His Unexpected Legacy

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

‘The house only has two bedrooms.’

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.’

‘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.

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.

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…

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!).

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

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.

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.

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?’

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.

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.

‘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.

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...’

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.

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.

‘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.

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?’

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.

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His Unexpected Legacy - Шантель Шоу - ‘The house only has two bedrooms.’ Читать онлайн любовный роман

Шоу Шантель

Аннотация к произведению His Unexpected Legacy - Шантель Шоу

‘The house only has two bedrooms.’

‘The house only has two bedrooms.’