‘Hello, Nico.’ A faint tremor shook his voice and his expression softened as he studied the little boy. ‘Would you like to have a ride in my car?’
Kristen bit her lip. The man she had known four years ago had been so adept at hiding his feelings that she had believed him to be emotionless, but Sergio was clearly struggling for self-control.
Nico was sufficiently intrigued to cease crying. ‘What’s your car?’
‘It’s that big black one just along the road.’
‘I don’t have a child seat for him,’ Kristen muttered.
‘I believe there is an integrated booster seat in the rear of the car.’ Sergio dismissed her objection without sparing her a glance and focused his attention on his son.
‘What do you say, Nico? Will you stop crying if I take you to your nursery school in my car? Bene,’ he murmured when the little boy nodded. ‘Come on then, let’s get out of this rain, shall we?’
Kristen could not define the feeling that swept through her as she watched her son trustingly put his small hand into Sergio’s larger one. Nico was usually shy with people he didn’t know and the only male contact he’d had in his life was with elderly Mr Parker who lived next door. Yet he was happily walking off with Sergio and seemed to have forgotten about her, Kristen thought with a pang.
‘You shouldn’t encourage him to go off with a stranger,’ she said sharply as she walked quickly along the pavement to the waiting car. ‘He doesn’t know you. I don’t want him to think it is okay to get into a stranger’s car.’
Sergio’s eyes glittered. ‘It is not my fault he doesn’t know me. But that unfortunate situation will not continue and he will soon know me very well.’
Something in his tone caused a hard knot of dread to settle in Kristen’s chest. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that I want to be involved in my son’s life. Dio,’ he growled when she made a choked sound, ‘I have just discovered that I am his father. Did you expect me to simply walk away from him? Boys need their fathers,’ he added in a curiously driven voice.
‘At his age, Nico needs his mother more than anyone else,’ Kristen said desperately.
‘A mother who dumps him in a nursery all day.’ Sergio’s tone was scathing. ‘A three-year-old child requires more parental attention than you are giving him.’
Kristen reeled as if he had physically struck her. ‘Nico is my world and I would willingly give my life for him. How dare you say that I don’t give him enough attention?’ Her voice trembled with anger at the accusation. Yet it was true that only three days ago she had decided she needed to spend more time with her little boy to help him get over the death of his grandmother, her conscience reminded her.
Nico’s voice dragged her from her thoughts. Sergio’s driver had lifted him onto the booster seat in the back of the car and secured the seat belt around him, but now there was a tiny quiver of uncertainty in Nico’s voice as he said, ‘Are you coming, Mummy?’
‘Of course I’m coming with you.’ Tearing her eyes from Sergio’s impenetrable gaze, Kristen handed his driver her umbrella and climbed into the car. To her dismay, Sergio slid in next to her instead of walking round to the other passenger door. His wet clothes were moulded to his body and Kristen could feel his hard thighs pressed against her through his rain-soaked trousers. He smelled of rain and expensive cologne, and the combination was so intensely sensual that her heart-rate quickened.
Heat pooled low in her pelvis and she instinctively lifted her hand to her throat to hide the urgent thud of her pulse just as Sergio turned his head towards her. His brows lifted mockingly and she flushed, aware that he had understood the reason for her betraying gesture. She had never been able to disguise her fierce awareness of him, she acknowledged bleakly.
Four years ago she had fallen for him so hard that nothing else had seemed important, not even her gymnastics training and the goal of winning a world championship title that had been her dream since childhood. When she had met Sergio she had dreamed instead of marriage, children, the whole happy-ever-after scenario. But the dream had ended when she had lost their child.
‘Perhaps it is for the best.’ Even now the memory of Sergio’s words had the power to hurt her. After she had lost their baby, she had been distraught. But he had paced around the hospital room and avoided making eye contact with her. His words had ripped her emotions to shreds as much as the agonising stomach cramps that had torn through her body during the miscarriage. The knowledge that he had not wanted their child had made her realise what a fool she had been to believe in fairy tales.
* * *
While Kristen gave the driver directions to the nursery, Sergio leaned his head against the back of the seat, conscious that his wet clothes were sticking to the car’s leather upholstery. But he did not give a damn that he could wring the water from his bespoke silk shirt or that his hand-stitched leather shoes made by the finest Italian craftsmen were probably ruined. Everything else faded to insignificance compared to the discovery that he had a son.
He looked over at Nico and felt a curious sensation as if his heart was being squeezed in a vice. His child—his little boy! It still hadn’t completely sunk in that the angelic-looking bambino was his flesh and blood. But the evidence spoke for itself. Nico bore all the markings of his Sicilian ancestry with his almost-black hair that, unlike Sergio’s own cropped style, was a mass of baby curls and his dark brown eyes. His complexion was olive-toned, although he was worryingly pale, which was not surprising when he had spent the first three years of his life in England’s unpredictable climate, Sergio thought bitterly. He was sure the child would thrive in Sicily’s warm sunshine, and the sooner he could take him home to the Castellano estate the better.
Nico...he silently sounded his son’s name. He was glad Kristen had given him an Italian name but it was a small consolation when she had stolen the first precious years of the little boy’s life from him. Anger burned like a branding-iron in his gut as his eyes were drawn to the woman sitting stiffly beside him. How could someone so goddamn beautiful be such a treacherous bitch?
He swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat. Three nights ago he had decided that he wanted her back in his life. Now he wanted... Slowly he unfurled his clenched fist and sought to control his rage. He knew what he was capable of if he lost his temper—and so did his mother’s lover who, when Sergio had been fifteen, had made the mistake of hitting him.
Dio! It had been twenty years ago, but the memory was still vivid in his mind and the shame he felt at what he had done still scourged his soul. It was no excuse that, after years of suffering physical abuse from his unpredictable, alcoholic mother, he had snapped, no excuse that for the first time in his life he had been driven to defend himself and hit back.
It had taken two security guards who had worked at the apartment block where his mother lived to pull him off her lover, while she had screamed hysterically. She had accused him of being a savage, he remembered grimly. After everything she had put him through—the misery of his childhood and the cruelty he had suffered almost daily—the irony had not been lost on him. The punk she had been sleeping with had deserved every blow Sergio had inflicted on him, but afterwards he had felt ashamed that he had sunk so low. He hated to admit that for a few seconds he had felt empowered by fighting back, and shockingly there had been a moment when he had imagined it was his mother he was hitting rather than her lover.
He had felt sickened with self-disgust. He wasn’t an animal, and he had vowed that day never to lose his temper again. He was almost afraid of his physical strength, afraid of what he was capable of. His anger had to be controlled, and the only way to do that was to cut off all his emotions. And so he had taught himself to bury his feelings and use his brain rather than his fists. Don’t get mad, get even, was his rule in life.
He stared unseeingly out of the car window, his mind l
ocked in the past. A memory slid into his mind of watching Patti—his mother had insisted that he use her name instead of calling her Mamma—opening a letter and reacting furiously when she learned that she had been turned down for a film role. His heart had sunk when she had reached for the gin bottle, knowing that her drinking would be a prelude to violence. Sure enough, she had punished him for some misdemeanour; he couldn’t remember what he was supposed to have done to warrant the sting of the cane across the backs of his legs.
He had been six years old, a lonely little boy in New York, desperately missing his home in Sicily and unable to understand why Papa did not come for him. His mother had told him it was because Papa did not love him.
Sergio dragged his mind back to the present. He sensed Kristen’s tension and the realisation that she was nervous of him left a bitter taste in his mouth. He would never lay a finger on her in anger. The idea was abhorrent to him. But he hated her for what she had done, and he hated even more the swift, hot surge of desire that arrowed through him as he stared at her delicate features.
‘How long does Nico stay at nursery every day?’ he asked abruptly.
‘He stays there all day while I’m at work. I usually drop him off at eight-thirty and collect him at five-thirty.’
‘Aren’t you concerned that being away from you for so long could be detrimental for him?’
‘I admit it’s not a perfect situation,’ Kristen replied sharply, bristling at the criticism in his voice, ‘but I have no choice. I have a career...’
‘Ah, yes...your career.’
She frowned. ‘Why did you say it in such a sneering tone? Yes, I have a career. I studied hard at university to qualify as a physiotherapist, and I’m proud of what I’ve achieved. I have no choice but to work...’
‘You had a choice,’ Sergio said harshly. ‘You could have told me about my son when he was born and I would have made sure that you did not have to dump him in day-care while you pursued your precious career.’
Kristen was prevented from replying as the car pulled up outside the nursery building and Sergio immediately stepped out onto the pavement. But inwardly she was seething at the way he had made her out to be an uncaring mother. The only reason she worked long hours was to keep a roof over their heads and she missed Nico desperately while she was away from him. She unfastened the little boy’s seat belt and lifted him out of the car, but when she tried to set him on his feet he clung tightly to her.
‘Mummy, I want to stay with you.’
Nico’s play-worker had advised that it was best to ignore his tears and say goodbye quickly and cheerfully. ‘The minute you’ve gone he’s no longer upset, and he’s quite happy to play with his friends,’ Lizzie had assured her. With that in mind, Kristen prised his arms from around her neck and walked him briskly into the nursery. She was conscious of Sergio following close behind her but she did her best to ignore his unsettling presence.
The play-worker met them in the hallway. ‘Hello, Nico, have you come to have fun with us today?’ Lizzie said brightly.
Kristen saw the curious look she gave Sergio and realised she would have to introduce him. ‘Why don’t you go and find Sam?’ she asked Nico. She waited until he had gone into the play-room and then turned to Lizzie. ‘This is Sergio Castellano...’ she hesitated ‘...Nico’s father.’ Glancing at Sergio, she explained, ‘Miss Morris is the senior play-worker at Little Acorns Nursery.’
‘I’m delighted to meet you, Miss Morris,’ Sergio murmured in his sexy accent that brought Kristen’s skin out in goose-bumps. And clearly she was not the only woman to be bowled over by his mega-watt charm, she thought ruefully as she noticed Lizzie’s cheeks turn pink.
‘Please call me Lizzie, Mr Castellano,’ the play-worker said rather breathlessly. ‘May I say it’s so nice to finally meet Nico’s father. Would you like to come into the office while Kristen makes sure Nico is settled?’
‘Thank you—Lizzie. And do please call me Sergio.’
‘Oh, yes...certainly.’
Leaving the flustered play-worker with Sergio, Kristen went to find Nico. He was sitting on a bean-bag and looked so disconsolate that her heart ached. ‘How about playing with the train set?’ she suggested.
He shook his head, and the sight of tears sliding down his cheeks evoked the usual feeling of guilt that she was leaving him. But, remembering Lizzie’s advice to keep goodbyes brief, she leaned down and dropped a kiss onto his cheek. ‘Have a lovely day and I’ll come back very soon.’
His sobs followed her as she hurried out of the play-room and into the corridor. Lizzie emerged from the office, followed by Sergio, who frowned when he heard Nico crying. ‘Are you sure he isn’t being bullied?’ he asked tersely.
Lizzie looked shocked. ‘Oh, no! He just gets upset when he’s separated from his mother, but his tears don’t last for long. It’s a fairly common reaction with children of his age,’ she explained. ‘And Nico is particularly sensitive at the moment. But don’t worry. I’ll take good care of him.’
It was a pity that Kristen didn’t seem to feel the same concern for her son that the play-worker did, Sergio thought darkly as they left the nursery and walked back to the car. The sound of his son’s sobs affected him deeply and brought back memories of how as a little boy he had often wept silently into his pillow at night, afraid that if he made a noise he would anger his mother. He had cried because he missed his father.
‘As soon as my lawyers can arrange a custody hearing I intend to claim my legal rights to my son,’ he informed Kristen abruptly. ‘Nico belongs in Sicily with me.’
Shock caused the colour to drain from Kristen’s face. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. He’s just a baby. No court would allow you to take him away from his mother.’ She bit her lip. ‘We must put Nico’s welfare first. I don’t want him upset in any way.’
‘I saw when you walked away from him while he was crying how concerned you are for his emotional welfare,’ Sergio said with icy sarcasm. Hearing Nico crying had aroused his protective instincts and he was tempted to stride back into the nursery and snatch his little son into his arms. It was a father’s duty to protect his child—a duty his own father had failed to do. But he would not fail his son, Sergio vowed grimly. Kristen did not seem to care overmuch about Nico and he was sure the boy would be far happier living with him.
* * *
In the car Kristen gave directions to the driver on how to reach her work while Sergio called his PR manager.
‘Enzo will give a statement to the press and explain that we have no personal involvement,’ he told her when he ended the call. ‘It’s rather ironic, considering that we have a child, but I want to keep Nico out of the media spotlight for as long as possible.’
‘I understand if you want a relationship with Nico,’ Kristen said huskily. ‘But surely it would be better for him if we come to an amicable arrangement about when you can visit him rather than arguing over who should have custody of him.’
‘I don’t want to visit him.’ Sergio turned his gaze from the rain lashing the car window and looked into Kristen’s bright blue eyes. ‘I want my son to live with me so that I can be a proper father to him.’ There was a curious fervency in his voice as he continued, ‘I want to tuck Nico into bed every night and eat breakfast with him every morning. I want to kick a football with him and take him swimming.’ He shot her a glance. ‘Have you taught him to swim?’
‘Not yet,’ Kristen admitted. ‘There isn’t a public pool near to where we live, and weekends go so quickly. He’s only three, for goodness’ sake,’ she said tersely when Sergio frowned.
‘My niece is only a year older than Nico, but Rosa has been able to swim virtually since she learned to walk.’
His criticism of her mothering skills rankled. ‘If I could afford for Nico to live in a house with its own private pool, I’ve no doubt he would be able to swim
like a fish,’ she snapped.
‘If I had known I had a son, he would have grown up from birth at my house on the Castallano estate and I would have taught him to swim in my pool.’
Kristen’s angry gaze clashed with Sergio’s furious glare. ‘You keep saying you would have supported him, but I don’t understand how you would have done. You were married when Nico was born. How could he have lived with you in Sicily? Why did your marriage end, anyway?’ She could not deny her curiosity. ‘Did your wife leave you or...’
‘She died.’
‘I...I’m sorry,’ she whispered, shocked as much by the revelation as by the complete lack of emotion in Sergio’s voice. She wanted to ask him: when? How? For the past four years she had been haunted by the photo she had seen in a magazine of the beautiful woman Sergio had married. She had been jealous, Kristen admitted to herself.
‘Did you love her?’ She could not hold back the question that had burned inside her for four years.
‘It’s none of your business.’
His reply was polite but dismissive and she flushed, hating herself for her curiosity and him for his arrogance. Determined not to risk another put-down, she stared out of the window and willed the traffic jam to clear before she was any later for work.
‘I’m surprised that I have never seen your name mentioned by the media.’
Puzzled by the statement, she glanced at him. ‘Why on earth should I be of interest to anyone?’
‘Four years ago you were regarded as one of the best gymnasts in the UK and were tipped to win a gold medal at the world championships. But after you left Sicily and returned to England you seemed to disappear from the sport.’ Sergio’s jaw hardened. ‘I realise now that you must have taken a break from training and competitions while you were pregnant. But didn’t you return to gymnastics after Nico was born?’
Kristen shook her head. ‘I never competed again after I had him. I gave up gymnastics completely. It wasn’t possible to combine the hours of training necessary to compete at world-class level with being a mother,’ she explained when she saw the surprise in Sergio’s eyes.
His Unexpected Legacy Page 6
