His Discarded Bride: Lied to from birth. Manipulated into marriage. Does love stand a chance? (8 page)

Savino’s findings certainly helped to put a dampener on his libido, and he would do well to remember that Leilani for all of her butterfly attraction was still a predictable woman. Perhaps dressing like she did was part of her game. Most men wouldn’t believe her capable of affairs as she normally didn’t dress the part of a seductress. Renato was not most men and thanks to his head of security he was completely aware of her capability. It appeared that she was her mother’s daughter after all.  He was not bothered by her previous experience in the bedroom. In this day and age, one did not expect a virginal bride and he had no requirement in that regard. He was undeniably masculine, dominant and Italian with a reputation to heal.

Vittorio had demanded that he clean up his playboy image for the sake of the business. Although Renato was now well and truly wealthy in his own right, he still wished to please the man. He had worked hard with Vittorio throughout the years and was not about to relinquish what he’d always believed would be entirely his. His marriage to Leilani was one of the major steps in ensuring his entitlement. He would not have any of it jeopardized by a straying wife and a media frenzied scandal.

Leilani disengaged his hand, and he turned his attention to her.

“I just need to go back up to the house. I ah need to use the ladies.”

Spotting Camilla, he instructed her to show Leilani to the bathrooms.

“So who would have thought,” sneered Camilla. “Don’t think that just because you’ve polished up well that you’ll have what it takes to keep the attention of Renato.”

“I beg your pardon?” Leilani was shocked. She had her suspicions that Camilla harboured some jealousy, but she wasn’t expecting an open attack.

“Let’s just say that Renato will always come back to me regardless of whether you are married or not,” she taunted.

Leilani felt her blood boil. So what that her marriage to Renato was a baseless sham, he was still to be her husband, and she would not tolerate him making a fool of her. “Is that so? In that case I think I’ll need to have a little chat with Renato. I’m sure he and I will be able to clear this situation up. You may want to think about a career change,” she added with the last of her bravado.

Camilla stopped and gave Leilani a cunning stare. “Indeed! Well, why don’t the three of us get together for a chat, oh wait, we best not forget to include Anselmo,” with a saccharine smile she opened fire.

Leilani gaped and floundered out of her depth. The last thing she needed was for Renato to be aware of Anselmo. She wasn’t going to let Renato get in the way of her potential happiness and heaven only knew what he would do. He was so single-minded that if anything came in the way of his business dealings he’d find a way to remove the obstacle. She needed to placate this conniving woman even if it resulted in her humiliation. “Fine, have your affair. I’m not so naïve as to think that a man of my husband’s stature would remain monogamous. Frankly I couldn’t care less what you do. Keep him happy in bed. The less I have to pander to his needs the better,” she felt the bile rising in her throat. A loveless marriage was bad enough but to know that there would always be three in the bed, she wasn’t sure how she would withstand it.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Leilani woke to a mobile phone ringing on her bedside table. “Hello.”

“Sorry, if I’ve woken you. I had to leave early this morning for business, but I wanted to apologise for not organising a phone for you sooner. I’ve entered all the numbers you will need into the phone including mine. You may call when needed,” he stated.

His statement just reiterated how unnatural their relationship was; for him to need to grant her permission spelled it out quite succinctly, “Thanks.”

“Camilla is also organising a wedding planner to come by the house today.”

“So soon?” it was all too much of a rush. 

“Have you forgotten that we agreed to marry in a week?” he reminded her.

“Yes, but with the ball and I don’t know I thought we would need a bit more time?”

“You have a week from today. We will wed next weekend. The planner will do all the arranging just let her know what you want, and it will be her job to ensure it is done. I have given her a few stipulations of my own already. Now is the moment where I need you to step up into your new role and get the task done. If you require assistance then call Camilla, her number is logged in your phone.”

The last person she’d be calling was his mistress. He knew how to lay on the charm, treating her like one of his business subordinates and then trying to offload her to Camilla. “I’ll be perfectly fine,” she gritted out.

“Good. I’ll be back in a couple of days,” he clicked off without a word of sentiment not that she required any.

The week would be chaotic organising the wedding, but this would be her best chance to see Anselmo. While dressing her mind traced back to the trauma that propelled her to Italy. Leilani felt a wave of panic and sat down. She hadn’t come all of this way to back down now. Leilani steeled her resolve and phoned Anselmo, “Did you speak to him?” Nerves on edge, biting her beautifully manicured nails she perched herself on the bed and listened on tenterhooks.

“Si, you need to come today.”

“I have a wedding planner coming over soon. When she leaves, I’ll make my way. What else did he say, Anselmo? I need to know everything possible so that I am forearmed.”

“Trust me and come with an open mind and an open heart.”

They ended the call; Leilani pondered on the conversation. She was going to meet him yet she still knew so little. In fact, she realised she barely knew the essentials. Leilani was feeling miles out of her depth. She distracted herself with wedding plans and then later convinced the driver that she needed to go back into Rome to organise the wedding and look for her dress.  He probably assumed her frantic request was due to premarital nerves, and that was fine with her as long as he drove her to the city.

Renato was not surprised that his wife hadn’t used her mobile to call him yet; he did think she might wait a bit longer though before making contact with her lover. He’d hoped he’d made the message of fidelity abundantly clear to her. True their conversation on this topic had not been resumed, however; he was not going to tolerate her defiance. He already briefed Savino to have Leilani followed in his absence, and if she were sneaking in visits to Anselmo Cardoni, they would both live to regret making a fool out of him. The engagement was public knowledge, and the man would need a pair of palle grande to bed his woman.

He picked up the phone and dialled. She answered him hesitantly on the second ring. “How was the appointment with the wedding planner?”

He could sense her relief that he was only calling regarding the wedding. “Um, fine. She said that it was a rush but not unachievable.”

“She is being paid an exorbitant fee to ensure it goes like clockwork. So where are you now?” he queried.

“Ah, I’m on my way to Rome. I need to look for a dress and ah stuff.” He could already tell when his deceitful fiancée was lying to him. She ummed and aahed conspicuously.

“I see. Well in that case maybe we should meet up for dinner?”

“In Rome?” she squeaked.

“Yes, in Rome. I’m here doing business,” he clipped out. She’d assumed he was much further away, however when he had an agenda as full as he currently did it was simply more convenient to stay in the city. He would, of course, make time to clear his calendar so that he could confront Leilani once again on the issue of fidelity. Only this time he would make it abundantly clear what the expectation was.

“That sounds fine. When and where shall I meet you?”

He made arrangements to meet at the apartment where they’d be afforded a bit of privacy before heading out to dinner. It would be good for the media to spot them dating pre-wedding. It would give credibility to the rather short engagement period. To make that believable he’d need his wife looking more besotted with her fiancé and a lot less interested in any other man.

Leilani was once again at Anselmo’s. She sat on a lounge chair, and he poured her a generous nip of Amaretto. A bit of Dutch courage certainly wouldn’t hurt, which she sipped on while she waited for him to finish a phone call. She pondered her actions, where they might lead, and the repercussions if it didn’t turn out as she’d imagined. The reality was that things could go either way and, in fact, the probability was that it wouldn’t work out like she was hoping. She would like to think that she had an optimistic outlook peppered with a liberal dose of realism.

As soon as Anselmo finished his call they made their way to his car. “Is it far?”

“It’s only a few minutes away. Try to relax. He is an important man, and you will do better if you appear confident.”

“I know, it’s just that I’m a bit anxious, and it’s hard to settle my nerves.”

“He took a hold of her hand in a caring gesture. You will be fine, look at the strength you have.”

Leilani let out a deprecating laugh. She would hardly define herself as a woman of strength. She had allowed herself to be railroaded into a loveless marriage.”

“You have travelled half way across the world and look at you, about to marry one of our richest and most prosperous business men. It took courage to come here and do what you are doing. Some may have buried their head in the sand or denied the truth of it. Instead, you tackled it head on. Stand proud today and let whatever happens be.”

Leilani squeezed his hand in return and thanked him for his kind words. A small bubble of pride lifted her chin that this man thought that highly of her. She wouldn’t let self-doubt niggle at her even though she knew that his fees nullified most of the compliments sincerity.

They soon pulled up outside of a very familiar building. “What are we doing here?”

“He lives here,” Anselmo stated puzzled. “What’s wrong?”

“My fiancé lives here. That is what is wrong.”

“Is this a setup? I demand to know what is going on immediately,” unnerved she held her chin up defiantly refusing to take a step until she understood what was happening.

“I promise it is no set-up. Come on we are not going to Renato’s apartment. There is another apartment in the building that does not belong to him.”

“That seems like a fairly heavy coincidence that they both live in the same building,” she stated sceptically.

“Indeed it does,” Anselmo said with a heavy sigh. “At some point you are going to need to trust. I know that it is difficult with all that you have been through and discovered, but I can only assure you with my words. Don’t let your courage drop now,” he led the way into the apartment block.

Renato scowled into the phone. “You’re sure?” he asked though he didn’t doubt Savino for a moment.

“One hundred percent, I’d get over there now if I were you, mate. I can’t believe she’s got the nerve to take him back to your place.” Renato clicked off. He was fuming, the news propelling him into action. He cut short the meeting he was chairing and headed for the car.

Leilani followed Anselmo up to the apartment and took his leave, “You don’t need me here by your side for this.”

“Yes, I’ll be fine thanks,” she had to agree. The moment would be far too personal. Her nerves almost had her begging him to stay. He would no doubt feel awkward, and she could understand that.

“Come inside, I don’t bite,” the voice was accented but not as thickly as she had expected, older too than she had thought with an underlying authority. She walked in, and they simply spent a moment sizing one another up. The moment should have been uncomfortable yet curiosity was driving them both.

He was a few inches taller than she was and for a man of his age he looked well like he’d kept in reasonable shape over the years. He had a full head of silvery white hair which he wore combed back with the aid of a small amount of product. He sported a trimmed silver moustache on a clean shaven face. He wore a well-fitted dark grey, double buttoned, single breasted woollen suit complete with a crisp white shirt and navy tie.

He had a face marked by the usual effects of survival, hard work and existing for three-quarters of a century. A strong Roman nose the right accompaniment for a pair of sharp, judicious grey eyes, not the pretty blue grey that reflected back at her each morning, but an antique metal shade. Those eyes sized her up sharply and then nodding his head as though he approved he asked her to take a seat.

“I could ask you how you are, but the small talk seems a bit out of place at this stage of our relationship,” he murmured. “I’m not a man to mince words, my dear. I have a few questions and things that I would like to know, and I am sure you have a set of questions of your own?”

“Um, yes Sir I do,” she wasn’t supposed to sound hesitant or awkward but that’s exactly how she felt. She didn’t even know how she should address the man.

Renato put his foot down on the accelerator disregarding speed limits in favour of expediting his trip home. He was furious and vented his anger out on the road with sharp turns and traffic weaving. It was little wonder he had stayed single for so many years. At least with lovers there was no commitment. He could turn them away when it suited him and would never have put up with this kind of agitation. She had provoked him to a point that no other had. If he had a choice, he would throw her out on her ear. Damn Vittorio.

He could see his apartment up ahead and applied more pressure to the accelerator churning up the gravel driveway on his way past the gates. Slamming the door shut and walking with a furious purpose he went from the living room to her room and finally to the kitchen. Bumping into one of the house cleaners he all but roared at her, “Where is she?”

“Who are you looking for Signore?” she looked nervous and when he became level headed again, he knew he would need to apologise but right now he wasn’t even close to even tempered.

“Leilani,” he snapped impatiently.

“I’m sorry, but she hasn’t been here since you left together?” her eyebrows furrowed possibly wondering what to make of her irrational boss.

He ran his hand through his hair, irritated and called Savino, “she’s not here.”

“Impossible, my men even have footage of them walking into the apartment,” he denied.

Savino was one of the most exhaustively thorough people he knew which was why he was the best. “When did your man leave? Is it possible I just missed them leaving?”

“He’s still in the street and he knows he is to stay until either she leaves, or I give word otherwise.”

“Well, I’ve been through every bloody room in the place, and she is not in there and the staff haven’t seen her here since we left for Pontelandolfo. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Check your phone I just sent you the footage.”

“I do not doubt the footage Sav, but where the heck is she?” he banged his hand against the stone wall; the pain averted with his frustration.

“Let’s both review the clip and we’ll go from there.” At least one of them was thinking. It was unlike Renato to allow his emotion to take control. He opened the video clip, and it was as Savino described. Anselmo and Leilani had parked out the front of the building and walked hand in hand through the front door of the apartment building.

Finally, his brain kicked into gear, and he ran out to the driveway dialling Sav on the way. “Where is your man parked exactly?”

“He’s four houses up on the left.”

“Anselmo’s car has already left which is something your man should have realised.”

Savino swore and said he would get to the bottom of it, but Renato was already striding towards the surveillance car. The investigator rushed out of his car noticing with an enormous amount of trepidation Renato’s arrival.

“Where is she?” he clipped completely invading the shorter man’s space.

“She’s still in there,” the investigator was used to confrontational situations. However, he was no rival for Renato, and his fear was apparent.

“Siete incompetenti,” he fumed. “Has it escaped your attention that Cordoni’s car is no longer here?” The investigator caught out, blustered with indignation. Finally, Renato was able to get to the bottom of it.