Seduced by the Enemy

by Alyssa J. Montgomery

  ‘Christiana.’

  Her eyes filled with tears and her lips trembled. ‘Jane’s daughter was Christina.’

  ‘Christiana,’ he corrected.

  She stared at him. ‘This can’t be true. Jane said Christina had died and she couldn’t reach Antonio.’ Anguish speared through her as the awful memories rushed back. ‘I booked myself on a flight to Rome for the following afternoon, but only hours after Jane phoned, I got another call from the hospital telling me my sister had died. It was the trauma of her child’s death and not being able to reach Antonio that made her so frantic. If Christina had lived, Jane would probably still be alive. She wouldn’t have been sedated and they would’ve been aware of her blood loss.’

  Luca looked sceptical. ‘I don’t know any of this. You talk about my brother having had feelings for your sister, but surely you know she’d agreed to act as a surrogate mother for Antonio and his wife?’

  ‘No!’ It wasn’t true.

  ‘Yes. Antonio’s wife couldn’t have children and they paid Jane to have Christiana.’

  ‘You’re wrong.’ She refuted the claim with such a violent shake of her head it hurt. Uncrossing her arms, she pointed a finger at him accusingly. ‘I know Antonio told Jane he loved her. She believed he’d seen a lawyer to file for divorce and was intending to marry her. I don’t know what lies he fed you or why, but what you’re saying isn’t true.’

  ‘I’m sorry to disillusion you. My brother was very much married and I’ve seen the surrogacy contract your sister signed.’

  Her lips thinned. This had to be some low Borghetti trick. ‘Whatever you say you’ve seen isn’t real. Jane met Antonio while she was working at one of your family’s hotels in Rome. She fell in love with him and believed he loved her.’

  ‘That’s a fairytale,’ he denied emphatically. He ran a hand through his hair again and paced back and forth a few times, reminding her of a caged tiger. His stature and energy dominated the room and she moved slightly behind the chair she’d sat in to put some form of physical barrier between them.

  Abruptly, he came to a standstill. ‘Regardless of what you believe, Christiana is alive.’ The masculine notch of his larynx worked up and down in his throat as he swallowed. ‘However, she’s seriously ill.’

  The gravity and desperation in his voice was impossible to dismiss.

  ‘She needs a bone marrow donor and there’s no relative on the Borghetti side of the family who’s a match. I came here to find Jane, to see if she would be a suitable donor.’

  What he said was impossible, yet everything in his expression compelled her to believe him and why, why, why would he come here and tell her such a lie?

  The room spun and Olivia reached out quickly and gripped hard on the back of the chair as she swayed.

  If she accepted what he said, she had a niece. A five-year-old niece who lived on the other side of the world and was critically ill.

  ‘But, why would Jane say—?’

  Luca said a little more gently, ‘I don’t know. Perhaps she found it hard to face up to losing her daughter because of the surrogacy contract?’

  No. No. No.

  Denial beat through her.

  Something was terribly wrong here.

  No way would Jane ever have planned to give up her child to another mother, particularly when she’d been in love with Antonio and he’d promised to marry her.

  ‘I was hopeful Jane’s bone marrow would be a match,’ Luca continued, ‘but perhaps you or your parents, or any other siblings you have, might match.’

  Olivia’s legs trembled so hard the shaking was probably registering as seismic waves on a Richter Scale. Putting one foot in front of the other slowly, she walked around and sank into the chair she’d been grasping.

  She looked up and saw him—Luca Borghetti—for the first time. There was no menace anymore in his expression. If anything, she saw concern. Grave concern.

  ‘Olivia—’

  ‘Please …’ Her voice emerged as a hoarse whisper. ‘This is impossible for me to take in.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t understand why your sister lied to you—’

  ‘Stop right there! My sister was no liar. If anyone’s told lies it’s your brother.’ If she’d been confident her legs would support her she would’ve jumped to her feet and stared him down.

  ‘Whatever you think happened between Jane and Antonio, they’re both dead now and they can’t help Christiana. I need to find a bone marrow donor for her.’

  A niece. I really have a niece.

  Jane’s daughter lived but was a sick little girl.

  Christiana.

  Luca Borghetti must be telling the truth. Why else would he persist with this need for a bone marrow donor?

  ‘My father’s dead,’ she told him woodenly. ‘It’s only me and my mother.’

  ‘Please help her.’ A driven, distressed energy powered his words and her heart cramped as she absorbed his desperate plea.

  To find out Jane’s daughter was alive was astonishing. But to discover Christiana was seriously ill with a life-threatening illness was surely the cruellest twist fate could throw at her.

  He pulled out his wallet from the pocket inside his jacket lining, and took something out. ‘Here. I have a photo of her.’

  Olivia bit down hard on her bottom lip and hot tears stung her eyes as she looked at the photo he handed her.

  Christiana.

  There was no doubting the little girl in the photograph was her sister’s child. The child’s skin was olive and her hair was dark, but she had the same facial features as both Jane and Olivia. Christiana’s beguiling expression mirrored Jane’s when she’d been a similar age.

  ‘All these years, I believed she … Christiana … had died.’ Olivia stifled a quiet sob.

  Questions hammered at her brain, demanding answers. For now, she pushed them to one side. If Luca Borghetti was to be believed, he didn’t know the answers.

  Nothing would bring Jane back now, but even so, Olivia was determined she’d find those answers. She was not going to let Christiana go through life believing Jane had been a willing surrogate mother. One way or another, Olivia would find the answers—find out what had really happened between Jane and Antonio and why Jane believed Christiana had died.

  ‘You say she needs bone marrow?’

  ‘Si. Yes. She has an acute form of leukaemia.’ He reached out to prise the photo from her fingers.

  She was reluctant to give up her link to Jane’s daughter—but her attention focused on learning more about Christiana’s illness.

  ‘She’s responded well to chemotherapy, but the doctors have told me her best chance of survival is to have a bone marrow transplant while she’s in remission. They’ve registered her with the international bone marrow registry but to date no matches have been found. Jane was her best, immediate chance.’

  ‘Then, I might be a match.’

  ‘It’s possible you or your mother might be. Will you agree to have a bone marrow test?’

  ‘Of course.’ How could he even think she’d refuse?

  ‘I have legal papers in the car drawn up for Jane. They’ll need to be re-written for you and your mother but you needn’t worry as the terms are generous. I’ll provide financial compensation when you have the test, and if you’re a match, you’ll be compensated even more generously for the bone marrow donation.’ The sum he named was astronomical. ‘The same applies for your mother.’

  She stared at him aghast before indignation shot through her. ‘That’s obscene,’ she pronounced on a hiss of breath as she stood to face him. ‘You think we’d expect to be paid to help Jane’s daughter—our own flesh and blood?’ She didn’t give him time to respond. ‘Your suggestion is the most insulting one I’ve ever heard. You think my bone marrow would come at a price when it could be the one thing to save Jane’s daughter’s life?’

  ‘I—’

  ‘I don’t want your filthy money, Mr Borghetti, and neither will my mother. We�
�ll travel to Rome on the first available flight and we’ll be there for Christiana whether or not our bone marrow’s a match.’

  ‘No!’

  Her body jerked back, punched by his response. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Absolutely not. No flight to Rome. Your bone marrow is all that’s required.’

  For a moment she stood and looked at him in shocked disbelief as she tried to make sense of his words. ‘You cruel, arrogant son of a bitch! You come here and tell me I have a niece—a little girl we all believed had died. You tell me she’s seriously ill and then you expect me to roll up my sleeve, have a test, hopefully supply life-saving bone marrow and then just fade away as though I don’t know about her existence—as though I don’t care about her existence?’ Every word had become louder. Angrier. Her words were as furious as the lava-hot flow of blood pulsing through her veins and making her temples pound.

  ‘Cazzo.’ Luca ran his hands down over his face then up again so his fingertips could comb through his thick pelt of dark hair. ‘I have to think about this.’

  ‘What’s to think about?’ she demanded. ‘I’m Christiana’s aunt. My mum is her grandmother.’

  ‘I came here expecting Jane. I had no idea … Obviously this wasn’t what I’d expected.’

  Her hands went to her hips and she glared at him. ‘If you really believed you could buy Jane’s bone marrow you obviously never met my sister. She was kind and sweet and cared about others—even those who weren’t worthy of her consideration.’

  Pacing around the room, Luca’s indecision looked foreign to him. Olivia guessed he wasn’t used to being wrong-footed or being placed in a position where he had to respond to demands, but she’d be damned if she’d let him keep her and her mother from Jane’s little girl for any longer than it took to arrange travel to Italy.

  ‘Be reasonable,’ he said at last. ‘I know nothing about you. Christiana knows nothing about you and I can’t have you going to Italy and confusing her by telling her Jane was her mother. As far as she’s aware Antonio’s wife was her mother.’

  ‘Was her mother?’

  ‘Both Antonio and his wife were killed in an accident two years ago.’

  Oh God! ‘Who’s been looking after Christiana all this time?’

  ‘I have.’

  Impossible. Olivia couldn’t imagine him filling any type of parental role to a five-year-old let alone a three-year-old. She pointed an accusing finger at him. ‘But you’re here. Who’s in Rome with her now?’

  A muscle ticked below his cheekbone—a dead give-away he clenched his teeth at her question. ‘Christiana has a nurse and two nannies. And, this is the first time I’ve ever left her.’

  ‘Nannies and a nurse,’ Olivia repeated with disgust. ‘Well, in a week I’m going to be on holidays. As soon as travel arrangements can be made, I’ll take leave.’ She voiced her thoughts aloud as they tumbled through her mind. ‘I’ll organise a leave of absence for the remainder of the year at least, make sure Mum’s passport is up to date, and get to Rome as quickly as we can. From now on, Mum and I will be there to look after her.’ She had savings. There’d be no trouble taking a leave of absence, because she was highly respected at the school. If need be, she’d live off every last cent of her savings and, when Christiana was well, she’d bring her niece to Australia and she and her mother would care for her here.

  Probably better not to voice her last thought right now.

  The muscle tic in Luca’s cheek had been replaced by a visible pulse at his temple.

  ‘You’re getting ahead of yourself, Miss Temple. I suggest you get dressed. You have the compatibility test done and if you’re a match, we’ll discuss what happens next.’

  In answer, she folded her arms across her chest in a pose of absolute refusal. ‘You talked about contracts, Mr Borghetti. Here’s a news flash for you. I don’t want a euro of your money, but I demand an immediate introduction to my niece, and to be able to stay with her while she’s in Rome and her health is stabilising.’

  He stared at her as though she’d asked him to cut off his right hand.

  ‘My mother’s away visiting friends for the weekend but she’ll be home tonight. She’ll be anxious to get to Rome as soon as possible.’ And, when they were there, they’d talk to Christiana and make sure the little girl had a chance to know about her real mother. ‘God willing, one of us will be the person whose bone marrow saves her life.’

  ‘There’s no need for you to travel to Rome unless you’re a match,’ he told her adamantly. ‘All the initial tests can be done here in Australia.’

  She wanted to shake him. Instead, she adopted her most practised teacher’s voice. ‘You’re not listening to me. If you think I’ll be kept from my niece, or my mum will be kept from her granddaughter, you can think again.’

  ***

  Luca ran his fingertips along his jaw, aware Olivia must be reeling from all the revelations as much as he was. He’d expected to have to deal with Olivia’s harsh, money-grabbing sister and from all he’d been told about Jane, he’d believed his offer of a generous payment would have her falling in with his wishes immediately.

  Jane was dead.

  Why the hell hadn’t he been told she’d died soon after giving birth to Christiana? He filed the question away and tried to come to terms with the reality of the situation he faced.

  Christiana’s mother was dead and Olivia was a completely different person. The woman who faced him down said she wasn’t interested in his money—levelled all sorts of accusations against his brother based on her sister’s lies, but clearly believed those lies to be truth.

  Part of him empathised with her plight. She’d lost her sister and now she wanted to reach out to Antonio’s daughter as a link to Jane. Family seemed important to her, and it earned her more admiration than she could possibly know—if it was sincere.

  But, he didn’t know anything about Olivia Temple and her mother, except their relationship to a woman who’d sold her baby and tried to extort more money from his brother.

  Could he believe Olivia was interested in establishing a family tie or was this some elaborate ploy?

  He looked around him again at the impoverished condition of the house. It was possible that rather than accept his offer for the bone marrow test, Olivia was trying to inveigle her way into Christiana’s life to wheedle even more money from him over time.

  Si. It was a cynical thought, but life had taught him well that there were plenty of people who’d do anything—say anything—for money.

  Dio! Olivia’s sister had chased the Borghetti wealth. Why should her sister and mother be any different?

  But then, you’re a vastly different man from your father. You don’t appreciate being judged by his standards so maybe you should take the time to get to know these women and then make a judgement, his innate sense of fairness decreed.

  Time.

  Porca miseria, he didn’t have the luxury of time!

  ‘I told you Christiana isn’t well. This isn’t about satisfying you and your mother. This is about what Christiana needs. The last thing she needs is any emotional complications in her life.’

  ‘She’s five years old.’ Her hands went to her hips. ‘Five years she’s been kept from us and I refuse to let you separate us from her any longer. As for presenting any emotional complications, at her age, she’ll be thrilled to have people in her life who’ll love her.’

  The implied insult whipped him. ‘Christiana is not lacking in love.’ She meant the world to him and he provided plenty of love and emotional support.

  ‘She’s lacking in our love.’

  ‘You expect me to allow you and your mother—complete strangers—into her life?’

  ‘And whose fault is it we’re strangers to her? Believe me, it’s a situation I would’ve remedied years ago had I known she’d lived.’ She looked like she wanted to use him as a punching bag—again. ‘How dare your father and brother have kept the truth from me. I asked your father where she wa
s buried. He knew I thought Christina—Christiana—had died.’

  Every vertebra in Luca’s spine locked rigid at the mention of his father and he recalled she’d previously mentioned something about his father’s treatment of her. ‘When did you speak to my father?’

  ‘When I was in Rome to … to bring Jane … Jane’s body home.’

  Merda. This woman’s pain was so deep it was a tangible thing, reaching out and squeezing hard around his heart.

  Surely nobody could feign such a level of grief?

  The events she outlined had to be true—from her perspective—and, if his father had been involved, it was believable she’d been treated badly.

  Si. He felt empathy. Luca knew all too well what a cold, manipulative bastard Damiano Borghetti was.

  ‘My father told you Christiana had died?’

  For a moment she frowned, as though searching through her memories. ‘He didn’t tell me she was still alive when I demanded to know where she’d been buried.’ She held out her hands palms up in a gesture of helplessness. ‘How could he lie to me, even by omission? We’d already lost Jane. How could he deny us all knowledge of her daughter?’

  Her words moved him more than she could know. ‘I can’t explain my father’s actions, but I will get answers.’ He ran his palms down over his cheeks. As he felt himself being drawn to her—almost bonding with her through her pain—he reminded himself Olivia Temple was a stranger. ‘I agree Damiano should never have let you think Christiana was dead, but you have to understand you had no legal rights to a relationship with Christiana.’

  ‘Rubbish!’

  ‘You mightn’t like it, but it’s true.’ He steeled himself against her emotion and reiterated the cold, hard facts of what he’d always considered a cold, hard arrangement. ‘You’re the sister of the woman who acted as a surrogate mother for my brother and his wife. From the moment she signed the contract and conceived her, Jane had no legal rights to Christiana. You and your mother certainly have no legal rights.’

  Even though she jerked as his words sank in, he respected the way she appeared to steel herself as she came right back at him.