Lifted by that solid assurance, Belle’s spirits perked up. ‘Yes…Gaetano has left us in a pretty awkward position.’
‘Naturally, you’re referring to your financial situation. My father was most remiss in not making provision for you in the event of his death.’
‘Yes…but he did sign the house over to me,’ Belle pointed out, keen to sound like a loyal woman in Gaetano’s defence because she could not afford to let an ounce of her loathing for the man betray her true identity in his son’s presence.
Cristo went very still, allowing her to take in the faultless cut of the dark business suit he wore teamed with a bland white shirt and blue silk tie. His brows drew together in a frown. ‘Which house?’
‘The Lodge…he signed it over to me years ago to ensure that we would always have a home.’ Belle’s voice faltered slightly because he seemed so taken aback by the news, yet surely he should’ve known that already as the executor of the estate. ‘But bearing in mind the running costs and the children’s current needs I’ll probably be selling it now.’
‘Excuse me for a moment,’ Cristo urged, striding out of the room into the one next door and pulling out his phone to call his father’s lawyer, Robert Ludlow. If she owned part of the property, he should’ve been informed of the fact.
Robert’s initial disconcertion over Cristo’s query trailed away as he trawled through Gaetano’s files and then emerged with the facts of a minor legal agreement drawn up about fifteen years earlier, which Robert’s elder brother had apparently handled shortly before his retirement. Robert was volubly apologetic for the oversight. Brought up to date, Cristo was triumphantly aware that he knew something Mary Brophy did not appear to know. Under no circumstances would she be selling the Lodge.
Conscious that Cristo Ravelli clearly had not known about the ownership of the Lodge, Belle paced and wondered anxiously why he had not been aware of the fact. She was trying not to recall the fact that the solicitor who had dealt with her mother’s estate had found no paperwork confirming the older woman’s ownership. He had brushed off the matter and said he would look into it, and at the time Belle had had so many other things on her plate that she hadn’t pursued it.
Cristo strolled back into the drawing room with the lithe, unconscious grace of a male who was confident that he was in the strongest position. ‘I’m afraid you don’t own the Lodge,’ he spelt out softly, his Italian accent edging his vowel sounds.
‘That’s not possible,’ Belle countered, her chin rising in challenge. ‘Your father told me it was mine—’
‘But for your lifetime only, after which it reverts back to the Mayhill estate,’ Cristo qualified smoothly.
Suddenly Belle felt as if the ground below her feet had opened to swallow her up. ‘That’s not what Gaetano led me to believe.’
‘My father had a way with words and may have wished you to believe that you owned the Lodge but, in fact, you only have the use of it.’
A shot of rage flamed through Belle like a lightning strike. That hateful, manipulative man whom her wretched mother had loved! How could he have misled her like that over something so important? Hot colour sprang into her cheeks as she parted her dry lips. ‘And this right to live there while…er I am alive, does it devolve to the children after my…er death?’ she prompted sickly.
‘I’m afraid not.’ Cristo Ravelli gave her a specious smile of sympathy, which wouldn’t have fooled her in any mood, least of all the one she was in. ‘But to all intents and purposes, the Lodge does belong to you for the present. You can’t, of course, sell it, use it as security for a loan or indeed make any extensive alterations to it, but you do have the right to live there for as long as you wish.’
Belle had lost every scrap of her angry colour by the time he had finished speaking. It was appalling news, the very worst she could have heard. Her mother was dead and the right to live in the Lodge had died with her, which meant that Belle and her siblings were illegally occupying the house. Indeed, her pretence that she was her mother could be seen by some people as an attempt to defraud. She had taken their ability to live at the Lodge for granted, she registered, stricken. Now she was being punished for it because, in reality, they were about to be made homeless.
‘My father was very…astute with regard to money and property,’ Cristo murmured softly, watching her standing there, white with shock below the garish make-up, eyes wide and stunned by what he had revealed. ‘But I’m willing to find you another property and put it into your name.’
With difficulty, Belle struggled to concentrate. ‘And why would you be willing to do that?’
‘It will be easier to sell this estate without what would be…in effect…a sitting tenant in the Lodge,’ Cristo admitted.
‘That…’ Belle made a valiant attempt to swallow the massive surge of fury heating her to boiling point and utterly failed to hold it in. ‘That…bastard! How could he do that to his own children?’ she gasped.
‘My father wasn’t a sentimental man,’ Cristo said drily. ‘And he has left a mess in his wake. I have a proposition to put to you which could solve all your problems…’
Belle was rigid, furious that she had cursed Gaetano to Cristo’s face but unable to overcome the bitter resentment threatening to consume her like a living flame. He was so calm, so assured, so very much in control that she hated him with every fibre in her straining body.
Cristo watched her snatch in another audible breath, eyes green as emeralds in sunlight and literally alight with fury. She was highly volatile, a woman with strong emotions she couldn’t hide and everything he had always avoided in her sex. But she looked magnificent and the seductive shimmy of her lush rounded breasts below the silky blouse every time she moved was incredibly attention-grabbing.
‘Pro-proposition?’ Belle framed shakily, fighting like mad to maintain control over her temper. So, she’d had bad news and she was going to have to deal with it. She stared stonily back at Cristo, clashing with stunning dark eyes nailed to her with unsettling intensity. In the rushing silence that had fallen, her throat closed over and her mouth ran dry.
‘I want to ask you to consider the idea of having your children adopted,’ Cristo suggested quietly. ‘It would surely be best for them to leave their troubled and questionable parentage behind them and have the opportunity to live a normal life.’
‘I can’t believe you just said that to my face,’ Belle confided between gritted teeth of restraint.
‘I would make the sacrifice very well worth your while,’ Cristo continued evenly as if what he was suggesting were perfectly normal and acceptable. ‘M
y father should have ensured that you have a home and an income but since he hasn’t done it, I will take care of it instead.’
‘No decent mother would surrender her children for financial gain,’ Belle declared in a raw undertone while shooting him a look of scorn that he could even suggest otherwise. ‘What sort of women are you used to dealing with?’
‘That’s not your affair. I am not my father and I have no children,’ Cristo replied with cold dignity.