Authors: Melita Joy
“Well I want to see this proof,” she insisted.
Vittorio raised his brows apparently not expecting Rosa to continue down this path. Phone in hand, he tapped and swiped at the screen until he had a receipt visible. “Take a look then,” he commanded.
“What bank account did you put this money into?” she asked not familiar with this type of receipt. Rosa and her husband still used a passport style bank account.
Vittorio pointed out the relevant information and Rosa paled taking a seat. “You haven’t been paying any money to me,” she had quietened down considerably.
“The proof is non-refutable Rosa,” he returned.
“You haven’t paid a cent to me,” she reiterated. “You have I believe been paying my husband,” she looked up at Vittorio.
“You are one. Whether it went straight to you or to him it all ended up in this household,” he wasn’t letting her get away with it that easy. “Rosa, it’s time to start telling the truth. Renato, and I have come a long way to hear it, and we are not leaving until you do so,” he sat back down and waited for her story to unfold.
Leilani had been in Venice for two days, and she still managed to get herself totally lost in the narrow streets of the city. It mattered little to her as she felt safe cocooned in the throng of happy tourists. While the uplifting vibe didn’t pull her out of her despair, she felt no worse. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone not even to ask for directions so she continued to walk searching for the dock where the boat would be waiting for her to take her back to Guidecca.
Renato had not bothered to contact her at all during this time, reinforcing that their marriage was over. He had no use for her that much was evident yet he was thoughtful from a distance. Since arriving she had taken all meals in her room and last night when she got back to her suite she was prepared to do the same. She walked into the sound of soft, soothing music, fresh, fragrant flowers on the table, delicate handmade chocolates, strawberries and champagne were all awaiting her with a note. She unfolded the piece of paper and read, ‘An attempt to bring your lovely smile back to life, Renato,’ he signed his name boldly. His kindness only upset her further.
She would rather hate him and didn’t understand what he was hoping to achieve. He wasn’t the sort to do nice things without reason. The doorbell rang and her dinner that she hadn’t ordered arrived. “I’m sorry, but I hadn’t ordered my dinner yet,” she explained.
“This is from your husband,” he smiled setting up quickly he asked if there was anything else she needed and then took his leave.
The food looked sensational, a fresh Caprese salad with the largest ball of milky buffalo mozzarella she’d ever seen. There were fresh pasta and seafood and an assortment of vegetables and last but not least an enormous bowl of fresh cherries.
Leilani picked at the food pushing most of it around her plate. Even the buffalo cheese could not tempt her appetite that had been severely lacking over the past few days. Finally, she took the cherries, the glossy red baubles bursting with a juicy flavour she could tolerate. She turned on the television, curled up on a sofa lounge and picked at the fruit.
She ate the fruit mindlessly and tried not to read into Renato’s gestures. He’d picked all of her favourite food which would have been very considerate and romantic if he’d had feelings for her. All it demonstrated was that he was observant and possibly feeling a bit remorseful. She had been an incredibly pathetic sight when he last saw her.
Cringing, she concentrated on the television once again. Another entertainment news episode was airing, and it appeared the world had moved on with the Favalli’s getting no word of a mention. Instead, the story focused on an upcoming awards night and last year’s faux pas fashion mistakes. Leilani fell asleep ten minutes into the show her mind exhausted.
When she woke up, it was to her phone ringing and her mother crying on the other end. “Leilani, I’m sorry, for so many things,” the words tore out brokenly. “I need to tell you everything.”
Leilani was having trouble understanding but still tried to console her mother. “It’s alright mum,” she calmed.
“It’s not alright. I only tried to do what was best for you, but I hurt us all in the end,” she admitted. “I have a few things to do here but I’m coming to you,” she was trying to gain control of her sobs.
“Mum, it’s too expensive. We can talk on the phone when you are ready,” she supplied an alternative.
“No, it’s alright. Vittorio is going to organise my trip,” her mum admitted.
Leilani was stumped, her mother accepting charity off Vittorio. “I don’t understand,” she prompted.
“It’s very messy, a complicated story. I’ll tell you in person. Only I should let you know that I may have misjudged your husband’s intentions based on my prejudice of his father,” she stated.
“It doesn’t matter, our marriage has already ended,” Leilani told her mother the flat truth.
“You are upset,” he mother was quick to pick up on the tremble in her voice.
“I’ll be okay,” she knew she would be, she just needed a bit of time.
"Don’t do anything rash,” he mother urged. “Talk to Renato, the two of you made a commitment you should try to fix things and honour it,” she prompted.
Confused by her mother’s change of heart they ended the call without further explanation as Leilani’s phone was running out of battery. Her mother’s voice had rung with pain and sincerity, and Leilani hoped that their reconciliation would strengthen their relationship once again it would all depend on her mother’s honesty. The secret of her parentage had hurt her deeply, but Leilani could forgive, she just needed her mother to demonstrate an understanding of how important finding her father was. The shroud of lies had cut her first when she found out that she was not Franco’s daughter and then worse finding out that Vittorio was also not her parent.
She absorbed that thought. The truth was that she didn’t mind that neither man was her father. She was more cut that she now meant nothing to Renato. She’d fallen for her husband in the short time that they had been together, and all the mess of her parentage was taking a back seat to her lovesick heart. It was about time she picked herself up and took charge of her life. Leilani couldn’t expect anyone to love her in her current state when she couldn’t even face herself. It was time to go back to Rome.
Renato and Vittorio landed back in Rome. Vittorio had insisted on Renato taking something to help him sleep. “You are going to need it,” he insisted, knowing Renato was going in search of Leilani the minute they landed.
The past couple of days had been enlightening. Many misunderstandings of the past had culminated in unnecessary pain for so many. Renato was happy for Vittorio and Rosa; they had been able to clear up a lot of cobwebs and tentatively renew a friendship. Rosa though still had a lot of explaining to do with her daughter, but that was up to the two of them to sort out.
He had his own issues to face. He was jetting all over the world to understand his wife, sending her gifts to cheer her up and putting all his resources at her disposal to ease her pain. Renato had to stop and think why he was bothering. If he wanted it, he had an out. The problem was he didn’t want an exit route. It was unthinkable. He was in love with Leilani, and he wanted to stay married to her. Not because he had to but because he wanted to.
After the way he’d treated her, forcing her hand into marriage, he knew that she would be relieved to see the back of him. He needed a plan to get her back, but he knew that she would accept nothing less than total honesty. The problem he faced was that he couldn’t imagine how she would ever trust him again. He had lost his integrity with her, and now it would take a miracle to convince her that he loved her and had no ulterior motive to stay together as man and wife
.
CHAPTER eighteen
Leilani was out on the terrace contemplating what to do. She was sick and tired of the miserable woman she’d become. While she may have lacked confidence at times in her life, she’d never been a doormat for others to wipe their dirty feet on and discard when it became tatty.
She was an independent woman who up until recently had lived on her own and supported a modest lifestyle by working with most other people she knew. Leilani might not have had a lot of spare cash, but then she had never actually required it. Her favourite activities didn’t cost much at all; she liked to read preferably by a lake under the shade of a lovely willow or jacaranda tree. Now and then she would invite one of her close friends to her place. Leilani was no socialite, but she enjoyed the company of a couple of friends whom she’d known since high school. They would see each other two or three times a year. When they did meet, they had so much to talk about, and the night would fly past in a blur. Their visits always ending with each of them stating that they must get together more often, knowing that they wouldn’t.
With alarm, she wondered what her friends would be thinking. The past couple of months had flown by and no doubt they would have heard of her wedding. She picked up the phone and called.
“Hello,” she heard her friend’s voice.
“Seema, it’s me,” she declared.
“Oh my goodness. Give me a moment. I need to find a quiet room and don’t you dare hang up, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for weeks,” she yelled over the noise in the background. It quietened down, and Seema launched, “Okay I can hear you now. What on earth is going on, I want to hear all about it and why wasn’t I invited to the wedding of the century,” she gushed.
Leilani managed a smile; she should have called her friend sooner. As best she could she explained the entire messy situation. “I want to fight for my marriage,” she ended.
“Why?” her friend was always straight to the point.
“I love him,” she admitted.
“Do you love him or the lifestyle,” she questioned.
“I couldn’t care less about the perks Seema. In fact sometimes I wish he was just a regular guy, that we could live an ordinary, uncomplicated life.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute. Not that you are in the slightest a materialistic person but the guy you’ve married he could never be a suburban family man. From what you’ve said you’ve found yourself an alpha male, confident, complex and intelligent and I’ve seen his photos he is hotter than hot,” she giggled.
“Trust you,” she shook her head.
“Well, you have to admit it that it must count just a little towards your willingness to forgive,” Seema was so cheeky. “So what are you going to do woman?” she pushed Leilani.
“Firstly I’m going to stop being a mannequin. I’m going back to Rome to let Renato know that I want to continue our marriage. That I’m willing to fight for it and not just let it slip through my fingers,” her courage was mounting.
“What will you say when he asks you why you love him,” Seema asked inquisitively.
“Oh that’s simple,” Leilani giggled into the phone. “I’ll tell him it’s because he is hotter than hot,” and with that she rang off mischievously.
The emotional fog that had shrouded her finally lifted. She buzzed thinking about what she would say when she came face to face with him. Calming herself, she figured that the best approach would be to not over think things. Leilani didn’t want to meet him with a mentally prepared speech. Straight from the heart would be best and besides, things could be worse. He’d been doing nice things for her ever since she departed; maybe there were some feelings on his side after all. One thing was for certain; she didn’t want a life of regrets.
Leilani called reception and organised a private water boat to take her to the airport and a flight to Rome. With little time to spare she rushed her packing. She could have had it done for her but in this instance the distraction was welcome. Within a few hours, she would be with her husband declaring her love and their suitability, breathing in deeply she continued with her packing.
Renato had touched down in Rome and was waiting to board a private jet to take him to Venice. He flicked his phone on to check his messages. His phone was clogged with missed calls, particularly from his new assistant. He thought of Camilla; it was a shame the woman had tried to interfere in his personal life because her organisational skills were impeccable. His new assistant came to him with years of experience and highly recommended however he found her lacking and would need to consider replacing her.
There were no voicemails from Leilani, not that he had been expecting her to leave a message. The plane was ready to board, and a boat would be waiting for him to arrive. He was more than prepared to open his heart to her; he just hoped he could convince her to accept him.
Leilani finally made it to Rome, was chauffeured to the apartment and now stood at the doorstep ready to go in. Before she got inside she heard the click of a camera shutter, “Is it true that your marriage with Renato Favalli has already ended?” came the intrusive demand.
She quickly opened the door and slammed it shut behind her. Leilani had avoided the press the entire time she was in Venice, they mustn’t have realised her whereabouts. They were confronting, but Leilani wasn’t going to let it bother her. She walked through their apartment in search of Renato. He wasn’t home. She would wait. He would return sooner or later. Renato usually returned every few days to Rome for business so she doubted the wait would be long.
By mid-afternoon, she decided to turn on her tablet and study her Italian. She knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate, but it would help to while away the time. As she turned the device on she noticed an article in her news application. Her eyes riveted, she enlarged the image of a boat collision in Venice. At least one driver had died on impact, and the other driver and his passenger were in critical condition. Leilani watched a small clip that a tourist had filmed. It was the boat just moments before impact and the resulting wreckage. Her heart skipped a beat; the vessel looked the same as the one she had utilised during her stay.
Not that it was altogether unique, but she certainly counted her blessings that it hadn’t been her while offering a small prayer to the survivors. She couldn’t imagine how they would hold onto their lives after being involved in such a savage accident. Leilani slid her fingertip across the screen and returned to her homepage opening up her online lesson.
Camilla ended the call with her on and off again lover. He just happened to be an employee on Renato’s security team. She smiled to herself; she had just been handed the perfect opportunity to get rid of Renato’s pathetic wife. Fabrizio had been an excellent source of information letting her know the moment Leilani had given up on the marriage and taken off for Venice. He was also easy on the eye so sleeping with him didn’t trouble her one bit and was well worth the payoff.
The new secretary was not anywhere near as competent as she’d been. She knew this for certain because the woman happened to be a close friend of hers. Together they’d put together a glowing resume, and Camilla had forged some letters of recommendation to ensure her friend got the job. If it wasn’t for Leilani, Camilla felt sure that Renato would hire her back in an instant. She needed to get Leilani out of the country and back to Australia.
Camilla didn’t want Renato to have a seed of doubt about his marriage. She needed him to know for certain that it was over. Time was limited; Camilla needed to be the first to speak to Leilani. She picked up the phone ready to annihilate.
“Hello,” Leilani answered the house phone that hardly ever rang. Renato had told her that very few had this number. She hoped it was him calling now.
“Oh, it’s you. I didn’t expect you to be there,” Camilla was on the other end of the phone, and she sounded uncertain.
Leilani wasn’t going to give this home wrecking woman a chance, “Well it is me and your calls here are not welcomed,” she asserted. Camilla let out a sob, and Leilani wondered what game the woman was playing now. “What do you want? You have no business with the Favalli’s,” she reminded her.
“I know this must be a distressing time for you,” Camilla’s voice held no sincerity. “Renato rehired me. Not that it means anything now,” the woman was crying.
“What on earth are you talking about,” curiosity got the better of Leilani.
“Renato,” Camilla paused dramatically before shrieking, “He’s dead.”
Leilani stood rooted to the spot. It couldn’t be true. “You are lying,” she yelled into the phone.
“What sort of woman do you think I am to lie about such a thing,” she defended vehemently. “Renato died today in a boating accident in Venice. He was on his way to demand a divorce from you,” her voice turned ugly.
“A divorce, it’s not true,” Leilani lost her confidence. “Dead, I just can’t believe it,” her voice petered off.
“If you still don’t believe your husband is dead then turn on the news. It’s playing on every channel.”
Leilani turned on the television and reports of the death of business mogul Renato Favalli appeared on the screen. The news feed at the bottom of the screen was scrolling. Renato Favalli and two others died in a horrific boat crash in Venice today, and it stated that Renato had been on his way to initiate a divorce from his new wife. Feeling ill she turned it off immediately. “It’s true then,” she whispered.
“Yes it’s true and if he weren't heading out to tell you personally about the divorce, then it never would have happened. You are the cause of his death,” she accused viciously.
Leilani shocked said nothing. Without defending herself, she let the barrage of Camilla’s cruel words wash over her and hung up the phone. Moments later there was a knock on the door. The caller stated his name was Fabrizio and that he was one of Renato’s security men. She vaguely remembered the man but more so recognized the name, thinking at the time of their introduction that it sounded like a race car driver’s name.
“Yes, I remember you,” she was still in a daze.
“Mrs Favalli I’m sorry for your loss,” he stated formally. “As part of your security I wanted to let you know that it’s not safe for you here at the moment,” he was sombre.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“The news of your husband’s death has been made public. Your property is going to be swarming with the press and potentially worse. There were a lot of women that idolized him,” he mentioned looking a bit uncomfortable.
Still feeling upset and confused Leilani pressed him, “Just spit it out. What danger am I in exactly?” the pressure and emotion were starting to surface.
“I think you should leave the apartment immediately. It’s my job to ensure your safety, and I believe that the household staff in Pontelandolfo have already received a couple of threats directed at you. You husband is dead, and the marriage was over. Is there any reason for you to stay here?” He asked directly. “I’m sorry to have to be so blunt. However, we don’t have a lot of time,” he urged her.
Leilani didn’t know what to do. So she took the caution of this man who seemed to be looking out for welfare. “No, I have no need to be in this house,” she agreed.
Quickly she grabbed a bag only filling it with essentials, and he whisked her out to his car. In less than half an hour, they were at the airport. She hadn’t even thought to ask where she was going. He took her as far as he was able to in the airport, and she was instructed to go and wait in the private lounge area where she could wait in peace until her flight.
She found a quiet corner and faced the window of the airfield avoiding any unwanted attention. With a moment of solitude, the tears began to fall earnestly down her cheeks. She’d been too late. Leilani’s mind flashed with good memories she had of him. Their day of sight-seeing, the conversations getting to know one another and, of course, their lovemaking. She would never feel his body pressed up against hers again. Never know the touch of his mouth exploring hers and would never feel that sense of belonging. She felt safe and at home in the circle of his arms.
Leilani pulled a tissue from her bag and tried to tame the tears coursing down her face. Her flight was being announced. She sat still, breathing slowly to calm herself down and with her head held high made her way to the boarding gate where thankfully she would embark quickly in the priority queue.
Vittorio watched the story unfolding on the news. Without a sign of emotion, he picked up his phone and dialled. “Find me out the truth of this story on Renato,” he demanded with his full authority rising. If Vittorio was sure of one thing, it was to check the facts. Over the years, he’d been reported dead several times, and while there were many who would love this to be true, he’d survived all of these so-called endings.
Not entertaining the thought, Vittorio would be damned if his only heir were going to die. He’d invested far too many years into him. The phone rang, and he picked it up, “Well,” he barked. Putting the phone down, Vittorio hit the table solidly with his fist and cried out in anguish. Within minutes, he organised the jet to be ready and his driver to take him to the airport.