Heir To His Legacy: His Unexpected Legacy / His Instant Heir / One Night Heir

Four years ago she had fallen for him so hard that nothing else had seemed important, not even her gymnastics training and the goal of winning a world championship title that had been her dream since childhood. When she had met Sergio she had dreamed instead of marriage, children, the whole happy-ever-after scenario. But the dream had ended when she had lost their child.

‘Perhaps it is for the best.’ Even now the memory of Sergio’s words had the power to hurt her. After she had lost their baby, she had been distraught. But he had paced around the hospital room and avoided making eye contact with her. His words had ripped her emotions to shreds as much as the agonising stomach cramps that had torn through her body during the miscarriage. The knowledge that he had not wanted their child had made her realise what a fool she had been to believe in fairy tales.

* * *

While Kristen gave the driver directions to the nursery, Sergio leaned his head against the back of the seat, conscious that his wet clothes were sticking to the car’s leather upholstery. But he did not give a damn that he could wring the water from his bespoke silk shirt or that his hand-stitched leather shoes made by the finest Italian craftsmen were probably ruined. Everything else faded to insignificance compared to the discovery that he had a son.

He looked over at Nico and felt a curious sensation as if his heart was being squeezed in a vice. His child—his little boy! It still hadn’t completely sunk in that the angelic-looking bambino was his flesh and blood. But the evidence spoke for itself. Nico bore all the markings of his Sicilian ancestry with his almost-black hair that, unlike Sergio’s own cropped style, was a mass of baby curls and his dark brown eyes. His complexion was olive-toned, although he was worryingly pale, which was not surprising when he had spent the first three years of his life in England’s unpredictable climate, Sergio thought bitterly. He was sure the child would thrive in Sicily’s warm sunshine, and the sooner he could take him home to the Castellano estate the better.

Nico...he silently sounded his son’s name. He was glad Kristen had given him an Italian name but it was a small consolation when she had stolen the first precious years of the little boy’s life from him. Anger burned like a branding-iron in his gut as his eyes were drawn to the woman sitting stiffly beside him. How could someone so goddamn beautiful be such a treacherous bitch?

He swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat. Three nights ago he had decided that he wanted her back in his life. Now he wanted... Slowly he unfurled his clenched fist and sought to control his rage. He knew what he was capable of if he lost his temper—and so did his mother’s lover who, when Sergio had been fifteen, had made the mistake of hitting him.

Dio! It had been twenty years ago, but the memory was still vivid in his mind and the shame he felt at what he had done still scourged his soul. It was no excuse that, after years of suffering physical abuse from his unpredictable, alcoholic mother, he had snapped, no excuse that for the first time in his life he had been driven to defend himself and hit back.

It had taken two security guards who had worked at the apartment block where his mother lived to pull him off her lover, while she had screamed hysterically. She had accused him of being a savage, he remembered grimly. After everything she had put him through—the misery of his childhood and the cruelty he had suffered almost daily—the irony had not been lost on him. The punk she had been sleeping with had deserved every blow Sergio had inflicted on him, but afterwards he had felt ashamed that he had sunk so low. He hated to admit that for a few seconds he had felt empowered by fighting back, and shockingly there had been a moment when he had imagined it was his mother he was hitting rather than her lover.

He had felt sickened with self-disgust. He wasn’t an animal, and he had vowed that day never to lose his temper again. He was almost afraid of his physical strength, afraid of what he was capable of. His anger had to be controlled, and the only way to do that was to cut off all his emotions. And so he had taught himself to bury his feelings and use his brain rather than his fists. Don’t get mad, get even, was his rule in life.

He stared unseeingly out of the car window, his mind locked in the past. A memory slid into his mind of watching Patti—his mother had insisted that he use her name instead of calling her Mamma—opening a letter and reacting furiously when she learned that she had been turned down for a film role. His heart had sunk when she had reached for the gin bottle, knowing that her drinking would be a prelude to violence. Sure enough, she had punished him for some misdemeanour; he couldn’t remember what he was supposed to have done to warrant the sting of the cane across the backs of his legs.

He had been six years old, a lonely little boy in New York, desperately missing his home in Sicily and unable to understand why Papa did not come for him. His mother had told him it was because Papa did not love him.

Sergio dragged his mind back to the present. He sensed Kristen’s tension and the realisation that she was nervous of him left a bitter taste in his mouth. He would never lay a finger on her in anger. The idea was abhorrent to him. But he hated her for what she had done, and he hated even more the swift, hot surge of desire that arrowed through him as he stared at her delicate features.

‘How long does Nico stay at nursery every day?’ he asked abruptly.

‘He stays there all day while I’m at work. I usually drop him off at eight-thirty and collect him at five-thirty.’

‘Aren’t you concerned that being away from you for so long could be detrimental for him?’

‘I admit it’s not a perfect situation,’ Kristen replied sharply, bristling at the criticism in his voice, ‘but I have no choice. I have a career...’

‘Ah, yes...your career.’

She frowned. ‘Why did you say it in such a sneering tone? Yes, I have a career. I studied hard at university to qualify as a physiotherapist, and I’m proud of what I’ve achieved. I have no choice but to work...’

‘You had a choice,’ Sergio said harshly. ‘You could have told me about my son when he was born and I would have made sure that you did not have to dump him in day-care while you pursued your precious career.’

Kristen was prevented from replying as the car pulled up outside the nursery building and Sergio immediately stepped out onto the pavement. But inwardly she was seething at the way he had made her out to be an uncaring mother. The only reason she worked long hours was to keep a roof over their heads and she missed Nico desperately while she was away from him. She unfastened the little boy’s seat belt and lifted him out of the car, but when she tried to set him on his feet he clung tightly to her.

‘Mummy, I want to stay with you.’

Nico’s play-worker had advised that it was best to ignore his tears and say goodbye quickly and cheerfully. ‘The minute you’ve gone he’s no longer upset, and he’s quite happy to play with his friends,’ Lizzie had assured her. With that in mind, Kristen prised his arms from around her neck and walked him briskly into the nursery. She was conscious of Sergio following close behind her but she did her best to ignore his unsettling presence.

The play-worker met them in the hallway. ‘Hello, Nico, have you come to have fun with us today?’ Lizzie said brightly.

Kristen saw the curious look she gave Sergio and realised she would have to introduce him. ‘Why don’t you go and find Sam?’ she asked Nico. She waited until he had gone into the play-room and then turned to Lizzie. ‘This is Sergio Castellano...’ she hesitated ‘...Nico’s father.’ Glancing at Sergio, she explained, ‘Miss Morris is the senior play-worker at Little Acorns Nursery.’

‘I’m delighted to meet you, Miss Morris,’ Sergio murmured in his sexy accent that brought Kristen’s skin out in goose-bumps. And clearly she was not the only woman to be bowled over by his mega-watt charm, she thought ruefully as she noticed Lizzie’s cheeks turn pink.

‘Please call me Lizzie, Mr Castellano,’ the play-worker said rather breathlessly. ‘May I say it’s so nice to finally meet Nico’s father. Would you like to come into the office while Kristen makes sure Nico is settled?’

‘Thank you—Lizzie. And do please call me Sergio.’

‘Oh, yes...certainly.’

Leaving the flustered play-worker with Sergio, Kristen went to find Nico. He was sitting on a bean-bag and looked so disconsolate that her heart ached. ‘How about playing with the train set?’ she suggested.

He shook his head, and the sight of tears sliding down his cheeks evoked the usual feeling of guilt that she was leaving him. But, remembering Lizzie’s advice to keep goodbyes brief, she leaned down and dropped a kiss onto his cheek. ‘Have a lovely day and I’ll come back very soon.’

His sobs followed her as she hurried out of the play-room and into the corridor. Lizzie emerged from the office, followed by Sergio, who frowned when he heard Nico crying. ‘Are you sure he isn’t being bullied?’ he asked tersely.

Lizzie looked shocked. ‘Oh, no! He just gets upset when he’s separated from his mother, but his tears don’t last for long. It’s a fairly common reaction with children of his age,’ she explained. ‘And Nico is particularly sensitive at the moment. But don’t worry. I’ll take good care of him.’

It was a pity that Kristen didn’t seem to feel the same concern for her son that the play-worker did, Sergio thought darkly as they left the nursery and walked back to the car. The sound of his son’s sobs affected him deeply and brought back memories of how as a little boy he had often wept silently into his pillow at night, afraid that if he made a noise he would anger his mother. He had cried because he missed his father.

‘As soon as my lawyers can arrange a custody hearing I intend to claim my legal rights to my son,’ he informed Kristen abruptly. ‘Nico belongs in Sicily with me.’

Shock caused the colour to drain from Kristen’s face. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. He’s just a baby. No court would allow you to take him away from his mother.’ She bit her lip. ‘We must put Nico’s welfare first. I don’t want him upset in any way.’

‘I saw when you walked away from him while he was crying how concerned you are for his emotional welfare,’ Sergio said with icy sarcasm. Hearing Nico crying had aroused his protective instincts and he was tempted to stride back into the nursery and snatch his little son into his arms. It was a father’s duty to protect his child—a duty his own father had failed to do. But he would not fail his son, Sergio vowed grimly. Kristen did not seem to care overmuch about Nico and he was sure the boy would be far happier living with him.

* * *

In the car Kristen gave directions to the driver on how to reach her work while Sergio called his PR manager.

‘Enzo will give a statement to the press and explain that we have no personal involvement,’ he told her when he ended the call. ‘It’s rather ironic, considering that we have a child, but I want to keep Nico out of the media spotlight for as long as possible.’

‘I understand if you want a relationship with Nico,’ Kristen said huskily. ‘But surely it would be better for him if we come to an amicable arrangement about when you can visit him rather than arguing over who should have custody of him.’

‘I don’t want to visit him.’ Sergio turned his gaze from the rain lashing the car window and looked into Kristen’s bright blue eyes. ‘I want my son to live with me so that I can be a proper father to him.’ There was a curious fervency in his voice as he continued, ‘I want to tuck Nico into bed every night and eat breakfast with him every morning. I want to kick a football with him and take him swimming.’ He shot her a glance. ‘Have you taught him to swim?’

‘Not yet,’ Kristen admitted. ‘There isn’t a public pool near to where we live, and weekends go so quickly. He’s only three, for goodness’ sake,’ she said tersely when Sergio frowned.

‘My niece is only a year older than Nico, but Rosa has been able to swim virtually since she learned to walk.’

His criticism of her mothering skills rankled. ‘If I could afford for Nico to live in a house with its own private pool, I’ve no doubt he would be able to swim like a fish,’ she snapped.

‘If I had known I had a son, he would have grown up from birth at my house on the Castallano estate and I would have taught him to swim in my pool.’

Kristen’s angry gaze clashed with Sergio’s furious glare. ‘You keep saying you would have supported him, but I don’t understand how you would have done. You were married when Nico was born. How could he have lived with you in Sicily? Why did your marriage end, anyway?’ She could not deny her curiosity. ‘Did your wife leave you or...’

‘She died.’

‘I...I’m sorry,’ she whispered, shocked as much by the revelation as by the complete lack of emotion in Sergio’s voice. She wanted to ask him: when? How? For the past four years she had been haunted by the photo she had seen in a magazine of the beautiful woman Sergio had married. She had been jealous, Kristen admitted to herself.

‘Did you love her?’ She could not hold back the question that had burned inside her for four years.

‘It’s none of your business.’

His reply was polite but dismissive and she flushed, hating herself for her curiosity and him for his arrogance. Determined not to risk another put-down, she stared out of the window and willed the traffic jam to clear before she was any later for work.

‘I’m surprised that I have never seen your name mentioned by the media.’

Puzzled by the statement, she glanced at him. ‘Why on earth should I be of interest to anyone?’

‘Four years ago you were regarded as one of the best gymnasts in the UK and were tipped to win a gold medal at the world championships. But after you left Sicily and returned to England you seemed to disappear from the sport.’ Sergio’s jaw hardened. ‘I realise now that you must have taken a break from training and competitions while you were pregnant. But didn’t you return to gymnastics after Nico was born?’

Kristen shook her head. ‘I never competed again after I had him. I gave up gymnastics completely. It wasn’t possible to combine the hours of training necessary to compete at world-class level with being a mother,’ she explained when she saw the surprise in Sergio’s eyes.

‘But gymnastics meant the world to you.’

‘Nico is my world now,’ she said simply. ‘Being his mother is more important to me than anything.’

She turned her head to the window to watch the traffic crawling along Tottenham Court Road, and missed the sharp look Sergio gave her. ‘It will be quicker for me to walk the rest of the way to work. The clinic isn’t far from here.’

Sergio asked the driver to pull over, but as Kristen was about to step out of the car he put his hand on her arm. ‘Here’s my phone number in case you need to get hold of me. I’ll meet you at Nico’s nursery at five-thirty to drive you both home.’

She took the business card he handed her and shoved it into her pocket. ‘There’s no need for you to come to the nursery. I usually take Nico to the park on the way home.’

‘Then I’ll bring a football and we will stop off at the park. I’m looking forward to being able to play with my son.’

‘Fine.’ She looked away from the challenge in his eyes, determined not to let him see how scared she felt that he might truly try to win custody of Nico. Sergio could easily afford the best lawyers, but heaven knew how she would afford to pay legal costs if there was a lengthy court case. The possibility that she could be forced to give up her son filled Kristen with dread.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE DAY HAD begun badly and grew steadily worse. Arriving late for work meant that Kristen missed her first appointment and spent all day playing catch-up and trying to rearrange physiotherapy sessions.

After work she hurried to the station and squashed herself into a packed carriage. But a few minutes into the journey the Tube train ground to a halt in the tunnel and the lights flickered off, plunging the carriages into darkness. Breakdowns on the underground system happened rarely and when the train did not move after five minutes a few passengers started to become agitated. Kristen checked her phone, knowing it was unlikely she would pick up a network connection deep underground. There was nothing anyone could do except wait in the darkness but, as the minutes stretched to ten, fifteen, twenty, her tension grew as it became clear that she would be late to pick Nico up from nursery.

* * *

At five twenty-five that afternoon, Sergio parked outside Little Acorns Nursery and studied the group of parents already gathered outside the door of the building. Kristen had not arrived yet, but he was early. Five minutes later when the nursery door opened and the parents filed in she still had not shown up. Knowing that Nico was waiting, Sergio walked inside and was greeted by Lizzie Morris.

‘Hi! Kristen isn’t here yet, but she comes straight from work and sometimes she is a few minutes late.’ Lizzie smiled. ‘You can wait with Nico if you want. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you.’

Nico was sitting in the book corner, his eyes focused intently on the door. A flash of instant recognition crossed his face when he saw Sergio and he gave a tentative smile that tugged on Sergio’s heart.

‘Mummy’s not here.’ The smile faded and Nico’s bottom lip trembled.

‘She will be here soon,’ Sergio reassured him gently. ‘While we wait for her shall I read you a story?’

He was rewarded with another smile that stole his breath. Dio, his son was beautiful. He couldn’t take his eyes from the little boy’s face. Nico’s features were like his own in miniature, although he had his mother’s nose, Sergio noted. He opened the book that Nico had handed him and began to read in a voice that wasn’t quite steady.

* * *

Trapped on the Tube train, Kristen’s tension escalated with every passing minute. The staff would look after Nico until she arrived, she reassured herself. Lizzie would realise there must be a good reason why she was unable to phone and explain why she was delayed. But imagining Nico’s disappointed face when she didn’t walk through the door with the other parents brought tears to her eyes and she felt sick with worry.

Eventually the fault on the underground line was repaired, but by the time she raced out of the station and was able to phone the nursery she was forty-five minutes late and frantic.

‘Is Nico okay? Tell him I’ll be there in a couple of minutes,’ she said to Lizzie, panting as she ran along the street.

‘Kristen, calm down. Nico’s fine. His father took him.’

‘W...what?’ By now Kristen had arrived at the nursery but, on hearing Lizzie’s shocking news, she slowed her pace and walked into the building, feeling as though her heart was about to explode out of her chest. ‘What do you mean his father took him?’

‘Sergio arrived just before five-thirty and he waited around for a while, but we both realised that you must have got held up at work. I explained that it had happened on a couple of previous occasions,’ Lizzie said guilelessly. ‘Luckily he said he would take Nico with him.’ Lizzie seemed unaware of Kristen’s tension and smiled cheerfully. ‘Sergio filled out a parent/guardian form when he came in with you this morning. If he hadn’t, of course, I wouldn’t have been able to allow him to take Nico. But he was fine about it, and Nico was really excited to go in Sergio’s car. Mind you, I’d be pretty excited about travelling in a Jaguar XJ. It’s a gorgeous car.’

Lizzie stopped short of saying that Sergio was equally gorgeous, but Kristen guessed from the nursery assistant’s pink cheeks that she had been bowled over by a surfeit of Sicilian charm. Hurrying out of the nursery, she pulled Sergio’s business card from her jacket pocket and entered his number into her phone with shaking fingers. Pick up, pick up... Her imagination went into overdrive and she felt sick with terror that Sergio might have taken Nico out of the country on his private plane. She had read about so-called tug-of-love cases where children had been taken abroad by one parent without the other parent’s consent. What if Sergio disappeared with Nico and she never saw her little boy again?

‘Castellano.’ Sergio finally answered the call and at the sound of his deep voice Kristen’s knees almost gave way with relief.

‘What have you done with Nico? Where is he...?’

Sergio’s reply was terse. ‘I haven’t done anything with him. I simply collected him from nursery when you failed to show up and brought him back to my hotel. He’s perfectly okay, although he was upset that you weren’t there to pick him up,’ he told her coldly. ‘I understand from Lizzie Morris that today is not the first time you have been late.’

‘There have only been two other occasions,’ Kristen defended herself. ‘And, like today, they were not my fault. The train broke down in the tunnel and I couldn’t phone...’

‘I really think you should have tried harder to get to Nico on time,’ Sergio interrupted her. ‘Have you any idea what it’s like to be the only child left waiting to be collected? The fear he must have felt that you weren’t coming for him?’

His words scraped Kristen’s already raw feeling of guilt. She had a strange sense that Sergio was speaking from personal experience—as if knew what it felt like to be a scared little boy waiting for his mother to show up. But she told herself she must be imagining things. The Castellano family was hugely wealthy and he must have enjoyed a privileged childhood. He certainly didn’t know what it was like to be a single working mother with all the responsibility that entailed, she thought grimly. His complete lack of understanding of her situation made her want to scream.

‘You’re a bloody expert in child psychology, I suppose,’ she said grittily. ‘Of course I feel terrible that I let Nico down.’ Tears suddenly filled her eyes and her throat closed up. ‘Thank you for being there for him,’ she choked. ‘I’ll come to the Hotel Royale to collect him, but it might take me a while because the trains are busy during the rush-hour.’

‘Stay where you are and I’ll send the car for you.’

Sergio cut the call before Kristen could argue. He always had to be in control of every situation, she thought grimly. His wealth gave him power, but it was more than money; his supreme confidence and arrogant self-assurance made him a commanding and authoritative figure—and his steely control over his emotions would make him a dangerous enemy.

* * *

The penthouse suite of the Hotel Royale looked very different from the last time Kristen had visited. On Friday evening the elegant sitting room had been immaculately tidy, but now it resembled a toy shop. Numerous boxes and torn wrapping paper littered the carpet; there was a train track complete with model trains in one corner, an enormous tractor, a robot figure and a model garage filled with toy cars.

Nico was sitting on the floor, pushing cars along a plastic roadway and making an engine sound. He barely looked up when Kristen walked in, before he returned to his game sending cars along the track to Sergio, who was pushing them back to him.

The biggest surprise for Kristen was to see Sergio stretched out on the floor, apparently absorbed in playing with the little boy. His tie was draped over the arm of a chair and his shirtsleeves were rolled up, revealing his tanned forearms covered with a mass of dark hairs. He looked so big next to Nico, yet Kristen noted with a pang the close physical resemblance between the man and the child.

She paused in the doorway, feeling strangely awkward and excluded. Usually when she met Nico at nursery he would hurtle into her arms and she would cuddle him. But, although he glanced at her again, he remained on the floor with Sergio.

‘Mummy, I’ve got lots of cars.’

‘So I see.’ Telling herself to stop being so stupid, she smiled and walked over to kneel down next to him. Immediately she was conscious of Sergio’s cool scrutiny. ‘Anyone would think it’s Christmas,’ she murmured drily. ‘You must have bought an entire toy shop.’