His Discarded Bride: Lied to from birth. Manipulated into marriage. Does love stand a chance? (12 page)

He took his hand off the gear stick and covered her hand with his on her lap. Cool to the touch he immediately felt a desire to warm her up, and properly. He imagined exactly how hot and bothered he could get her. It seemed that he could no longer get close without feeling immediate desire. “We’ll get through this together. I meant it when I said I want our marriage to work,” he reassured her caressing her thumb with his. “Look we are already here.”

The afternoon went better than she expected. They started with a private tour of the Vatican, a tour guide that gave them enough educational information, time and space to see everything at their pace without being intrusive. They got to enter rooms free of other tourists that she knew was due only to Renato’s wealth and status. There were definite perks to being a Favalli. A Favalli, it’s a name she should have had from birth. Leilani Favalli, it rolled quite well she thought. Soon it would be her name by marriage. Her destiny was approaching via the most compelling and twisted route.

Even without the queues the day was draining. They walked through the ruins of the Colosseum and the Forum, and Leilani had marvelled at what she saw. Australia was still a babe when it came to history. To see the remains of buildings and artefacts more than two thousand years ago and the height of those buildings, she was in awe. It was difficult to imagine how they would have been built. Slavery would have been predominant; she could barely imagine what it would have been like to live in such times where human’s fighting to the death was an acknowledged form of entertainment.

“Let’s sit and rest for a bit. Have you seen enough for the day?” he asked solicitously.

“It was incredible,” and it had effectively taken her mind off some of her other worries and concerns.

“But you are tired which is to be expected. We’ve done a lot of walking in the heat.”

“Oh, the weather is fine. Sydney gets much hotter. In fact, I can’t believe how different the sun is. In Oz, I’d be burnt to a crisp by now particularly without sun-cream. I wouldn’t usually even think of leaving the house without it in summer.”

“Agreed the sun isn’t as harsh, however, you should still protect your skin,” he put an arm around her shoulder and led them into a quiet café.

Leilani sank into the chair grateful to get off her tired feet. She hadn’t worn these sandals before and even though they were comfortable the ornate metallic fastening was rubbing against her skin, she would kill for a blister Band-Aid. Renato was talking in Italian to the shop owner, “Have you tried granita before?” he turned to her and asked.

“No, what is it?”

In mock horror, he asked her, “What kind of Italian’s have been raising you? I will order you one now, and you will see for yourself,” he continued to converse in Italian with the owner and then afterwards apologised. “Sorry, although a lot of Italians speak English most prefer to use Italian particularly with other Italians.

“I guess that makes sense. I am after all the interloper, so I have no right to expect people to switch languages on my behalf,” she conceded.

“How is it that you never learnt the language? Both of your parents are Italian I would have thought you would be fluent?”

“According to dad, he ordered mum to speak English at home. Told her they would struggle to find work if they spoke the language like people fresh off the boat whereas mum said that it was due to them speaking different dialects. She said they found it difficult to understand one another in Italian.  I think it must have been a little of both,” she concluded.

Two tall glasses of granita arrived garnished with mint leaves and a slice of lemon they looked very refreshing. “Back home we would call this an Icee or a slushy. Is it lemon flavour?”

“Go ahead and try it.”

She sipped up a big mouthful and was pleasantly surprised. She was expecting a sharp, sour lemon taste. It was sweetened to perfection with the right amount of tartness to refresh her, “It’s delicious, and I take back my words it’s nothing like a fake cordial slushy.”

“It tastes so good, because of the types of lemons we grow and use here in Italy. They are sweeter and bigger than the ones you have in Australia,” he explained.

“Oh I’ve seen them,” she grew animated. “I even took a sneaky photo in a shop of one in front of my face for perspective. It was enormous more like a grapefruit than lemon,” she gushed.

Renato’s smile started to fade and in place awareness developed; when she laughed, and her troubles were distant, she was incredibly enticing. He hoped he’d done enough to start earning her trust. Truthfully he’d surprisingly found the day enjoyable. It wasn’t quite the tedious chore he expected it to be. They had spent time asking each other the usual get to know you questions; favourite colours, singers and actors, hobbies and sports. He now knew that she favoured red, eighties singers and old school actors like Dustin Hoffman, Morgan Freeman and Meryl Streep who had in her opinion earned their stripes in their field.

When provoked for her opinion, she was an educated opponent and when she didn’t know the answer she had grace in saying so which intrigued him. It was rare so many people he knew would never back down in a debate even when they were clueless on the topic. He could see now that she was more multi-faceted than he’d credited her. He was looking forward to this evening, a few drinks and an excellent meal should relax her further. His seduction would take very, little effort, and she would be his tonight securing the promise he’d made to Vittorio and the fate of The Favalli Company.

“Are you okay?” she asked with a small amount of uncertainty.

“I'm all right better than I’ve been in a long while. However, I no longer want to spend our time amongst strangers and crowds,” Renato paid the bill leaving a sizeable tip and propelled them towards the car. He barely glanced at her as he picked up his phone. In rapid Italian, he ensured the preparations for the rest of the evening would go off without a hitch. “Thank you, Camilla. That will be all,” he finished off. If he noticed Leilani pull back at the sound of Camilla’s name, then he paid it no heed. By the end of the evening, Leilani would be in no doubt as to where he wanted to be and with whom. More surprising, it was no act, he wanted to bed her more feverishly than any other woman of his acquaintance.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“I’ve booked us into the Westin Excelsior,” he stated as they drove towards the valet service.

“Isn’t this the same street as your apartment?” she queried.

“It is but it is an experience I don’t want you to miss. I thought it would complement the rest of your day. The rooms we are staying in are quite a sight and most people never get the chance to appreciate them.”

The entrance to the hotel was impressive, but nothing could have prepared her for their suite that was called the Villa La Cupola. The cupola was, in fact; a hand painted dome nearly twelve metres high. The private butler gave them a quick tour of the two floors that indeed was nothing short of over the top extravaganza. It had its own Pompeian styled Jacuzzi pool, fitness room, sauna and steam bath. They also had a private cinema, a wine cellar and a panoramic view of the city. It was incredible.

They followed the butler out onto one of the terraces. There were seven in total, and they would all be perfect to sit out and while away time with a few glasses of vino. There was, of course, a private elevator, formal dining and separate kitchen. Renato had ensured that the extra five connecting rooms, as well as the two that came with the suite, were all included so as to provide complete privacy on both floors.

Finally when the butler left, tip in hand, Leilani couldn’t help but ask, “This must have cost you a small fortune. I know it’s probably crass to ask but how much would a room like this cost per night?”

“I’m not entirely sure. Camilla would have negotiated a good deal but possibly it would still have cost around fifteen thousand euros give or take.

If she had have been drinking she would have choked. “There was a time when that would have been close to my yearly salary and to think people have that kind of money to drop on a single night out. It’s just so far removed from my reality,” she mused aloud.

“Being removed from your reality is a thing of the past. All fo this is now your world, and I want you to feel comfortable with it,” he said in earnest.

“I think that would take a lot to get used to.”

“The reality is that a room like this even though it is easily affordable to me is still a treat and a rarity. If I went around dropping this kind of cash daily, my wealth would soon enough diminish. I wanted to treat you today and splurging is relative to one’s income, wouldn’t you agree?”

She nodded her head only semi convinced.

Not happy with her lack of conviction he pressed on, “Look at it this way, a man earns a modest income of a few hundred euros a week. He splurges one hundred of them on his loved one for a special night, is that acceptable?” he led.

“I guess so,” she answered.

His eyes lit up in clear anticipation of winning this debate, “That man would have spent one-fifth of his weekly salary on his loved one, and you agreed this to be an acceptable amount. The sum I’ve spent here at the Westin is only a fraction of my salary, completely affordable,” he saved the best for last. “If I had purchased a hundred euro disreputable room for the night would you have thought me romantic?”

“Ah, okay I get your point. However, a lovely room somewhere in between said prices would also have been just as acceptable,” she smiled. It was true she didn’t need this level of opulence to give her happiness. It was incredible but unnecessary.

He looked unconvinced and steered her in the direction of one of the terraces. “Let’s relax now. I thought we could simply stay in tonight and continue to get to know one another. We could enjoy the many  wonders of the suite.” The latter was said with just enough suggestiveness that she finally realised that Renato may be expecting things to move along at a much more rapid pace, and truthfully she wasn’t sure if she would object.

Admittedly it was one good day, a day out of reality, but since she met him she no longer remembered what reality looked like. Every day was a bit like a fantasy world, drama one day and distresses the next all in exotic settings. It was previously a dream world. She felt her neck and shoulder muscles tense and shook it off. There was no use worrying or pre-empting what might happen. Instead, she would simply enjoy the night. She was certainly no prude, and what if the night ended with them in bed. They would soon marry; she’d just need to guard her heart. These days’ sex and love did not go hand in hand. Personally she never thought she’d imagine one without the other, maybe being in such close proximity all day had shorted her circuit.

Renato watched the emotions flitting over Leilani’s face and after his evocative comment he knew what was creating that internal war. It was now up to him to ensure she ended up on the right side of the battle. The wine was waiting in an ice bucket just as he’d instructed, and he’d dismissed the wait staff for now. He moved his chair closer to hers and without thought melded their hands together as he’d done for the majority of the day, wanting her to get used to a physical connection with him. “I want to know more about you, your childhood, family and friends?” he probed.

“There isn’t anything all that interesting to tell,” she prevaricated.

He raised disbelieving eyebrows at her. “I doubt that. You are the daughter of Vittorio Favalli and you were raised not knowing your true parentage. I’d say the little I know indicates you’ve already led an unusual life,” he argued.

“Well, it sounds more intriguing than it was. Growing up, I didn’t know about my colourful history, so life seemed very normal. I grew up in Sydney’s inner west in a suburb called Leichhardt. I was neither popular or an outcast, just an ordinary girl with a few close friends.”

“Go on,” he urged.

He looked like he wanted to hear so she continued to elaborate, “I guess you could say I had a strained relationship with my father from an early age. He was quite a dominant man and even though my mum could be assertive he just never showed her any sign of respect. Once I got to an age where I realised how wrong that was, I would back chat him and defend my mother. A losing battle, to say the least,” she looked out at the view as she retrieved her memories.

He tried to imagine her as a teenager defending her mother. “Was he violent towards you or your mother,” he squeezed the side of his chair balling his fist.

“Physically no, emotionally he took his toll on us,” she captured his eyes. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’d rather we change the topic. Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?” she diverted to him.

“Well, you’ve met Vittorio, and already I’m sure you have some understanding of the type of man he is. I lacked for nothing growing up, but he was a hard taskmaster. He wanted me to succeed, and he did this by pushing me from a very young age. After school and during holidays I would work at the factory. As a young boy, I started with menial tasks sweeping, mopping and later mowing the grass and assisting the landscaper with raking and pruning. From the age of ten onwards I’d be sent to the offices in Rome where I would spend hours sitting still in meetings trying to understand the conversations. Vittorio would expect notes to show that I had paid attention,” he explained.

“What every single holiday you did this? What about vacations and family trips away?” she asked feeling outraged for the boy who had given up his boyhood for a business empire.

“There was no time allowed for these sort of frivolities,” Renato laughed.

“Why are you laughing,” she was puzzled as his story wasn’t in the least bit humorous. She felt angered towards Vittorio for stealing away Renato’s youth, yet, he not only seemed unaffected he was laughing.

“Sorry, I just had a vision of Vittorio lying on a sun lounger at a private resort sipping on cocktails,” when she looked at him without comprehension he filled in the blanks. “If you knew him you would understand how preposterous the idea was. I’ve never seen the man relax in that way. He has always been a self-driven workaholic with the motto, ‘rest was for the weak’.”

“What is the point of all of his accomplishments if he never has the time to enjoy it?” she asked perplexed.

“His idea of enjoyment is merely different to yours. His sole drive is for power and wealth, and neither of these has a limit. Therefore, he will continue until his dying breath to attain more never being happy with what he has.”

“That’s so depressing. What about your adoptive mother? Where did she fit into all of this and surely she would have pressed him for family time?” As she got to know more of Vittorio she started to question whether she was worse off being raised in Australia. From what Renato had just said she was lucky to have escaped such a childhood. Then again being a female, he wouldn’t have even noticed her with his obsession for grooming his male successor.

“She was definitely, his match. Lucia Favalli, she was only two years his junior and a woman not to be reckoned with.” He remembered once again the day Lucia had Leilani and Rosa permanently removed from Vittorio’s life. “Lucia was born to a more privileged life yet she allowed Vittorio to sway her into marriage long before he became seriously wealthy. His business was still fairly modest when they started courting. I would have to assume that she saw his serious potential and was happy with the pace he progressed. She stayed with him for over forty years,” he stated. “In fact, if she were still alive they would be approaching their forty-fifth anniversary.”

“It sounds calculated and loveless?” she surmised.

“Let’s just say that the marriage suited them both. Lucia was not the loving kind, but she was a brilliant hostess and had good connections. Vittorio used her network to promote and further his growing business. Together they made a powerful team,” he emphasised.

“He obviously wasn’t all that committed to her though? I’m the proof of that,” she stated.

“That you are, but, Lucia and Vittorio were never a love match and neither of them were interested in changing that. Vittorio wasn’t capable in any case; his sole love was for his business. Putting her before the company was not an option, it would only weaken him, and he wanted no distractions. Lucia was the perfect wife for him. She did not demand his time and, in fact, went on many holidays abroad without him. When needed though she was always there to provide a unified family front that was especially helpful with his more conservative clients.”

“I just can’t imagine living like that. Love, it’s also an essential need in my opinion. However, to go on for decades devoid of it, surely it would just embitter them,” Leilani must have realised that their marriage could easily head in the same direction.

“It would depend on your expectations. If two people enter marriage and they have a mutual understanding, then I don’t see why it couldn’t work. A fondness could certainly develop, but there would be other payoffs. Love isn’t always a factor in a successful marriage,” he pushed.

She looked at him doubtfully, “Well maybe if they’d been in love and sleeping with one another they would have produced an heir to take over their precious business.”

He gave a short burst of laughter, “A loveless marriage didn’t hinder their bedroom activities. Lucia suffered two miscarriages and gave birth to two sons, Louie and Emilio. Both passed away as infants. Louie was premature dying less than a week old; Emilio was also born prematurely and managed to survive until he was four years old. He had chronic asthma and one night sick with the flu his asthma became unmanageable. Before the doctor arrived he drew his last breath,” he stated.

“Oh my god, that is just awful,” she pressed her fingertips to her mouth.

“It’s probably with good reason that she became so hardened. Lucia was given the news that she should never try to conceive again, and it was at that point that they decided to adopt me. Vittorio needed an heir, and this was his only option,” he paused looking at her lovely face, he eyes damp with suppressed tears. “Seven years later you came along.”

“You knew of my existence back then?”

“I did. In fact I used to sneak into the nursery to play with you,” he reminisced. “You were so fair, like a perfect little angel. I used to talk to you and ask you to grow faster so we could play together,” he smiled, as he took a trip down memory lane.

Leilani’s heart warmed to the story. This man, knew her, even if it was ever so briefly.  His eyes shone lovingly with the memory of her, and it warmed her heart. The slightest indication that he had cared, even if it was more than a couple of decades ago had tears welling in her eyes. 

“You and your mother left for Australia soon after. To be honest, I had suppressed the memory. It wasn’t until Vittorio asked me to go to Australia that I remembered you.” He looked at her and noticing the glistening trail down her cheek he stood them both up and embraced her.

“How maudlin this topic has become, and here I was trying to provide you a night of light entertainment. An opportunity to get to know one another better. I think I have failed,” his warm breath feathered her skin as he kissed her forehead and wrapped her closer in his arms.

She wanted to respond to tell him that these revelations were more meaningful than he could begin to understand. That knowing this story helped her to connect to and accept her biological father. It was no wonder that her and her mother were shipped off to Australia. Lucia wouldn’t have been able to bear looking at her each day having lost four of her children. Not to mention Leilani’s mother, she was surely in the wrong, being the other woman. There was so much she should say to express her gratitude, but her body took over where her ability to articulate abandoned her.