Forgotten Mistress, Secret Love-Child

by Annie West

  Once bitten, now cured for life!

  His eyes blazed with curiosity. Then those heavy lids dropped, hiding his expression.

  ‘Good. Then we have an understanding.’

  ‘Now, just a minute! I didn’t say I—’

  ‘I’ll leave you to read the agreement.’ He gestured to the papers on the desk as he turned away, obviously eager to go. ‘There are arrangements to be made.’ He paused, spearing her with a look. ‘Consider well what I’ve said, Carys. I’ll be back soon for your answer.’

  She hadn’t meant to, but finally Carys was drawn to the elegant regency desk with its fateful document. The thickly worded pages taunted her, evidence of Alessandro’s superior position, of his lawyers and his precious money.

  She wasn’t really considering marriage. Was she? Fear swooped through her stomach and her damp hands clenched.

  Alessandro couldn’t force her to marry.

  He was gambling that a judge would give him custody. More, he was probably bluffing about court action. He wouldn’t…

  The memory of eyes flashing like jade daggers in the sun pulled her up short.

  He would. To get his son, of course he would.

  How had she ever imagined Alessandro would settle for part-time fatherhood?

  Stiffly she raised a hand and drew the papers towards her. She settled her glasses on her nose and began reading.

  By the third page panic welled. It had taken twenty minutes of desperate concentration and still some of the text eluded her.

  She was exhausted after so many sleepless nights and emotionally drained. Even at the best of times her dyslexia made reading solid text like this a challenge. But now…she bit her lip, fighting down angry tears of frustration.

  Leo’s future was at stake and she didn’t have the skills to ensure he was protected! What sort of mother was she?

  The old, jeering voice in her head told her she was a failure, and for a moment she was tempted to believe it.

  She slammed her palms on the table and pushed her chair away. It wasn’t a matter of skills or intelligence. It was simply a disability, exacerbated by tiredness and stress.

  Besides—it suddenly hit her—the prenup wasn’t about Leo. It was about her rights and Alessandro’s.

  She flicked to the end and found a section, mercifully short, that declared she would get nothing, either in cash or interest in Alessandro’s fortune, in the case of divorce. Relief filled her. That was the heart of it. All the rest was legal bumph of conditions and counter-conditions.

  Still, caution warned she should have a lawyer read this before she signed.

  Hell! Caution warned her to run a mile rather than consider marrying Alessandro Mattani! Even in a convenient marriage where they’d be virtual strangers, he had the power to turn her world on its head.

  But this wasn’t about her. This was about Leo. Leo who had the right to both his parents. Who didn’t deserve to be fought over in a tug-of-love battle. Whom she loved so much she couldn’t bear the risk of Alessandro taking him from her.

  Carys blinked glazing hot eyes and straightened her spine.

  She didn’t have a lawyer to check the document, but that didn’t matter. She didn’t have a choice.

  Heart heavy, fingers tense, she picked up Alessandro’s custom-made pen and turned to the final page.

  Carys Antoinette Wells. Such a pompous document deserved her full name. But instead of writing with a flourish, her hand shook so much it looked like the signature of an inexperienced teenager, pretending to be someone else.

  The pen clattered to the desk. Carys got slowly to her feet, stiff like an old woman, her heart leaden.

  A muffled sound drew Alessandro’s attention. He lifted his head, all too ready for a distraction from paperwork.

  These last days Alessandro had found it extraordinarily difficult to give business his full attention. To be expected since he’d just discovered he had a son and was in the process of acquiring a wife.

  A renegade spurt of pleasure shot through him. At the thought of Leo. And, more surprisingly, at the idea of Carys, soon to be his wife.

  His lips twisted in self-mockery. Two years of celibacy had honed his libido to a razor-sharp edge. That explained the anticipation surging in his blood. Even the freshly recovered memory, visited again and again, of her lying in his bed, dark russet hair spread in sensual abandon, seized his muscles in potent sexual excitement.

  Since the accident his sex drive had been dormant. At first he hadn’t given it a thought. All his physical and mental strength had been directed to recovery. Then there were the gruelling hours he’d put in day after day, month after month, to turn around the family company that had careened towards disaster.

  Yet as the months passed, he’d realised something fundamental had altered. Despite the temptations around him, he barely found the energy to take out a pretty girl, much less summon the enthusiasm to have one in his bed.

  He’d always been a discriminating but active lover. Twenty-two months of celibacy was unheard of.

  Was it any wonder he fretted over those lost months, as if something in that time had reduced his drive? Somehow weakened his very masculinity?

  Not even to himself had he admitted anxiety that the change in him might be permanent.

  Now though, there was no doubt everything was in working order. There was a permanent ache in his groin as he fought to stifle the lustful desires Carys provoked.

  His lips stretched taut in a smile of hungry anticipation.

  The sound came again. A whimper, drawing Alessandro’s attention. He turned to find Leo stirring in his mother’s arms. She’d refused to let the cabin crew take the boy but had stretched out on her bed with the tot in her arms. They’d looked so comfortable together Alessandro saw no reason to object.

  Now the little one was fidgeting and twisting in his mother’s loose embrace.

  Alessandro watched his son’s vigorous movements and felt again the cataclysmic surge of wonder that had overcome him when he’d held the boy in his arms. The idea that he had a child still stunned him.

  Green eyes caught green and Leo stopped his restless jigging.

  ‘Ba,’ Leo said solemnly. ‘Ba, ba, ba.’

  Alessandro put his laptop aside. ‘No. It’s papa.’

  ‘Baba!’ One small arm stretched towards him and pride flared. His son was intelligent, that was obvious.

  Alessandro stood, scooped the boy off the bed and held him carefully in both arms. An only child himself, Alessandro had virtually no experience with young children. But he’d learn fast, for his son’s sake.

  He’d been brought up by nannies and tutors, following a strict regimen designed to ensure he grew early into self-reliance and emotional independence. Alessandro didn’t intend to spoil his son, but he’d ensure Leo spent time with his father—a luxury Alessandro had rarely enjoyed.

  He lifted his son higher, registering the elusive scent he’d noticed before, of baby, sunshine and talc. He inhaled deeply and found himself staring into a small bright face.

  ‘I’m Papa,’ he murmured, brushing dark hair back from his son’s forehead. It was silky and warm under his palm.

  ‘Baba!’ Leo’s grin was infectious and Alessandro’s lips tilted in an answering curve.

  ‘Come. It’s time to get better acquainted.’ He turned towards his seat but paused as he caught sight of Carys. She lay on her side, arms outstretched invitingly.

  In sleep she looked serene, gentle, tempting.

  What was it about her that tempted him when so many beauties hadn’t? That turned him on so that just standing looking down at her, he was hard as granite with wanting. Desire was a slow unmistakeable throb in his blood.

  She was the mother of his child, and that was a definite turn on. The thought of her body swelling and ripening with his baby was intensely erotic and satisfying.

  But he’d lusted after her before he knew about Leo. When she was a stranger in a photograph.

  Wh
y was she different?

  Because she challenged him and provoked him and got under his skin till he wanted to kiss her into submission?

  Or because of something they’d shared?

  Something about Carys Wells made him hanker to believe she was different.

  Different! Ha!

  She’d admitted she had left him because he’d found out about her with another man. Stefano Manzoni. The very shark who’d been circling, aiming to take a fatal bite out of Alessandro’s company after Leonardo Mattani’s death. That added insult to injury.

  The idea of Carys with Stefano made Alessandro sick to the stomach. Had the affair been consummated? Fury pounded through him at the images his mind conjured.

  He’d make absolutely sure from now on that Carys had no time to think of looking at another man.

  Then there was the way she’d pored over the prenup in Melbourne. Proof, if he’d needed any, that she was just like the rest. She’d been so absorbed, she hadn’t heard him enter then leave again.

  Of course she’d signed without any further demur. As soon as she’d read the size of the outrageously large allowance he’d grant her while she lived with him and Leo, she’d been hooked. Just as he’d intended.

  The generosity of that allowance had caused a stir with his advisers, but Alessandro knew what he was doing. He’d make sure Leo had the stability of a mother who stayed. Alessandro’s son wouldn’t be left, abandoned, as he had been.

  No. Despite her strange allure, Carys wasn’t different.

  And yet…there would be compensations.

  He looked from her abandoned sprawl and enticingly sensual lips to the chubby face of the son in his arms.

  He’d made the right decision.

  Carys didn’t know whether to be relieved or astonished that Alessandro didn’t take them to his home in the hills above Lake Como. She’d loved the spare elegance of his modern architect-designed house, built to catch every view with spectacular windows and an innovative design.

  Now though, he drove his snarling, low-slung car to the massive family villa. The villa to which she’d never been invited during her months living with him.

  She hadn’t been good enough for his family.

  The knowledge stuck like a jagged block of ice in her chest as he turned into a wide gravel drive. Her breathing slowed as trepidation filled her.

  They passed lawns and garden beds, artfully planted shrubberies, and emerged before a spectacular view of the lake. To the left the villa rose serenely, like a sugar-encrusted period fantasy. To the right stretched Lake Como: indigo water rimmed by small towns and sunlit slopes.

  Beside her sat Alessandro in silent magnificence. Six feet two of brooding Italian male. His straight brows and thinned lips made it clear how he felt about bringing her to the family mansion. Clearly she wasn’t the sort of bride he’d have chosen in other circumstances.

  The knowledge ate at her like acid. She hadn’t been good enough before. Now only Leo’s presence in the back seat elevated her enough to enter the Mattani inner sanctum.

  Carys sensed old doubts circling, the belief that she really was second best, not able to live up to her family’s exacting standards, let alone Alessandro’s.

  The sight of the villa, redolent with generations of power and wealth, only reinforced the sinking sense of inadequacy she’d striven all her life to overcome.

  ‘Your home is very imposing,’ she murmured as she shoved the traitorous thoughts away. She would not go down that track. Only tiredness made her think that way.

  Plus nerves about what lay ahead.

  ‘You think so?’ Alessandro shrugged. ‘I’ve always thought it overdone, as if trying too hard to impress.’ He waved towards one end of the villa, thickly encrusted with pillars, balconies, decorative arched windows and even what looked from this angle like a turret.

  ‘I hadn’t thought about it like that.’ She scanned the pale silvery-pink façade, taking in every quaint architectural device, every ostentatious finish. Alessandro was right. Yet with its mellow stone bathed in morning sun it was beautiful. ‘Now you mention it, it’s rather like an ageing showgirl, a little overdone, a little too obvious. But appealing anyway.’

  A shout of laughter made her turn. Alessandro leaned back in his seat. He grinned as he met her startled gaze. That grin brought back crazy, wonderful memories. Her heart jumped then began pounding against her ribcage as heat sizzled, a long slow burn, right to her heart.

  ‘You’ve hit the nail on the head. I’d never have described it that way, but you’re absolutely right.’ His gaze met hers and a shock wave hit her at the glint of approval and pleasure in his eyes. ‘Just don’t let Livia hear you say that. It’s her pride and joy.’

  ‘Livia?’ The surge of jubilation Carys had felt in the unexpected shared moment ebbed. ‘Is your stepmother here?’

  ‘She no longer lives here. She spends her time in Milan or Rome. But you’ll see her. She’ll give you advice on what’s expected of you. Fill you in on the social background you need to know.’

  And you can’t? The thought remained unspoken.

  Of course he couldn’t. Alessandro would be too busy with business or with other interests to spare time for his new fiancée. Swiftly Carys thrust aside the idea of his ‘other interests’ and schooled her face into a calm façade.

  ‘Is that necessary?’ She met his steady look then turned away to fumble with her seat belt. ‘I’m sure she’s busy.’

  And she never liked me anyway.

  Spending time teaching the ropes to a gauche plebeian whose sense of style began and ended with chain-store bargains would be hell for Livia. And worse for Carys.

  ‘Not too busy to assist my bride.’ His cool tone reinforced what Carys already knew, that this would be a duty for the older woman, not a pleasure.

  ‘I’ll look forward to it,’ Carys said through gritted teeth and turned away, only to find her door already open. A man in a butler’s uniform bowed, waiting for her to step out.

  ‘Grazie,’ she murmured, dredging up her rusty Italian.

  He smiled and bowed deeper. ‘Welcome, madam. It’s a pleasure to have you here.’

  Delight warmed her as she realised she could understand his clear, precise Italian. It had been almost two years since she’d spoken it, but she had an ear for languages. Perhaps because she’d spent so many years honing her memory and learning by heart at school. She’d discovered that was the best way to avoid revising with reams of written notes.

  Hesitantly she tried out a little more Italian as she got out of the car. She was gratified when Paulo, the butler, encouraged her faltering attempts. Soon he was telling her about the comforts of the villa awaiting her, including a lavish morning tea, and she was responding.

  Carys let him usher her from the car, only to pull up short at the sight of Alessandro waiting for her.

  He held Leo, still slumbering, in his arms. For a moment the sight of her son, flushed with sleep and hair tousled, snuggled up against the wide shoulder of his magnificent, handsome father, made her heart falter in its rhythm.

  Then Alessandro spoke, fortunately in a voice pitched only for her ears. ‘If you’ve finished practising your charm on my staff we can go in.’

  Confused, Carys met his searing dark scrutiny.

  ‘Now we’re marrying, you need to forget about winning other men’s smiles.’ His grim tone made it clear he wasn’t joking. ‘My wife needs to be above reproach.’

  ‘You think I was flirting?’ Amazement coloured her voice. She could scarcely credit it. Alessandro sounded almost…jealous.

  The idea was preposterous. But the glitter of disapproval in his eyes intrigued her.

  She imagined things. Alessandro had wanted her sexually in Melbourne only because she was convenient and shamingly willing. But that was past. Now he saw her solely as Leo’s mother. He hadn’t touched her since he’d discovered his son. Clearly he wanted her for Leo not himself.

  Carys thanked her luck
y stars for that. It gave her distance. Safety. For if he ever decided to seduce her again, she wasn’t sure she had the strength to resist.

  ‘I think it’s time we went in and settled our son,’ he said, ignoring her blurted question. He breached the distance between them, consuming her personal space till she found it almost impossible to draw a steady breath. ‘You’ll be tired after the journey and you need rest before this afternoon.’

  ‘This afternoon?’ Bemused, Carys shook her head.

  ‘Livia has arranged a designer to fit you for your wedding dress.’ His lips curved up in a tight smile that could have signalled either pleasure or stoic acceptance. ‘We marry at the end of the week.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  FOUR hours later Carys waited, palms damp with trepidation, for the haute couture designer who’d been brought in to produce her wedding gown.

  The fact that Alessandro’s name could procure a top designer to dress her in such a short time only reinforced his enormous wealth and the huge gulf between them. Carys had never had anything made to order in her life.

  The few high-fashion gurus she’d met while working had been condescending creatures. Perhaps because they took one look at her: average height, average face, unfashionably rounded figure, and knew she was no clothes horse.

  At least this one already knew the worst. Alessandro had insisted on having her measurements taken in Melbourne and sent through to Milan, with a rather unflattering photo.

  Carys glanced at her watch. Maybe the designer wouldn’t show. Maybe they’d decided the challenge of passing her off as anything approaching chic was too hard.

  She grimaced as she paced the salon, wishing the appointment was somewhere less imposing. The luxurious formality of the reception rooms stifled. Carefully she avoided the gilt-edged antique mirrors and stiff, silk-upholstered chairs. She felt like an ugly duckling, plucked out of her comfortable little pond and plonked in a palace.

  If only she’d been allowed to buy a ready-made dress.