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

With a soft moan, she opened her mouth for him and trembled when he slid his tongue between her lips. Reality faded, just as it had done three nights ago at the hotel. But suddenly, shockingly, he lifted his head and stared down at her, and the triumphant gleam in his eyes acted like an ice-cold shower on her heated flesh.

‘Don’t ever lie to me again, Kristen. Next time I won’t stop at kissing you,’ he warned. His mouth curled in self-disgust as he stepped away from her and raked a hand through his hair. ‘Believe me, I resent the wildfire attraction between us as much as you do, but it’s there and we will have to deal with it because I’m not going to go away. Nico is a part of both of us and we will be forever linked by him.’

His emotive words shook Kristen and tears filled her eyes. Sergio gave her a piercing look but, when she made no response, he said, ‘I’ll sleep on the sofa tonight, and tomorrow we’ll discuss the best way we can bring up our son.’ He glanced around the untidy kitchen and his jaw hardened. ‘This place is far from ideal,’ he said disparagingly.

Kristen felt a stab of fear. Surely he wouldn’t be able to state that she was an unfit mother just because she hadn’t had time to do the washing-up?

‘I’ll go and find some bedding,’ she mumbled, seizing the excuse to get away from him while thoughts whirled around her head. She ran upstairs and paused on the landing to peep into Nico’s room. He had flung back the covers as he usually did and was cuddling Hippo. He looked utterly adorable with his halo of dark curls framing his face and his long eyelashes fanned out on his cheeks. Intense love surged up inside her. She would never give her little boy up, she vowed fiercely. She was deeply suspicious of Sergio’s insistence that he wanted to be involved with his son. The man she had known four years ago had been the ultimate commitment-phobe and it would take a lot to convince her that he had changed. Her biggest fear was that he would form a bond with Nico and then walk away when the novelty of fatherhood had faded.

She took a blanket and spare pillow from the hall cupboard, and then went into her bedroom to change out of her uniform, which felt uncomfortably damp after her attempts to wash Nico’s hair. Furious with herself for being tempted to wear her new lilac silky top that clung in all the right places, she pulled on jeans and an old T-shirt and quickly brushed her hair, but resisted the urge to put on a bit of make-up. It wasn’t as if she wanted to make herself look attractive for Sergio, she reminded herself firmly.

A tantalising aroma of spicy food met her as she walked into the kitchen, reminding her that she had been too busy to eat lunch. Sergio was opening cartons of take-away food. He had found plates and cutlery, and she saw that he had washed up the breakfast bowls.

‘I ordered Thai,’ he said, glancing at her. ‘I remembered you like it and I’m guessing you haven’t eaten tonight. There’s nothing in the fridge except for a couple of out-of-date yoghurts. What had you planned to give Nico for dinner?’

She prickled at the implied criticism in his voice. ‘I was going to call in at the supermarket on the way home from nursery. Here’s your bedding,’ she murmured, handing him the pillow and blanket.

He gave her a sardonic look when he felt the coarse woollen blanket. ‘I’ve heard of monks wearing hair shirts. Have you decided that I should serve some sort of penance?’ he queried drily.

She flushed. ‘You could always go back to your hotel.’

‘And give you an opportunity to steal Nico away?’ He gave a bitter laugh. ‘Not a chance, Krissie.’

His use of the nickname that only he had ever called her by twisted a knife in Kristen’s heart, but somehow she managed to give a shrug as she sat down and began to help herself to food. Sergio opened a bottle of red wine that she assumed had been delivered with the meal, but when he went to fill her glass she shook her head.

‘Not for me, thanks. I rarely drink wine.’

His brows rose. ‘Then how do you explain the half a dozen empty bottles that I put in the recycling bin?’

‘A few of my girlfriends came over last night. One of them has just gone through an acrimonious divorce and she wanted to celebrate being free and single again.’

‘And where was Nico while this drunken party was going on?’

‘It wasn’t a drunken party!’ She glared at him. ‘The girls just had a few drinks. Nico was tucked up safely in bed, and I didn’t touch any alcohol. I am a responsible parent.’

‘What about on Friday evening?’ Sergio pressed. ‘Where was Nico while you were in my bed?’

Kristen choked on a prawn ball. ‘I certainly didn’t leave him on his own, if that’s what you’re implying. My neighbour babysat. Nico was in bed asleep before I left, but he knows Sally very well, and she adores him.’

‘You still haven’t explained why you were pretending to be a waitress at the party.’

‘The waitress bit was a misunderstanding.’ Kristen’s appetite suddenly disappeared. Sergio had finished his meal and she collected up the plates and carried them over to the sink. ‘Do you want to go into the sitting room while I make some coffee? There are a few photo albums with pictures of Nico in the bureau. Feel free to take a look at them.’

She could tell he was curious to know why she was determined to change the subject of her visit to the Hotel Royale, but to her relief he made no comment as he strolled out of the kitchen.

Five minutes later, when Kristen carried a tray into the sitting room, she found Sergio inspecting her huge array of gymnastics medals and trophies that she kept in a glass cabinet.

He turned to her and took the cup of coffee she handed him. ‘Do you ever resent that you gave up your sport for Nico?’

‘Not at all, although I can’t deny that I sometimes wonder whether I would have been good enough to win a world championship title,’ Kristen replied honestly.

‘So when you returned to England and discovered you were still expecting, it didn’t cross your mind to end the pregnancy?’

She drew a sharp breath, ‘Of course not. I was devastated when I had a miscarriage, and to be told that I was going to have a baby after all was wonderful—it felt like a miracle. How could you think I might not have wanted our child?’ She couldn’t disguise the tremor of hurt in her voice.

It probably had something to do with the fact that when he had been a child his mother had frequently told him she had not planned to fall pregnant with him and his twin brother and wished she’d had a termination, Sergio thought to himself. He shrugged. ‘When we met, your pursuit of a gymnastics career bordered on obsessive. You might have considered sacrificing an unplanned pregnancy. After all, you put gymnastics before our relationship.’

‘That’s not true!’ Kristen was stung by the unfairness of his accusation.

‘You left me to devote yourself to achieving your dream of sporting glory.’

‘I left because you wanted our relationship, such as it was, to be solely on your terms. You demanded that I should give up my life—my gymnastics training, my university studies—to be your mistress, but you refused to make any compromises,’ Kristen said hotly. ‘The only thing that was important to you was your career. You travelled the world in pursuit of the next deal, the next million pounds to add to your fortune, but you refused to acknowledge that my dreams were important to me.’

She bit her lip. ‘Our relationship was just about sex as far as you were concerned, wasn’t it, Sergio?’ Her anger faded as quickly as it had flared and left her with a dull ache in her chest. There was no point in opening up old wounds. ‘You asked me to be your mistress, but in the same breath you told me that you were not interested in commitment. What did you expect me to do,’ she asked bitterly, ‘give up everything I’d worked so hard for, for an affair that might last a few months at most?’

‘I couldn’t give you what you wanted.’ Sergio’s voice was emotionless, but Kristen was shocked to see a pained, almost tortured look in his eyes before he brought himself under control and his face became its usual expressionless mask. ‘I knew you hoped for more from me—women invariably do,’ he said sardonically. ‘When you returned to England I realised it was for the best.’

‘And so you married someone else.’ Kristen felt hurt that he had lumped her with his countless other mistresses and had regarded her as needy just because she had hoped for a more meaningful relationship with him than simply sharing his bed. ‘Your Sicilian woman must have been very special for you to have overcome your objection to commitment.’

For a fleeting moment she sensed that he was tempted to talk about his first marriage, but he gave a non-committal shrug.

‘Yes, she was.’

He picked up the photo album that he had been looking at earlier and stared at a picture of Nico as a newborn baby. ‘He looked so tiny when he was born. What did he weigh?’

‘He was a few weeks early and he was just over two kilograms, but I fed him myself and he quickly gained weight.’

Sergio studied the photo, which had clearly been taken in the hospital soon after Kristen had given birth to Nico. She looked very young and scared as she clutched the tiny baby in her arms. Anger burned inside him—anger at her for robbing him of the first years of his son’s life, but a greater anger with himself because he had not followed his instincts four years ago and gone after her. She had dented his pride when she had refused to be his mistress, he acknowledged. If he was honest, her rejection had hurt him and it had been the realisation that she made him feel vulnerable that had stopped him from following her to England.

‘How did you manage?’ he asked harshly. ‘Did you have to leave university when you realised you were pregnant?’

‘No, I was able to finish my degree before Nico was born, and afterwards I was lucky to get my current job at the sports injury clinic.’

‘It must have been a struggle, though.’

‘It hasn’t been easy...especially financially,’ Kristen admitted.

Sergio wondered why she suddenly seemed nervous. His eyes narrowed on her tense face. ‘Why did you come to the Hotel Royale on Friday night?’

Her tongue darted out to lick her dry lips. ‘I...came to tell you about Nico.’

‘Why now, when you had hidden him from me all this time?’

‘I was going to...to ask you for help...a financial contribution for him. You have no idea how expensive bringing up a child is.’ Kristen faltered when Sergio’s eyes darkened with anger. But when he spoke his voice was tightly controlled.

‘You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like to bring up a child, but I wish more than anything that I could have shared the experience of caring for our son from the moment he was born. As it is, I would not have discovered his existence if you had not decided to cash in your most valuable asset. Nico,’ he explained when she looked puzzled. ‘The knowledge that your child’s father is a billionaire must have been too tempting to ignore.’ His lip curled. ‘How much money did you hope to get from me? Did you plan to demand cash in exchange for allowing me to see my son?’

‘No!’ Kristen was appalled by Sergio’s accusation. ‘All this time I believed you had a wife in Sicily. But then I saw your picture in a newspaper and read that you were going to marry an Earl’s daughter, and I decided to ask you for a small contribution towards Nico’s upbringing.’

‘So your decision had nothing to do with the fact that you have debts amounting to several thousand pounds, mainly in the form of store credit cards?’ Sergio said coldly. ‘I saw the pile of letters and final demands for payment from debt-collecting agencies.’

Kristen swallowed. She had forgotten that the folder containing dozens of letters from creditors was in the bureau where she kept the photo albums. ‘You had no right to look at my private mail.’

He ignored her and said savagely, ‘Suddenly it all makes an obscene kind of sense. You’ve maxed out on your credit cards buying designer clothes and handbags, and so you’ve decided to use me as a cash cow to bail you out and assumed you could use Nico as leverage.’

‘The situation is not what it seems,’ Kristen said huskily.

‘Then what is it?’

‘It’s complicated.’

‘No, it’s very simple,’ Sergio said grimly. ‘You want money and I want my son. Name your price and the amount will be transferred into your account within twenty-four hours—with the proviso that you allow me to take Nico to Sicily.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous...’ Kristen broke off when she realised he was deadly serious. ‘I’m not going to sell him to you. The suggestion is disgusting. The only reason I was going to ask you for money was to spend on him, not for anything else. But I’ve managed on my own for three years and I’ll carry on managing.’

‘You call this managing?’ Sergio’s expression was arrogantly derisive as he glanced around the shabby sitting room. ‘I can provide my son with a far better lifestyle than he currently has with you. My lawyer has already started the legal process for me to file for custody of Nico, but it would be better for his sake if we settled out of court and, to that end, I am prepared to make you a generous financial offer.’

‘You know what you can do with your offer!’ Kristen snapped. Inside, she was shaking, but she refused to let Sergio see how scared she felt. He was not a man to make vain threats and she did not doubt that he had already begun his legal claim for Nico. ‘You think you can buy anything you want,’ she said bitterly. ‘But nothing would persuade me to give Nico up.’

‘Everything has a price, cara.’ Sergio sounded strangely weary. He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Was that what Friday night was about? Did you use your delectable body as a sweetener, and once I had succumbed to your magic you intended to offer my son to me in return for hard cash?’

Incensed by his taunt, Kristen reacted instinctively and raised her hand but, before she could make contact with his cheek, he captured her wrist in a vice-like grip.

‘I wouldn’t,’ Sergio advised in a dangerously soft voice. He flung her arm from him and raked his fingers through his hair, feeling disgusted with himself when he saw her white face. He had not intended to frighten her, but for a few seconds blind rage had swept through him. ‘We both need to cool down,’ he muttered. ‘Why don’t you go to bed and get some sleep. You look all in. We’ll talk again in the morning.’

Not trusting herself to remain in the same room as Sergio when she was tempted to murder him, Kristen swung round and walked out of the room. Sleep! She laughed hollowly as she marched up the stairs. She felt as limp as a wrung-out dishcloth and with the threat of losing her little boy hanging over her she doubted she would ever sleep again. But when she slid between the sheets her brain mercifully decided that it had had enough for one day, and her last thought was that she must set the alarm on the bedside clock.

* * *

Sergio woke to the sensation of his eyelids being prised open. After spending a hellish night on the most uncomfortable sofa he had ever encountered, he craved a couple of hours more sleep, especially when he glanced blearily at his watch and saw that it was five-thirty in the morning. He blinked and refocused on the angelic face hovering above him. Nico was staring at him with his big brown eyes framed by unbelievably long lashes. When he saw that Sergio was awake, he grinned.

‘Daddy...’

Sergio felt his gut twist. ‘Papà,’ he said softly. ‘I am your papà.’ And you are il mio bel ragazzo. My beautiful boy, he thought to himself. Propping himself up on one elbow, he watched Nico line up his toy cars on the carpet. ‘Is Mummy still asleep?’

Nico nodded. ‘I got dressed,’ he said proudly, patting his shorts.

That would explain why his T-shirt was on back to front, Sergio mused. He smiled. ‘Clever boy.’

Nico lay on his stomach so that he could push his cars along the floor and Sergio suddenly froze. His eyes were drawn to the black bruises on the backs of the little boy’s legs. Bile rose in his throat. Santa Madre di Dio! The marks were sickeningly familiar. When he had been a child, his legs had often been covered in bruises after a beating.

Swallowing hard, Sergio noticed another mark on Nico’s body where his T-shirt had ridden up.

‘Hey, little guy, let me turn your shirt around for you,’ he murmured.

Nico obediently stood up and, as Sergio drew the shirt over his head, his breath hissed between his teeth at the sight of several more bruises on the child’s ribs.

‘How did you get hurt?’ He somehow managed to keep his tone light.

‘I was very naughty,’ Nico told him with an innocence that tore Sergio’s heart to shreds.

His head spun. He didn’t know what was happening here. Everything inside him rejected the idea that Kristen could have inflicted the bruises on Nico. It was true she hadn’t convinced him that she was an overly caring parent and he was deeply suspicious of her motive for finally deciding to tell him that he had a son, but it was hard to imagine that she would hurt her child.

But no one would ever have believed that his charming, beautiful mother had been capable of mental and physical cruelty, Sergio thought grimly. Patti had been the patron of a children’s charity, but to her own child she had been a confusing figure—at times overly loving so that he had felt swamped, but she had been prone to violence when she had succumbed to her personal demon, alcohol, and at those times he had been afraid of her. He remembered the sick feeling in his stomach whenever she had summoned him to her study to be punished for the most minor misdemeanour. No one had heard his cries, and no one had come to his rescue—including his father.

Deep within Sergio’s soul the scared, unhappy little boy he had once been took over his logical thought processes. A fundamental instinct to protect his child surged through him and he stood up and lifted Nico into his arms. ‘How would you like to fly on an aeroplane, piccolo?’ he murmured.

His heart turned over when Nico looked at him with his big, brown, trusting eyes. ‘I will always protect you,’ he promised his son gruffly, and was rewarded with a smile that somehow eased the loneliness that had haunted him since he had been a small boy who had longed to be with his own father.

CHAPTER SEVEN

WHEN KRISTEN OPENED her eyes she was puzzled to see a stream of bright sunlight filtering through the chink in the curtains. The house was quiet and, unusually, she was alone. Nico had a habit of climbing into her bed in the early hours and he would prod her awake and insist that she read him a story. He must still be asleep, she thought as she stretched, making the most of having the bed to herself.

She looked at the clock and her heart did a painful somersault. It could not be half past nine!

A frantic glance at her watch confirmed the worst. She leapt out of bed and cursed as she stubbed her toe on the bedside cabinet. Pulling on her dressing gown, she hurried along the hall and discovered that Nico’s room was empty. It was unlike him to go downstairs on his own, but maybe he’d grown bored of waiting for her to wake up, she thought guiltily. Hell, she would have to phone Steph and apologise for being late for work for the second day in a row. With a dozen thoughts running around her head, Kristen pushed open the sitting room door and felt a flicker of unease when she saw that no one was there.

The blanket and pillow Sergio had used to make up a bed on the sofa were neatly folded, and Nico’s toy cars were scattered across the carpet. Trying to control her panic, she continued into the kitchen. The half-drunk mug of coffee on the table indicated that Sergio must have left in a hurry. In the silence, the ticking of the clock seemed unnaturally loud. Fear cramped in Kristen’s stomach. There had to be a reasonable explanation for Sergio and Nico’s disappearance, she told herself.

Catching sight of the empty space where Nico’s Wellington boots were kept by the back door, she felt weak with relief. Maybe Sergio had taken him for a walk or to the park.

The doorbell rang and she hurried to answer it, determined to impress on Sergio that he must not take Nico out without informing her first. But the man on the doorstep was a stranger—a short, swarthy man dressed in a suit, who introduced himself as Bernardo Valdi, Sergio’s lawyer.

‘Signor Castellano asked me to visit you.’ The lawyer spoke in English but with a strong Italian accent. ‘It might be better if we continue our discussion inside the house,’ he added gently when Kristen gasped.

She stepped back to allow him to enter the hallway, suddenly finding that her legs felt like jelly. ‘Where is Sergio? And, more importantly, where is my son?’ she demanded in a trembling voice. Her fear returned, making her stomach churn as a terrible truth slowly dawned. ‘He’s taken him, hasn’t he? Sergio has taken Nico.’ Her voice rose. ‘He won’t get away with it. He has no right. I suppose he’s gone back to the Hotel Royale. I’m going to call the police.’

‘Calm yourself, signorina,’ the lawyer said in a quietly authoritative voice. ‘Signor Castellano has been granted an emergency custody order of his son.’

‘Emergency...’ Kristen stared at the lawyer dazedly, wondering, hoping that this was all a horrible nightmare. ‘On what grounds?’ she whispered.

‘The signor was concerned for the child’s welfare after he saw bruises on him.’

‘Dear God! He thinks I hurt Nico?’ Nausea threatened to overwhelm her. ‘I have to see Sergio and explain.’ She stumbled down the hall. ‘I’ll get dressed and go straight to the hotel.’

‘They are not there, signorina. Signor Castellano flew to Sicily on his private jet an hour ago, and he has taken his son with him.’ Bernardo Valdi gave an exclamation as he reached Kristen’s side just in time to catch her as her knees sagged.

* * *

The taxi had turned off the main highway running from the airport at Catania to the coastal town of Taormina, and was now heading along narrow roads leading to the Castellano estate. Kristen stared out of the window at the breathtaking Sicilian countryside and felt an ache in her heart. Everywhere was unchanged and familiar, as if time had stood still for the past four years. Farmhouses and small villages dotted the landscape. In early summer the fields were still green but would turn to gold as the crops ripened, and on the far horizon Mount Etna’s peak still wore a snowy mantle. The great volcano was sleeping today and only a thin stream of white smoke drifted from its summit into the blue sky.

As they passed a vast olive grove, Kristen’s tension increased. She recognised the area and knew that the gates of the Castellano estate were around the next bend. She also knew that the gatehouse was manned by security guards twenty-four hours a day and visitors were strictly vetted before being allowed to enter.

Bernardo Valdi’s visit had left her distraught and utterly determined to find her son. It had been easy enough to book a seat on the first available flight to Sicily, but as the taxi drew nearer to the estate she had no plan of action in the likely event that Sergio would refuse to allow her to see Nico. Her nerves jangled as the taxi stopped in front of a set of huge iron gates and a security guard approached. She fully expected to be turned away when the guard spoke on his mobile phone and relayed her name to someone at the house but, to her surprise and relief, he stepped back and waved the car through the electronic gates as they swung open.

The gravel driveway continued for a quarter of a mile before it forked into three separate roads. One led to the main house, La Casa Bianca, where Kristen assumed Sergio’s father Tito still lived. Another road disappeared into a pine forest, and in the distance the turrets of a castle—which had been built in the thirteenth century by a Sicilian nobleman and ancestor of the current Castellano family—were just visible above the tree tops. Four years ago, Sergio’s brother Salvatore and his beautiful wife Adriana had lived at the castle with their daughter, Kristen recalled.