His Unexpected Legacy

by Chantelle Shaw

  ‘Annamaria was my best friend,’ Sergio continued. ‘When I returned to Sicily as a teenager I was full of anger and resentment against my mother, my father and the whole world. Annamaria’s father was a close friend of Tito’s, and we spent a lot of time together. She saw past my anger, and she was the only person I was able to talk to about how my mother had mistreated me.

  ‘When she was in her early twenties, Annamaria was diagnosed with leukaemia. For eight years she fought the disease, but each time she appeared to be cured it returned. She was in Switzerland to try a new form of treatment during the summer that you came to Sicily. She came home soon after you had left, having learned that her illness was terminal.’

  Kristen drew a sharp breath. ‘How terrible that must have been for her and her family—and for you.’

  ‘Her father broke the news to me. He also confided that Annamaria’s deepest regret was that she would never be a bride and her father would never have the chance to give his only daughter away in a traditional wedding service.’

  ‘I loved Annamaria as a friend.’ Sergio sought Kristen’s gaze and she saw a plea for understanding in his dark eyes. ‘After all the help she had given me, I wanted to make her last months of life as happy as possible, and so I asked her to marry me.’

  A gentle smile crossed his face. ‘Planning her wedding day gave her something to think about other than her illness. There was the dress, the bridesmaids’ outfits, the flowers to organise. We had planned to marry in the village church, with a huge reception afterwards. But Annamaria’s health suddenly deteriorated and she was admitted to a hospice. We held the service at her bedside, and she still managed to wear her bridal gown.’ He glanced over at the photograph on the desk. ‘She looked beautiful. She was so happy that her hair had grown back once she had stopped the chemotherapy. Annamaria was my dear friend and an incredibly brave person,’ Sergio said quietly. ‘She died five days after our wedding.’

  Kristen swallowed hard. ‘I’m so sorry. At least you helped her realise her dream.’ She wanted to put her arms around Sergio and hug him tight, but she felt ashamed of the jealousy she had felt for Annamaria and she could not meet his gaze.

  Where did they go from here? she wondered as the silence lengthened between them. Where was her courage when she needed it? She cleared her throat. ‘Sergio, I...’

  ‘Don’t,’ he interrupted her in a tortured voice. ‘Please don’t tell me that you have decided not to marry me. I know I deserve it after last night, but will you give me a chance to explain why I behaved like a complete boor?’

  When she did not reply, Sergio took a deep breath. ‘I never thought I would marry again after Annamaria. I was sure I did not want a wife or a family of my own. Children need to be loved, but I had buried my emotions for so long that I assumed I would not be able to love a child.

  ‘I was wrong,’ he said huskily. ‘From the moment I met my son I was overwhelmed with love for him. Nico unlocked the key to my heart and showed me that I was capable of love. It was a revelation, but still I was afraid to admit how I felt about you.’

  Kristen’s heart skittered when he reached out and touched her hair. His hand was unsteady as he slid it beneath her chin and tilted her face to his, and when she looked into his eyes she was stunned by the fierce emotion that he did not try to hide.

  ‘Four years ago I should have listened to my heart, which insisted that you loved me,’ he said deeply. ‘Instead, I was swayed by the ugly voice inside my head which taunted that if my own mother had not loved me, why should you. Full of bitterness, I remained in Sicily and concentrated on the only thing I seemed to be good at, which was brokering business deals and making money.’

  His eyes grew bleak. ‘If I had not been in London on a business trip and you had not come to the Hotel Royale, I would never have known about my son. I don’t blame you for hiding him from me and I understand why you did. I had shut you out and never shared my emotions with you, and you were scared I would hurt Nico like I had hurt you.’

  No one could accuse Sergio of not sharing his emotions now, Kristen thought. Her heart ached as she stared at his haggard face. But she still could not quite believe what her heart was telling her. She had hoped for so long, but maybe her mind was playing tricks.

  ‘After we had slept together at the hotel you only looked for me because you wanted me to make a statement to the press and deny the story they had published about us,’ she reminded him.

  ‘That’s wasn’t the only reason.’ Sergio held her gaze. ‘I wanted to see you again. The truth is I couldn’t stay away from you, Krissie. But I admit that at that point I only hoped to persuade you to resume our affair. I didn’t know...I didn’t realize...’ He hesitated, and in the silence Kristen was sure he must be able to hear the frantic thud of her heart.

  ‘What didn’t you realise?’ she whispered.

  ‘That I love you.’

  Her heart stood still, but she was afraid to believe him. ‘You were angry that I had hidden Nico from you.’

  ‘At first, but I soon understood why you had decided to bring him up on your own. I had failed you when you had the miscarriage and let you think I did not want the baby we had lost. It wasn’t surprising that you believed I would not want Nico. I was a coward then...and I am still acting like a coward now,’ Sergio muttered.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Instead of replying, he strode across the room and opened the drawer in his bedside table. ‘I have something that I want to give you, something that might explain my feelings better than I seem to be doing with words.’ He walked back to her, holding a small square box, and Kristen caught her breath when he opened the lid and revealed an exquisite oval sapphire surrounded by glittering diamonds.

  ‘I...I don’t understand.’ The ring was clearly an engagement ring, but she didn’t dare accept what her head and the expression in Sergio’s eyes were telling her.

  ‘It’s very simple,’ he said softly. ‘I love you, Kristen. Four years ago I refused to admit that I felt anything for you and told myself I only wanted you as my mistress. But I never forgot you, and when I saw you at the Hotel Royale I knew I wanted you back in my life. But then I met Nico, and all my doubts returned. I reasoned that you would not have kept my son from me if you had cared for me.’

  ‘I did care for you,’ Kristen broke in, her voice cracking as a tear slid down her cheek. ‘I loved you with all my heart. Last night I wanted to tell you...’ Seeing him frown at her use of the past tense, she flung her arms around him and held him as though she would never ever let go. ‘I wanted to tell you that I still love you and I never stopped. But I lost my nerve, and then...you were so cold.’

  ‘Krissie...tesoro,’ Sergio groaned. ‘I was disappointed that you had only agreed to marry me because you wanted a brother or sister for Nico.’

  ‘And I thought the only reason you asked me marry you was because you wanted your son.’

  He shook his head and threaded his fingers through her hair. ‘It was always you, my golden girl. Having Nico is a bonus. You are the love of my life—’ his voice roughened ‘—but I was afraid to tell you and risk being rejected.’

  As he had been rejected by his mother, and believed he had been rejected by his father, Kristen thought emotionally. ‘You need to have a chat with Tito,’ she murmured.

  ‘What I need to do is make love to the woman who is very soon going to become my wife,’ he said firmly, suddenly all dominant Sicilian male. But he kissed her with a tender passion that brought tears to Kristen’s eyes, and her heart turned over when she saw that his lashes were wet.

  ‘I will never stop loving you,’ she said urgently, desperate to dispel the faint shadows still lingering in his eyes. ‘You, me and Nico, and any other children we might have, we will be the family you never had. And, when we are old and grey, our grandchildren will hope that they find love
as deep and long-lasting as the love we share for each other.’

  Sergio did not reply. He could not when he was so choked with the emotions that he had held inside him for so long. But he told Kristen in myriad other ways how much he loved her. He claimed her lips in a sensuous kiss that made them both tremble. And when he undressed her and stroked his hands possessively over her breasts and stomach before moving lower to slip between her thighs, his gentle caresses spoke of a love that would last for all time.

  ‘Ti amo,’ he whispered against her lips as he made love to her with exquisite care. And the words healed him, completed him and left him with a deep sense of peace because he knew that Kristen loved him.

  * * *

  They married two weeks later in the little chapel on the Castellano estate. Kristen wore a simple white silk gown decorated with crystals on the bodice, and the garland of pink rosebuds in her hair matched the exquisite bouquet of roses that Sergio had placed on the bed on the morning of the wedding, while she had been getting dressed. The attached note simply read: ‘I love you’ but those three words meant everything to Kristen. Sergio’s unhappy childhood had made him suppress his emotions and he couldn’t change overnight. But he was determined Kristen would never have reason to doubt that she was his sun and Nico was his moon. And knowing that his love was returned gave him the confidence to share his feelings.

  Nico was an adorable pageboy and his cousin Rosa was a pretty flower-girl. The wedding was a glorious, happy occasion and even Salvatore, who had the role of Sergio’s best man, gave one of his rare smiles when the groom kissed his bride in front of the congregation of family and friends in the chapel.

  ‘I wish your brother could fall in love and be as happy as we are,’ Kristen said to her new husband as they stood on the steps of the chapel for photographs.

  ‘I wish so too. But I don’t think any man could be as happy as I am,’ Sergio told her in an unsteady voice. He drew her into his arms and looked into her eyes, which were as blue as the summer sky above them. ‘You are my wife, my lover, my best friend and the love of my life, and I am the luckiest man in the world.’

  Kristen blinked hard. ‘I am the luckiest woman, and I’m so happy that I’m going to cry,’ she said huskily.

  ‘I love you, Krissie,’ Sergio murmured against her cheek as he caught a tear on his lips. And then he kissed her with such tender passion, such love, that no words were needed.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from A Reputation to Uphold by Victoria Parker

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  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘DON’T DO THIS to me, Finn. Please. Not today.’

  Over the din of society’s elite, Eva St George crushed her mobile phone against the shell of her ear and sank a fingertip in the other. Hoping the snowy crackle was a particularly bad line and not an indication that her brother was still knee-deep in Switzerland.

  ‘Damn.’ Pushing off the oriental silk-covered wall, she swerved through the cliques—women dripping in jewels, adorned in the latest haute couture, and male powerhouses garbed in bespoke evening wear. And all the while her eyes were locked on the ornate double doors leading from London’s most prestigious ballroom. ‘Finn, give me a minute.’

  Twenty-foot banners hung from the high ceiling in swathes of candyfloss-pink emblazoned with crystal love-hearts—the emblem for Breast Cancer United, the charity Eva and Finn supported. One night a year, together, they launched the fund-raiser in honour of their mother.

  Right now, the omission of togetherness was the sting of a needle sinking into her heart.

  Palm flat, she pushed the heavy oak and swept into the vast reception of the Royal Assembly Rooms, wobbling on her five-inch heels as plush fawn carpet gave way to sleek graphite marble.

  ‘Okay. Talk to me. Where are you?’

  ‘Look, sis, I’m really sorry. Every airport is closed. I’ve even tried to pay some rookie half a mill to fly me there but he can’t get clearance.’

  Pain exploded behind Eva’s eyes and her hand shot up to her temple. ‘Oh, God.’

  ‘You can do this, Eva.’

  Eyes darting this way and that, she spotted an alcove and slunk into the small space, swallowing past the wretched knot in her throat. ‘Finn. They’re expecting both of us. How can I possibly...?’ She stopped herself short. Inhaled long and deep, then pursed her lips, releasing the warm air in one soft stream. Knowing full well she could do it on her own; she just didn’t relish the thought. Speaking in front of hundreds of people who were no doubt waiting for the ‘Diva’ to nosedive wasn’t the nicest prospect in the world. Not only that, in a strange sort of way it felt as if they were letting their mother down. And, since her death, Eva had let her down enough. But the last thing she wanted was for Finn to worry or feel guilty.

  ‘Don’t worry, okay? I can handle this.’

  ‘Of course you can,’ he said with an encouraging bluster that said he wasn’t entirely convinced. ‘We’re talking about the woman who has just won the admiration of Prudence West, the soon-to-be Duchess of Wiltshire. Congrats, by the way.’

  Eva rubbed her temple, waiting for her brain to catch on to the change of subject amidst the escalating throb, as she mentally altered a speech for two speakers. Problem was, it was taking a while and, by the time she realised what she was doing, her fingers wore more make-up than her face.

  Scrambling in her vintage clutch for a tissue before she ruined her best dress, she said, ‘Thanks, Finny. Prudence West is lovely. She adored my gown designs.’

  ‘So she should—anyone with an ounce of taste can recognise a star in the making. Westminster Abbey, huh?’ His deep voice paused as if he were relishing every word. ‘My little sister under the royal spotlight. I’m so proud of you.’

  Eva smiled and thought, not for the first time, how much she missed him. Finn was the only sane person in the family. Well, as sane as any jet-setting racing driver could be.

  Tissue-hunting abandoned, Eva slipped her fingers from her clutch and leaned against the narrow ochre wall. ‘I can see perfectly well what you’re doing and I love you for it. And by all means give me an Abbey full of duchesses and I’ll collude in the art of dazzling every one. Then sit me behind my machine or in my design studio and I’ll make their every dream come true. But when it comes to this...’ A heavy sigh gushed from her mouth, making her lips tingle with dryness. ‘Dad’s here too, playing devil’s advocate over his flurry of ex-wives as they hurl daggers at each other. Honestly, Finn, the man would give Henry the Eighth a run for his money. He’s half cut, making an utter fool of himself. Why can’t he have more respect, especially tonight?’

  ‘Head high, turn a blind eye.’

  ‘Good in theory, lousy in practice.’ With her free hand she rubbed her bare shoulder to ward off a sudden ominous chill. ‘I’ve worked so hard for this, Finn. If something goes wrong tonight my face will be splashed on every tabloid in the country.’

  ‘Nothing is going to go wrong. Listen...’ she heard him inhale; the fact that her stoic-under-pressure sibling felt the need inched her tension levels as high as the opu
lent chandelier filling the reception ‘...I was worried about you. I know how much today means to you. So I sent...’

  A group of guests hustled past and she turned her back to them to face a mural of the Angel Gabriel filling the inside wall of the alcove. She just hoped it was a good omen. ‘Sent? Sent what?’

  ‘He won’t crowd you but he’ll be there if you need him.’

  Need? She didn’t need anyone. To be continually let down? No, thanks.

  Hold on... He? A thread of unease tightened around her chest, then unravelled so fast her heart began to whirl. ‘He? Who’s he? You keep breaking up.’

  ‘I’ve...asked Vitale...come in my place.’

  Before her eyes the Angel Gabriel morphed into Lucifer, horns and all, while Eva went up in flames. ‘Dante? No way—call him off.’

  ‘Call him off?’ A dark chuckle hummed down the line. ‘Despite his bloodthirsty reputation, he isn’t a Rottweiler, Eva.’

  ‘Oh, yes, he is.’ Voice feathery, her hormones went on a rampage, tearing through her body, piping her ve180ins with more heat. ‘He’s...he’s a snarling, arrogant brute.’

  ‘Hey, he’s a good guy. I’d trust him with my life. He won’t let me down.’ That was exactly what she was afraid of. ‘Dante wouldn’t be the global success he is today if he purred like a pussycat. You don’t know him, Eva.’ She knew enough but she had no intention of telling Finn that. He’d ask why and then she would be in trouble.

  Air whipped in and out of her lungs. Her breasts threatened to escape from the ruched bands of cerise satin and she pressed the flat of her hand to her stomach, begging the tremulous churn to subside. Except her fingers shook so badly her tummy began to swirl like a washing machine on full spin.

  ‘I thought he was staying in Singapore, setting up his precious department store. Not that the man hasn’t got enough of them.’ That was another thing Finn was good for—dropping information on Dante Vitale without her having to ask questions. She liked to know when he honoured London with his presence so she could go into hiding. Ridiculous. How old was she? Too old. She thanked heaven Finn was trying to speak again before that line of thought took hold.