Expecting His Billion-Dollar Scandal (Once Upon a Temptation, Book 5)

by Cathy Williams

  His breathtaking touch

  Her life-changing revelation!

  Cordelia’s life was...well, ordinary. Luca Baresi was the first person to ever make her feel extraordinary, but their relationship had to end—their lives were simply too different. It’s something Cordelia can’t forget as she stands nervously outside the billionaire’s Italian villa, about to tell him that she’s pregnant!

  Luca relished the fact their fling was driven by desire, not his wealth. Now their baby compels him to bring Cordelia into his sumptuous world. But to give her his heart? It’s a price he can’t pay...

  USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  CATHY WILLIAMS can remember reading Mills & Boon books as a teenager, and now that she’s writing them she remains an avid fan. For her, there is nothing like creating romantic stories and engaging plots, and each and every book is a new adventure. Cathy lives in London. Her three daughters—Charlotte, Olivia and Emma—have always been, and continue to be, the greatest inspirations in her life.

  Books by Cathy Williams

  A Diamond Deal with Her Boss

  The Italian’s One-Night Consequence

  The Tycoon’s Ultimate Conquest

  Contracted for the Spaniard’s Heir

  Marriage Bargain with His Innocent

  Shock Marriage for the Powerful Spaniard

  The Italian’s Christmas Proposition

  His Secretary’s Nine-Month Notice

  Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

  Expecting His Billion-Dollar Scandal

  Cathy Williams

  www.millsandboon.co.uk

  ISBN: 978-1-474-09826-7

  EXPECTING HIS BILLION-DOLLAR SCANDAL

  © 2020 Cathy Williams

  Published in Great Britain 2020

  by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

  All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

  By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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  www.millsandboon.co.uk

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  To my supportive children,

  and my partner, David,

  who has been a huge source of inspiration.

  Contents

  Cover

  Back Cover Text

  About the Author

  Booklist

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Note to Readers

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  Extract

  About the Publisher

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘WHERE AM I?’

  Cordelia swung around and stared at the man lying on the bed. He hadn’t spoken for three days. He’d drifted in and out of sleep, as Dr Greenway had predicted he would. He’d opened his eyes and stared around him but in the unfocused way of someone not really taking anything in.

  ‘Keep him on liquids,’ the doctor had advised, ‘but there’s nothing a hospital can do for him that you can’t. Less, probably. You know how overworked and understaffed they are there, especially with half of it closed for renovations. The man wouldn’t get much of a look-in. As it stands, he must be as strong as an ox to have endured what he has without being the worse for wear.’

  So she’d settled him in one of the spare bedrooms in the rambling house she shared with her father, and together they had taken turns keeping their eye on him, relying on the doctor’s twice-daily visits for reassurance that a sudden spiral downwards wasn’t on the cards. He was roused for his liquid intake and, in the past twenty-four hours, had managed to eat two light meals. Her father had shown him the bathroom and changed him into some of his own clothes.

  He had been making progress but, really, he’d still been out of it. Until now.

  She stared at him and her heart sped up.

  Luca. That was the man’s name. Luca Baresi. She knew that because she’d found his wallet in his trousers and had searched for a name and any sort of contact number she could possibly find so that she could notify a member of his family about the accident.

  His identity was all she could come up with. God knew, he’d been blown about on the waves long enough for the water to claim his mobile phone, had he been carrying one. The contents of the wallet, which had been wedged in his trouser pocket, had largely been too sodden and waterlogged to prove helpful.

  ‘Well?’

  Cordelia blinked and walked towards him. He was propping himself up against the pillow, staring at her, eyes narrowed, head tilted questioningly to one side.

  It had been one thing absently admiring the man’s striking good looks when he’d been more or less out of it. It felt quite different now, with his green eyes arrowing onto her with laser-like intensity.

  ‘You’re in my father’s house.’ She hovered next to the bed and then gingerly sat on the side.

  Eyes as green as the ocean when the sun blazed down on it, she thought distractedly, and the sort of bronzed complexion of someone who definitely didn’t hark from Cornish shores. Even the guys she knew, fishermen like her dad, were pale in comparison.

  ‘What am I doing in your father’s house and why am I wearing these clothes?’

  ‘Don’t you remember anything?’

  ‘I recall being in my boat.’ He frowned. ‘One minute the sun was shining and the next minute, the sky had turned black.’

  Cordelia was nodding sympathet
ically while thinking how fantastic his voice was, as deep and as rich as the darkest of chocolate. Very distracting.

  ‘That’s the weather for you here,’ she murmured. ‘Especially at this time of year. You’d think summer might be predictable but a storm can erupt out of nowhere.’ She gazed at his hand. He was massaging his collarbone, still frowning, trying to get his thoughts together. Understandable, given what he’d been through. He really was, she thought, stupidly good-looking with that dark, dark hair and olive skin and features chiselled with breathtaking perfection.

  Or maybe, at the ripe old age of twenty-four and stuck out here, living a life as predictable as the rising and setting of the sun, she was just easily impressed by someone halfway decent.

  She stared at him from under lowered lashes and thought that this guy was far from halfway decent. Halfway decent had been Barry, the guy she had dated for eight months before finally admitting to herself that they were never going to get anywhere and certainly not between the sheets, which, as he had implied with ever increasing clarity, was the destination he had had his eyes on and never mind the business of romance and a courtship to get there. Some straggly flowers and the occasional movie or night out at the local pub, had been top of his game when it had come to wooing her.

  ‘That’s obviously what happened to you.’ She cleared her throat and fidgeted because he was staring at her with such intensity. ‘Three days ago. You should have checked the weather report before you decided to go sailing. Most people around here do. They know how unpredictable the weather can be but you’re not from around here, are you?’

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Are you a nurse?’

  ‘No. I...no, I’m not. I suppose you’re wondering why you’re here and not in a hospital, but the local hospital is tiny and Dr Greenway didn’t think it necessary to have you taken by ambulance over to the next biggest hospital, which is quite some distance away. He said you would recover just fine here when I called him over. After I found you.’

  ‘You found me?’

  ‘I happened to be looking out of my bedroom window at the time.’

  Staring off into the distance and thinking about what it must be like to live out there...in the big, bad world...where adventures happened and the people you met weren’t the same people you went to school with when you were five...where excitement lay behind half-opened doors and sadness and loss were no longer her faithful companions...

  She blushed because, although he didn’t say anything, she got the weird feeling that he knew just what was going through her head, which, of course, was impossible.

  ‘Your boat was just a speck in the distance being tossed around in the storm.’

  ‘At which point you...?’

  ‘Dad wasn’t around,’ she said bluntly. ‘And I’m as confident on the water as anyone else I know.’ She saw his eyebrows shoot up and her mouth thinned in a defensive line. She knew nothing about the stranger lying on the bed but she knew enough to realise that, given his staggering good looks and an air of confidence that couldn’t be concealed even wearing her father’s weathered clothes, he wouldn’t be short of female company. And the female company wouldn’t, she was thinking, be the sort capable of sailing the high seas in stormy weather.

  ‘Are you, now?’

  ‘Better, probably.’ She shrugged. ‘I got my captain’s licence when I was eighteen and I have every qualification needed to fish at sea. I know everything there is to know about sea survival, including what to do if there’s a fire at sea, and I have brilliant first-aid skills.’

  ‘So you rescued me because I was stupid enough to get behind the wheel of my boat without first checking the weather forecast. How did you manage to do that?’

  ‘I used the fastest and most robust boat from my father’s collection and headed out. It didn’t occur to me to ask anyone for help. I knew that if someone was on the boat and in trouble, then aid had to be immediate.’

  ‘I am remiss in not thanking you. I remember taking the boat out and I remember the storm rolling in but after that...’

  ‘You were out of it. I know. You were in the water clinging to the side of your boat when I got to you. Semi-conscious.’

  ‘And yet you managed to haul me into your own boat.’

  Cordelia thought of all those dainty five-foot-nothings she had always longed to be. Fragile and delicate, demanding the adoring attention of boys who had always seemed genetically geared to leap into the protective mode the second they came near.

  She’d never been one of those. She was five ten and sinewy. She could swim like a fish and sail with the best of them and it showed in the strong lines of her body.

  ‘You weren’t completely out of it,’ she muttered. ‘You easily helped yourself. Getting back in one piece was a far bigger problem with the storm kicking up a gear and the waves big enough to take us both under.’

  ‘But you never answered my question. Why are you here?’

  Cordelia shot him a puzzled frown. ‘I told you. I work here. With my father. I help run his business. He owns eight boats. He fishes but also does a rental business to subsidise his income.’

  ‘A challenging life for a young girl.’ The green eyes were curious and assessing.

  Now she knew what he was getting at. Why was she here? Was that what was going through his head? Instead of living it up in a city somewhere? With a boyfriend and a giddy round of parties and clubs? Doing all those things girls her age did? Nearly all of her friends had disappeared off to university somewhere and those who had returned had all, without exception, had a boyfriend in tow. They’d married and had their first child within the year. They’d had their fun and had chosen to return to the village to settle down because they loved it here.

  That option had not been on the table for her and it was why that big world out there seemed so full of possibilities. Possibilities that would never be explored but which she yearned for anyway.

  She chose to interpret his remark at face value because her life was none of his business and he certainly wasn’t to know that he’d struck a nerve.

  ‘The sea can be very challenging. But it can also be very rewarding.’

  A brief and telling silence greeted this remark.

  ‘I should introduce myself,’ he said.

  ‘No need.’

  ‘How’s that?’

  ‘I know who you are.’

  ‘You know who I am...’

  She noted the way he stiffened, the way his face became shuttered, his fabulous eyes veiled. She had no idea what was going through his head but to dispel the sudden tension, she smiled.

  ‘Luca. Luca Baresi. I’m sorry but when I brought you back here, and after you were examined by the doctor, I felt I should see if I could find some form of identification so that I could let your loved ones know where you were.’

  ‘You went through my stuff.’

  ‘There wasn’t much to go through,’ Cordelia told him quickly. ‘Trust me, it was the last thing I wanted to do but I don’t imagine you would have thanked me if you’d come to and found that no one could be bothered to try and discover who you were! Everything was unreadable because of the sea water but your identification card was plastic-coated and I managed to make out your name. If you’re up to it, I can bring you the telephone and you can call your...family. They must be worried sick about you. Where do you live?’

  ‘I’m not from around here.’

  ‘Further inland?’ She nodded thoughtfully. ‘Lots of people descend from London in the summer months and lots of them have second homes in some of the more popular towns. They can’t bear to be too far away from gastropubs and fancy restaurants.’

  ‘You don’t like that?’

  ‘I don’t care one way or another,’ she said honestly. ‘Tourism is great when it comes to renti
ng boats, as it happens, but I’m pretty much the only person around here who thinks like that. If you’re close enough, I dare say my dad can drive you back to your wife and kids.’

  ‘Wife and kids? What makes you think I’m married?’

  ‘I...’ Her heart fluttered and she could feel the hot burn of colour in her cheeks. ‘I suppose I just assumed...’

  ‘Are you married?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Strangely enough, I would have assumed that you were.’

  ‘Why?’ Her skin was tingling all over. Her eyes were drawn to his but once there, she was finding it impossible to look away, and something inside her shied away from the notion that he might sum her up and write her off as a country bumpkin, bowled over by his excessive good looks.

  So she glanced right past him to the view outside the window of the bedroom, one of swirling clouds and pale grey skies and a drizzle that hadn’t stopped ever since she’d rescued him from those stormy waters. Summer had gone into temporary retreat and she had no idea when it planned on returning. Just something else about living in this part of the world.

  ‘You’re young,’ he drawled lightly. ‘You’re attractive. How is it that you haven’t been snapped up by some local eligible bachelor? Maybe you’ve just returned from university? Still finding your feet back in the family home?’

  ‘Not everyone has had the opportunity to go to university, Mr Baresi.’ Her voice had dropped a few degrees and her violet eyes were cool when they rested on his face.

  She’d had plans. She’d had her dreams but life and fate had managed to get in the way of her fulfilling those dreams.

  She wondered whether things would have been different if her mother hadn’t died when she’d been a kid. Mown down by a speeding car in London on one of her rare shopping trips. Her father had closed so many doors afterwards. He had become paranoid about her leaving the safety and security of the village. If she ventured into one of the bigger towns, he’d wait by the window for her, even when, at the age of ten, she’d gone in a gang with one of her friends’ parents. School outings had been a nightmare because she’d known that he would be back at the house, trying hard to quell his anxiety. A skiing trip at the age of fourteen had been out of the question. He’d given permission but she’d seen the fear in his eyes and she’d quietly turned down the opportunity. She had learnt to support her father but, in doing so, had continued to carry both their pain on her shoulders. His fear was a constant reminder of their loss.