takes precedence. Besides, you said you wanted some relaxation time. If you weren’t lying about that, then you should find this place a good enough retreat.”
Leilani wasn’t quite sure what she’d done to earn his distrust so rapidly. However, he certainly wasn’t open to hearing the truth. She would explain herself when he had time to calm down. Given his supposed notoriety she would have thought that he should have been the one prepared for this situation. Surely running off to the country wasn't t the only solution. She needed to be in the city; she didn’t have time to spare lazing around the countryside no matter how peaceful or idyllic that sounded.
Renato glanced at Leilani while she chewed on her plump bottom lip, a metallic taste in her mouth no doubt. He pictured running his tongue across that full, moist bottom lip and tasting her mouth. He’d explore softly, lure her into him and then imprison her face with his hands to take full possession of the kiss. Renato pulled himself up short, for god sake he wasn’t even attracted to the woman, she was untrustworthy, difficult to get through to and nothing like the sexy, svelte women he normally dated. He’d apparently gone too long without a woman, an unusual occurrence but one he’d have no problem rectifying.
He thought about his slight deception in getting her to his hometown. The article indeed painted Leilani in a negative light. The reporter had mentioned details of a sordid night and the lowering of Renato’s standards by the look of his latest mistress who had slunk out to do her walk of shame early in the morning. He could only imagine her embarrassment if she were literate in Italian, a mild punishment for consorting with the reporter in the first place. The clincher though was that the article came complete with several photos from inside the apartment. Renato rarely brought guests to the apartment and only those that he could count on to be discreet. Aside from his in-house staff, head of security and Camilla the only other person with the ability to take photos of the inside was Leilani. She was also the only one that had not earned her trust with him.
The reality was that the n
ewsworthiness of their supposedly sordid night would have already died down. However, the situation with a little further manipulation would work perfectly to suit his needs, and he was not above doing so to get his way.
They had driven a couple of hours before they got to his hometown of Pontelandolfo. It wasn’t a suburb of the rich and famous or a well-known retreat area. It was where Vittorio had grown up, and for Renato it was where the only roots he knew stood. Renato wasn’t one for sentimentality, but he felt pride when he thought of the village that withstood the harshness of the snowy winter weather and then produced quality garden produce in the warmer months. The mountain flowed all year with fresh spring water. As a boy, he’d trek up the hill and fill a bottle or cup it in his hands to drink water that was fresher than any expensive designer bottles on the supermarket shelves. Most importantly Pontelandolfo was the birthplace of the man he admired most in the world so by default it had a strong hold over him.
His phone rang, and he picked it up through the car stereo, “Pronto.”
“Ciao Renato.”
It was Camilla; he shot off a few rapid-fire questions in Italian to check on the status of his most recent requests.
“Of course, the rooms have been aired, the staff alerted and everything is prepared for your arrival. Surely though you don’t need to take her with you?”
“It’s none of your concern,” he snapped back irritated, thankful that Leilani had no grasp of the language. She kept her eyes averted looking at the scenery through the passenger window.
“Ren, I think it will give people the wrong impression, particularly the locals. You know how small town gossip is. Why don’t we just set her up in town and give her some security detail.”
It was not the first time she had abbreviated his name taking on a too familiar tone, and there simply was no we. It would be a shame to lose the most efficient assistant he’d ever had. Maybe he’d leave it until his engagement. A public announcement should clarify for her the impossibility of being Mrs Renato Favalli. Besides he had enough on his plate.
“It’s Renato and I suggest you do as I direct unless you wish to be looking for work elsewhere.”
There were a few moments of silence followed by a much meeker, “Yes Renato. Everything will be ready to your standards,”
While he didn’t like taking the wind out of her sails in such a manner, it was important that she knew her place.
Leilani listened to the conversation wishing once again that she understood Italian. It was a lovely feminine voice that sounded very exotic and sexy in Italian. At a guess, it was his girlfriend. She wondered if she knew that Leilani was staying with him. Of course the entire country probably knew by now, it was splashed all over the gossip magazines much to her shame.
Soon they arrived at what she could only describe as a small castle. A tremendous high stone fence with wrought iron gates led the way up a cobblestone path to the magnificent house. The lawns were perfectly manicured with trees all around. The house would easily be three stories high and unlike anything she had ever seen.
“Come,” Renato was at her door and guiding her towards the house. He was used to guests no doubt who took all of this for granted but even if she lived here a hundred years she couldn’t imagine ever getting used to this kind of beauty.
“Is that a cherry tree?” she pointed to the nearby tree that held small red fruit.
“Indeed it is. There will be plenty of time for cherries. First we will unpack.”
“My stuff…”
“Has all been brought here; your luggage is in the boot.”
Leilani thought about Renato going through her clothing, her underwear and hidden away between the clothing was a personal toy for her enjoyment and rosy colour quickly crept up over her face. Surely he wouldn’t have done the packing himself. Even still knowing the maid had unpacked it when she arrived and now repacked it was embarrassing enough.
Renato watched the delightful glow on her face and wished he had done the packing himself. He wondered what he would have found to cause the bright colour spots appearing on her cheeks. “You can relax I did not go through your belongings.”
She blushed even brighter, so he took away the focus and walked them to the house. He had never brought anyone to his home in Pontelandolfo, and he knew the connotation for the locals and his household staff immediately. He would not be disappointing them.
CHAPTER SIX
Entering the house, Leilani immediately fell in love. The city apartment was opulent, extravagant and oozed wealth. Renato’s Pontelandolfo home was undoubtedly expensive, furnished impeccably with classic soft white leather lounges, designer rugs and traditional paintings strategically adorning the walls. There was one stand-out difference. It felt like a home. Maybe it was the magazines artfully scattered on the hand carved walnut coffee table or the plump beige pillows. Leilani could imagine it in winter, with the log fire warming up the room and a soft chintzy throw rug covering her legs. It was a room one could relax in at the end of a tiresome day.
Renato showed Leilani briefly through the house and left her to freshen up in her room with a directive to meet in the informal dining room in an hour. It would give her enough time to look through her emails and see if there were any updates.
She opened up her Hotmail account and regretted her impatience immediately. Not only was there no update but her inbox was jammed full. It seemed that her email address had been made public. She received offers to disclose sordid details of Renato’s personal life in exchange for ludicrous financial gain. Strangers wanted to know more about who she was, and there was even some hate mail from women who believed she was not good enough for him. It was all rather overwhelming and truthfully more than a little intimidating. She quickly shut it down and made her way to the living room.
Glancing up, Renato was not surprised to see Leilani had not bothered to change. “Take a seat,” he directed sounding sterner than he had intended. She was looking strained, and he was almost tempted to ask how she was feeling. Curbing the gesture he got down to business.
Leilani’s mouth worked like a goldfish opening and closing several times, her face worked through a multitude of differing shades of red. “You want to marry me?” she squeaked.
Renato sat bemused. I want you to marry me under the conditions I have just advised you.”
“Uh, this is a little overwhelming and majorly underwhelming at the same time. Could you please run through the gist of this again and explain to me why I would want to marry you?”
“You will marry me because it is the right thing to do. My ethics have been raised into question at a most inconvenient time to my business. We are in the middle of a very lucrative acquisition and the press releasing this story on us has the potential to unravel my business deal. A deal that I will not lose under any circumstance. You will marry me, and I will reward you appropriately.”
“I’m not interested in being rewarded. I’m not here for financial gain.”
“Everyone has a price Leilani. Even if it is not monetary.”
“Well, I don’t require a reward. You are very melodramatic, and I’m sure you will not lose the deal once the situation blows over,” she stated emphatically.
“You do not understand. I have gone to great lengths to improve my public image specifically for this acquisition. Generally I couldn’t care less about public opinion but because of today my integrity is being questioned, and I do not lose,” came the steely reply.
“I’m sorry about your deal, but that does not mean I’m going to marry you.”
“You are happy to lose your self-respect so publicly?”
“I’m a nobody, Renato. I’ll be yesterday’s news within twenty-four hours.”
“Don’t be too sure about that. The press is merciless for details on my life. They will hound you, pester your family and friends, and this will not end anytime soon. Here,” he reached for his phone and dialled a number.
“Who did you call?”
“Hello,” warily, but it was the familiar voice of her mother.
Leilani scowled at Renato as she stood up and took the call. “Mum…”
“What has that man gotten you into,” launched her mother.
Leilani spent another fifteen minutes on the phone trying to explain the situation carefully, with as limited detail as possible. God only knew how she’d ever complete what she came her so secretly to do with the eyes of the world now upon her.
“So, what did your mother have to say,” he looked so self-righteous.
“It’s as you said, the press have camped outside her door and she is too stressed to leave the house and to make matters worse my mothers’ boss is thinking of terminating her. Apparently some journalists have made such a nuisance of themselves outside of her workplace that they are driving away customers. I can’t believe the impact of all of this, but how will marrying you help the situation?”
He had her on the hook and with a bit of finesse he would now reel her in. She was agitated and clearly upset, and he had no qualms in using that to his advantage. Slowly, with deliberation he walked towards her and took a hold of her wrists. “Look at me Leilani?”
She raised her wary blue eyes to his. “By marrying me we will take the newsworthiness out of the story. It will no longer be a sordid affair. I will organise security detail for your parents until the media circus dies down which it will after we marry next week.”
“Next week!” she cried out in alarm.
“Think rationally Leilani and stop looking at me as if I am sending you to your death. Most women would jump at his offer.”
