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.
‘Mummy!’ He hurtled across the room and into her arms.
‘Hello, Tiger. Have you had a nice day?’
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?’
Nico stared at her solemnly. ‘Can we go home now?’
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‘He’s been very withdrawn,’ the young woman admitted.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.
‘Come and have your dinner,’ she said softly.
‘I don’t want any, Mummy.’
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