by Lynne Graham
‘When I was arrested four years ago, I lost everything I owned while I was in custody,’ Kathy admitted tightly. ‘Family photos, keepsakes, clothes, everything. I don’t want it to happen again and it could so easily.’
Sergio frowned. ‘How did that happen?’
‘There was nobody to take responsibility for my things while I was in prison, so what I owned was either dumped or sold. Gareth promised that he would store my stuff for me, but then he let his mother ditch me and I never heard from him again—’
‘His mother?’ Sergio studied her in astonishment.
‘She visited me in prison to tell me that her son was finished with me. I wrote to him and my landlady, but neither of them bothered to reply.’
‘I’ll have your possessions collected for you the moment you say the word. Believe me, you won’t lose a single item.’ Lean brown fingers curling to the footboard on the bed, Sergio surveyed her with disturbingly intent dark eyes. ‘We share a mutual distrust of our fellow man. How can I prove to you that although I have my faults you can trust my word?’
‘You can’t.’ Kathy was tense because she was experiencing a tightening sensation that she was afraid might be the forerunner of the contractions that had faded away some hours earlier.
‘Even if I ask you to marry me?’
Her heart gave a slow, heavy thud and she stared at him fixedly. ‘Are you asking?’
‘Yes, bellezza mia.’ Sergio met her startled appraisal with rock-solid calm. ‘You’re having my baby. It’s the most rational solution.’
‘But people don’t get married just because—’
‘In my family they do,’ Sergio cut in.
Kathy contemplated the armchair he had vacated. She didn’t want to snatch at his offer and give his ego an unnecessary boost. If she considered his proposal purely in terms of security and common sense, however, it answered her every practical need, for she would no longer need to worry about how she would manage as a mother. Indeed if she married Sergio the luxury of choice would enter her world again and her little girl would never have to make the sacrifices her mother had. Her adoptive parents had instilled enough of their principles to ensure that marriage had much more appeal for Kathy than the worry of having to go it alone with her child. If he was willing to commit to that extent to their daughter’s future, she reckoned that he was much more responsible and reliable than she had given him credit for.
Kathy tried not to grimace as the sensation in her abdomen became definite enough to warn her that she was going into labour again. It was a very vulnerable moment and she fully recognised the fact. He didn’t love her, but he was willing to be there for her as the father of her child. Just then that mattered to her as much as the knowledge that if she said yes, he would stay with her.
‘Okay…I’ll marry you,’ she muttered jerkily.
‘I’ll organise it.’ His lean dark features serious, Sergio’s smooth response bore the infuriating hallmarks of a male who had not expected any other reply. ‘We’ll organise the ceremony before the baby’s born—’
‘I don’t th-think so,’ Kathy gasped as another pain rippled in a wave across her lower body, returning stronger and faster than she had expected. ‘My contractions have started again. Our baby’s going to get here first.’
Momentarily, Sergio dealt her a look of consternation, but then he unfroze and wasted no time in summoning assistance. Events moved fast from that point. Both of them were filled with dismay when the surgeon decided that a Caesarean section would be the safest, speediest option for the delivery. Kathy was frightened for her child and Sergio made an enormous effort to keep her calm. His strength and assurance helped her a great deal. Clad in green theatre scrubs, he held her hand throughout the procedure and talked her through every step. He looked very pale but the delivery went without a hitch. Only in the instant after Sergio first saw their daughter did Kathy fully appreciate how much of a front he could put up, and that his anxiety had been equal to her own, for his stunning dark deep-set eyes were lustrous with tears.
Their newborn infant was checked over with great care. She had slight breathing problems, so was immediately placed in an incubator and whisked away.
Kathy was returned to her room. ‘I’d like to call our daughter Ella after my mother,’ she said tautly, keen to personalise their child with a name, so that even if she couldn’t hold the tiny girl at that moment she could feel closer to her.
‘Ella Battista…after mine,’ Sergio suggested.
The effects of stress, exhaustion and medication were steadily piling up on Kathy and making her eyes very heavy. Sergio went to check on Ella and came back to report on her progress before Kathy finally let herself fall asleep.
Nola Ross phoned the next morning and sent flowers. Bridget arrived and joined Kathy in the special care baby unit, where quite some time was spent admiring Ella with her silky fluff of coppery curls and fine features. ‘Are you annoyed with me for getting Sergio involved?’ Bridget asked worriedly, once Kathy had been conveyed back to her room and the two women had the privacy to talk.
Kathy was grateful to be distracted from her ever-present worry about her baby’s health. ‘Of course I’m not. But why didn’t you mention Sergio’s visit or Renzo’s?’
Bridget winced. ‘I knew it would stress you out if you realised that Sergio was making a big push to find you, and then things got really complicated…’
‘How?’
‘Don’t mention it to Sergio yet, but I’m dating Renzo.’
Kathy gave her a bemused look, and then she began to laugh. The brunette made Kathy smile with her story of how the middle-aged Italian’s regular visits to the café had led to a friendship that had warmed into something more serious.
‘I’d pretended I didn’t know where you were at first. Then I had to keep up the pretence because Renzo was too loyal to Sergio to be trusted with the truth—’
‘You should have told me.’
‘You had enough on your plate. To be fair to Sergio, the guy hasn’t stopped looking for you since you left London.’
‘Guilty conscience. I should’ve left him a note telling him not to worry and that I’d be fine,’ Kathy conceded wryly.
‘But the dramatic silence and the walk-out was much more your style, bellezza mia,’ Sergio interposed from the doorway. ‘Mrs Kirk…I hope Kathy has invited you to our wedding.’
The older woman’s eyes expanded like saucers. ‘What wedding?’ she exclaimed. ‘You two are planning to get married? That is wonderful news!’
‘I hadn’t got around to mentioning it yet.’ Beneath Sergio’s sardonic appraisal, Kathy squirmed and flushed. She had found it impossible to find the right words with which to make that announcement when deep down inside she felt as though agreeing to marry him was a betrayal of her principles and her pride. ‘It won’t be for ages yet anyway,’ she added. ‘I mean, we’ll have to wait until Ella’s strong enough to leave the baby unit and I’ve recovered from the Caesarean.’
In actuality, Ella finally gained her release from medical care only three days before her parents were due to marry and, by then, she was seven weeks old. The little girl had overcome the breathing problems caused by her under-developed lungs only to be diagnosed with anaemia. At one stage, a worrying infection had kept Kathy at the hospital with her daughter day and night. With a vast business empire demanding his attention, Sergio had been unable to be on the spot as often, but he had shared every crisis with Kathy and his daughter. It was Sergio’s strength that Kathy had learnt to rely on at the lowest moments. His courage in the face of adversity and his refusal to contemplate a negative outcome had grounded Kathy and given her hope when she had been most afraid for their child. Once the danger passed, however, Sergio had gone back abroad.
He had suggested that Kathy move into his apartment, but a suite in the quiet hotel across the road from the hospital had proved to be more convenient and she had seen no reason to move out before the wedding. That physical se
paration, allied to the need to concentrate solely on Ella’s problems, had created a polite distance between Sergio and Kathy. In addition, Sergio had been determined to keep the press from finding out about Ella and his marital plans before he chose to make an official announcement. As a result their meetings had acquired a level of discretion that had ensured that they invariably only saw each other at the hospital. And there they had been virtually never alone.
Although Sergio had belatedly attempted to break the stalemate, Kathy had made endless excuses about needing to stay with Ella or being too tired while she recovered from her op. Kathy was miserably convinced that all the secrecy was aimed at keeping her shameful past hidden for as long as possible. So, how could Sergio really want to risk being seen out with her in public? Wouldn’t it only hasten her exposure as a convicted thief? The paparazzi followed Sergio’s every move with intense interest. Kathy reckoned that about five minutes after she was revealed as the new Mrs Torrente her criminal record would be dug up and paraded in newsprint for all to see. The very thought of it made her feel sick with dread. But worst of all was the knowledge that Sergio would also feel that humiliation—and that some day her daughter would, as well.
In the background, the wedding arrangements had been handled by experts who worked in tandem with Sergio’s staff. Italy had been chosen as the ideal location and every detail had been kept under wraps. Kathy only had Bridget and Nola on her guest list, and her friends were over the moon at the prospect of a luxury weekend in the sunshine. The one item that Kathy had chosen for herself was her wedding gown.
Forty-eight hours before the wedding, the hotel reception called Kathy’s suite to inform her that Mr Torrente was on his way up to see her. Surprised because she had not expected to see Sergio before she flew out to Italy with her friends the next day, Kathy stopped packing Ella’s clothes and rushed to check her hair instead. She was astonished when she opened the door to a stranger, because the stringent security precautions Sergio insisted on meant that nobody she didn’t know should even get as far as the lift.
A portly man with receding hair and rather sad brown eyes smiled at her. ‘I’m Abramo Torrente, Sergio’s brother.’
‘My goodness…’ Kathy had the tact not to say that she had quite forgotten that her bridegroom even had a brother. ‘Please come in.’
‘You should check my credentials first.’ Abramo extended his passport as evidence of his identity. ‘You can’t be too careful nowadays.’
Certainly the brothers bore little resemblance to each other. Abramo looked more cuddly than sexy and, where Sergio was in the physical peak of condition the younger man had a grey indoor pallor. She had to strain her memory to recall that Sergio was the child of his father’s first marriage and Abramo the child of the second.
‘My brother hasn’t told you anything about me, has he?’
Abramo, Kathy registered, was shrewder than he seemed at first glance. ‘I’m afraid not.’
‘It’s eight years since Sergio spoke to me. He refuses to see me. He’s an old-world Torrente in the style of our late father—stubborn and hard as iron,’ Abramo commented heavily. ‘But we are still brothers.’
‘Eight years is a long time. It must have been some family feud.’
‘Sergio was the innocent victim of my mother’s lies,’ Abramo admitted ruefully. ‘My father favoured him and she resented that. I loved my brother but I envied him too. Once I saw how Sergio’s fall might give me a chance with Grazia, I was no better than my mother. I stood by and did nothing to help him regain what was rightfully his.’
‘Grazia?’ Kathy prompted in fascination. ‘Who’s Grazia?’
‘Surely Sergio has mentioned her to you?’
‘No.’
Abramo contrived to look stunned by that oversight. ‘When Sergio was twenty-one he got engaged to Grazia. I too loved her,’ he confided with a grimace. ‘When Sergio was deposed as heir to the Azzarini wine empire and I took his place, Grazia panicked and changed her mind about marrying him. I didn’t waste the opportunity. I married her before she could change her mind.’
Kathy marvelled at his honesty and at his evident hope that Sergio would absolve him from what must have been a devastating double betrayal. ‘I’m not sure I understand why you’re telling me all this.’
‘Sergio is about to marry you. You have a child. All our lives are in a different place now. I want to offer my good wishes for your future. I have a great need to make peace with my brother.’ Abramo gave her a look of unashamed appeal. ‘Will you speak to him?’
Ella wakened in the room next door and her cries created a welcome diversion. Kathy lifted her tiny precious daughter from her cradle and hugged her gently close. Family ties were important, she reflected helplessly. Although Abramo’s sincerity had impressed her, she was reluctant to interfere in a situation about which she knew so little. She took Ella out to meet her uncle. He was one of those men who absolutely adored babies and was enchanted with his niece. Kathy was surprised to learn that he had no children of his own.
‘I’ll have a word with Sergio after the wedding,’ Kathy said finally. ‘But that’s all I can promise.’
Abramo gripped her hands in a warmly enthusiastic expression of gratitude and swore she would not regret it. As soon as he had left, Kathy made use of the internet and did a search for Grazia Torrente. A startling number of websites came up: Grazia was a celebrity in mainland Europe, the fashionista daughter of an Italian marquis with an alarmingly long name. Up came a picture of an ethereal blonde with the face of a Madonna and a figure that would make even a sack look trendy. As couples went, Abramo and Grazia matched like oil and water, whereas Sergio and…Her face tight with discomfiture, Kathy closed the page and scolded herself for snooping. After all, it was eight years since he had been engaged to the woman who was now married to his brother.
That night the cheerful nanny whom Kathy had picked from a short list arrived to help with Ella. The next day, they departed for the airport, where they met up with Bridget and Nola. Ten minutes later, Kathy’s mobile phone rang.
‘I hear you’re having a good time,’ Sergio murmured teasingly.
Kathy stiffened. ‘Have you got your security team spying on me now?’
‘No need, delizia mia. I can hear the giggles from where I’m standing and it sounds very much like a hen-party.’
‘From where you’re standing?’ Kathy froze and looked up. Her searching gaze fanned round before it homed straight in on Sergio’s unmistakable tall, well-built frame. Sun shades in place, he was talking on his phone about fifty yards away. ‘I didn’t know you were here—’
‘No, don’t come over. Ignore me,’ Sergio urged as she began to rise from her seat. ‘We’re travelling separately. You’re flying to Italy in a Pallis jet to keep the paparazzi off our trail.’
‘Is your friend Leonidas throwing in male strippers to enliven our flight?’ Her apple-green eyes were bright as danger flares. ‘Maybe I want to do more than have a giggle over a cup of coffee during my last hours as a single woman.’
Across the concourse, Sergio raised lean brown fingers to his lips and blew on them as though he had been burnt. ‘You are never going to let me forget that stag cruise, are you?’
Chin at an angle, Kathy lifted and dropped a slim shoulder in an exaggerated shrug. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think that christening my yacht Diva Queen was an act of prophecy, delizia mia,’ Sergio drawled. ‘By the way, be nice about Leonidas. He and his wife are hosting our wedding…’
CHAPTER EIGHT
A COURTEOUS steward escorted Kathy and her party onto the Pallis jet.
Kathy was surprised to find two women waiting on board to greet them. A shapely chestnut-haired girl with violet eyes and a ready smile introduced herself as Maribel Pallis and her stunning blonde companion as Tilda, Princess Hussein Al-Zafar. They were the wives of Sergio’s friends from his university days, Leonidas and Rashad.
‘The guys are like t
his…’ Tilda meshed her fingers together in a speaking gesture to explain the strength of the men’s friendship. ‘We couldn’t wait until you got to Italy to meet you.’
‘I always thought it would take a big game hunter to land Sergio,’ Maribel teased.
Kathy resisted the urge to comment that a six-pound baby had accomplished that feat all on her own and without the use of a weapon. It might be the truth, she thought heavily, but it would also be a conversational killer when Tilda and Maribel were making a wonderful effort to extend a friendly welcome. Then Ella opened her baby version of her mother’s unusual light green eyes to inspect their new acquaintances and any remaining barriers fell, for every woman present was a mother and there was plenty of common ground to share. That led into Maribel asking soon after takeoff if there was any chance that Kathy fancied a night out rather than a sedate pre-bridal early night.
Kathy gave Maribel a look of surprise. ‘Any sort of a night out would be a thrill,’ she confided ruefully. ‘I stayed in while I was pregnant and after the birth I was tied to the hospital until last week.’
Tilda and Maribel exchanged smiles. ‘Let’s go for the thrill.’
‘Sergio always does.’ Kathy spoke her thoughts out loud and then blushed at that revealing comment, which her companions were too tactful to pick up on.
When the jet landed in Tuscany, Ella and her nanny were borne off to the Pallis country estate while Kathy and her companions headed into the medieval splendour of Florence for a whirlwind shopping trip. There Kathy finally got to make use of the credit cards Sergio had given her and that breathless, chattering tour of exclusive boutiques was a lot of fun. It soon transpired that the night out was a pre-planned event that had merely required her approval. The five women enjoyed the comfort of a luxury hotel suite as a changing room and sashayed out to dinner in style.
Maribel took a picture of Kathy with her phone. Kathy’s new turquoise dress was a fabulous foil for her colouring and very long legs. ‘One for the album, I think.’