His Unexpected Legacy Page 10

The doorbell rang and she hurried to answer it, determined to impress on Sergio that he must not take Nico out without informing her first. But the man on the doorstep was a stranger—a short, swarthy man dressed in a suit, who introduced himself as Bernardo Valdi, Sergio’s lawyer.

  ‘Signor Castellano asked me to visit you.’ The lawyer spoke in English but with a strong Italian accent. ‘It might be better if we continue our discussion inside the house,’ he added gently when Kristen gasped.

  She stepped back to allow him to enter the hallway, suddenly finding that her legs felt like jelly. ‘Where is Sergio? And, more importantly, where is my son?’ she demanded in a trembling voice. Her fear returned, making her stomach churn as a terrible truth slowly dawned. ‘He’s taken him, hasn’t he? Sergio has taken Nico.’ Her voice rose. ‘He won’t get away with it. He has no right. I suppose he’s gone back to the Hotel Royale. I’m going to call the police.’

  ‘Calm yourself, signorina,’ the lawyer said in a quietly authoritative voice. ‘Signor Castellano has been granted an emergency custody order of his son.’

  ‘Emergency...’ Kristen stared at the lawyer dazedly, wondering, hoping that this was all a horrible nightmare. ‘On what grounds?’ she whispered.

  ‘The signor was concerned for the child’s welfare after he saw bruises on him.’

  ‘Dear God! He thinks I hurt Nico?’ Nausea threatened to overwhelm her. ‘I have to see Sergio and explain.’ She stumbled down the hall. ‘I’ll get dressed and go straight to the hotel.’

  ‘They are not there, signorina. Signor Castellano flew to Sicily on his private jet an hour ago, and he has taken his son with him.’ Bernardo Valdi gave an exclamation as he reached Kristen’s side just in time to catch her as her knees sagged.

  * * *

  The taxi had turned off the main highway running from the airport at Catania to the coastal town of Taormina, and was now heading along narrow roads leading to the Castellano estate. Kristen stared out of the window at the breathtaking Sicilian countryside and felt an ache in her heart. Everywhere was unchanged and familiar, as if time had stood still for the past four years. Farmhouses and small villages dotted the landscape. In early summer the fields were still green but would turn to gold as the crops ripened, and on the far horizon Mount Etna’s peak still wore a snowy mantle. The great volcano was sleeping today and only a thin stream of white smoke drifted from its summit into the blue sky.

  As they passed a vast olive grove, Kristen’s tension increased. She recognised the area and knew that the gates of the Castellano estate were around the next bend. She also knew that the gatehouse was manned by security guards twenty-four hours a day and visitors were strictly vetted before being allowed to enter.

  Bernardo Valdi’s visit had left her distraught and utterly determined to find her son. It had been easy enough to book a seat on the first available flight to Sicily, but as the taxi drew nearer to the estate she had no plan of action in the likely event that Sergio would refuse to allow her to see Nico. Her nerves jangled as the taxi stopped in front of a set of huge iron gates and a security guard approached. She fully expected to be turned away when the guard spoke on his mobile phone and relayed her name to someone at the house but, to her surprise and relief, he stepped back and waved the car through the electronic gates as they swung open.

  The gravel driveway continued for a quarter of a mile before it forked into three separate roads. One led to the main house, La Casa Bianca, where Kristen assumed Sergio’s father Tito still lived. Another road disappeared into a pine forest, and in the distance the turrets of a castle—which had been built in the thirteenth century by a Sicilian nobleman and ancestor of the current Castellano family—were just visible above the tree tops. Four years ago, Sergio’s brother Salvatore and his beautiful wife Adriana had lived at the castle with their daughter, Kristen recalled.

  The taxi took the third road, which wound through an orange grove and skirted a turquoise lake before the terracotta-coloured walls of a large, elegant villa came into view. Casa Camelia held so many memories. Her mind flew back to the first time Sergio had invited her to his home. They had eaten dinner on the terrace overlooking the garden and later he had carried her upstairs to his bedroom and made love to her. It had been her first time, and she had sensed that Sergio had been shocked when he’d discovered she was a virgin. But he had been so gentle, Kristen remembered. The pain of his possession had been fleeting, and the pleasure that had come afterwards when he had brought her to orgasm with his skill and patience had taken her heart prisoner.

  How could their relationship have gone so spectacularly wrong that they were now enemies fighting over their son? she thought emotionally. The simple answer was that Sergio had not loved her, while she had loved him too much. She had left him before he could break her heart, but she had been too late.

  The taxi drew up in front of the villa and Kristen dismissed her memories of the past as she focused on the battle she knew she faced to reclaim her little boy. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she ran up the stone steps. Someone must have watched her arrive because the front door opened and an elderly man wearing a butler’s uniform ushered her inside. A lightning glance around the large entrance hall revealed that it had not changed since she had last been there. The white walls reflected the sunlight streaming through the mullioned windows and sunbeams danced across the black marble floor.

  Kristen’s eyes flew to the two men standing in the hall. Sergio and his twin brother were strikingly similar in appearance, but she noted with a flare of shock that Salvatore Castellano had changed dramatically since she had last seen him. His once-handsome face was thinner, almost haggard, and his mouth was set in a stern line as if he had not smiled for a long time. His black hair fell to his shoulders and was as unkempt as the stubble that shaded his jaw, and his eyes were dull and hard as lava spewed from Etna that had solidified into black rock.

  Salvatore walked towards her with a pronounced limp, and Kristen wondered what had happened to him. ‘Kristen, it’s good to see you again,’ he murmured. Like Sergio, his hard features rarely showed any emotion and she had no idea if he was surprised by her visit. He headed out of the front door, but Kristen was barely aware of him leaving as she stared at Sergio.

  Dressed in beige chinos and a cream shirt that contrasted with his olive skin, he looked gorgeous and so relaxed that Kristen’s tenuous hold on her composure snapped. How dared he appear as if he did not have a care in the world when she had just spent the worst few hours of her life? Anger swept through her. She resented his powerful physical presence and resented even more her fierce sexual awareness of him.

  ‘Where is Nico? I was so worried when I woke up and found you had gone. When your lawyer said you had taken him...’ Her voice cracked as she relived the sheer terror she had felt when she’d feared she might never see Nico again.

  Suddenly she was crying, great tearing sobs that wracked her slender frame. ‘You bastard!’ she choked. Tears streamed down her face, and the need to hurt him as much as he had hurt her made her lift her hand and connect it sharply with his cheek. The sound of the slap echoed around the vast hall and the moment she had done it she felt sick. Physical violence was completely alien to her, yet twice in two days she had lashed out at Sergio. How could she blame him for believing that she was responsible for the terrible bruises on Nico’s legs after the way she had behaved?

  Sergio had not reacted to the slap, even though he could easily have grabbed her wrist and prevented her from striking him. His expression was unreadable, but for an instant some indefinable emotion flared in his eyes as he watched her fall apart.

  Kristen could not stop crying. It was as if a dam had burst inside her, and as she dashed her tears away more came in an unstoppable river. ‘I didn’t hurt Nico, I swear. I would never lay a finger on him. He fell from the top of the climbing frame at the park. I had told him not to climb to
o high, but he’s such a daredevil and sometimes he can be quite naughty and disobedient. When he slipped I was scared he would hit the ground and break every bone in his body.’ She shuddered at the memory of Nico’s scream as he had plummeted from the climbing frame. ‘Thankfully, I managed to catch him, but during the fall he slammed against the metal bars and was bruised all over his body and legs.’

  Recalling the terrifying incident, Kristen couldn’t regain control of her emotions. Her chest heaved and she searched desperately in her handbag for a tissue. ‘How could you think I would have inflicted those bruises on him? I’m not a bad mother. I love Nico with all my heart and I would never harm him.’

  Sergio studied Kristen dispassionately. Her face was blotchy and tear-stained and her eyes were red-rimmed. She had obviously dressed in a hurry and not checked her appearance in a mirror, because if she had she would have seen that her orange T-shirt and pink cardigan clashed horribly. Continuing his inspection, he glanced down and saw that she was wearing mismatched shoes—on one foot a navy blue trainer and on the other a white plimsoll.

  Following his gaze, she flushed. ‘I left the house in a rush. Which is understandable when you had snatched my son,’ she added defensively.

  She must have been frantic about Nico not to have noticed that she had put on odd shoes!

  As Sergio watched Kristen scrub her hand over her wet face the tight knot of tension in his gut slowly unravelled. The doctor who he had called to the villa to check over Nico had said that the bruises on his legs were probably the result of an accident, and in his opinion were not signs that he had been mistreated. Kristen’s explanation about Nico falling from the climbing frame was believable. Her distress was real and painful to witness, he acknowledged uncomfortably. Was it possible he had misjudged her? Doubt crept into Sergio’s mind. When he had seen the bruises on Nico his emotions had taken over from his usual cool logic and he had been tormented by memories of how his mother had treated him when he had been a child. His only thought had been to rescue Nico and bring him to Sicily. But perhaps he had overreacted?

  ‘Kristen, you have to stop crying,’ he said roughly. ‘Nico is ill and he needs you.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘What’s wrong with him?’

  ‘He’s running a high temperature and he’s been sick. The doctor thinks he has picked up a gastric virus.’

  ‘There’s been a vomiting bug going around at nursery.’ Kristen drew a ragged breath and finally managed to stop crying. She knew she did not cry prettily and she probably looked a mess, she thought ruefully. But the news that Nico was unwell drove all other considerations from her mind. ‘Where is he? Why aren’t you with him?’

  ‘The nanny who looks after Salvatore’s daughter has been helping to care for him. I’ll take you straight to him. Did you ask the taxi driver to bring in your luggage?’

  ‘I don’t have any luggage. I’m not planning on staying. I’m here to collect Nico and take him home.’

  Sergio’s eyes narrowed on her determined face and he seemed about to argue, but thought better of it. ‘We will discuss what is best for him later. You certainly won’t be taking him anywhere while he’s throwing up.’

  Kristen hurried after Sergio up the sweeping staircase. On the first-floor landing they walked past the master bedroom. The door was open and she could not resist peeping in. The wallpaper and soft furnishings had been updated and were a soft blue rather than gold as she remembered, but the huge four-poster bed still dominated the room and the sight of it evoked memories she wished she could forget. Now was not a good time to recall in vivid detail Sergio’s naked, muscular body, or to remember the firestorm passion they had once shared and his unexpected tenderness when he made love to her.

  There was no hint of tenderness about him now, she noted as she caught up with him. He was waiting outside the door next to his room. His unreadable expression became speculative when his glance travelled from her flushed face to his bedroom but he made no comment other than to say, ‘Nico has been asking for you.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. He was probably frightened when you whisked him away from everything that is familiar to him and brought him to a place he has never seen before. What were you thinking of?’ Kristen asked him curtly. ‘You told me that when you were a young child your mother snatched you and took you to another country. How could you do the same thing to Nico?’

  His jaw tightened. ‘I had my reasons.’

  ‘Or maybe you were trying to score a point over me and prove how powerful you are?’ she said cynically. ‘This isn’t one of your boardroom battles.’ Kristen broke off at the sound of Nico crying. Her fight with Sergio could wait until later.

  Pushing open the door, she entered an elegant bedroom which had a pale carpet and silk covers on the bed that were hardly suitable for a pre-school child, especially one with a stomach upset. Nico looked feverish; his cheeks were flushed and his curls clustered damply on his brow. A woman was leaning over him, trying to persuade him to take a sip of water, but he pushed her away and his sobs grew louder until he looked across the room and saw Kristen.

  ‘Mummy...’ His lip quivered, and his distress tore Kristen’s heart. She dashed over to the bed and gathered him in her arms.

  ‘It’s all right, sweetheart. I’m here.’ She frowned at Sergio. ‘He feels very hot. Have you given him anything to bring his temperature down?’

  ‘He brought up the medicine the doctor left for him,’ Sergio started to explain, but at that moment Nico was sick again—all over Kristen. ‘Santa Madre! I can’t believe he’s got anything left in his stomach,’ Sergio muttered as he sprang forward to lift the little boy off her lap. But Nico clung to her and wouldn’t let go.

  ‘Leave him,’ Kristen said quietly. ‘I’ll get cleaned up later.’

  ‘But you’re covered...’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Pass me a towel so that I can mop him up.’ She gave Sergio a fierce look. ‘This is what parenting is. It’s not about buying expensive toys—it’s about being there for your child when he needs you.’ She glanced towards the woman who she guessed was the nanny Sergio had mentioned. ‘Please leave me alone with him. He’s confused and upset, and having people around him that he doesn’t know isn’t helping.’

  * * *

  It was the early hours of the following morning before Nico showed signs that the worst of the vomiting virus was over. His temperature dropped back to normal and he fell into a comfortable sleep.

  ‘He’ll probably be absolutely fine and full of energy when he wakes up,’ Kristen told Sergio, who had remained to help nurse the little boy, although he had sent the nanny away. She tucked the sheet around Nico and moved away from the bed so that her voice did not disturb him. ‘You’ll be amazed at how resilient children are.’ As she spoke she was hit by a wave of exhaustion and collapsed onto the sofa.

  ‘He already looks a whole lot better than you do,’ Sergio murmured drily, comparing Nico’s healthy colour with Kristen’s white face. He quickly looked away from her, unable to meet her gaze. During the past few hours she had proved beyond doubt her devotion to her son. Her patience as she had attended to Nico when he had been sick and comforted him with loving care had shown Sergio how wrong he had been about her, and he felt guilty that he had misjudged her so badly. She was nothing like his mother, thank God. He knew he owed her an explanation of why he had snatched Nico, but he did not find it easy to talk about his childhood experiences.

  He sat down next to her on the sofa and felt her instantly become tense. Was she afraid of him? He couldn’t blame her after the way he had behaved, he thought grimly. The worry he had put her through when he had disappeared with Nico was evident in her drawn features. She looked infinitely fragile, and when he brushed a stray tendril of hair back from her cheek she jerked away from him as if he had struck her.

  But it was not fear he saw in her eyes,
although her expression was wary and mistrustful. He deserved that, Sergio accepted. He had done nothing to earn her trust. What he found more intriguing was the fact that her pupils had dilated and her chest was rising and falling unevenly. Sexual awareness could not be denied or disguised, however hard she might try to hide her feelings. His analytical brain acknowledged that her attraction to him was the ace up his sleeve. The first rule of business was to discover your opponent’s weakness, and it was useful to know that Kristen was vulnerable where he was concerned.

  ‘Why do you and Nico have the surname Lloyd?’ he asked her. ‘When I knew you four years ago your name was Russell, so why did you change it?’ His jaw tightened as an unwelcome thought occurred to him. ‘Did you marry some guy who then became a stepfather to Nico?’

  ‘No, of course not. There hasn’t been anyone...’ She broke off abruptly, making Sergio wonder if she had been about to say that she had not dated anyone since him. He hoped that was the case, but only because he hated the idea that she might have introduced a boyfriend to Nico, not because the thought of her having sex with another guy made his insides burn as if he had swallowed acid, he assured himself.

  ‘Russell was my stepfather’s name,’ Kristen explained. ‘My real father, David Lloyd, died when I was a baby. When I was eight my mother married my gymnastics coach, Alan Russell, and I took his name.’

  ‘I remember your stepfather. He made it clear that he did not approve of me.’ Sergio frowned. ‘I only met him once when I came to see you at your rented villa, and he warned me to stay away from you.’

  ‘He didn’t approve of anything that distracted me from my training. And you were a major distraction.’ Kristen sighed. ‘Four years ago I came to Sicily with my mum and Alan, but they were called home and while they were in England I met you. When Alan came back to Sicily he was furious when he discovered I was having an affair with you instead of focusing on my gymnastics training.

  ‘While I was growing up I was very close to Alan. He was a top coach and he spotted my potential early on. It was his dream as much as mine that I should become a champion gymnast. Sometimes...’ she hesitated ‘...I’ve wondered if he married Mum so that he could have control over me and my career. He was a very domineering man, but the attention he gave me made me feel special and I wanted to do well and please him. But as I grew older I started to resent the fact that I had no other life outside of gymnastics. Alan insisted I followed a rigorous training schedule and I never had time for anything else, including boyfriends.’