Книга - His Unexpected Legacy

His Unexpected Legacy
Chantelle Shaw


Every action has a reaction…Sergio Castellano is dealing with a scandal of epic proportions. An alleged engagement, the arrival of an ex-lover and a business deal in ruins. Throw into the mix a three-year-old son he never knew he had – he’s furious! Sergio will do everything in his power to keep his heir, but the longer he spends with the child and his ex-lover Kristen Russell the more he realises that the cracks she made in his armour are still there.Now, to get what he wants, Sergio must face the pain he’s kept at bay for so long…‘Another brilliant storyline from Chantelle, I can’t help but fall for her alpha-males every time!’ – Mary, Retired, Co. Durham www.chantelleshaw.com







Every action has a reaction…

Sergio Castellano is dealing with a scandal of epic proportions. An alleged engagement, the arrival of an ex-lover and a business deal in ruins. Throw in to the mix a three-year-old son he never knew he had? He’s furious!

Sergio will do everything in his power to keep his heir, but the longer he spends with the child and his ex-lover Kristen Russell, the more he realizes that the cracks she made in his armor are still there. Now to get what he wants, Sergio must face the pain he’s kept at bay for so long….




‘The house only has two bedrooms.’


‘Then I guess I’ll have to share with you.’

‘I’d rather share my bed with the devil,’ Kristen said tartly, desperate to disguise the ache of tears in her voice as she was overwhelmed by memories of the past.

Sergio’s brows rose. ‘I didn’t get that impression on Friday night.’

She flushed. ‘That was a mistake.’

‘In that case my experiment should reveal the truth.’

Kristen had not been aware of Sergio moving, but suddenly he was far too close for comfort. And as he reached behind her and cupped the nape of her neck she realised too late that she had walked into a trap.

‘Don’t…’ Her voice faltered as his head swooped and his warm breath feathered her lips.

‘I am about to prove that you are a little liar, cara,’ he threatened softly, before he stifled her protest by slanting his mouth over hers.


THE BOND OF BROTHERS

Bound by blood, separated by secrets

Dark, powerful and devastatingly handsome, the Castellano brothers have fought much to overcome their difficult childhood—but separation and secrets have left their scars.

Now these two men must ensure that their children do not inherit their painful legacy…

This month read Sergio’s story in:

HIS UNEXPECTED LEGACY

Read Salvatore’s story in

SECRETS OF A POWERFUL MAN November 2013


His Unexpected Legacy

Chantelle Shaw






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


CHANTELLE SHAW lives on the Kent coast, five minutes from the sea, and does much of her thinking about the characters in her books while walking on the beach. An avid reader from an early age, her school friends used to hide their books when she visited, but Chantelle would retreat into her own world, and still writes ‘stories’ in her head all the time.

Chantelle has been blissfully married to her own tall, dark and very patient hero for over twenty years, and has six children. She began to read Mills & Boon


as a teenager, and throughout the years of being a stay-at-home mum to her brood found romantic fiction helped her to stay sane!

Her aim is to write books that provide an element of escapism, fun, and of course romance for the countless women who juggle work and home life and who need their precious moments of ‘me’ time. She enjoys reading and writing about strong-willed, feisty women and even stronger-willed sexy heroes. Chantelle is at her happiest when writing. She is particularly inspired while cooking dinner, which unfortunately results in a lot of culinary disasters! She also loves gardening, taking her very badly behaved terrier for walks and eating chocolate (followed by more walking—at least the dog is slim!).

Recent titles by the same author:

CAPTIVE IN HIS CASTLE

AT DANTE’S SERVICE

THE GREEK’S ACQUISITION

BEHIND THE CASTELLO DOORS

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk


Contents

CHAPTER ONE (#ud6fbcb02-d109-58aa-b96d-9b9548a0eb48)

CHAPTER TWO (#u0beddeed-016f-5caa-84e6-696e0d0418c2)

CHAPTER THREE (#u6874ef98-a7e6-57dd-8f8f-ada589fe412b)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

EXCERPT (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE

EARL’S DAUGHTER BAGS Sicilian Billionaire!

The lurid tabloid headline caught Kristen’s attention as she hurried past the newspaper kiosk at Camden Town tube station. Maybe it was the word Sicilian that made her stop and buy a copy of the paper, although it did not cross her mind that the headline could be referring to Sergio. It was only when she had jammed herself into a packed train carriage and managed to unfold the paper that she saw his photograph—and for a few seconds her heart stopped beating. Conflicting emotions surged through her as she stared at the image of her son’s father. She had not expected Nico to bear such a strong resemblance to Sergio but the likeness between the three-year-old boy and the swarthy Sicilian was uncanny.

Kristen’s first instinct was to tear her eyes from the page but curiosity compelled her to study the photograph and the caption beneath it:



Lady Felicity Denholm was spotted with her new fiancé, Italian business tycoon Sergio Castellano, when the couple visited the London Palladium earlier this week.



The text beside the picture continued:



Earl Denholm is reported to be delighted that his youngest daughter is to marry one of Italy’s richest men. The Castellano Group owns a chain of luxury hotel and leisure complexes around the world. Sergio heads the property development side of the business, while his twin brother Salvatore runs the family’s world-famous vineyards at the Castellano estate in Sicily.



Wedged between a businessman wielding a large briefcase and a teenager wearing an enormous backpack, Kristen gripped the support rail as the train picked up speed. It was becoming something of a habit to learn of Sergio’s marriage plans in the press, she thought bitterly. She remembered how shocked and hurt she had felt four years ago when she had read about his engagement to a beautiful Sicilian woman, barely two months after their relationship had ended. Presumably his first marriage had not lasted long if he was now about to marry a member of the English aristocracy.

In the photograph Felicity Denholm was clinging to Sergio’s arm and wore the triumphant smile of a cat that had drunk all the cream, Kristen noted sourly. Sergio was even more stunningly good-looking than he had been four years ago. His black tuxedo moulded his broad shoulders and emphasised his powerful physique. But it was his face that trapped Kristen’s attention. Blessed with a perfectly chiselled bone-structure, his features were leaner than she remembered. Harder. And, although in the picture he was smiling, nothing could detract from the implacable resoluteness of his jaw.

He was a man who knew his own mind and who pursued his goals with ruthless determination, proclaimed his dark, curiously expressionless eyes. They appeared to be black, but Kristen knew that his eyes were actually the colour of bitter chocolate and could, on rare occasions, soften and invite you to drown in their depths.

Memories flooded her mind of the golden summer she had spent in Sicily four years ago. She had met Sergio soon after she had arrived and the attraction between them had been instant and electrifying. She remembered the first time he had kissed her. They had been talking and laughing together, when he had suddenly dipped his head and brushed his mouth across hers. Even now, the memory was so intense that her stomach clenched. The kiss had been so beautiful and she had realised at that moment that she was in love. Foolishly, she had believed that Sergio shared the sentiment, but for him she had simply been a fleeting diversion from his jet-setting lifestyle.

It was a relief when the train pulled into Tottenham Court Road station and she shoved the newspaper into her bag as she was swept along with the throng of commuters towards the escalator. But the leaden sensation in Kristen’s chest remained when she reached the street, and a few minutes later she walked through the doors of Fast-track Sports Physiotherapy Clinic and was greeted with a concerned look from her boss, Stephanie Bower.

‘I take it from your expression that Nico didn’t want to go to day-care again?’ Steph’s eyes narrowed on Kristen’s tense face. ‘Or are you ill? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘Actually, I’ve seen Nico’s father.’ The words spilled from Kristen before she could prevent them, the sense of shock that still gripped her causing her to abandon her usual reticence about her private life.

Steph emitted a low whistle. ‘No way? I thought you’d had no contact with him since Nico was born. Where did you see him?’ She stared at the newspaper Kristen handed her.

‘That’s him, Nico’s father,’ Kristen said flatly, pointing to the photo on the front page.

‘Sergio Castellano! You’re kidding, right?’ Steph’s eyebrows disappeared beneath her fringe when Kristen shook her head. ‘Jeez—you’re not kidding. But how on earth did you ever get mixed up with a drop-dead sexy, hotshot playboy? Not that I’m surprised,’ she added hastily. ‘Let’s face it, you’re a gorgeous blonde and you were bound to catch his attention. But you are a physiotherapist living in Camden and he’s a billionaire who likes to cruise around the Med on a luxury yacht the size of the QE2. Where did you meet him?’

‘In Sicily,’ Kristen sighed. ‘I’d taken a gap year from university to concentrate on trying to win a gold medal at the gymnastics world championships, but I had a bad bout of flu and fell behind with my training. My GP suggested I should go somewhere warm for a while to recuperate. My stepfather, who was also my coach, had a friend who owned a villa in Sicily which happened to have a gym. Alan rented the villa for six months, and he, Mum and I flew out there. But soon after we arrived my mum and stepdad had to return to England because Alan’s father had died unexpectedly.

‘I remained in Sicily.’ Kristen gave a rueful smile. ‘It was the first time I’d ever lived on my own. Even though I was studying at university, I still lived at home so that I could follow Alan’s strict training schedule. I loved gymnastics, but I had started to feel that it had taken over my life. I’d never even had a proper boyfriend. I guess that’s why I was swept off my feet by Sergio,’ she said heavily. ‘The Castellano estate was close to the villa where I was staying. I quite literally ran into Sergio one day on the beach and he was so sexy and charming that I was blown away by him. I couldn’t believe my luck that he seemed to be attracted to me.’

She grimaced. ‘I was very naïve. My stepfather was a dominant figure in my life and he was determined that I would be a top gymnast. I’d had a sheltered upbringing, but suddenly I was free from Alan’s influence and I rushed headlong into an affair with Sergio.’

Steph gave her a speculative look. ‘But at the end of the summer I suppose you had to return to England, and you came home with more than just a suntan,’ she murmured. ‘I assume you fell pregnant with Nico while you were in Sicily? Didn’t Castellano offer to support you when you told him you were expecting his baby? What a bastard, especially when he’s loaded...’

‘I didn’t tell him.’ Kristen interrupted Steph before she could launch into one of her feminist diatribes against the male species. Fresh from an acrimonious divorce after discovering that her husband who she had adored was a serial adulterer, Steph’s opinion of men was that they should all be boiled in oil.

‘Sergio doesn’t know about Nico. He made it very clear during our affair that he wasn’t looking for a committed relationship of any kind, and I knew when I found out I was pregnant that he wouldn’t be interested in his child.’

The full truth of what had happened four years ago was too complicated to explain, and too painful for Kristen to want to dwell on. Often when she looked at Nico she thought about the other baby she had lost and felt an ache of sadness. Forcing her mind from the past, she saw that Steph was concentrating on the newspaper article.

‘So Nico’s filthy-rich father is getting married to a spoiled socialite, and it says here that the couple will share their time between his home in Sicily, a luxury apartment in Rome and the multi-million pound house that Sergio is currently buying on Park Lane. That’s when he and the lovely Lady Felicity aren’t aboard his yacht or travelling on his private jet,’ Steph said sardonically. ‘Meanwhile you are struggling to bring up Castellano’s son alone, with no financial help. It’s outrageously unfair.’

Kristen shrugged. ‘I’m not struggling,’ she murmured, unaware of the weariness in her voice. The salary she earned as a physiotherapist covered her mortgage and bills, and although it was true that the cost of living seemed to have rocketed recently she was still able to provide Nico with everything he needed. ‘It’s true I can’t go mad with money, but who can at the moment?’

Steph dropped the newspaper onto her desk and gave Kristen a rueful look. ‘I know you’re finding things more difficult now that you have to pay childcare costs since your mum died. But I’m not just talking about the fact that you are struggling financially. You’re still grieving for Kathleen, and so is Nico. It’s the reason he’s been so clingy lately and why he cries every time you leave him at nursery.’

‘His nursery worker says he stops crying after I’ve gone,’ Kristen muttered tightly. She knew Steph was simply showing friendly concern, but she felt guilty enough about leaving Nico, and the sound of his sobs as she had walked out of the day-care centre this morning had made her feel as if her heart was being ripped out. ‘What do you suggest I do? I would love to stay at home with Nico like my mum did, but I’m a single mother and I have no choice but to go to work.’

‘I think you need to take a sabbatical,’ Steph said firmly. ‘I wouldn’t be saying this if I wasn’t so worried about you. Heaven knows, you’re a valuable member of staff. But I can see you’re close to the edge. You need to take a couple of months off while you try and come to terms with losing your mum, and so that you can be a full-time mum to Nico.’

Tears filled Kristen’s eyes as she thought of her mother. Kathleen had moved in with her when she’d given birth to Nico and had looked after him when Kristen had returned to work. The accident five months ago had been such a terrible shock. Kathleen had popped to the shops because they had run out of milk and been hit by a speeding car as she had crossed the road. She had been killed instantly, the policewoman who had broken the news had explained. Kristen was thankful that her mum hadn’t suffered, but Steph was right, she hadn’t come to terms with the tragedy and her grief was made worse because she knew that Nico desperately missed his beloved Nana.

She sighed. ‘It’s a nice idea, but I can’t give up work. I’d have to win the Lottery first.’

‘Here’s your ticket.’ Steph picked up the newspaper and jabbed her finger at Sergio’s handsome face. ‘It’s only fair that Nico’s father should take some responsibility for his son.’

‘No!’ Kristen said so fiercely that Steph gave her a curious look. ‘I told you, Sergio is unaware of Nico’s existence. And if he knew he had a child he wouldn’t want anything to do with him. I’m certainly not going to ask him for money.’

‘I’m not suggesting you demand a massive maintenance agreement,’ Steph argued. ‘You simply want a bit of financial help for a couple of months so that you can give Nico the care and attention he needs right now.’

‘My son is my responsibility,’ Kristen said in a tone that warned her friend to drop the subject. But she had to admit that Steph had made a valid point when she’d said that Nico was in need of extra care to help him deal with the loss of his grandmother. He might only be three years old, but Kristen didn’t underestimate his grief. Over the past few months he had grown pale and listless and his lack of appetite was worrying.

‘Give him time,’ Kristen’s GP had advised. ‘Nico gets upset when you leave him at nursery because he’s afraid, quite naturally under the circumstances, that you won’t come back. Gradually he will come to accept the death of his grandmother. All you can do is to give him plenty of love and reassurance.’

She would love to rent a cottage by the sea for the summer and take Nico away for a holiday, Kristen thought wistfully. But it was impossible. The mortgage on her house would not pay itself. She pushed thoughts of the past away and forced herself to concentrate on her appointments. In her job she treated patients with a wide variety of sport-related injuries and usually she found the work absorbing. But today the clinic dragged, and even during the Pilates class she ran later in the day her mind was distracted and for once she was glad when the session was over.

The Tube was as busy at the height of the evening rush-hour as it had been in the morning but luckily there were no delays on her line and she was on time to collect Nico. He was waiting with the other children, his eyes fixed on the door as the parents filed into the nursery, and the moment he caught sight of Kristen his face lit up with a smile that tugged on her heart.

‘Mummy!’ He hurtled across the room and into her arms.

‘Hello, Tiger. Have you had a nice day?’

Nico did not reply, but as Kristen lifted him up he linked his arms around her neck and pressed his face into her shoulder. His hair smelled of baby shampoo and felt like silk against her cheek. He was the most precious thing in her life and the intensity of her love for him brought a lump to her throat.

‘I missed you.’ Eyes as round and dark as chocolate buttons looked at her from beneath long, curling lashes. Nico’s eyes were the exact same shade as his father’s. The thought slid into Kristen’s mind as she recalled the photo in the paper of Sergio and she felt a knife blade pierce her heart.

‘I missed you too. But I bet you had a lovely time with all your friends,’ she said encouragingly. ‘Did you play in the sandpit with Sam?’

Nico stared at her solemnly. ‘Can we go home now?’

Kristen set him back on his feet. ‘Go and get your coat. We’ll stop off at the park, as long as you promise not to climb to the top of the climbing frame.’ A shudder ran through her at the memory of how he had fallen and been badly hurt on their last trip to the park. Sometimes she struggled to cope with Nico’s exuberance.

As he shot off across the room, she turned to speak to his play-worker, Lizzie. ‘How was he today?’

‘He’s been very withdrawn,’ the young woman admitted. ‘I tried to persuade him to join in with the activities but it’s obvious he’s missing his nana.’ She gave Kristen a sympathetic look. ‘This must be a difficult time for you and Nico. Perhaps, with the summer coming, you could take a holiday. I’m sure it would do you both good.’

There was only one way Kristen could take Nico on holiday, and that was to ask for financial help from his father. Back home at her tiny terraced house, she reread the newspaper article about Sergio’s engagement while she was cooking dinner.



It is expected that the couple will celebrate their engagement at a lavish party to be held tonight at the Hotel Royale in Bayswater, which was purchased by the Castellano Group a year ago and has undergone a one-hundred-million pound refurbishment.



If only there was a way she could speak to Sergio before the party. Kristen’s heart lurched at the prospect of revealing to him that he had a son. She glanced into the living room, expecting to find Nico watching TV, but he had picked up a framed photograph of Kathleen and was staring at it with a wistful expression on his face that made Kristen’s heart ache.

‘Come and have your dinner,’ she said softly.

‘I don’t want any, Mummy.’

If Nico’s appetite didn’t pick up soon she would have to take him back to the doctor, Kristen thought worriedly. She forced a smile. ‘Try and eat a little bit, and then I’ll tell you something exciting.’

She was rewarded with a flicker of interest in Nico’s chocolate button eyes as he ran into the kitchen and took his place at the table. ‘What’s ic-citing?’

‘Well, I’ve been thinking that it would be nice if I took some time off work so that we could have a holiday by the seaside. Would you like that?’

Nico’s wide smile was all the answer she needed. It brought home to Kristen that she hadn’t seen his cheeky grin for weeks and her heart broke at the thought of her little boy’s sadness. She would make Nico happy again, she vowed. She would do whatever it took to see him return to his usual sunny nature, and if that meant swallowing her pride and asking his billionaire playboy father for financial help it would be a small price to pay.

* * *

‘Honestly, I’ve no idea why the newspaper printed an article about us being engaged.’ Felicity Denholm met Sergio’s frown with a guileless smile. ‘I admit I told a journalist that you’re in London to finalise a business deal with my father, and I may have mentioned that you’re planning to host a party tonight, but that’s all I said.’

She perched on the edge of Sergio’s desk so that her skirt rode up her thighs and gave a tinkling laugh that grated on his nerves. ‘I can’t imagine where the story about us planning to get married came from, but you know how the paparazzi like to stretch the truth.’

‘In this instance there is not a shred of truth to stretch,’ Sergio bit out. His jaw hardened as he struggled to control his impatience. He disliked the media’s fascination with his private life and he fiercely resented the publication of a story that was pure fiction.

Felicity shook her glossy chestnut curls over her shoulders. ‘Well, we’ve moved in the same social circles while you have been in London, and we were photographed together the other night when we bumped into one another at the theatre. I suppose it’s understandable that the press believe there’s something going on between us.’ She shifted position so that her skirt rode higher up her thighs and leaned towards Sergio, an artful smile on her red-glossed lips. ‘It almost seems a pity to disappoint them, doesn’t it?’ she murmured.

Sergio’s eyes narrowed. Denholm’s daughter was an attractive package and he had briefly considered accepting her not very discreet offer to take her to bed. But he had a golden rule never to mix business with pleasure and he had been far more interested in persuading the Earl to sell a property portfolio that included several prime sites in central London than to satisfy his libido with the lovely but, he suspected, utterly self-centred Felicity.

He was sure it had not been purely coincidence that she had appeared at every party he had attended in recent weeks. Her topics of conversation might be limited to fashion and celebrity gossip but she had stalked him with extraordinary determination. It was even possible that Felicity had been following her father’s instructions, Sergio mused. The Earl was a wily character who had been forced to sell his property portfolio to pay for the costly upkeep of the family’s stately home. Perhaps Charles Denholm had hoped to regain control of his assets by promoting a marriage between his daughter and the Sicilian usurper to his crown.

Sergio was infuriated that he had no way of proving who had planted the engagement story in the paper. All day his temper had simmered while he had dealt with the speculation caused by the article, and the last straw had been a terse telephone conversation with his father, who had demanded to know why he had learned of his son’s plan to marry from a newspaper.

‘The story is just that—a figment of a journalist’s imagination,’ he told Tito. ‘If I ever decide to marry, you will be the first to know. But don’t hold your breath,’ he added sardonically.

His father immediately launched into a tirade about it being time Sergio packed in his playboy lifestyle, settled down with a nice Italian girl and, most importantly, produced an heir to continue the Castellano family line.

‘You already have an heir in your granddaughter.’ Sergio reminded his father of his brother Salvatore’s little daughter, Rosa.

‘Of course, but she cannot shoulder the responsibility of the company alone,’ Tito growled. ‘Salvatore is a widower and unlikely to have more children, and so I have to put all my hopes on you, Sergio.’

Sergio was aware of the unspoken message that he was a disappointment to Tito. But he would not pick a bride in the hope of winning the old man’s approval. It would be pointless anyway. They both knew he was not the favoured son. And he had no wish to marry. It amazed him that his father did not understand his attitude when Tito’s own marriage to Sergio’s mother had been a disaster that had ended in bitterness and hatred that had had lifelong consequences for him and his brother.

Dragging his mind from the dark place of his childhood, he jerked to his feet and moved away from the desk where Felicity was still artfully sprawled. He wondered why, despite her obvious charms, he didn’t feel a spark of interest in her. In truth, he was becoming bored of meaningless sex. But what other kind of sex was there? he brooded. He had no interest in relationships that demanded his emotional involvement. Work was his driving force, although deep down he acknowledged that his ruthless ambition was partly fuelled by a desire to prove to his father that he was as worthy a son as his twin brother.

In his leisure time, all he required from the women who shared his bed was physical gratification. So why had he been feeling restless lately? What was he searching for when he had everything he could possibly want?

‘I have demanded the paper prints an admission that the story is entirely untrue,’ he told Felicity. ‘I can only apologise for any embarrassment the article may have caused you. As you know, I am giving a party tonight to celebrate the completion of the business deal with your father. Members of the press have been invited, and I intend to make a statement to set the record straight about us.’

Felicity tilted her head and gave him a kittenish smile. ‘Or you could ravish me on your desk,’ she invited boldly. ‘And then, who knows—maybe it won’t be necessary for the newspaper to retract the story.’

Maybe he was old-fashioned but he preferred to do the chasing, Sergio thought as he strode across the room and held open the door. ‘An interesting proposition, but I’m afraid I must decline,’ he drawled.

The young Englishwoman flushed at his rejection and slid off the desk. ‘No wonder you’re known as the Ice-man,’ she muttered sulkily. ‘Everyone says you have a frozen heart.’

Sergio gave her a coolly amused smile that did not reach his eyes. ‘Everyone is right. But I have no intention of discussing my emotions, or lack of them, with you.’ He glanced at his watch and ushered Felicity out of his office. ‘And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do.’

* * *

The décor of the Hotel Royale was unashamedly opulent. Clearly the new owners, the Castellano Group, had spared no expense on the refurbishments and it was easy to see why the hotel had been awarded five-star status. The clientele were as glamorous as the surroundings, and as Kristen walked through the marble lobby she was conscious that her businesslike black skirt and white blouse were definitely not haute couture. It didn’t help that her feet were killing her. She was ruing her decision to wear a pair of three-inch stilettos that had been an impulse buy and had sat unworn at the back of her wardrobe for months.

Having made the decision to try and speak to Sergio, she had arranged for her neighbour to babysit Nico before she had caught the Tube to Bayswater. She half-expected the concierge to ask the reason for her visit but the reception area was busy and she walked past the front desk without anyone seeming to notice her. There was a good chance that Sergio would refuse to see her and so it seemed better to surprise him. The newspaper article had mentioned that he was staying in his private penthouse suite. As the lift whisked Kristen smoothly towards the top floor she could feel her heart beating painfully fast beneath her ribs.

It was a crazy idea to have come here, whispered a voice inside her head. Even if she managed to find Sergio, the prospect of telling him he had a son was daunting. She felt sick with nerves and when the lift doors opened she was tempted to remain inside and press the button for the ground floor. Only the memory of Nico’s excitement when she had promised to take him on holiday hardened her resolve to ask for financial help from Sergio.

She walked along numerous grey-carpeted corridors with a growing sense of despair that she did not have a clue where his private suite might be. Turning down another corridor, she was confronted with a set of double doors and a sign on the wall announced that she was outside the Princess Elizabeth Function Room.

A waiter emerged from a side door and, catching sight of Kristen, he thrust a tray filled with glasses into her hands. ‘Don’t just stand there,’ he said, sounding harassed. ‘They’re about to make a toast and some of the guests are still waiting for champagne.’

‘Oh, I’m not...’ she began to explain, but the waiter wasn’t listening as he opened the doors and practically pushed her into the room.

‘Hurry up. Mr Castellano is not happy that the party is running late.’

‘But...’ Kristen’s voice trailed off as the waiter hurried away. Glancing around the enormous function room, she realised that her outfit was almost identical to the waitresses’ uniform and it was easy to understand how she had been mistaken for a member of staff.

But at least she had found Sergio.

Her heart lurched as her eyes were drawn to the man at the far end of the room. His almost-black hair gleamed like raw silk beneath the blazing lights of the chandeliers. Taller than everyone circled around him and a hundred times more devastatingly handsome than the photo in the newspaper, it was not just his physical attributes that made him stand out from the crowd. Even from a distance, Kristen was conscious of his aura of power and charisma that made all other men seem diminished.

With his stunning looks, huge fortune and blatant virility, Sergio Castellano captured the attention of every woman in the room. But, although he smiled and exuded effortless charm, Kristen sensed a restless air about him. His dark eyes flicked around the room as if he was searching for someone. She caught her breath. He could not possibly know she was here, she reminded herself. And yet in Sicily their awareness of each other had been so acute that they had sensed each other’s presence across a crowded room, she remembered.

She watched a woman walk up to him and recognised her as the woman from the paper, Lady Felicity something-or-other. The woman he was planning to marry. The sensation of a knife-blade being thrust between her ribs made Kristen catch her breath. Four years ago Sergio had broken her heart but after all this time she had not anticipated that seeing him again would be so agonising.

He stepped onto a raised platform where a microphone had been set up. Kristen guessed he was about to announce his engagement to Felicity and she was unprepared for the violent feeling of possessiveness that swept through her. For years she had tried to forget Sergio because she had believed he was married to his Sicilian bride. But here he was, about to reveal his plans to marry another woman, while she was struggling to bring up his son on her own.

‘Ladies and gentlemen—’ Sergio’s gravelly voice filled the room, and an expectant hush descended over the guests ‘—as you are aware, tonight’s party is to celebrate the Castellano Group’s acquisition of an extensive portfolio of properties from Earl Denholm. Following an article in a certain daily newspaper, there is another matter I would like to address regarding Lady Felicity Denholm and myself...’

‘No! You can’t marry her!’

The words tumbled from Kristen’s mouth before she could stop them. Her voice sounded deafeningly loud in the silent room and she felt her face burn as the party guests all turned to look at her. She swallowed as Sergio jerked his head in her direction. Even across the distance of the room, she sensed his shock as he recognised her.

‘Kristen?’

The husky way he spoke her name, the slight accent on the first syllable, touched something deep inside her. Her eyes locked with his and she felt the same inexplicable connection she had felt the very first time she had seen him. But when they had met on a Sicilian beach Sergio had smiled at her. Now, his shocked expression was rapidly changing to anger—which was hardly surprising when she had just ruined his engagement party, Kristen thought ruefully.

Dear heaven, what had she done? But it was too late to backtrack now.

‘It...it isn’t right,’ she faltered. ‘You have responsibilities...you have...’ Her nerve failed her. She could not reveal to Sergio that he had a son when he was staring at her with a coldly arrogant expression that froze her blood.

‘What are you doing here?’ His voice sounded like the crack of a whip and jerked Kristen from her state of stunned immobility. She became aware of the startled faces of the guests around her and felt sick as the magnitude of what she had done hit her. She shouldn’t have come and she had to leave, immediately.

She thrust the tray of drinks into the hands of one of the guests and ran across to the double doors just as they opened to allow several waiters bearing trays of canapés to file into the room.

‘Stop her!’

The harsh command filled Kristen with panic. A security guard stepped in front of her, blocking her path, and she gave a startled cry as a hand settled heavily on her shoulder and spun her around. She stumbled in her high heeled shoes and fell against Sergio’s broad chest.

He stared down at her, his dark eyes blazing with fury. ‘What the hell is going on?’

As she stared at his handsome face, the words of apology died on Kristen’s lips and her brain stopped functioning. But her senses went into overdrive. The feel of his hand on her shoulder seemed to burn through her thin blouse and the close proximity of their bodies caused her heart to slam against her ribcage. For timeless moments the voices of the guests faded and there was just her and Sergio alone in the universe.

The anger in his eyes turned to curiosity and something else that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. An electrical current seemed to arc between them and Kristen felt heat surge through her body. But then a flashlight flared, half-blinding her, and when Sergio came back into focus his expression was once more furious.

His fingers gripped her shoulder so tightly that she winced. ‘Dio, the press are going to love this,’ he said bitterly.

The press! The flashbulbs suddenly made sense. Kristen stared wildly at the flank of photographers who were circling her and Sergio. No doubt the journalists were eager to know why she had interrupted him just as he had been about to announce his engagement. ‘Oh, God,’ she muttered and, with a strength born of desperation, she tore free from Sergio’s hold and shot past the security guard, out into the corridor.

With one of their quarry gone, the journalists crowded around Sergio. ‘Mr Castellano, do you want to make a statement?’

‘No, I damned well don’t,’ Sergio growled savagely. What he wanted to do was race after Kristen and find out what she was playing at. He had hardly been able to believe his eyes when he had looked across the ballroom and seen her, and one part of his mind had instantly registered that she was even lovelier than his memory of her.

Enzo, his PR man, appeared beside him and for once the usually unflappable manager looked shaken.

‘I think you should say something and explain the situation,’ Enzo advised in an undertone meant for Sergio’s hearing only. ‘Earl Denholm seems to think that you have humiliated his daughter by ending your engagement to her in public, and he’s threatening to call off the deal.’

‘Santa Madonna! There was no damned engagement. I assumed Felicity had made that clear to her father.’ Sergio’s nostrils flared as he struggled to control his temper. He had no wish to talk to the press, but if the deal with Denholm was about to blow up in his face he realised he had no choice.

He spun back round to the journalists, his face now expressionless as he controlled his anger. ‘There has been a misunderstanding. Miss Denholm and I are not engaged...’

A microphone was shoved at him. ‘Has she called it off because she found out about your mistress?’

‘Who is the mystery blonde who just left?’

‘Are you planning to marry the waitress?’

Sergio’s patience snapped. ‘I’m not planning to marry anyone—ever.’ He glanced at his PR man. ‘Enzo, I’ll leave you to deal with this—while I deal with the “mystery blonde”,’ he said with grim irony, and strode out of the function room.


CHAPTER TWO

WHERE THE HELL was she? Sergio stared up and down the empty corridor before turning left out of the function room. His instincts proved correct as he walked swiftly and turned a corner to see a petite blonde-haired figure at the far end of the passageway.

He was rarely surprised by anything, but tonight he had received a shock that was still causing his heart to thud unevenly. He had seen a ghost from his past, although Kristen Russell—for all her ethereal beauty—was no spectre from the spirit world. She was very real, albeit a woman now rather than the innocent girl he had known four years ago.

An unbidden memory came to him of the first time he had made love to her. It had been a new experience for both of them, he thought wryly. He had been shocked to discover she was a virgin. Before he had met her, and after their relationship had ended, his numerous affairs had been with women whose sexual experience matched his own. It was true that his affair with Kristen had been different from any of his previous relationships, but ultimately it had ended for the same reason his affairs always ended—she had wanted more from him than he could give. When she had left him, he had let her go, knowing there was no point trying to explain his bone-deep mistrust of emotional commitment.

Psychologists would no doubt blame his childhood and in particular his mother as a reason for his inability to connect with women on a deep level. Sergio’s mouth curved into a derisive smile. Maybe the shrinks were right. As a child he had taught himself to block out pain—both mental and physical—until nothing could hurt him. It was a trait he had continued as an adult and his freedom from emotional distractions gave him an edge over his business rivals and had earned him a reputation for ruthlessness in the boardroom.

Yet he admitted that he had missed Kristen, and for a while after she had returned to England he had been tempted to follow her and re-ignite the fiery passion that he had never felt so intensely for any other woman. He had resisted because nothing had changed. He could not be the man she wanted. And then there had been Annamaria, and for the only time ever in his life his actions had been driven by love. The cruelty of her untimely death had served as a reminder that even he could not freeze his emotions completely.

Sergio forced his mind from the past and continued his pursuit of Kristen along the corridor which led only to his private suite. She was clearly finding it difficult to keep up a fast pace in her high-heeled shoes and her hips swayed, causing her tightly clad derrière to bob tantalisingly in front of his eyes.

His footsteps were muffled by the thick carpet, but Kristen must have sensed someone was behind her because she glanced over her shoulder and gave an audible gasp when she saw him.

‘If you’re looking for the way out, you won’t find it along here,’ he told her curtly.

Kristen froze and, realising the futility of continuing along the corridor that appeared to be a dead end, she slowly turned to face the man who had haunted her dreams for so long. Sergio had caught up with her and was standing so close that she breathed in the sensual musk of his cologne. He towered above her, a darkly beautiful fallen angel in black tailored trousers and matching silk shirt. Her eyes darted to his face, and she caught her breath as she felt a kick of sexual awareness in the pit of her stomach. The faint shadow of black stubble on his jaw accentuated his raw masculinity and the curve of his wide mouth promised heaven. But it was his eyes that trapped her gaze, as dark and sensuous as molten chocolate, framed by lush black lashes.

Once, a long time ago, his eyes had held warmth, desire. But now his expression was cold and she sensed his anger was tightly controlled.

‘Besides, it’s pointless to look for the exit,’ he said in a dangerously soft voice. ‘You won’t be going anywhere until you’ve explained what in God’s name is going on.’

‘I’m sorry I interrupted your party,’ she said frantically. ‘It was a stupid thing to do.’ She hesitated, feeling guilty for the trouble she must have caused. ‘I...I hope Miss Denholm isn’t too upset.’

He gave a dismissive shrug. ‘She is not important.’

Kristen was shocked by his careless dismissal of his fiancée. ‘How can you regard announcing your intention to marry as unimportant?’ She gave him a disgusted look. ‘Although it’s not the first time you’ve got engaged so I suppose it might seem boring.’

Sergio’s eyes narrowed at her sarcastic tone. ‘What do you mean?’

Four years of hurt and anger exploded from Kristen. ‘You didn’t waste much time replacing me in your bed, did you?’ she said bitterly. ‘I heard that you’d got engaged to a Sicilian woman soon after we broke up. That’s why I didn’t...’

‘Didn’t what?’ he prompted when she broke off abruptly.

‘It...it doesn’t matter.’

She tore her eyes from his face. The reason she had not contacted him to tell him she was pregnant after she had left Sicily was not only because she had learned of his intention to marry another woman. She had been certain he would not be interested in the child she had conceived by him, and now she questioned why she had considered asking him for financial support for his son.

But surely it was fair that Sergio should take some responsibility for Nico? The voice of reason inside her head refused to be ignored. She had made the decision to ask him for financial help for Nico, and now that they were alone she had the perfect opportunity. Taking a deep breath, she said quickly, ‘I was wondering if I could speak to you?’

‘Certainly,’ he drawled sardonically. ‘I’m fascinated to hear why you gatecrashed my party. And after you’ve explained yourself to me, you can give a statement to the press.

‘Dio!’ His tenuous control over his temper cracked. ‘Have you any idea of the furore you’ve caused? Because of you, my business deal is about to go down the pan.’

So he regarded his engagement to Lady Felicity as a business deal! Kristen shook her head. She had known that Sergio was hard but, even so, she was shocked by the proof of his complete lack of emotion. She must have been mad to think he would agree to give financial assistance for Nico.

‘Actually, forget it,’ she muttered. ‘There’s no point in me talking to you.’ She tried to walk past him but his hand shot out and gripped her shoulder. Panic sharpened her voice. ‘Will you please let me go?’

‘You must be joking,’ Sergio said grimly. ‘Our conversation hasn’t even started. Come into my suite so that we can be assured of privacy.’

It was an order rather than an invitation and, before Kristen could argue, he opened the door and steered her into an elegant sitting room. But she barely noticed the décor. The feeling that she had walked into a trap intensified when Sergio closed the door and her vivid imagination pictured her as a fly caught in a spider’s web, with no chance of escape.

‘Take a seat,’ he commanded, waving his hand towards the large sofa in the centre of the room.

Kristen remained standing just inside the door, tension emanating from every pore. Sergio frowned as it occurred to him that she looked nervous. Hell, he had every right to be angry with her, he assured himself as he recalled the scene in the function room. But the possibility that she was afraid of him made him uncomfortable. He raked his hand through his hair. As he stared at her, an image flashed into his mind of her ravaged, tear-stained face at the hospital in Sicily. She had been devastated by what had happened, but soon afterwards she had returned to England and he didn’t know if she had coped okay. He should have phoned her to see how she was, his conscience pricked. But at the time it had seemed better to make a clean break, and if he was honest his pride had been hurt by her decision to leave him.

‘How are you?’ he asked gruffly.

She looked surprised by his softer tone. ‘I’m fine...thank you.’

‘It’s been a long time since we last saw one another.’ Irritated with himself for his uncharacteristic lack of savoir faire, Sergio stalked over to the bar. ‘Would you like a drink?’

There was a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and, without waiting for her to reply, he popped the cork, filled two tall flutes and held one out to her. With obvious reluctance, she crossed the room and took the glass from him.

‘To old acquaintances, or perhaps I should make that to unexpected visitors,’ he said drily. ‘Why did you interrupt my party, Kristen?’

Kristen took a gulp of champagne and felt the sensation of bubbles bursting on her tongue. ‘I’ve already told you that I wanted to talk to you...about something important.’ She bit her lip, finding it impossible to utter the statement, By the way, you have a three-year-old child who you’ve never met.

Sergio nodded towards the sofa. ‘In that case, you had better sit down.’

Sitting seemed the safest option when her legs felt like jelly. Kristen sat, and immediately sank into the soft cushions. She tensed when he sat down next to her and stretched his long legs out in front of him. He extended his arm along the back of the sofa and she couldn’t restrain the little quiver that ran down her spine as she imagined his long, tanned fingers stroking her exposed nape where her hair was swept up into a chignon.

An awkward silence fell until he said abruptly, ‘So, what did you want to talk to me about?’

Kristen’s heart missed a beat and, to steady her nerves, she took another gulp of champagne.

‘I...’ While she was searching for the right words she made the mistake of looking at him, and whatever she had been about to say died on her tongue when she discovered that he was looking at her in a way that convinced her he was remembering her naked. The bold glitter in his eyes was inappropriate and outrageous, but the damning heat in her breasts as they swelled and strained against her suddenly too-tight bra was even more shocking.

‘As you probably know, the Castellano Group owns many hotels around the world,’ Sergio was saying. ‘Staff issues would normally be dealt with by the Hotel Royale’s manager, but I will try to be of help.’ He frowned. ‘I admit I am puzzled to find you working as a waitress, Kristen. As I recall, you left me to return to university and finish your studies.’

For a few seconds Kristen stared at him blankly, before realisation dawned that he had mistaken her for a waitress. She glanced down at the plain black skirt she had bought to wear to her mother’s funeral. As far as Sergio was aware, there was no other reason why she would have been at his private party.

He made the past sound so black and white, she thought bitterly. It was true she had left him to go back to university, but only because he had made it clear that in the long-term there was no place for her in his life. His offer for her to be his temporary mistress had not been enough to persuade her to give up everything she had worked for.

She darted a glance at his hard-boned face. There was no point in raking over the cold embers of their relationship. Everything had been said four years ago. Sergio had wanted her, but only on his terms. As much as she had loved him, she had been angry at his refusal to make compromises and ultimately his intransigence had been proof that he had not cared about her.

Sitting beside Kristen, Sergio inhaled the light floral fragrance of her perfume and he felt a sharp stab of desire. He tried to remind himself of the reason he had brought her to his suite. She owed him an explanation for the fiasco in the function room and he was determined to discover the reason she had interrupted the party. But, as he glanced at her and their eyes met, he was finding it hard to think about anything other than the fact that she was even more desirable than she had been four years ago.

Kristen stiffened when Sergio stretched out his hand and brushed a stray tendril of hair off her cheek.

‘You are even more beautiful than I remember.’ His deep voice caressed her senses like rough velvet. ‘Your eyes are the bright blue of a summer sky and your hair is the colour of ripe corn.’

From any other man the statement would have sounded corny, but Sergio’s sexy accent turned the words to poetry. It would be too easy to drown in the molten warmth of his eyes, to fall beneath his spell. Kristen trembled with anger, yet she could not deny the savage, shameful excitement that shot through her. At the party Sergio had been about to announce his engagement to another woman. How dared he now turn his effortless charm on her?

Determined to appear composed, even though she felt anything but, she finished her champagne and hoped he didn’t notice her hand was shaking as she placed her glass on the coffee table. ‘I should leave,’ she said curtly. ‘I’m sure Miss Denholm would be devastated if she knew you had invited me into your suite to...to...’

‘To what, cara?’ he drawled. ‘You asked to speak to me and I simply agreed to your request.’

‘You were flirting with me,’ she snapped, stung by the amusement in his voice. ‘You had no right to call me beautiful.’

‘Why not, when it’s the truth?’

Sergio stared at the pulse jerking at the base of Kristen’s throat before returning to linger on her mouth, and watched as she moistened her lower lip with the tip of her tongue. The anger he had felt earlier had been replaced with a primitive desire he could not control. She was as tightly wound as a coiled spring and he could almost taste the sexual awareness in the air. Four years was a long time and he had had plenty of other women since Kristen. But none had made his gut twist with raw need like she had done. Like she still did.

His senses were so finely tuned to her that he knew she was going to jump up from the sofa and, before she had time to move, he caught hold of her wrist and forced her to remain seated.

‘Let go of me!’ She was breathing hard, drawing his eyes to the thrust of her breasts beneath her high-necked blouse. There was something very tantalising about the row of tiny buttons that were fastened right up to her throat. He would never have the patience to unfasten each one, Sergio thought, sexual hunger corkscrewing through him as a memory came into his mind of her small, pale breasts with their rosy tips.

‘You are despicable,’ Kristen told him hotly. ‘You’re meant to be hosting a party to celebrate your engagement to a beautiful debutante.’

In truth, Kristen had forgotten about the party, but now guilt joined the gamut of emotions churning inside her. She knew full well that Sergio’s emotions were a barren wasteland, but presumably Felicity Denholm was under the illusion that he cared for her. ‘That poor woman...’

‘I’d save your sympathy if I were you,’ Sergio said drily. ‘Don’t believe everything you read in the gutter press. The engagement story was pure fabrication.’

Kristen swallowed. ‘You mean you’re not going to marry Lady Felicity?’

‘You know my feelings about marriage, cara.’

Oh yes, Kristen knew. He had voiced his opinion of marriage loud and clear when they had been together, which had made his decision to marry a Sicilian woman with almost indecent haste after they had broken up all the more hurtful. She closed her eyes against the image in her mind of Sergio and his beautiful dark-haired fiancée. When she had seen the photograph of them in a magazine a few months after she had left Sicily, she had felt sick to her stomach.

Something fluttered against her cheek and she lifted her lashes to find Sergio’s face so close to her that she could see the tiny lines fanning around his eyes. The brush of his fingertips across her skin was as soft as gossamer yet she felt as though his touch had branded her.

‘What is the real reason you sought my attention tonight?’

Sergio was aware that his voice was not quite steady, but the shock of Kristen’s appearance was having a strong effect on him. In the ballroom he had been conscious of a prickling sensation on the back of his neck as he’d been about to address the party guests. He had felt an inexplicable sense of anticipation as he had scanned the room, but he hadn’t noticed Kristen until she had spoken.

‘First you interrupted the party and then you ran away from me, knowing, I am sure, that I would follow.’

This was the moment to tell him about Nico. Only the words were trapped in her throat, as if some primitive instinct she did not understand warned her to keep her son’s existence a secret. It was not a conscious decision. At that moment Kristen was incapable of logical thought. She felt light-headed, and it belatedly occurred to her that she had been too on edge about meeting Sergio to eat any dinner. Drinking a glass of champagne on an empty stomach had been foolish. It must be the effect of the alcohol that was making her heart race, she told herself. The dizzy sensation had nothing to do with the fact that Sergio had lowered his head so that she could feel his warm breath whisper across her lips.

‘Was this the reason you wanted to see me, mia bella?’ he demanded.

Her denial died on her lips, or rather it was crushed beneath Sergio’s lips as he slanted his mouth over hers and claimed her with the arrogance of a tribal chieftain intent on proving his dominance.

The kiss was hot and hungry, demanding a response from Kristen that, heaven help her, she could not deny, although at first she tried. Her common sense made a last ditch attempt to pull her back from the brink of insanity and gave her the strength of will to clamp her lips together while she tried to push him away. But he was too strong for her to fight him when the ache in her heart was so desperate to be healed.

Sergio traced the determined line of her lips with his tongue, tempting her, teasing her until her lips were no longer firm but soft and pliant. Her breath escaped on a soft gasp as she opened her mouth for him, and he made a gruff sound of pleasure that tugged on her heart. She had never been able to resist him, Kristen acknowledged ruefully. Four years ago she had sensed the loneliness inside him that he took such care to hide and she had responded to it as she did now, with tenderness as well as passion.

Sensing Kristen’s capitulation, Sergio gave a growl of triumph. But suddenly they were no longer locked in a battle of wills as the tenor of the kiss subtly altered and became deeper and more intense. The empty years melted away, leaving a scorching desire that had never been doused. When he finally lifted his head, he stared down at her lips—crushed like rose petals after a rain storm—and his eyes glittered.

‘For four years you have been in my blood.’

His words sounded almost like an accusation and snapped Kristen back to reality.

‘Even while you were married?’ she said bitterly. ‘If so, then you betrayed your wife as well as me.’ A sickening thought struck her. ‘Are you still married?’

His expression was unreadable. ‘No.’

He offered no explanation of why his first marriage had ended. It was none of her business, Kristen reminded herself. It had been over between her and Sergio a long time ago and it was time to let go of the past. She bitterly regretted coming to his hotel and she had changed her mind about asking him for financial help. Nico was her responsibility.

‘You look tired,’ he murmured. ‘I hope you are not working too hard at the hotel?’

The unexpected softness of Sergio’s tone caught Kristen unprepared, and her eyes flew to his face. She flushed when she realised that he still believed she was employed as a waitress at his hotel, but the truth was impossible to explain when she was drowning in his midnight-dark gaze.

She snatched a shallow breath as he lifted his hand and released the clasp that secured her chignon so that her heavy mass of hair uncoiled to midway down her back.

‘I’m glad you did not cut it,’ Sergio murmured, threading his fingers through the curtain of gold silk.

No way would she admit that she had kept her long hair because he had loved it. It had been easier for Kristen to assure herself that she eschewed having a more complicated style because she could not afford expensive trips to a hair salon.

She tore her eyes from him. ‘I should go.’ Her composure was balanced on a knife-edge. So why didn’t she stand up and walk over to the door? He was still holding her wrist, not tightly, but the rhythmic brush of his thumb pad over her pulse point was seductive, heating her skin, her blood, her desire.

‘It’s still there, isn’t it, cara?’ His husky voice scraped across her sensitive nerve-endings. ‘All it took was one look across a crowded room and the fire burned for both of us.’

It had been the same the very first time he had seen her on the private beach belonging to the Castellano estate, Sergio remembered. He had been furious when he had spotted a trespasser, but when he had caught up with the young woman his anger had died. With her peaches and cream complexion, corn-gold hair and eyes as blue as the sky, she had reminded him of an exquisite doll. But then she had smiled and he had seen that she was a living, breathing, beautiful woman.

She was even more beautiful now, he acknowledged. But the faint purple smudges beneath her eyes gave her a vulnerable air that filled him with irrational anger. If she had remained as his mistress in Sicily he would have ensured that she was financially secure when he had tired of her. Instead she had chosen her independence, but it had not got her far if her cheaply made clothes were anything to go by. She would look stunning in beautifully designed clothes that flattered her slender figure. In his mind he pictured her wearing silk dresses and lace negligees that would glide over her satiny skin as he undressed her.

Why not rekindle the flame? he asked himself. It was not his usual practice to revisit the past. In his experience, by the time an affair ended it was as stale as old toast and nothing could revive his interest. But his interest in Kristen had never completely faded. The sizzling chemistry between them was so hot it was in danger of combusting and proved that there was unfinished business between them.

Kristen was perched on the very edge of the sofa, as tense and watchful as a nervous gazelle poised to flee. But she had not pulled her wrist from his grasp, and when he glanced at her she swept her long lashes down a fraction too late to hide the hunger in her eyes.

‘Tesoro...’ he murmured.

‘Don’t!’ The endearment felt like an arrow through Kristen’s heart. She jerked to her feet but stumbled on her high heels and fell against Sergio as he leapt up and caught her in his arms. ‘Let me go.’ It was a cry from her soul, but he ignored the husky plea and swept her against him, tangling one hand in her hair as he lowered his head and captured her soft, tremulous mouth.

His second kiss was deeper and sweeter than the first, drugging Kristen’s senses and breaking through her defences so that she sagged against him while he worked his magic. She could hear her blood thundering in her ears, and when she laid her hands on his chest she could feel his heart beating with the same frantic rhythm as her own. The realisation that she had such a strong effect on him was somehow comforting, and with a low moan she slid her hands to his shoulders and kissed him with all the wild passion that had been locked inside her since they had parted.

This was madness. Kristen’s mind whirled as the walls of the room spun when Sergio lifted her into his arms. She knew she should stop him, especially when she opened her eyes and discovered that he had carried her into his bedroom. The sight of a vast bed draped with a black satin bedspread should have rung alarm bells in her head. But when he sank down onto the mattress, still cradling her in his arms, and sought her mouth once more, it seemed so right and so natural to part her lips and allow his tongue to probe between them in an erotic exploration that stole her breath.

How many nights had she dreamed of Sergio making love to her? Kristen wasn’t sure if this was really happening. It seemed impossible that her most intimate fantasies were coming true, but as his mouth plundered her lips, demanding her ever more passionate response, everything faded and there was just this man and this moment in time when the universe stopped.


CHAPTER THREE

‘LA MIA BELLA Kristen!’ Sergio murmured huskily.

The unexpected tenderness in his voice drove the lingering doubts from Kristen’s mind. He had called her his beautiful Kristen and the fire in his eyes, the hard glitter of sexual need that he made no attempt to hide, made her feel beautiful. Caught up in a dream world, he was the only reality and she clung to him, curling her arms around his neck to prevent him from lifting his mouth from hers. His dark hair felt like silk as she shaped his skull with her fingertips, and when she moved her hand to his jaw the faint shadow of growth felt abrasive against her palm.

His hands were equally busy tracing restlessly over her arms, shoulders, the length of her spine, as if he was reacquainting himself with her body by touch. When he stroked his fingertips lightly across her breasts the sensation was so intense that she could not hold back a soft cry of pleasure. It had been so long since she had felt the sweet stirring of sexual desire but now it coursed through her veins, heating her blood so that her cheeks grew flushed and she felt boneless and utterly wanton.

Somehow, without realising that they had moved, Kristen found herself lying flat on her back and Sergio was tugging at the buttons on her blouse.

He cursed. ‘The patience of a saint is required to undo these damned things. And I have never professed to piety,’ he growled as he gripped the hem of her blouse and pushed it up to her neck.

Her bra was made of sheer, stretchy material that offered no resistance when Sergio tugged the cups down to expose her naked breasts. As far as Kristen was concerned her small breasts had never been her best feature, but his breath hissed between his teeth as he stared down at her. ‘Your body is perfetto,’ he said thickly. He touched her nipples delicately, almost reverently, creating starbursts of pleasure that grew stronger as he rolled the tight nubs between his fingers until they were as hard as pebbles.

A fiery path shot down Kristen’s body and unerringly found the heart of her femininity. She felt the moistness between her legs and squeezed her thighs together to try to ease the ache of need that throbbed insistently there. Her nipples felt hot and swollen from Sergio’s ministrations, and when he replaced his fingers with his mouth and laved each rosy peak with his tongue she gasped in delight at the magic he was creating, and felt herself sinking deeper into a swirling black vortex of pleasure.

He kissed her mouth again, a hard, fierce kiss that lacked his earlier tenderness as raw, primitive need took over and set its own urgent demands. Kristen recognised Sergio’s hunger and shared it. He was her man, her master, and her body was impatient to feel him inside her. Her fingers scrabbled with his shirt buttons and a tremor ran through her when she parted the silk and skimmed her hands over his naked torso, revelling in the feel of his satiny skin that gleamed olive-gold in the lamplight.

His chest was covered in whorls of dark hair that arrowed over his flat abdomen and disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers. She trailed her fingertips down his body and caught her breath when she felt the swollen length of his arousal. A memory of his powerful manhood driving into her was almost enough to make her come before he had even touched her intimately, and he must have sensed her desperation for he groaned something in a harsh tone as he caught hold of the hem of her skirt and shoved it up to her waist.

Kristen wished she was wearing prettier underwear rather than a pair of plain white briefs and nude-coloured tights that were surely a passion-killer. But of course she hadn’t dressed for her meeting with Sergio with seduction in mind. Reality made an unwelcome reappearance into her dream world, and she froze. Was she mad? For the past four years she had schooled herself to believe that she was over Sergio and he meant nothing to her, but within an hour of meeting him again she was lying half-naked on his bed and he was about to...

What he was about to do became very clear as he knelt above her and undid his zip. Kristen’s heart lodged in her throat as she watched him drag his trousers and boxers down his thighs to reveal his massive erection. His body was magnificent, a powerhouse of muscle and sinew that at this moment was primed to give and receive sexual pleasure.

Apprehension and doubt faded as she sank back into her dream world. Reality had no place here tonight. This was one stolen night of pleasure to repay her for all the lonely nights when she had huddled in bed, dry-eyed because the ache inside her went too deep for tears. Sergio’s desire for her, the proof of which was jabbing impatiently between her legs, made her feel like the carefree girl she had been when she had met him. Making love with him then had been uncomplicated—passion in its purest form—without the baggage of hopes and expectations that had come later.

‘Cara, it has to be now,’ Sergio groaned. Dull colour seared along his razor-edge cheekbones. ‘You unman me,’ he said harshly. ‘You are the only woman to ever make me lose control.’

Good, Kristen wanted to tell him. You are the only man, full stop. She did not want to think of him having sex with other women. It was easier not to think at all, just to feel, to touch and taste him and absorb the essence of his raw masculinity. When he peeled her tights and knickers down she lifted her hips to aid him and opened her legs as he stroked his finger over her opening before slipping it into her slick warmth. She was on fire instantly and gave a little moan as he moved his hand rhythmically and brought her swiftly to the brink.

‘Sergio...’ She whispered his name like a prayer, a plea, unable to deny her need. She wondered why he hesitated until she saw him slide a condom over his arousal, and then he moved over her and pushed her legs wider apart as he positioned himself and eased slowly forward so that the tip of his shaft pushed into her silken folds.

The sensation of him possessing her inch by incredible inch, and pausing to allow her unused muscles to stretch and accommodate him, was almost too good to bear. Kristen’s heart was pounding, not only with the pleasure he was inducing but with a fierce joy that went beyond the physical experience of making love with him. Her breath left her on a soft sigh that brought a smile to Sergio’s lips.

‘Do you like that, cara?’ He thrust deeply and gave an unsteady laugh when she gasped. ‘The best is yet to come, mia belleza.’

And so he proved as he slid his hands beneath her bottom and established a fast rhythm that drove her wild as each powerful thrust of his body took her inexorably higher towards the peak. She clung to him, digging her fingertips into his shoulders as the ride became faster and more urgent. Caught up in the maelstrom, her body moving in perfect accord with Sergio’s, Kristen lost the sense of them being two individual people, for they had become one unity, one body, one soul.

What was it about this woman that made having sex with her such an intensely sensual experience? Sergio wondered. He had had many mistresses, but only Kristen had ever answered a need deep inside him that he could not explain or define. One thing he did know was that she tested his self-control to its limits. This was not going to be his finest performance, he acknowledged ruefully. He could already feel the pressure building inside him, and he could hear his blood thundering in his ears as he fought against the tide of pleasure that threatened to drag him under.

He wanted it to be good for her. And somehow concentrating on her pleasure lessened the urgency of his own desire so that he was able to pace his strokes and maintain a steady rhythm of hard thrusts deep into her. Her breathless moans told him her orgasm was close and he clenched his jaw as he felt the first spasms rack her body. Suddenly she tensed and arched her hips and the soft cry she gave decimated his restraint. She was so beautiful with her rose-flushed face and her gold hair spread like a halo across the pillows. For a few seconds he glimpsed an unguarded expression in her eyes that shook him, but before he could question what he had seen her lashes drifted down as her body trembled in the throes of a shattering climax.

His own release was almost instantaneous and the power of his orgasm stunned him. His body shook as his seed pumped from him and his lungs burned as he dragged in oxygen. His limbs felt heavy as a delicious lassitude swept through him. Sergio could not remember ever feeling so relaxed. Kristen felt so warm and soft beneath him and he was reluctant to break the spell that held him captive.

The strident ringtone of his phone was a violent intrusion that shattered the peace. With a curse Sergio reached for his phone on the bedside table, intending to cut the call, but he frowned when he glanced at the caller display and saw that his brother was on the line. A call from home was unexpected and he could not ignore it.

‘Excuse me, cara. I have to take this,’ he murmured as with one hand he hauled his trousers back up and climbed off the bed.

Kristen watched Sergio walk out of the room, and only when he had closed the door behind him did she release her breath on a shuddering groan. The sleepy contentment that had swept through her in the aftermath of making love with him had disappeared and her limbs trembled uncontrollably as reaction set in.

Sickening shame churned in her stomach. She must have been out of her mind, she thought grimly. There was no excuse for her behaviour and no use blaming one glass of champagne for her loss of inhibition. The unpalatable truth was that she had been swept away on a tide of lust. But now she felt like a cheap tart and she couldn’t blame Sergio if he thought she was an easy lay. Her humiliation was compounded when she glanced down at her dishevelled clothes. Her skirt was bunched up around her waist to reveal her naked thighs.

Sitting up, she tugged her bra back into place and pulled her blouse down. Her breasts felt tender and when she slid off the bed the slight soreness between her legs was another cringing reminder of her stupidity. Her knickers and tights were lying on the carpet where Sergio had dropped them. Their passion had been so intense that he had not even taken the time to undress himself or her, and the sight of her discarded underwear emphasised how grubby the whole unedifying event now seemed.

Glancing at her watch, she was shocked to find that only an hour had passed since she had run away from the party. When Sergio had taken her to bed she had lost all sense of time, but the reality was that they had had a quickie, and now, in a situation that was painfully familiar, he had abandoned her and was on his phone, no doubt discussing business.

Sergio’s insistence on putting work before everything else, including their relationship, had come between them four years ago and was one reason why Kristen had walked away from him. Nothing had changed, she thought, choking back a bitter laugh that was dangerously close to a sob. Did he expect her to simply lie here and wait for him to come back to the bedroom? If so, then he was going to be disappointed.

Her shoes were at the end of the bed where she had kicked them off. She hurriedly pulled on her knickers but shoved her tights into her handbag, not wanting to waste a second putting them on. To her huge relief, the sitting room was empty and Sergio’s voice came from another room which she guessed was a study. She glimpsed him through the half-open door, but he had his back to her and didn’t turn his head as she walked noiselessly across the thick carpet and let herself out of the suite.

* * *

‘I can’t say how much longer I’ll be staying in London. I’m not certain of my plans,’ Sergio told his brother, aware as he spoke that his meticulously organised schedule had just altered radically. ‘I’m sorry to hear that Tito is unwell, but it sounds like the situation is under control.’

‘This latest lung infection is an indication that age is catching up with Papà, and he is becoming frailer. But he is responding to the antibiotics and there is no need for you to rush back. Whoever this woman is, she must be quite something for you to have interrupted your schedule for her,’ Salvatore commented drily.

The image of Kristen spread half-naked across his bed slid into Sergio’s mind and he felt a tightening in his groin. But he had no intention of confiding to Salvatore that he’d just had the best sex of his life. ‘What makes you think it’s a woman?’

A sardonic laugh sounded down the phone. ‘With you it’s always a woman, Sergio.’

He would be the first to admit that he was no angel, Sergio acknowledged as he ended the call. He had a high sex drive and a low boredom threshold. Only one woman had warmed the coldness inside him but he was pretty sure that the reason Kristen had lingered in his mind for the past four years was because he had never found the same intense sexual compatibility with anyone else. Having sex with her again had proved that theory. Dio, he had been so hot for her that he had behaved like a rutting bull tonight, he thought grimly. There had been no finesse in the way he had made love to her, but next time he would take things slower and satisfy all her needs as well as his own.

He was not unduly surprised to find the bedroom was empty when he strolled in. He assumed that Kristen was in the bathroom, but when she did not reappear after five minutes and there were no sounds to indicate she was running a shower or bath he tried the door and discovered it was unlocked.

Where the hell was she? His stomach gave a sickening lurch of disappointment as it became clear that she had gone. His earlier good mood gave way to frustration. He couldn’t understand why she would take off without a word. Sergio raked his hand through his hair and dismissed an uncharacteristic flash of self-doubt. The sex had been as good for her as it had for him, of that he was certain. Just thinking about the little moans of pleasure she had made when she had come was having a predictable effect on his body.

But maybe, inconceivable though it was to him, she was shy and felt embarrassed that they had fallen into bed within minutes of seeing each other again. It hadn’t been something he had planned when he had invited her into his hotel suite, Sergio thought ruefully. But it wasn’t surprising when their passion for each other four years ago had been as scorching as a Sicilian summer. Now that Kristen had reappeared in his life he did not intend to let her go until his desire for her was utterly sated. And fortunately he would easily be able to find her. She was an employee at the hotel and her details would be on file.

Reassured that she could not slip away from him, he poured himself another glass of champagne and put a call through to the Hotel Royale’s manager requesting information on a waitress named Kristen Russell. Half an hour later, when it became clear that there had never been a woman of that name employed at the hotel, his ice-cold anger made the hapless manager more nervous than if he had given vent to his temper. And, after he had dismissed the man and was alone again, Sergio stared out at the London night sky with eyes that were hard and empty of emotion.

* * *

Monday morning brought rain and grey skies that ended the previous week’s promise that summer was on the way. The postman delivered a pile of bills which Kristen opened while she simultaneously ate a piece of toast, loaded the washing machine and packed Nico’s lunch box.

‘Do you want to take an apple or a banana to nursery?’ She sighed when he made no response. ‘Please choose, sweetheart. We must get going or I’ll be late for work.’

‘Don’t want to go to nursery.’ Nico’s bottom lip trembled ominously. ‘We can stay home today, Mummy.’

Kristen glanced at the clock and took a deep breath, determined to remain patient. It didn’t help matters that she was tired and the house was a mess after Steph and a few other friends had come over on Sunday evening and stayed until late. Steph had needed cheering up after she’d received her decree absolute, and had brought several bottles of wine with her—which had all been drunk.

She would have to take a trip to the bottle bank after work, Kristen thought ruefully. At least trying to help her friend had kept her mind from dwelling on what had happened when she had met Sergio on Friday evening. But memories of making love with him had kept her awake for most of last night and consequently she had a thumping headache.

‘Today is a work day for me and a nursery day for you,’ she explained gently to Nico. ‘You’d better put your Wellingtons on as it’s raining.’

It took another five minutes to persuade Nico into his coat and locate keys, her handbag and his backpack. The rain was falling harder, bouncing off the pavement and drumming loudly onto her umbrella as she clasped Nico’s hand and tried to hurry him along the street, but they had only gone a few paces when he stopped dead.

‘I don’t want to go.’ Two fat tears slid down Nico’s cheeks and as Kristen looked at his unhappy face she felt a clenching pain deep in her stomach that reminded her of the contractions she had felt when she had given birth to him. More than anything in the world she wished she could spend the day with him, but she couldn’t rely on a fairy godmother to pay the gas bill and the council tax demand.

‘Sweetheart, you know you have to go to nursery while I’m at work. I’ve got an early appointment and I can’t be late.’

Out of the corner of her eye Kristen caught sight of a sleek black saloon car driving past. It was noticeable because of the slow speed it was travelling and, for some inexplicable reason, she felt a tiny flicker of unease when she realised that the car’s heavily tinted windows hid the occupants from view. Her sense of trepidation increased as the car pulled into a parking space a little further up the road. Stop being paranoid, she ordered herself angrily. After her desperate flight from the Hotel Royale on Friday night her nerves had been on edge all weekend, but her fear that Sergio would find her had faded when she had reminded herself that he had no idea where she lived.

She was jerked from her thoughts as Nico tugged his hand free and ran back up the street. ‘Hey...where are you going?’ Kristen hurried after him and caught hold of him as he reached the garden gate.

‘I don’t want to go to nursery,’ he said mutinously.

Sensing a tantrum brewing, Kristen knew she had to regain control. ‘Well, I’m sorry but you are going,’ she told him firmly.

Nico began to cry loudly, his chest heaving with the force of his sobs, and as Kristen stood in the pouring rain, knowing that she was going to miss her train and would have to reschedule all her morning’s appointments, she felt like howling too. ‘That’s enough, Nico.’ Her voice sounded sharper than she had intended and guilt swamped her when he wept harder.

‘Kristen, what the hell is going on?’

Dear heaven! Her heart slammed against her ribs. She had believed she was safe, felt sure that she would never see Sergio again. But against the odds he had found her. Squaring her shoulders, she spun round to face her nemesis.

‘Why did you run away the other night?’

She could almost believe he sounded hurt, but she must have imagined it, Kristen told herself. She, better than anyone, knew that Sergio did not waste his time and energy on emotions. She tore her eyes from his, shaken and confused by the intensity of his gaze. It did not help her equilibrium that he looked gorgeous in a pale grey suit and navy silk shirt. Dark patches were forming on his jacket as he stood in the rain, and his hair was already soaked and fell forwards onto his brow.





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