His Discarded Bride: Lied to from birth. Manipulated into marriage. Does love stand a chance? (2 page)

BOOK: His Discarded Bride: Lied to from birth. Manipulated into marriage. Does love stand a chance?
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He heard the first class passenger call followed by business class. Finally, economy passengers started to board the plane and as they did the temperature slowly began to soar. A middle-aged man had his wife nagging him to put the luggage down and let her take out her book. He was biting back that she should have done it earlier rather than hold up the rest of the passengers while she ‘fiddled about’.

A couple in their late twenties or early thirties with two young children in tow sat down in the middle section to his right one row in front of him. The smaller of the children immediately began complaining that she needed to go to the toilet. The frustrated parent pushed her way out into the aisle apologizing as she tried to make her way to the bathroom.

Renato kept his eye out for Leilani. He spotted a tall, sleek blonde woman. She appeared to be without children or partner. His hopes rose, and he made solid eye contact with her. She noticed and brazenly held his gaze, slowing down as she approached him. The passengers behind were surging down the aisle, and the blonde continued to her seat that unfortunately wasn’t next to him. She sure could have helped him pass the time a little less tediously. However, he wasn’t interested in just any blonde. He was waiting for one in particular.

He sat rigid in his seat as his eyes peeled keenly the remaining passengers boarding the plane. They were now coming in dribs and drabs. Soon the plane appeared to be fully boarded. The flight attendants were closing down some of the over-head baggage holders, yet the seat beside him remained ominously empty. One last passenger scurried into the aisle. It couldn’t be her. She was short, with blotchy skin, stringy brown hair and judging from the ill fitted clothes no prize. Aghast he watched her intently as she stopped at the side of his seat struggling to load her luggage.

He rose to his feet, offered to help her with her luggage and swiftly pushed her case into the compartment. Renato stepped out into the aisle and allowed her to take her seat. She barely looked at him as she mumbled her thanks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

cHAPTER two

 

 

Leilani squirmed in her seat. When she’d decided on which clothes to wear, she’d opted for warmth and comfort. Having run the length of the airport, she was hot and sticky. The baggy black and white patterned rayon harem pants were sticking to her legs and backside and felt constrictive. Her cosy, over-sized burnt orange knit jumper was heating her up beyond endurance. She thought about tugging it off, but space was limited, and she didn’t want to hit the passengers either side of her. To be honest she wasn’t altogether sure about her body odour levels either so lifting her arms up was certainly out of the question.

No, she would just have to sit still and hope the air conditioning would kick in soon. The plane was rolling out towards the runway. She’d have to take her mind off her discomfort and make the best of the situation. She glanced out the window to her left; it was after all her first flying experience. Nerves started to kick in as the plane picked up speed down the runway, and she gripped the armrest. Leilani didn’t imagine she’d be a nervous flyer. However, she gauged the speed of the plane trying to envisage the takeoff. She doubted that the plane would make it up into the sky. She closed her sore, swollen eyes shut and hoped for the best.

 

Renato would have possibly felt sympathetic towards the misfit woman clutching her armrest beside him in other circumstances. Instead, he raided his mind for exit options from the plan. The plan was air tight; he knew Vittorio would have ensured that. He always had and still did admire the man’s thoroughness, particularly with ruthless details, but damn the man to hell and back for putting him into this situation. He should have just let sleeping dogs lie. Although Vittorio hadn’t grown the company to the level that Renato had he still admired his adoptive father. The man had made himself from nothing.

Both Vittorio’s parents had died in a bomb blast back in nineteen forty-three when he was no more than three years of age. Vittorio had only one memory of his mother; he recalled a day where he was playing in the vegetable garden while his mother tended to the plants. Urgently his mother called out to him, “Tedeski, Tedeski,” and pushed him towards the house. The German’s were in the yard and from behind the cover of the curtains they saw the soldier remove his thick, woollen grey coat and toss it over one of their roaming chickens. With their loot in hand, the Germans left the property. Vittorio remembered his mother holding him tight the fear present in her grip.

After his parents had passed, his grandmother had dutifully raised him. He’d grown up during meagre times going to be often on an empty stomach. With determination in his veins, he vowed to her as a small boy that he would grow up and take care of her and true to his word he did just that. Vittorio turned his grandmother’s limoncello recipe and other flavour variations into a national success. He turned the Favalli name into a recognizable product across the country.

Vittorio cooked up batches of liqueur in his grandmother’s crumbling stone kitchen and sold the bottles at local markets on weekends. He tirelessly worked shifts producing parts for Alfa in Morcone, Naples during times when working conditions were harsh, pay was inadequate and hours were long. Vittorio didn’t complain he just set his sights high and forced his goals to fruition. The population boomed in Naples during the late sixties and early seventies. Vittorio gave up his market stalls in favour of supplying small businesses. Eventually with sales and profits up he was able to invest in a distillery of his own.

During the early eighties his unique flavour blends grew in popularity with the locals and over the coming years he was able to move into other regions of Italy and eventually sales were booming across the country. He did this despite the commonality for businesses to go down during these years particularly with the local Mafioso clans taking their cut of the sales regardless of whether a profit margin existed.

Whether Vittorio remained lucky or had some involvement with the mafia Renato would never know for sure. Based on Vittorio’s tenacity and survival instincts his gut told him it was the latter. Either way he would not judge as the man did what he needed to do to forge his wealth and provide for his family. Renato was blessed to have Vittorio raise him, and there wasn’t a day that he wasn’t conscious of whom Vittorio was or what might have become of him without the man. He had shaped and groomed Renato into the man he was today.

He knew that Vittorio was proud of his achievements and the fact that he’d taken their company to the top of the international ladder. Vittorio wasn’t overly demonstrative, in fact, Renato could not recall any hugs during his youth from either of his adoptive parents; instead during the perfunctory cheek kiss greeting Vittorio would simply squeeze his arm. A strongly gripped squeeze let him know that he was in favour. 

This latest discussion with the old man though had thrown him a curve ball. He looked at Leilani gripping her armrest and made his decision.

 

Leilani felt a large warm hand cover her own and continued to sit with her eyes squeezed shut. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt human contact notably that of a man. The contact felt reassuring, and she relaxed her hand slightly as his thumb began to move across the flesh of her skin. The soothing rhythm of his thumb was mesmerising, and she let herself sink into the pleasure of just feeling. She knew it wasn’t right to allow a perfect stranger to touch her, even if it was only on her hand, however, she didn’t want to open her eyes. She wondered what it would be like to have that strong masculine hand stroke further up her arm, his fingers feathering down the side of her face and neck or his grip pulling her body close to him.

What of his mouth, she fantasized. She wondered if it would be covered in stubble or better yet a freshly shaven fragrance. She wasn’t ready to face reality. He’d noticing her clutch of death on the arm rest and had probably taken pity on her. Leilani realized that she couldn’t even remember his appearance. She vaguely remembered a man standing to assist her with her luggage but couldn’t put a face to the passenger. She really should open her eyes.

“You can relax now. We are safely up in the air,” the voice startled Leilani out of her reverie coming so close to her ear. His tone was gravelly, and she felt the warmth of his breath tickle her face. Slowly she opened her eyes and blushing turned to face her neighbour.

His eyes were alive with amusement, and she blushed further. She looked into a pair of deep green-grey eyes. His features were masculine, a strong, straight nose, firm lips and a hint of stubble appearing on his olive sun bronzed skin. Further embarrassed she didn’t know which way to look and lowered her head only to have her sight filled with his slim grey suit fitted muscular clad legs that were trying to conform to the tight space provided. “Um, sorry I have never flown before. I guess I got a bit nervous,” she stammered out to the floor.

A flight attendant announced that it was safe to take seat belts off and move about the cabin. Leilani glanced to her left out the window and realised that they truly were up in the air. She wanted to get her e-reader out of her luggage case but was reluctant to draw any further attention to herself. Not that she should be worried about what anyone thought. Well, that was great in theory but with tall, dark and handsome sitting beside her she wouldn’t have minded a more glamorous version of herself. To be truthful the man sitting next to her didn’t look like he belonged in cattle class. His clothing reeked designer, and she wondered why a man who could afford such an outfit couldn’t afford to spring for better seating.

 

Renato watched her biting her plump bottom lip and wiggling about in her seat and took the time to think of his next actions. He knew next to nothing about her aside from the fact that she dressed appallingly, something that would need to change soon, and that she had never flown before. The way she had stammered her sentence, he wasn’t even sure if she could articulate all that well. It was looking like the journey was going to be much more painful than first anticipated.

Starting with the basics, “I’m Renato Favalli,” he introduced himself.

Thinking that he wouldn’t have any further interest in her she was unprepared for the introduction and yet again stammered out a response. “I, um, ah, am, ah, Leilani,” she responded. She wasn’t sure about giving out her last name. She was travelling alone and didn’t think it wise to disclose more.

“Pleased to meet you, Leilani?” he elongated the last syllable of her name, posing a question.

“Davide,” so much for anonymity, he’d barely probed and she’d given her full name.

“Are your heading to Hong Kong for some shopping?” he feigned ignorance.

“Ah, no I’m travelling on further to Rome.”

“My birth country looks like we are going to the same destination,” he continued to push the conversation.

Leilani wasn’t quite sure what to say next. To be honest as attractive as the man was she knew he was being polite. She was also suddenly exhausted. The manic trip to the airport and all the events leading up to the journey were finally catching up with her. She just wanted to shut her eyes and go to sleep.

 

Renato felt put out. Leilani hadn’t even raised an eyebrow when he mentioned his name that was a non-existent occurrence. Women usually fawned all over him at first sight whether they recognised him or not. Of course, once they realised who he was there was no stopping their orchestrations to get closer to him and more importantly his wealth. He was astute to the many manipulations and games that women played and deftly avoided their traps.

He wondered what kind of game she was playing. It was inconceivable that she wouldn’t recognise him. Her mother knew without the need of an introduction exactly who he was. Renato was regularly a feature in the tabloids on both the business front and the gossip columns. If she didn’t physically recognise him, then his self-introduction would surely have alerted her. However, she played the game of not knowing, and he was intrigued to find out why.

The silence yawned, and he glanced down at her. She’d once again closed her eyes, and Renato’s annoyance rose as he sat uncomfortably in the cramped space. The flight was nine and a half hours to Hong Kong with a few hours stop over before heading to Rome, which was a further twelve-hour flight. Surely the woman would not sleep the entire time.

Stewing, he watched her as she twisted into a more comfortable position. She turned towards him and curled her hands under her cheek to rest. He pressed the button on her seat and pushed her chair back into the slight recline position that was available. Within minutes, her head started to droop, and he seized the opportunity to rest her face on the side of his arm. He would take an interest in how she would wake up under these circumstances. It was certainly not beyond him to manipulate the situation to his advantage and with time limited he was seizing every opportunity.

Thirty minutes passed, and she had barely moved. He needed her awake to figure out what type of person she was. So far he did not think too highly of a woman who disregarded her appearance, allowed a stranger to touch her hand and then furthermore fell asleep on his shoulder. She was obviously a woman with loose morals. Possibly she wasn’t even asleep. The more he thought about it, the more likely he felt that she was up to something. It didn’t seem possible that anyone could sit back and fall asleep as suddenly as she had and why had she fallen on his shoulder and not towards the man seated on her left. Without a doubt, he knew why. His name, Renato Favalli, it was a strong magnet.

He listened to the rhythmic sound of her breathing. She was a good actress that was indisputable. About to stand up to shake things up a little he paused, he felt a drop of moisture running down his arm. There it was again, this time a small trickle. He looked down but could only see her messy brown hair. He nudged her gently, and she woke raising her face towards him. At that moment, he finally took note of her only redeeming quality. The finest pair of blue eyes he’d ever seen, and they were brimming with tears. Attempting to suppress them she squeezed her eyes shut momentarily. Bleak faced, she straightened herself upright and not uttering a word.

Renato unwillingly found himself drawn into the drama unfurling next to him. Her eyes had captured his attention. They were nearly enough to make him forget that the rest of her was a train wreck. Thinking of what to do next she finally spoke up.

“Ah, excuse me, do you mind if I go out into the aisle, please.”

“Not a problem,” he uncurled himself to his full height and stepped out of her way. Leilani scurried off with her tear stained cheeks and hideous outfit towards the back of the plane, and he sat back down to wait for her return. Nothing about this situation was going according to his intended plans. He needed to take control, and he needed to do so immediately. With take-off and Leilani’s nap time, nearly two hours had already passed. Regardless of her appearance he was going to make this woman his wife. He had less than twenty-three hours in which to spark her interest. Once they landed in Rome, he would be taking her with him. He had no time to be chasing and wooing a tourist as she frolicked around the countryside.

Renato sifted through his options. He could present a business proposal to her, a marriage of convenience. Being married to a billionaire should surely weigh up as a significant convenience. Not knowing her he had no knowledge of how she might react. He hadn’t received a slap on the face since his teenage years and even then he’d learnt quickly to avoid a repeat. He’d leave the proposition until closer to touching down in Rome. There was still plenty of time to figure out the situation. He was Renato Favalli; he would have the woman eating out of his hand before they landed in Rome, no make that Hong Kong.

BOOK: His Discarded Bride: Lied to from birth. Manipulated into marriage. Does love stand a chance?
10.98Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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