The Italian Inheritance (22 page)

Since that conversation ten days ago about her modelling photos, they’d managed to steer clear of anything personal, sticking to safer topics such as Giovanni, his life and the renovations for the new haven in Naples.
Occasionally they discussed their likes and dislikes and experiences they’d had
,
but they were careful never to venture into anything too private.

Anna couldn’t believe her time on the island was nearly over. Once they got the results back, it would be time to say goodbye
and head for home
. Rafael had made it abundantly clear that there was no future for them as a couple and she wasn’t the type to beg. The thought sobered her. Then Rafael turned towards her and flashed his familiar sexy smile and Anna’s heart twisted painfully.

How am I going to say goodbye to that?

“You know, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” admitted Rafael, eyeing her above his sunglasses.

“Really?” Anna was grateful for the distraction. It seemed
,
given half a chance
,
her mind would float into the dangerous world of unrequited love and the inevitable heartbreak it brought with it.
She pushed those depressing thoughts away.

“Yes. I want you to know the real reason I invited you to stay at the villa.” At her raised eyebrow he continued, “It wasn’t to help you financially
, although that was a great incentive
.”

“And
here I was thinking
you were such a gentleman.” Anna smiled into his eyes.

“No. Quite the opposite,” grinned Rafael. “It was because the chemistry between us was undeniable. I admit
,
I wanted to see where it would lead.”

“And now you know,” stated Anna softly.
She wasn’t surprised. He wouldn’t be Rafael if he hadn’t instigated their affair. He’d known what he wanted and he’d gone for it
, just like he did with everything else in his life
. In this case, it was her. In a way she was flattered. Being the sole target of his attention was addictive. She enjoyed the fact he couldn’t keep his hands off her. It made her feel cherished and desired. Dangerous emotions to get used to. Admiring his strong, suntanned face she asked,
“Any regrets?”

Rafa shook his head. “Only that we haven’t had more sex. You?”

Anna laughed. “You’re impossible. My only regret is that once we find out the results, all this will come to an end.”

There was a pause as they gazed at each other.

Eventually Rafa cleared his throat. “We still have tonight.”

“We’d better make it count then,” said Anna quietly.

“Still nothing,” Rafael updated her as they docked in Capri’s Grande Marina.

“Why is it taking so long?”

“This is Italy.” He shrugged. “There’s never any rush here.”

“This is torture,” groaned Anna, tying a thick rope from the boat to a cleat on the dock.

“We’ll know tomorrow,” confirmed Rafael. “It has to be tomorrow.”

Now that the results were imminent Anna found she couldn’t stop thinking about leaving Rafael. Every time she looked at him she felt the pain of their upcoming separation. Every tender smile or teasing caress that passed between them was physical torture.

Anna knew she was in love with him. If she were honest with herself, she’d be
en in love with him for days—p
robably since that first night together in Naples. Somehow he’d managed to get her to drop all her carefully constructed defences and let him in, and he’d shown her what
true passion was
like. Now that she’d experienced this, would she ever be able to go back to her old ways again?

There didn’t seem any point. The only thing she really wanted lived
right
here in Capri, miles away from where she would be.

Suddenly overcome with emotion,
Anna stifled a sob
,
which luckily
,
was snatched away by the wind. She watched as Rafael, hair blowing wildly, locked up the boat and leapt agilely onto the ground.

“This breeze has definitely picked up,” he shouted, double checking her knots. “Good thing we got back when we did. It must be quite choppy out there now.”

Anna put on a brave face and followed him into the yacht club where his
Vespa
was parked.

Over the last ten days this gorgeous man had entrenched himself into her heart and she was very much afraid he was going to stay there. She didn’t voice her feelings to Rafael because, quite frankly, what would be the point? She knew how he felt, he’d made that loud and clear. He didn’t believe in love.

The wind had picked up even more by the time they’d got back. It whirled down the narrow cobblestoned streets causing tiny eddies and
flung
the leaves around like confetti. They barely made it back on the
Vespa
.

Because it was late, they threw together a light salad and dined quietly in the kitchen.

“I’m going to bed,” Anna announced as soon as they’d finished eating. The tension was getting to her and she was very much afraid that if she stayed to talk to him she’d end up blurting out how she felt and end up a sobbing mess. The wooden windows rattled eerily in the gale which unsettled her even more. She faked a big yawn. “It’s been an idyllic day,” she said and meant it. “The kind dreams are made of.”

Silently Rafael rose, took her hand and lead her upstairs to his room. At her questioning look he merely said, “You don’t think you’re going without me, do you?”

Anna felt a surge of something very much like hope.
Foolish, unrealistic hope.
Unable to express herself, she simply nodded and allowed him to lead her to bed.

Their lovemaking that night was excruciatingly tender, completely different from the passion-fuelled sex of the last two weeks. They took their time, cherishing every moment, every sensation
, committing it to memory, knowing it would be the last time
. When she came, Anna clung on to Rafael as if her life depended on it. He seemed equally reluctant to let her go.

They lay holding each other for a long time afterwards, not speaking. Eventually Anna turned over and tried to sleep, but it was the early hours of the morning before she finally dropped off and even then
,
she could hear Rafael’s metered breathing next to her and knew he was still awake.

“I don’t believe it.” Anna stared at Rafael in horror. “It can’t be true.”

“DNA doesn’t lie,” said Rafael quietly. He was as shocked as Anna that the paternity test had come back negative. Anna Crawford was not in any way related to Giovanni Albertosi.

“Are you sure there isn’t some mistake
?
Perhaps the DNA in Rome wasn’t his?” Her voice
was
tinged with desperation.

Anna was grasping at straws. Rafael marked the dismay in her bright blue eyes which threatened to overflow any minute. Suddenly she looked so young and vulnerable sitting on the huge sofa, a discarded magazine about to fall off her lap.

“There’s no mistake. I double-
checked on the phone. I couldn’t believe it myself.”

“How could this happen?” Anna murmured to herself. The dismay had been replaced by confusion. “I was so sure... the letter...”

She glanced up at Rafael with wild eyes. “If Giovanni isn’t my father, then who is?”

Rafael shook his head. “I don’t know
,
c
ar
o
. I’m really sorry.” What more could he say? The outcome was clear. He couldn’t award Anna the inheritance.

Anna got shakily to her feet. “The letter,” she whispered. “Let me get the letter.”

“There’s really no point...” muttered Rafael but
she
had
already
dashed up stairs to find her mother’s sacred letter.

Within moments she was back, spreading the letter open on the coffee table, shoving law magazines aside.

“It specifically states, ‘I’m sorry I lied to you about Anna.’” Lower lip quivering, Anna stared helplessly at Rafael. “
If I’m not his daughter... What does that mean
?”

Rafael calmly took the letter from her shaking hand and read it through properly. Now that he knew she wasn’t Giovanni’s heir, the letter took on a different meaning.

“Perhaps your mother had originally told Giovanni you were his daughter for some reason, and in this letter she was setting the record straight?”

It was just an idea
,
but the more he thought about it the more it made sense. “You know Giovanni did tell me he’d been to see you. Only the once, when you were a baby. Your mother may have implied you were his daughter then.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Money, of course. What other reason co
uld there be? Your mother was a
nanny, she had no money of her own and her family had disowned her. She was pregnant and unmarried. Maybe she hoped if Giovanni thought you were his daughter he’d be liable for maintenance.”

“She wouldn’t do that,” hissed Anna.

Rafael shrugged. “No one’s perfect. She would have only been looking out for your best interests.”

“There were no maintenance payments,” sniffed Anna. “I would have known.”

“No, I can confirm there were no consistent payments to an English bank account, but perhaps he gave your mother a lump sum after you were born? It’s too far back for me to check, but you have to admit, it’s quite likely, especially since we know he knew about you.”

Anna was silent for the longest moment. Thoughts ricocheted around her head. It was possible, she supposed. The letter could have been an apology for letting Giovanni believe he was her father. Unfortunately
,
there was no one to vouch for it, so in all likelihood Anna would never know for sure. 

“So there never was any heir?”

The sympathy in Rafael’s eyes was excruciating. All Anna wanted to do was creep into a dark hole and lick her wounds. Away from Rafael, away from everyone.

“No. It certainly looks that way.”

“So it all goes to you, now.”

Rafael took a deep breath, apparently unsure as how to answer. “There is no point in keeping it for an heir that doesn’t exist, is there?”

At her
grimace
he added, “But I’m not sure what to do with it. It’s in a trust so it can stay there for the time being.”

“You can leave it to your children one day,” sniffed Anna, then caught herself. Really, self-pity was not becoming.

Rafael looked at her strangely. “Are you all right?”

How could she be alright?

“No, not really,” she replied flatly. “But I will be. I think I’m still in shock.”

At Rafael’s knowing nod she stammered, “I need some air. I think I’ll go for a walk. See you later.”

Anna had absolutely no idea how far or where she walked, she just kept moving, because she knew if she stopped, she’d crumple to the ground in a sobbing heap.

How could she
have got
ten
it
so wrong?
She remembered clearly as a little girl her mother telling her...

“Your father was a brave soldier, darling. He died in battle, in the war in Afghanistan. You can be proud of him.”

Anna didn’t want a father she could be proud of. She wanted one to hug and play with, to go to for advice and to learn from.
It had been a thorn in her side for as long as she could remember. When her mother died it was a double
blow
. Now she truly had no one. No
body
to cuddle her when things went wrong. No one to turn to in a crisis or go shopping with, like Lara did with her mother.
But instead of wallowing in despair, Anna had risen above it.

She
thought she’d dealt with th
ose
feeling
s
of abandonment, of having no family. She’d made
a conscious effort to make
friends and cherished those relationships
. She grew
stronger as the years went by. Her friends
became
her family. Lara, Kirsty and the girls at the hospital. They were who she turned to when times were
t
ough. They made her laugh and feel like she belonged. And she was there for them
,
too. Anna understood the true value of friendship. That’s what growing up without a family had taught her.

Then she’d found the letter and all her carefully conceived ideas were thrown into turmoil. Her astonishment at the discovery of her mother’s affair with Giovanni had started a chain of events that had led to this.

Perhaps she hadn’t deal
t
with those issues as well as she’d thought
after all
.
Had she been so desperate to have a real, flesh and blood relative that she’d jumped to a h
asty
conclusion on finding that letter?