Rossellini's Revenge Affair

by Yvonne Lindsay

  But there was no-one else, the insidious voice at the back of her head reminded her. Not a single other person for her to turn to. Raffaele Rossellini was it, and who knew how much longer she’d be in a position to rely upon his generosity. No. She was indulging in temporary insanity if she thought there was more to this than met the eye. She had to pull herself together. To remind herself of where she was and what she had to do next.

  After a quick shower and brushing her hair, Lana slid into the exquisite lingerie, forcing herself to ignore the delight of sensation as the fabric caressed and cupped her skin. The deep golden-coloured wool skirt and matching jacket in the bag were tailored to nip in at her waist, accentuating her figure and bolstering her flailing femininity like armour did a marauding knight. Dressed like this, she felt invincible. And to all the world, that was exactly how she’d appear, despite the way her skin reacted to the silk lining of the suit where her stockings left her upper thighs bare.

  There was no top to wear under the jacket, so Lana buttoned up to the deep V at the front, noticing in the mirror how the gentle creamy swell of her breasts was exposed. A small frown wrinkled her forehead. A camisole or blouse wouldn’t have gone astray right now.

  “Are you ready? We have time for some breakfast before we go.”

  Lana wheeled at the sound of Raffaele Rossellini’s voice right behind her. She hadn’t heard him open the door, or come into the room.

  “Bella. The suit looks well on you.”

  “I’m afraid it’s a bit too…” Lana’s hand fluttered at chest height and she faltered, lost for words.

  “You look wonderful. Come, eat. Then we’ll visit Tom Munroe.”

  Lana had no other option than to do as he suggested. She slid her feet into her shoes, thankful the patent black pumps hadn’t been irrevocably damaged by the walk in the rain, and hitched up her bag from beside the bed.

  In the sitting room of the suite Raffaele fought to bring his breathing back under control. When he’d insisted the boutique manager open the store at seven this morning so he could choose Lana some clothing he’d never imagined how stunning she’d look when she wore it. Imagined? No, that was the wrong word. He’d done nothing but imagine what she’d look like in the sexily soft lingerie he’d chosen for her, or what it would be like to undo each button down the front of her jacket to expose her creamy skin beneath.

  He thrust his hands deep into his trouser pockets and closed his eyes for a moment, forcing the picture of his sister into his mind. No matter how beautiful and enticing Kyle Whittaker’s widow and no matter his body’s clamouring demands, the fact remained she had prevented his sister’s happiness. Prevented his niece or nephew the joy of two loving parents. His hands clenched into tight fists as he remembered her denial of her legal name, a name Maria had wanted to bear as her own. Lana Whittaker was more craven than he had imagined.

  He heard a small noise behind him as she left her room, and turned to face her, his face deliberately schooled in friendly lines he knew showed nothing of the grief that tore at him daily. For every minute he spent with her was another minute away from Maria’s side.

  “There are fruit and cereals or, if you prefer, a dish of smoked salmon and scrambled eggs. Please, help yourself.” He gestured towards the white linen-draped catering trolley.

  “Have you eaten?” She gracefully picked up a plate and lifted the lid on the chafing dish, her nostrils flaring ever so slightly as the aroma of smoked salmon in dill dressing wafted upwards.

  “Not yet.” He shouldn’t be hungry. Food should be the last thing on his mind, yet from the minute he’d met Lana Whittaker two days ago, every sense in his body had heightened. His appetites stronger. All of them.

  “Would you like me to dish up for you?”

  Why not? Why not have her wait on him hand and foot if that’s what she wanted? He noticed she barely made eye contact with him, it made him all the more determined to ensure she did. A slight blush stained her cheeks, the colour a complete giveaway that she was not quite as composed as she led him to believe.

  “Yes, please do. I’ll have some of the salmon and egg, thank you.”

  He watched as she served a generous portion onto one of the warmed plates, then a smaller one for herself and carried them over to the dining table. Almost as if it were she who was the hostess here—as if it were her right. He ground his teeth together firmly. He would let her dwell a little longer in her field of dreams, but only because it served no purpose to reveal his position just yet. He hadn’t rebuilt his father’s dying business into a name recognised on almost everyone’s lips by acting in haste. No, he would bide his time—and when the time was right, he would strike to her heart.

  Raffaele’s driver pulled up outside Tom Munroe’s office. Before he could come around to the passenger side Raffaele had alighted and whipped around the side of the car to open Lana’s door and offer his arm. Slightly discomforted by his obvious intention to accompany her to the appointment, she tried to protest.

  “I’m sure you have more important business to attend to. I’ll be fine.”

  “No, I’ll hear nothing of the sort. Yesterday was very trying for you, I am here for you today. Do not attempt to think otherwise.”

  Lana wasn’t sure if it was the warmth of his hand on the small of her back as they entered the building or the absolute confidence of his voice, but she couldn’t think of a single other reason to object—other than Tom’s admonition yesterday to stay clear of Raffaele Rossellini. Back then, no less than twenty four hours ago, she had agreed thoroughly. But she couldn’t have foreseen the situation she was now in nor the commanding, and strangely reassuring, presence of the man now at her side.

  Tom Munroe’s expression of surprise was swiftly masked as they were ushered into his office. He rushed forward, taking both Lana’s hands in his.

  “My dear, you should have called me yesterday.”

  “Oh, Tom.” Sudden tears filled her eyes at his uninhibited concern. “I couldn’t impose on you and Helen. You two have enough on your plate without my worries. Besides, Raffaele has been a mountain of support.” She couldn’t tell him about the reactions of the people she’d thought she could count among her friends. It would take her to a new low to have to admit that she’d been a trophy to them as much as to Kyle. A trophy that, once tarnished, was to be shoved in the trash and disposed of ignominiously.

  “Raffaele.” The name fell flatly from Tom’s lips as he extended his hand to the younger man. A look passed between them, setting Lana’s nerves on edge, challenge clear in Tom Munroe’s eyes. Lana couldn’t see Raffaele’s face but she saw the determination on Tom’s face soften ever so slightly. “Well, then, we’d best get to business.” Tom settled himself behind his desk and picked up a sheaf of papers before putting them back down again. He leaned forward, his hands cupped in front of him on his desk, a worried frown creasing his forehead. “Lana, your situation is far more dire than I expected. Kyle had been in financial trouble for some time and had been approached several times by the bank and other creditors. Are you sure you had no idea this was going on?”

  A sick sense of shame flooded through her, and left a bitter taste in her mouth. No, she’d had no idea. She’d blithely imagined the life she’d always wanted with a husband she believed had loved her was real. Was that so hard to comprehend? She’d trusted Kyle implicitly. Sure, if she looked back, there was the occasional strange message left on the message bank, or hiccup with their credit cards, but the problems had never been serious. Or at least they’d never appeared so. She shook her head slightly, not daring to speak.

  “I thought as much. There is more, I’m sorry to say.” Tom sighed deeply and picked up the papers again.

  “More?” Lana clenched her fingers tightly together.

  “The woman he was with at the time of the accident, you know she’s on life support, don’t you?”

  Raffaele stiffened in the chair at her side.

  “Yes, the police told me whe
n they notified me about Kyle. But what does that have to do with me?”

  “Mr Munroe, surely you don’t need to distress Lana further with this information,” Raffaele interrupted, an unexpected thread of anger in his voice.

  “I’m afraid I must, Mr Rossellini. You see, the woman Kyle had been having an affair with is expecting his child. According to this information, she’s thirty-two weeks along and the doctors are doing what they can to keep them both alive until the baby is a little stronger. It’s not anticipated that she will live beyond the birth. It appears there is no record with any solicitors in the Wellington district, or even further afield, of her having made provision for guardianship in a will.” Tom paused and took another deep breath before continuing. “Lana, under the terms of Kyle’s will, you are the child’s testamentary guardian.”

  Five

  Expecting his child?

  Kyle’s mistress was pregnant? Lana froze in her seat, her eyes burned with unshed tears and a tight band squeezed excruciatingly tight about her chest as she tried to draw breath into her lungs. But nothing in her body functioned, nothing except her hearing and the awful, unbelievable echo of the words Tom had uttered.

  She thought she’d borne the worst, knowing Kyle had cheated on their marriage and destroyed the vows they’d shared. Knowing Kyle had lied and deceived her in every way possible and left her without a roof over her head. But this. No, this was far, far worse. This pain sliced through her like a guillotine.

  A baby?

  After all the years of tests and infertility treatments, the discomfort, the indignity, the hopes that had blossomed only to be crushed when she’d failed to conceive once again. He’d reassured her, over and over, that it hadn’t mattered that they couldn’t have children. That they’d grow old and cranky together while living out every other dream they’d shared.

  This final betrayal couldn’t have cut more deeply.

  Finally, Lana managed to drag a searing breath into her lungs, to find the strength to get to her feet, to find her voice and say the one word that repeatedly bounced around inside her head with the velocity of an accelerated atom.

  “No!”

  “Lana, please, I know this has come as a shock.”

  “No. No. No! I will not do this. I can’t. I just can’t!” She levelled a tear filled gaze at Tom. “You know why.”

  “My dear.” The older man swallowed, clearly lost for words.

  “I, however, do not.” Raffaele’s voice cut through the air like hail stones. “I fail to understand why you would ignore your own dead husband’s direction in his will, a man you profess to have loved, or why you would ignore the desperate need of a helpless child.”

  “You don’t understand.” Lana swallowed against the pain in her throat.

  “What is there to understand?” Raffaele’s voice, usually only lightly accented, thickened with his anger. “You are denying a child a home. What kind of woman are you?”

  “Now hold on a minute, Rossellini. You have no idea what Lana forfeited when she married Kyle, nor what she’s borne since. You’ve no call to speak to her like that,” Tom blustered.

  “Have I not? I believe I have every right, sir. Maria is my sister.”

  “Maria?” Lana’s voice wavered.

  “Maria Rossellini. The woman your husband loved. It is no matter now to you. I will take the child. As its nearest blood relative I have the right.”

  “The right? And who had the right to take my husband from me?” She shot him an angry glare, watching his features settle into an implacable mask of determination. “There’s more isn’t there. How did you meet Kyle? How did Kyle meet her? Tell me!”

  “Lana, my dear, this serves no purpose. Don’t hurt yourself any more.” Tom Munroe looked grey and worried.

  “I deserve to know.”

  Raffaele stood and looked down at her. “Deserve to know? Non c’è problema. How I met Kyle—through business. Three years ago I started to look for an investment project here in New Zealand to diversify my business interests, he had been assisting me in my endeavours. How Kyle met Maria—it is simple—I introduced them.”

  Lana flinched as if he’d struck her.

  “You?”

  “Si, and I’ve never regretted anything more.”

  Lana pressed her fingers to her temples. The nightmare that was now her life was spiralling out of control—it couldn’t get any worse than this, surely. Raffaele Rossellini knew about the baby? He was the baby’s uncle? As far as she was concerned he was welcome to Kyle’s child. The irony that she was expected to be the unborn babe’s guardian was altogether more than she could bear.

  “It’s yours,” she managed between lips that didn’t seem to want to move.

  “What?”

  “The baby. It’s yours. I don’t want it.”

  Tom raised a hand. “Now hold on a moment, Lana, Mr Rossellini. We’re not talking about a piece of land here. We’re talking about a child—an as yet unborn child. Let’s not be hasty.”

  “What is stopping me from having the child? It’s clear she is unwilling to be its guardian,” Raffaele argued.

  “I will have to consult with a Family Law specialist. The situation itself is a difficult one. In general, under New Zealand Law, even as next of kin you would have to make application for a parenting order.”

  “Then do it.”

  Lana’s skin chilled at the driven iciness in Raffaele’s tone.

  “I cannot take your instructions, sir. As Lana’s counsel it would be a conflict of interests. I can however recommend you to one of my esteemed colleagues,” Tom said evenly, his eyes severe in his face. “But you have to be aware, the legal process is slow. If Lana cannot—or will not—assume guardianship, the child will become a ward of the State until your parenting order is processed.”

  “My sister’s child will not disappear in your State system. Not while I have breath in my body.”

  “And then there’s another possibility.” Tom steepled his fingers and fixed Raffaele with a challenging gaze even Lana had never seen him use before.

  “Tell me of this other possibility.”

  “Lana could change her mind and contest the order. After some thought, she may choose to keep the child, raise it on her own.”

  “Why would she do that? She is not only unwilling to care for Maria’s baby, she is unfit to do so. She has no means at her disposal.”

  “Stop talking about me like I’m not here. I’ve given you both my answer. That’s the end of it.” Clutching her bag to her aching chest, Lana rose unsteadily to her feet. She couldn’t stand their debate a moment longer. Turning on her heel, she fled the room. She had to get out of there and as far away as she possibly could. She ignored Raffaele’s driver as he moved to open the car door for her. She ignored the shout from behind.

  Her feet ate up the distance on the pavement as she half ran, half stumbled along—oblivious to the curious stares of passersby. Finally she reached an oasis of grass and trees away from the prying eyes of stranger before her legs gave out beneath her. She slumped onto a park bench, uncaring of the moss that grew on the weathered wood and the rough edges of the seat that caught and snagged at her clothing.

  A giant sob welled up in her chest and fought past the gasping constriction of her throat. Her eyes slid shut as hot tears scalded her cheeks and she gave into the overwhelming anguish that shredded every cell in her body with unrelenting talons. As hard as she had run, no distance in the world could save her from the unspeakable truth of Kyle’s perfidy. Another sob rose, hard on the heels of the first, and tremors of shock ricocheted violently through her as she gave in to the irrevocable certainty her life had turned into a gaping hole so deep and so dark she had no idea how she’d ever climb out.

  Through her grief she heard the fast clip of footsteps as they approached on the path behind her. It could only be one person. Lana swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to scream at him to be left alone, and forced the tremors to cease through shee
r will. She raised a shaking hand to dash the moisture from her cheeks and opened her eyes, focussing on the imprint of the peaceful scene of the park in front of her and on the sounds of birds chattering—on the wind teasing through the leaves in the massive ancient puriri trees and the distant hum of traffic.

  Raffaele slowed his approach, fighting to get his anger under control. How dare she reject Maria and Kyle’s child the way she had. The news that she was the baby’s guardian had come as an unexpected ripple in his plans—and had forced him to reveal his relationship to Maria far earlier than he had intended. It went without saying that further investigation was necessary to be certain the position Munroe had stated was indeed correct. What kind of woman abandoned a parentless child? She was everything he’d thought, and worse. But whatever he had discovered about her, Tom Munroe had one thing made painfully clear. She was the one person who could smooth the path to his goal. His fledging plan to woo, destroy and discard Lana Whittaker would require revision.

  His vow to his sister was a brand across his heart. One way or another, Lana Whittaker would agree to help him, then he would find a way to make her pay for the devastation she’d wrought on his family.

  “Lana,” he called softly, watching carefully as her body stiffened and her shoulders squared. “That is quite a run you managed.”

  “Please, don’t. Don’t try and make this funny.” The words dripped like icicles in the chilly air. She stood slowly to face him.

  “I agree. It is not a matter for joking. Why did you run away?”

  “What else would you have me do? Stay in Tom’s office and hear all about my duties as guardian to Kyle’s baby? The baby he had with his lover? Your sister! You’re no better than Kyle was. It’s clear you condoned their affair and now you expect me to help you? Well it stops here. Now.”