The Italian Billionaire's Pregnant Bride Page 8

  Kathy went to bed that night feeling a little more cheerful and a little less ashamed of the past she could not change. The next day was Saturday, and she was serving breakfast at the café when Sergio strode in. His hard dark gaze raked across the room and closed in on her with punitive force. For a split second she stared and the edge-of-the-seat excitement was there, instant and powerful, sizzling through her slender taut frame like an electric charge. Her face flamed and she hastened into the kitchen with her order and lingered there.

  Bridget put her head round the door. ‘Kathy? We’ll have to do without you today. Let Sergio take you home.’

  ‘Bridget, I—’

  ‘You have to talk to him some time.’

  Kathy supposed that that was true. But it did mean stifling a seething desire to storm out and tell Sergio exactly what she thought of his two-timing cheating habits. With a baby on the way, she needed to take a long-term view, she told herself doggedly. Sergio was single and he could do as he liked. Her pregnancy was an accidental development. Now that the intimate side of things was over between them, establishing a civil connection with the future father of her child made better sense. Having given herself that quick mental pep talk, she emerged from the rear of the café clutching her bag and jacket.

  The epitome of cool elegance in a black business suit teamed with a gold silk tie, Sergio was poised by the cash desk and incongruously out of step with his pedestrian surroundings. A bodyguard stood by the door, while two more hovered on the pavement outside.

  Dark deep-set eyes alert, Sergio studied Kathy. As thin and pale as a wraith with her vibrant copper and red hair anchored in a casual pony-tail and her apple-green eyes hostile, she looked barely out of her teens. Yet not one of those facts detracted in the slightest from the power of her haunting beauty.

  ‘You were supposed to wait for me to phone,’ Kathy complained as she got into the limousine.

  ‘That’s not my style,’ Sergio murmured lazily, the smoky timbre of his dark drawl ensuring that she remained outrageously aware of his sensual charisma. ‘You need to collect your passport—we’re flying to Paris this morning.’

  Already shaken, her studied air of detachment evaporated entirely at that statement. ‘Paris? Is this a joke?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But to go all that way just for one day and when I’m supposed to be working…’ Her voice ran out of steam because the minute she thought about it, the more she wanted to do it.

  Sergio elevated a fine ebony brow. ‘Why not? We have to talk and you’re stressed. I would like you to relax today.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE opulent interior of Sergio’s very large private jet took Kathy’s breath away.

  The main cabin was furnished with inviting seating areas and adorned with modern art. The interior also offered a purpose-built office, a movie theatre and several en suite bedrooms. In her casual beige corduroy jacket and denim jeans, she felt seriously at odds with the cutting-edge style of her surroundings.

  ‘Wherever I am I have to be able to work. I spend a lot of time travelling and I usually have several staff with me,’ Sergio explained over the delicious lunch that was prepared for them by his personal chef.

  By the time the meal was over the jet was getting ready to land, for it was a very short flight.

  ‘Why Paris?’ Kathy asked in the limo that ferried them away from the hustle and bustle of CDG airport.

  ‘France has strict press privacy laws. Many public figures find the media less intrusive here and a private life is more easily maintained,’ Sergio advanced smoothly.

  ‘So where are you taking me?’

  ‘It’s a surprise—a pleasant one, I hope, cara mia.’

  Their destination was the island of Ile St-Louis, one of the most exclusive residential areas in Paris. The car came to a halt on a picturesque tree-lined quay in front of an elegant seventeenth-century building. Her curiosity rising by the second, Kathy accompanied Sergio inside. Sunlight fell from the tall windows and illuminated an elegant hall and staircase complemented by strikingly contemporary décor.

  ‘Feel free to explore,’ Sergio murmured softly.

  Kathy made no attempt to hide her bewilderment. ‘What’s going on? Why have you brought me to this house?’

  ‘I have bought this house for you. I want you to raise my child here.’

  Kathy was stunned by the concept and the wording. My child, not our child. She noted the distinction but tried to regard it as an encouraging sign of his wish to be involved in his baby’s future. Slowly she shook her head, her glorious hair sparkling like polished metal in the intense light, her green eyes alive with incredulity. ‘You want me to move to another country and live as your dependant? Am I supposed to clap my hands with joy, or something?’

  ‘Let me explain how I see this,’ Sergio urged.

  Kathy swallowed back another outburst on the score of his single-minded arrogance and audacity. She understood that she was supposed to be impressed to death by the sheer grandeur and expense of a surprise that must have cost him millions. Maybe he thought he was being clever, generous and creative in a difficult situation. Maybe he believed that she was a problem that could best be cured with a liberal shower of money. Regardless, she felt humiliated and offended as once again he contrived to underscore the differences of wealth, class and status between them while insisting on making all her choices for her.

  ‘Some wine?’ Sergio suggested, indicating the bottle with the elegant label on the table. ‘It’s a classic Brunello from the Azzarini vineyards, which have belonged to the Torrentes for centuries.’

  Her generous mouth compressed. ‘I’m pregnant…alcohol is not supposed to be a good idea,’ she extended when he continued to view her without comprehension. ‘Don’t you know anything about pregnant women?’

  Sergio frowned. ‘Why would I?’

  Kathy folded her arms. ‘Tell me why you think it would be a good idea for me to move to France.’

  ‘If you remain in London, you will always be handicapped by your past.’

  ‘My prison record, you mean.’ Her tummy gave a nauseous lurch as if reacting to her sudden increased tension and discomfiture.

  Lean, strong face grim, Sergio surveyed her with level dark golden eyes. ‘With my help you can rewrite that history and bury your past. You can change your name and move here to embark on a new life. It would be a second chance for you and it would also provide a less contentious background for my child.’

  His candour really hurt. Sucking in a steadying gulp of air, Kathy walked over to the window. Her nails were biting purple crescents into her palms as she fought to retain her composure. ‘And you think that that’s what I should do?’

  ‘If you remain in London our association will inevitably be exposed by the press. Once that particular genie gets out of its bottle, it can’t be put back.’

  In an abrupt movement, Kathy spun back. ‘I’ve listened to you, and now you have to listen to me. I went to prison for a crime I didn’t commit. I did not steal that jug, or any of the other stuff that vanished from Mrs Taplow’s collection.’

  Dark as midnight eyes cool and uncompromising, Sergio released his breath on a long slow hiss. ‘You made a mistake. You were very young and you had no family support system. Let’s move on from there and deal with the current challenge.’

  Losing colour, Kathy stared back at him. She was cut to the quick by his flat refusal to even consider that she might be innocent. ‘Can’t you even give me a fair hearing?’

  ‘You had that hearing in a court of law before a judge and jury four years ago.’

  Pale as death at that hard-hitting response, Kathy looked away from him, feeling as though he had slapped her in the face. She tried to open a door but he slammed it shut and then locked it for good measure. He refused to listen to her claim of innocence. He wasn’t interested in hearing her story because he was convinced of her guilt.

  ‘My concern relates to the future,’ Sergio
continued. ‘Let’s stay on track.’

  Her vivid green eyes clashed head on with his, her anger unhidden. ‘You’re not concerned about me, except in so far as you want to control my every move without making a commitment in return.’

  ‘This house is quite a commitment for me. Think of the life you could have here.’ Sergio closed the distance between them to reach for her knotted hands and enclose them in his. ‘A fresh start, no financial worries, the best of everything for you and your child. Why are you arguing about this? These practicalities have to be dealt with before we can consider any more personal angle.’

  ‘I told you that I would never go for the “lucrative lifestyle choice” option.’ Her voice was jerky because she was trying without success to work up the will-power to step back from him. On every level her senses craved physical contact, even if it was only the masculine warmth of his hands on hers. She was in total turmoil, wanting to do the right thing while being terrified of making the wrong decision.

  ‘I should never have made that comment, delizia mia. I was on edge that evening and aggressive without cause. You are now carrying my child. Who else should take care of you?’

  Sergio was so close she could see the ring of bronze that accentuated his dark pupils, the spiky ebony lashes that lent his gaze such mesmerising depth and impact. Antagonism and hurt slivered through her like warring wounding blades. She could hardly breathe for wanting him. There was a quivering knot of intense longing locked inside her. She could feel the euphoric effect of his proximity threatening to shut down her brain cells, as she had no desire to think or to deny herself or to drive a further wedge between them. It was an abysmal moment to appreciate that her feelings for Sergio Torrente ran much deeper than she had been prepared to admit.

  ‘Kathy,’ Sergio husked in an intonation that was pure predatory enticement.

  ‘Look, I haven’t even decided if I’m going to keep this baby yet.’ Kathy had to force out that statement, because it took that much effort to think straight and suppress an acknowledgement that threatened to tear her apart with self-loathing.

  As Sergio froze in surprise his lean brown fingers tightened round her narrow wrists. ‘What are you trying to suggest?’

  Her oval face defensive and deeply troubled, she pulled free of his hold. ‘I may yet choose adoption—’

  ‘Adoption?’ Sergio was shattered by the word and the concept.

  ‘I was adopted and I had a very happy childhood. If I’m not certain that I can give as much to my baby, I will consider adoption as a possibility. Because one thing I do know!’ Kathy reasoned in a surge of heartfelt emotion. ‘This is not about houses and appearances and money! Nor is it about what you want. It’s about my ability to love and care for my baby!’

  His lean, darkly handsome face clenched taut. ‘Of course it is. But you will not be alone in that undertaking. You will have my support.’

  ‘You won’t be here for the tough stuff. You’ll stay in the background and you’ll visit only when it suits you to do so. Can’t you understand that I don’t want to be a hanger-on in your world? I don’t want you paying my bills and telling me what to do at every turn—’

  ‘That is not how it would be.’

  Kathy was quick to challenge him again. ‘No? So I’d be free to move another guy in here if I met one?’

  His dark eyes flamed sizzling gold. He was taken by surprise and his hostile distaste to that idea spoke for him.

  ‘Obviously not. You would expect me to live like a nun—’

  ‘Or content yourself with me.’

  ‘Oh…’ Kathy trembled, tension forming like an iron bar in her spine as her rage climbed. ‘So you’re not just talking about being an occasional supportive parent. There would be sexual strings attached to this arrangement, as well.’

  ‘That’s a tacky observation. I can’t see into the future. I don’t know where we’re going.’ Sergio lifted a shoulder in a sophisticated shrug. Intensely charismatic, he was Italian to his manicured fingertips, but he was also cool as ice under pressure and he refused to be drawn into dangerous waters.

  ‘You know exactly where we’d be going and that would be nowhere,’ Kathy condemned shakily. ‘From what I can work out, you haven’t been in a relationship that went anywhere in living memory. And you’re certainly not going to break that habit for a convicted thief!’

  Sergio cornered her between the window and the wall and studied her with smouldering golden sensuality. ‘Even if I can’t keep my hands off you when you’re annoying the hell out of me, delizia mia?’

  But Kathy was too afraid of his magnetism to relax her guard for a moment. ‘Did you tell Christabel Janson that too? Or did she qualify for a less critical approach?’

  The classic lines of his hard-boned features were impassive while the teasing light had evaporated from his astute gaze. ‘Don’t go there,’ he advised. ‘I don’t answer to any woman.’

  ‘Then where do you get the nerve to demand anything from me?’ Kathy was so incensed she was shaking. ‘I absolutely refuse to be some dirty secret in your life!’

  His stunning eyes flamed gold. ‘I did not ask you to be.’

  ‘Yes, you did. You’re ashamed of me but you still want to sleep with me. I won’t accept that ever. You wasted my time and yours bringing me here,’ Kathy flung at him furiously and she stalked back to the door. ‘I want to go back to London.’

  ‘This is childish, bellezza mia.’

  Kathy sent him a shimmering emerald glance, afraid to let go of her anger in case it weakened her. ‘No, I’m being sensible.’

  ‘We have to agree a way forward.’

  Kathy dealt him a fiery appraisal. ‘I can’t talk to you feeling like this—maybe we could talk on the phone and be polite in a few months’ time.’

  ‘In a few months?’ Sergio splintered in raw disbelief at that liberal time frame. ‘You need me now!’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘Maremma maiale…you’re not even looking after yourself properly!’ Sergio condemned without warning. ‘How many hours a day are you working? You can’t keep up two jobs while you’re pregnant and stay healthy.’

  Kathy gave him a frozen look. ‘I’ll cope and I’ll manage. I learned a long time ago not to rely on a man.’

  ‘Who taught you that?’

  ‘The love of my life—Gareth.’ Her lush pink mouth curled as she deliberately stoked that bitterness to make it into a further barrier between them. ‘We grew up next door to each other. There’s nothing I wouldn’t have done for him. But he was no use at all in a tight corner and you’re not going to be any different—’

  Outrage flashed in Sergio’s hard-boned features. ‘I’m doing everything possible to support you.’

  ‘No, you’re throwing money at me and trying to ship me out to a foreign country where I am less likely to cause you embarrassment. If that’s what you call support, you can keep it!’ Kathy reached out to open the front door in an effort to end the confrontation.

  ‘Madonna diavolo! What about this? Will you do without this, as well?’ Sergio caught her into his arms and crushed her soft full mouth beneath his with a passion that devastated her resistance.

  He knotted one hand into her copper hair to hold her fast and clamped her slender body to his like a second skin. His heart pounded against hers. Urgently aware of his masculine arousal, she quivered in that hard embrace and exchanged kiss for kiss with a hunger as fierce, hot and lethal as a fever. But nothing could assuage the sadness within her and the ache at the heart of her. When he let her go she staggered back against the wall.

  ‘I was supposed to drink the classic wine and go upstairs with you to celebrate, wasn’t I?’ Kathy was still fighting even though her knees didn’t feel up to the challenge of holding her upright. ‘But I’m not so desperate that I need to share a man and I never will be!’

  Sergio was already using his phone. He did not deign to reply to that sally. His detachment was as effective as an invisible w
all. The silence was suffocating. She felt shut out, pushed away and she found it unbearable. Even when she was so mad with him that she could have screamed she wanted to be back in his arms. He flipped the key to the door. She gave him a tiny split second to speak. He said nothing. He did nothing to prevent her from leaving, either.

  ‘I hate you—I really, really hate you,’ she whispered fierily as she left and, in that instant, she meant every word of it.

  The door snapped shut behind her. There was not even the suspicion of a slam.

  Conscious that Sergio’s protection team were watching her every move and had to be wondering why she was leaving alone ten minutes after their arrival, Kathy endeavoured to look composed. Then suddenly, from the house behind her, she heard the unmistakable noise of glass smashing and splintering. The vintage wine bottle hitting the fireplace? Her narrow shoulders straightened, her chin came up. Eyes sparkling with satisfaction and with a new purpose in her step, she headed for the waiting car.

  Over the next two weeks, however, Kathy grew steadily more exhausted. Tigger died in his sleep without fuss or fanfare and she was inconsolable at the loss of her elderly pet. While she fretted about the future and grieved for her cat, her morning sickness spread to other times of day and she began lying awake at night worrying. Being pregnant and ill was more of a struggle than she had expected and she had to cut back on her hours at the café. Aware that Kathy was already struggling to pay her bills, Bridget offered Kathy her spare room, but Kathy was determined not to take advantage of their friendship.

  Kathy would have vehemently protested any suggestion that she was waiting for Sergio to make another move. But when she discovered that Sergio was fully engaged in making moves that had nothing to do with her whatsoever, she had a rather rude awakening to reality. Travelling into work on the bus, she caught an infuriating flash of Sergio’s face on a newspaper page. She wasn’t close enough to see what the article was about and, while she told herself that she shouldn’t care, she was only human. As soon as she got off the bus she bought the tabloid and paid the price for her curiosity.