Secret Heirs And A Forever Family

The door at the top was open and she walked outside. The sense of déjà vu almost knocked her off her feet. The air was balmy. The lights glittered. The garden was as magical as she remembered.

She walked along the path and it hit her why Zac had built this garden—obviously for his parents. Her heart ached, but she kept going.

And then a familiar voice broke the silence. ‘I thought you weren’t coming.’

She looked up to see Zac, dressed in a tuxedo, standing on the small terrace above the garden. She instantly felt dizzy, and her pulse-rate tripled. The baby kicked again.

She put a hand on her belly. ‘My father’s temperature was raised. I wanted to make sure he was okay.’

Zac frowned. ‘Is he?’

She nodded. ‘He’s fine, thank you.’

Zac didn’t make a move, so Rose kept going. His eyes were on her, unnervingly intense all the way. She walked up the steps, feeling acutely self-conscious. The dress hadn’t been made to accommodate a growing baby bump, so the material was stretched across her belly even more than it had been the last time.

When she got within a couple of feet of Zac she stopped. She’d thought she could do this—hold her head up high and give him whatever he wanted and then walk away again. But now, in front of him, it wasn’t so easy. Past and present were meshing painfully. That first night whispered around them like a mocking echo of what Rose had yearned for so much, knowing she could never have it.

Standing here in front of him with a pregnant belly was the biggest mockery of all.

She took a step back. Too much emotion was rising up. Scaring her.

Zac put out a hand as if to reach for her and she panicked. ‘I’m sorry. I thought I could do this…but I can’t.’

Zac frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’ His hand dropped.

Rose gestured to the dress, much as she had the other night, with a shaking hand. ‘This. You want to make some sort of point… Maybe you want an affair for a while…until you’re bored and you can relegate me to the sidelines as mother of your child… I know I owe you, Zac—I owe you more than I can ever repay you. But I don’t think I can do it like this.’

He came towards her then, with a savage look on his face. Rose only knew she’d backed away when she hit the railing where they’d stood and looked out over the view that first night. Dammit, she wished the memories would quit. She was going mad.

‘You think I brought you here like this as some sort of twisted fantasy? That I’d get a kick out of seeing you in that dress again and just want you for a finite amount of time?’

He’d put his hands on the railing now and boxed her in. He was so close that her belly was almost touching him.

‘You do owe me…’ he said then.

‘I know I do!’ Rose almost wailed it, willing herself not to respond and melt. ‘No one knows that more than me.’

He lifted a hand and cupped her jaw, and every sinew in Rose’s body pulled taut against her inevitable reaction.

‘For the past couple of weeks you’ve been keeping me at a distance and I won’t have it—not when you told me you loved me. Why are you acting as if you didn’t?’

Rose’s breath stopped dead. She wanted to dissolve and disappear. This was excruciating. She’d thought Zac was ruthless before, but this…this was sheer cruelty.

Angry at how he was forcing her complete humiliation, she said, ‘Because I’m not a masochist. That’s why I can’t do this…’

He said now, ‘When I said you owe me, I meant that you owe me nothing but your trust. Do you know why I asked you here like this? In this dress?’

Rose tried not to seize on what he’d said about her only owing him her trust. It was too dangerous.

‘Because you want me to start paying you back… Because it turns you on… Because I embarrassed you when I turned up at the function… I don’t know, Zac…’

‘You’re right about one thing: it does turn me on.’

Rose felt her nerves sizzling.

‘But the real reason is because I want to start again. I want us to recreate that night—except this time without any malevolent manipulation dictating events. We’re just two people who’ve never met before. No agenda.’

Hardly daring to breathe or to hope, Rose whispered, ‘Why? If all you want is an affair—’

‘Your words,’ he cut in. ‘Not mine.’ He shook his head. ‘You still don’t get it, do you? I haven’t brought you here just to sleep with you, or to continue some temporary affair. You’re here because you’ve brought me to my knees. Because everything that I ever believed was important means nothing unless you’re with me.’

He wasn’t finished.

‘I don’t just want one night…or a few weeks or months. I want every night and day. I want you and me and our baby—together. And I want that forever.’

Rose shook her head incredulously. Her heart was pounding wildly. ‘You didn’t believe me when I told you how I felt… How do I know you believe me now?’

Zac was intense. ‘Because I trust in that girl I met who was so conflicted…who just wanted to do the right thing but was falling, just like I was. I trust in the purity of what we felt for each other, regardless of how we came to meet.’

It was too much. The hope was too much… She had too far to fall, and Zac had distrusted her for so long.

She broke away and turned her back to him, standing at the railing, holding on with both hands, knuckles white. Her throat ached…her eyes burned. And then she closed her eyes helplessly when she felt him behind her, wrapping his arms around her. His hands spread across her swollen belly with a possessiveness that made her blood sing.

He said over her head, ‘I love you, Rose, and I’m not letting you go. Not until you believe me.’

She was crying now in earnest, silently. But he could feel her sobs and he just held her until they stopped. The baby kicked under his hands.

She felt Zac go still behind her, and then he said with a choked voice, ‘See? It’s two against one.’

As he held her and she looked out over the view, she felt something wild and soaring take root inside her. The past and the present…and the future? Could it really start here again?

She gathered all her courage and turned in his arms and looked up. Her face had to be ravaged from her tears, but she didn’t care. She looked, deep into those blue eyes, and saw nothing but a blazing truth, as if he could burn it into her with sheer will. And a question. Could she give them another chance? Could she trust him?

Rose tugged free of Zac’s hold and stepped back. The stark pain she saw in his eyes when she broke free told her everything. And that she never wanted to see it again.

She took a deep, not entirely stable breath and held out her hand. ‘I’m Rose O’Malley—nice to meet you.’

Zac’s eyes flashed with something fierce. Relief. Joy. And love. He smiled and took her hand. ‘Zac Valenti—nice to meet you too.’ Then he cocked his head on one side. ‘With a name and colouring like that you must be Irish?’

Her heart felt as if it would explode in her chest, but she answered, ‘My parents emigrated here before I was born.’

Zac kept hold of her hand and slowly started pulling her towards him. ‘Why haven’t I seen you around before?’

Rose smiled tremulously and let herself be pulled. ‘I’m from Queens, and I’m afraid I’m just a humble maid.’

Zac pulled her right into his body and said, in a suspiciously choked-sounding voice, ‘As it happens, just humble maids are some of my favourite people.’ He threaded a hand through Rose’s hair, ‘Would you think it very forward of me if I kissed you, even though we’ve only just met?’

Rose’s voice wobbled even more as she said emotionally, ‘Only as long as you promise never to stop.’

‘That,’ Zac said reverently as he bent his head towards hers, ‘I can promise.’

And so that night, on a beautiful rooftop, in the middle of a magical garden high in the dark velvet sky, they started again.

EPILOGUE

A year later

ZAC VALENTI LOOKED around the massive glittering ballroom from his antisocial location, leaning against a pillar at the back of the room. Women passed him, dripping in jewels. He held in a scowl. And then something caught his peripheral vision and he looked to his right to see a bright flame of gold and green approaching him. Something swelled in his chest. His wife, his love, his world.

She emerged from the crowd, smiling at him. Her hair was swept up and she wore a shimmering strapless column of emerald-green that made her eyes pop out like two jewels. The only jewels she needed. Apart from her wedding rings.

When she reached his side Zac pulled her in close and it felt as it always did—as if a part of him was slotting back into place. He automatically breathed easier.

Rose looked up at him, eyes sparkling. ‘The gossip in the powder room tonight is about the sudden decision of a certain Jocelyn Lyndon-Holt to go on a long worldwide cruise.’

A familiar tension came into Zac’s muscles at the mention of that woman, but also a sense of release. He’d given a recent exclusive interview to a financial magazine, finally revealing the truth of his parentage and details of his hitherto less well-known Italian business concerns.

This cruise was his grandmother’s attempt to escape her fall from grace. The fact that she would be hounded by reporters at every stop along her route was inordinately satisfying. As was the legal agreement he’d made her sign before she’d left, which had been her only chance of ensuring the Lyndon-Holt name would live forever.

The Lyndon-Holt fortune was to become a philanthropic foundation, with one of its main recipients being a new charity—set up by him and Rose—which allocated funds for expensive medical operations to those who couldn’t afford it.

Rose’s father had recovered fully from his operation, and they’d taken an emotional trip back to Ireland with her mother’s ashes shortly after their daughter’s birth. Needless to say, Simona May Valenti—named for her paternal grandmother with the Italian spelling, and maternal grandmother—was the apple of her doting grandfather’s eye.

They’d christened her three months previously, in the church near the graveyard where Zac’s ancestors were buried. It was also where they’d been married, before Simona’s birth. Italy was their second home now, and they retreated there as much as possible.

Zac said now, with faux gravity, ‘Quite frankly, I’m less interested in idle gossip and far more interested in seeing how quickly I can get you out of that dress, Mrs Valenti.’

Rose slipped her arms around his waist, pressing so close that he could feel the thrust of her breasts against this side. Lust shot through his system with predictable force, making his body respond.

‘Witch…’ he growled, and she smiled, well aware of her effect on him.

He pulled her around in front of him, as much to disguise his body’s reaction as to torture her a little too.

He smiled when he saw her cheeks flush and her eyes dilate. ‘What do you say to going somewhere a little less…stuffy?’

She smiled. ‘I say yes.’

And then they both became aware of a moment of déjà vu at the same time—recalling that first night when he’d said those same words,

Rose said more huskily, ‘Take me home, Zac.’

So he did.

They went home to their new Greenwich Village townhouse and, after sending their nanny home, checked on their peacefully sleeping baby daughter, legs and arms spread wide in abandon.

Zac stood looking down at her for a long time. It scared him sometimes, recognising how easily his life might have remained an arid wasteland, only feeling a desire for retribution for his parents and wanting to accumulate more wealth and power. He’d arrogantly assumed when he’d walked away from his family that he had it all figured out, when in fact he’d really been no better off.

It had taken meeting Rose and falling in love to show him the true meaning of wealth. And now his daughter had compounded that a thousandfold.

Rose’s hand slipped into his and he looked at her, too overcome to say anything for a moment. She smiled, and he could see everything he was feeling mirrored in those green eyes.

‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘Me, too.’

And then she started backing out of the room, pulling him with her, with a knowing and very feminine smile on her face as they made their way to their bedroom.

And in that private space Zac let her take him apart—because he knew that she was the only one who could put him back together again. For ever.

Secret Heirs: Billionaire’s Pleasure

Secrets of a Billionaire’s Mistress

Sharon Kendrick

Engaged for Her Enemy’s Heir

Kate Hewitt

The Virgin’s Shock Baby

Heidi Rice

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Secrets of a Billionaire’s Mistress

Sharon Kendrick

Waitress…

Neither tall, willowy nor sophisticated, waitress Darcy Denton knew she wasn’t Renzo Sabatini’s usual type. But enthralled by the powerful magnate, unworldly Darcy became addicted to their passionate nights together.

Mistress…

Ensconced in Renzo’s secluded Tuscan villa, Darcy glimpses Renzo’s troubled past and desolate soul. She should end it before she gets in too deep, but then she discovers she’s pregnant!

Wife?

Harboring her own childhood secrets, Darcy dare not tell Renzo, but as the mother of his child it’s only a matter of time—nine months, to be exact—before he claims what’s his…

For three fabulous writers who helped with the

Australian detail in my 100th book,

ARoyal Vow of Convenience.

Helene Young & Margareta Young for the

inspiration and the insight - and Rachael Johns,

for the Tim-Tams!

CHAPTER ONE

RENZO SABATINI WAS unbuttoning his shirt when the doorbell rang. He felt the beat of expectation. The familiar tug of heat to his groin. He was half-tempted to pull the shirt from his shoulders so Darcy could slide her fingers over his skin, closely followed by those inventive lips of hers. The soft lick of her tongue could help him forget what lay ahead. He thought about Tuscany and the closing of a chapter. About the way some memories could still be raw even when so many years had passed and maybe that was why he never really stopped to think about them.

But why concentrate on darkness when Darcy was all sunshine and light? And why rush at sex when they had the whole night ahead—a smorgasbord of sensuality which he could enjoy at his leisure with his latest and most unexpected lover? A woman who demanded nothing other than that he satisfy her—something which was easy since he had only to touch her pale skin to grow so hard that it hurt. His mouth dried. Four months in and he was as bewitched by her as he had been from the start.

In many ways he was astonished it had continued this long when their two worlds were so different. She was not his usual type of woman and he was very definitely not her type of man. He was into clean lines and minimalism, while Darcy was all voluptuous curves and lingerie which could barely contain her abundant flesh. His mouth curved into a hard smile. In reality it should never have lasted beyond one night but her tight body had been difficult to walk away from. It still was.

The doorbell rang again and the glance he shot at his wristwatch was touched with irritation. Was she daring to be impatient when she wasn’t supposed to be here for another half hour? Surely she knew the rules by now…that she was expected to fit around his schedule, rather than the other way round?

Barefooted, he walked through the spacious rooms of his Belgravia apartment, pulling open the front door to see Darcy Denton standing there—small of stature and impossible to ignore—her magnificent curls misted with rain and tugged back into a ponytail so that only the bright red colour was on show. She wore a light raincoat, tightly belted to emphasise her tiny waist, but underneath she was still in her waitress’s uniform because she lived on the other side of London, an area Renzo had never visited—and he was perfectly content for it to stay that way. They’d established very quickly that if she went home after her shift to change, it wasted several hours—even if he sent his car to collect her. And Renzo was a busy man with an architectural practice which spanned several continents. His time was too precious to waste, which was why she always came straight from work with her overnight bag—though that was a largely unnecessary detail since she was rarely anything other than naked when she was with him.

He stared down into her green eyes, which glittered like emeralds in porcelain-pale skin and, as always, his blood began to fizz with expectation and lust. ‘You’re early,’ he observed softly. ‘Did you time your visit especially because you knew I’d be undressing?’

Darcy answered him with a tight smile as he opened the door to let her in. She was cold and she was wet and it had been the most awful day. A customer had spilt tea over her uniform. Then a child had been sick. She’d looked out the window at the end of her shift to discover that the rain had started and someone must have taken her umbrella. And Renzo Sabatini was standing there in the warmth of his palatial apartment, looking glowing and delectable—making the assumption that she had nothing better to do than to time her visits just so she would find him half-naked. Could she ever have met a man more arrogant?

Yet she’d known what she was letting herself in for when she’d started this crazy affair. When she’d fought a silent battle against everything she’d known to be wrong. Because powerful men who dallied with waitresses only wanted one thing, didn’t they?

She’d lost that particular battle and ended up in Renzo’s king-size bed—but nobody could say that her eyes hadn’t been open at the time. Well, some of the time at least—the rest of the time they’d fluttered to a quivering close as he had thrust deeply inside her until she was sobbing with pleasure. After resisting him as hard as she could, she’d decided to resist no more. Or maybe the truth was that she hadn’t been able to stop herself from falling into his arms. He’d kissed her and that had been it. She hadn’t known that a kiss could make you feel that way. She hadn’t realised that desire could make you feel as if you were floating. Or flying. She’d surrendered her virginity to him and, after his shocked reaction to discovering he was her first lover, he had introduced her to more pleasure than she’d thought possible, though in a life spectacularly short on the pleasure front that wouldn’t have been difficult, would it?

For a while things had been fine. More than fine. She spent the night with him whenever he was in the country and had a space in his diary—and sometimes she spent the following day there, too. He cooked her eggs and played her music she’d never heard before—dreamy stuff featuring lots of violins—while he pored over the fabulously intricate drawings which would one day be transformed into the glittering and iconic skyscrapers for which he was famous.

But lately something had started to niggle away inside her. Was it her conscience? Her sense that her already precarious self-worth was being eroded by him hiding her away in his palatial apartment, like a guilty secret? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she’d started to analyse what she’d become and hadn’t liked the answer she’d come up with.

She was a wealthy man’s plaything. A woman who dropped her panties whenever he clicked those elegant olive fingers.

But she was here now and it was stupid to let her reservations spoil the evening ahead, so she changed her tight smile into a bright smile as she dumped her overnight bag on the floor and tugged the elastic band from her hair. Shaking her damp curls free, she couldn’t deny the satisfaction it gave her to see the way Renzo’s eyes had darkened in response—although her physical appeal to him had never been in any question. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her and she suspected she knew why. Because she was different. Working class, for a start. She hadn’t been to college—in fact, she’d missed out on more schooling than she should have done and nearly everything she knew had been self-taught. She was curvy and red-headed, when usually he went for slender brunettes—that was if all the photos in the newspapers were to be believed. They were certainly mismatched on just about every level, except when it came to bed.

Because the sex was amazing—it always had been—but it couldn’t continue like this, taking her on an aimless path which was leading nowhere. Darcy knew what she had to do. She knew you could only fool yourself for so long before reality started hurting and forced you to change. She’d noticed Renzo was starting to take her for granted and knew that, if it continued, all the magic they’d shared would just wither away. And she didn’t want that, because memories were powerful things. The bad ones were like heavy burdens you had to carry around with you and she was determined to have some good ones to lighten the load. So when was she going to grab the courage to walk away from him, before Renzo did the walking and left her feeling broken and crushed?

‘I’m early because I sent your driver away and took the Tube instead,’ she explained, brushing excess raindrops from her forest of red curls.

‘You sent the driver away?’ He frowned as he slid the damp raincoat from her shoulders. ‘Why on earth would you do that?’

Darcy sighed, wondering what it must be like to be Renzo Sabatini and live in an enclosed and protected world, where chauffeur-driven cars and private jets shielded you from rain and snow and the worries of most normal folk. Where people did your shopping and picked up your clothes where you’d left them on the bedroom floor the night before. A world where you didn’t have to speak to anyone unless you really wanted to, because there was always some minion who would do the speaking for you.

‘Because the traffic is a nightmare at this time of day and often we’re forced to sit in a queue, moving at a snail’s pace.’ She took the coat from him and gave it a little shake before hanging it in the cupboard. ‘Public transport happens to have a lot going for it during the rush hour. Now, rather than debating my poor timekeeping can I please have a cup of tea? I’m f-f-freezing.’

But he didn’t make any move towards the kitchen as most people might have done after such a wobbly request. He took her in his arms and kissed her instead. His lips were hard as they pressed against hers and his fingers caressed her bottom through her uniform dress as he brought her up close to his body. Close enough for her to feel the hardness of his erection and the warmth of his bare chest as he deepened the kiss. Darcy’s eyelids fluttered to a close as one hard thigh pushed insistently against hers and she could feel her own parting in automatic response. And suddenly her coldness was forgotten and tea was the last thing on her mind. Her questions and insecurities dissolved as he deepened the kiss and all she was aware of was the building heat as her chilled fingers crept up to splay themselves over his bare and hair-roughened torso.

‘Hell, Renzo,’ she breathed.

‘Is it really hell?’ he murmured.

‘No, it’s…’ she brushed her lips over his ‘…heaven, if you must know.’

‘That’s what I thought. Are you trying to warm your hands on my chest?’

‘Trying. I don’t think I’m having very much luck. You do many things very well, but acting as a human hot-water bottle isn’t one of them.’