Hired: The Italian's Convenient Mistress

by Carol Marinelli

‘There was no reason for him to be there. He wasn’t involved in the car accident. He has an ear infection and croup! It hardly merits a hospital bed!’

  ‘His immediate care was supposed to be discussed prior to his discharge.’

  ‘He is my nephew.’ Elijah glowered. ‘You speak as if I kidnapped him, as if I am depriving him of medical care, when in fact, I told a hospital doctor my intentions, and he himself prescribed medicine.’

  ‘You waited till the Social Services department was closed, though, and you spoke with a very junior doctor! I’m sure you can be quite intimidating when you want to be!’ Ms Anderson held his glare. ‘The department wants Guido’s passport…’

  ‘Well, they can’t have it. I have no idea where it is.’

  ‘Then it looks as if I might be here for a while. Do you want me to help you look?’

  Of course it was in the second drawer she opened—there in the dresser, amongst wedding photos, birth and marriage certificates. Elijah’s lips pursed. His clothes arriving, employing a supposed driver and a nanny, were all intended to make it look as if he were planning to stay—yet his intention had been to leave straight after the funeral. Back to his lawyers, his contacts, to the power he held in his home town—power that would cut through this senseless red tape in a matter of days. For a second Elijah rued the fact he hadn’t headed straight for the airport this morning—but that wasn’t going to get him anywhere. So instead of dwelling on a past that couldn’t be altered, Elijah treated it as a business problem, handing over the passport without comment as he was forced to move swiftly to Plan B—or rather quickly come up with a Plan B.

  ‘Surely he should be here…?’ Elijah said, his hands gesturing to the impressive lounge. ‘Here amongst familiar things? At least for now, till a decision is made…’

  ‘It’s a big house…’

  Ms Anderson gave a nervous cough as Elijah’s face hardened. Clearly the cosy family scenario she had just mentioned was not going to eventuate here.

  ‘It is my house,’ Elijah clipped.

  ‘Your house?’ Ms Anderson frowned, peering down at her notes. ‘The Castellas said that it belonged to Maria and Rico—that they had just taken possession of the title.’

  He was about to deliver a smart reply, but something halted him.

  ‘They said that?’ His mind was whirring at the fact that they would even know—but then his home town was small, and even if his lawyers were discreet, who knew about their secretaries, or the typist, or whoever was cleaning the desk? ‘Don’t you think it strange that within weeks of Maria and Rico—?’

  ‘Mr Vanaldi…’ Her voice bordered on the sympathetic. ‘The police have said that the accident wasn’t suspicious, and the Castellas were in Italy when it occurred.’

  He was sounding irrational, Elijah knew that—but she didn’t know the Castellas, or the levels they’d stoop to. Instead of arguing his point Elijah chose to play his cards close, to stay one step ahead just as he always did.

  ‘I’m just tired…’ he quickly retracted.

  ‘Of course you are.’

  ‘But our families really do not get on…’ he said carefully. ‘It would not be in Guido’s best interests to have two feuding families taking care of him at this time.’

  ‘Well, if you’re not prepared to put aside your differences, then I’m going to have make the choice for you, and frankly, Mr Vanaldi, I have looked into your lifestyle…’ She pulled a face as if she were sucking on a lemon. ‘Yachts, international trips, homes all over the place, partying…’ She gave another uncomfortable cough. ‘And it would seem you have rather a lot of lady-friends. It really doesn’t sound like the most stable of environments—but the Castellas have said that they are prepared to relocate to England, if necessary. They are willing to do whatever it takes to give Guido a proper, loving home.’

  ‘To live off him—’ Elijah sneered.

  ‘Mr Vanaldi!’ Ms Anderson broke in. ‘Affluence doesn’t come into it. It’s not a question of being able to provide materially for Guido—it would seem that for this child that’s the only thing I don’t have to worry about.’

  She was right—silently he stared over at her—affluence had nothing to do with this. His money, his lavish lifestyle, wasn’t what was needed here. Elijah knew that, and he also knew it had nothing to do with pride or possession…His gaze drifted to the photos on the mantelpiece, to the smiling faces of his sister and her husband.

  How he’d hated Rico when Maria had confessed she was dating him.

  Hated that Maria had got involved with the Castellas.

  Gypsies.

  As he had once been.

  Rough, tough survivors—ruthlessly knocking over anyone who stood in their way. But the incident between Maria and Marco had changed Elijah, made him realise that the life he was leading was not one he wished to pursue. His ability to survive, to thrive, to read people was put to better use now. Elijah was the one who had pulled himself up by the bootlaces from a dirt-poor upbringing and made something of himself.

  And how the Castellas hated him for it.

  Had hated Maria too.

  Hated Rico for crossing to the other side.

  And yet now suddenly they wanted Guido.

  It would be so much easier for him to let Ms Anderson make the wrong decision…He could hear Guido stirring on the intercom system, and his jaw tightened at the mere prospect of the screams that would follow. Elijah Vanaldi was a man with not an ounce of paternal instinct. Yes, it would be infinitely easier to nod to the social worker, to say yes, Guido would be better off with a ready-made family—better off with his aunt and uncle and cousins—only Elijah had never taken the easy option in life before, and he wasn’t about to start now.

  ‘I’m not going to go away, Ms Anderson. I am not going to give up on my nephew. You can do your research, you can rake as much dirt as you like on me—or I can save you the effort and tell you myself. I have a criminal record, mainly for petty theft and fighting—though there have been no further convictions since I turned seventeen. I’m sure that’s not the case with Marco Castella. I have a lavish lifestyle that, yes, is probably not geared to raising a fifteen-month-old—but, given I didn’t know I was going to be raising one, I trust that won’t be held against me. And, yes, there have been many women. But, as I just pointed out, that was when I had no commitment to Guido. I will not step aside from this fight…’

  ‘You do actually want what you’re fighting for, don’t you?’ Ms Anderson angrily interrupted. ‘Because if this is about winning a battle or proving a point, please remember that there is a child in the middle.’

  He did—at every turn of his thoughts he did. He was honest enough with himself to know he wasn’t perhaps the best choice as a parent for his nephew, but if it came down to him or the Castellas, like it or not, want it or not, he was the only choice.

  Maria had never been able to stand Marco to be near her—there was no way on earth or in heaven she’d want him near her only child.

  All he could do was his best for Guido.

  Buy a little piece of time and use it to work out what was best.

  Guido was crying now, waking from his nap and demanding a mother who wasn’t there. Without excusing himself Elijah walked upstairs, into his sister’s room, and stared over to where his nephew stood in the cot, coughing and crying and stinking to high heaven. Guido’s outstretched arms pulled back when he saw it was his uncle, then the baby changed his mind and held them out again to be picked up.

  What do you want me to do? Elijah didn’t say it, just stared back into suspicious blue eyes, and he felt something twist inside, saw himself unwanted, ignored, told to clear off and play. And though he didn’t want Guido to be used as a meal ticket for the Castellas, what he could offer was only the same in the extreme. With him, Guido’s lifestyle would be peppered with nannies and first-class travel, and he knew that wasn’t what this little boy needed.

  ‘Che cosa lo desiderate fare?’ This time he did s
ay it out loud, only there could be no answer.

  Picking up the little boy, feeling him rest his hot little head in his neck, the weight of responsibility in his arms was so heavy he almost buckled. Elijah wanted so badly to give his nephew the upbringing Maria would have chosen for him, wanted him to have always what Maria and himself had known only for a short while.

  His eyes scanned Maria’s dressing table, fixing on a shallow glass dish. Reaching out, he picked up a ring—his mother’s ring—cheap Italian gold dotted with seed pearls and little bits of red glass. Despite what he’d told Ainslie last night, despite what he actually had believed, for the first time in the longest time he remembered—remembered his mum cooking, laughing, singing, remembered the short time when his life had been easy.

  ‘Da!’ Guido wriggled in his arms, pointing to the window, and Elijah gave a rare smile as he saw the first snow of winter whirring in the air and taking for ever to fall. He headed over to the window and looked at the billowing white flakes, melting into water before they even hit the ground.

  And there was Ainslie—shivering in her flimsy jacket, pulling it down over her splendid bottom, dragging a vast case behind her. Her blonde hair was dark now, it was so wet, and something else twisted inside him—because despite the cold words he’d heard her say to Angus, she didn’t look like the cool, calculated gold-digger he’d heard on the phone this morning.

  And he didn’t want her lost and alone in London at Christmas either.

  ‘Lesson one,’ he said lying Guido down on the change mat and trying not to look as he changed his first nappy. ‘Sometimes you have to make things work your way, Guido.’

  Ms Anderson listened as Elijah’s thick Italian words came over the intercom, then got back to her notes. A good-looking playboy he might well be, but he was persuasive too. She’d had every intention of telling him that for Christmas at least Guido should stay with the Castellas—a charming family. She’d spoken to them at length before coming here, had helped them find the apartment they were renting, and was meeting them back at her office this afternoon. But hearing Elijah Vanaldi’s surprisingly tender voice crackle over the speakers, then hearing him curse when he attempted to hold kicking legs still while he put on a nappy, Ms Anderson knew he wasn’t playing to an audience. He would have forgotten about the intercom the second he left the room, and she knew that she really was listening to him interact with his nephew. Now, hearing the baby laugh, hearing Guido giggle and shriek as his uncle playfully scolded him for the odore, it was how it should be—a baby giggling and laughing, utterly oblivious to the tragedy unfolding around him. Something inside her shifted.

  Her already heavy schedule was weightier now.

  This wasn’t going to be as cut and dried as she’d first hoped.

  ‘Blasted snow!’

  Since her trip to England had been but a glimmer in her eyes, Ainslie had dreamed of the proverbial white Christmas—had actually planned her trip so that she would arrive here in time for winter. Had it worked out with the Maitlins she’d have been heading off with them on her first ever skiing holiday in the New Year, but as snow swirled around her, soaked through her jacket, fell on her face, already raw and red from crying, all it did was sting…Angus had been lovely, which had made it worse somehow. He had given her more than a month’s pay, plus her Christmas bonus, and had even, probably against his better judgement, given her a reference.

  But what good was a reference a week before Christmas?

  She’d checked out the local youth hostel and it looked as busy and exciting as her guidebook promised. She’d been told that a shared dorm should be available later in the day—only it was the last place she wanted to be right now. After the hell of the past two days she wanted somewhere quiet, where she could lick her wounds and regroup…but where? On a limited budget, and with not much chance of getting immediate work, she wasn’t exactly spoilt for choice.

  Lugging her case up the steps, Ainslie decided to be brave, to ask Elijah if his offer still stood—just for a few days at least.

  Rehearsing her speech, Ainslie stood on the doorstep, but before she’d even knocked the door was flung open.

  Elijah pulled her into the warm as Guido ran down the hall in a nappy that was falling off and a T-shirt that was on inside out.

  ‘You’ve been gone ages…’

  ‘Really? Was I?’

  ‘And you’re frozen…’ His hands were pulling at her jacket, taking off the damp garment as Ainslie spun in confusion at his effusive greeting. ‘You’re soaked.’

  ‘Elijah, what on—?’ She never got to finish, never got to say another word, because his mouth was on hers, his flesh pressing hers, his skin warm against her frozen cheeks. He was pinning her against the wall, kissing her cheeks, her eyes, as he took her icy hands. Then, just as she regrouped and opened her mouth to speak, his lips hushed her again. She could feel him pressing a ring on her finger. The whole intoxicating, dizzying contact took seconds, perhaps, but was utterly, utterly spinning her mind. This kiss was nothing, nothing like the one they had shared last night, and she pushed him back, her eyes frightened by his fervour—till they met his. She frowned at the silent plea she saw there…and then another presence was making itself known, a figure in the peripheries of her vision walking down the hall.

  ‘Ms Anderson!’ Elijah’s hand gripped hers tightly. ‘This is Ainslie…’

  ‘Ainslie?’ The middle-aged woman was picking up Guido. Maybe she was an aunt Elijah had discovered? Maybe Rico’s relatives had arrived and they were talking? Or a neighbour, perhaps? All these thoughts whirred through Ainslie’s head as she offered her hand to greet the woman.

  ‘Is this the nanny?’ Ms Anderson asked.

  ‘The nanny?’ Elijah let out a slightly incredulous laugh. ‘Heavens, no—didn’t I tell you? Ainslie is my fiancée.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘YOUR fiancée!’ The wary, slightly sour expression on the prim, middle-aged face, faded in an instant. ‘You’re engaged? But why on earth didn’t you say?’

  ‘I didn’t think to…’ Elijah was still holding her hand, his eyes catching Ainslie’s, almost daring her to refute him. ‘I’m sorry—of course you would need to know these things. I just never thought. I’ve had so much—we’ve had so much on our minds.’

  ‘And how does your fiancée feel…? I’m sorry.’ She frowned over to Ainslie. ‘I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Rita Anderson, Guido’s case worker—we were just trying to sort out Guido’s short-term care, while we make a decision for the long term.’

  ‘Ainslie Farrell.’ Her eyes darted to Elijah, then back to Ms Anderson, her head whirring as Ms Anderson’s eyes fell on the ring Ainslie now had on her finger.

  ‘My—that’s unusual!’

  It certainly was, Ainslie thought as for the first time she eyed ‘her’ ring. Elijah’s improvisation skills were rather lacking, because he might not have pulled it out of a Christmas cracker, but it came close—certainly not the usual choice of ring for a billionaire’s fiancée!

  ‘It was my mother’s.’ Elijah explained, which actually made Ms Anderson’s first smile even bigger.

  ‘How lovely. So, how long have you two been engaged?’

  ‘A few weeks.’ How easily he lied.

  ‘And how does your fiancée feel about all this?’ Ms Anderson’s gaze fell directly on Ainslie as she asked Elijah a question. ‘Have you two spoken about taking on Guido?’

  ‘There hasn’t been much time for talking,’ Ainslie answered in truthfulness. ‘In fact…’ she shot a look at Elijah ‘…I’m a bit stunned by it all.’

  ‘Naturally she is overwhelmed.’ Elijah took over the conversation. ‘We both are. Ms Anderson, this has been a shock to us—we are trying to adjust, trying to work out what is best for Guido. For now surely that is for him to be here, in his own home, amongst his own things—?’

  ‘Perhaps you could both show me around while we talk,’ Ms Anderson interrupted. ‘I do have to meet the Castella
s again soon. I really had no idea, Mr Vanaldi, that you were engaged,’ she added as she headed, uninvited, up the stairs.

  ‘Nor did I…’ Ainslie muttered, taking Guido in her arms. ‘Elijah, what on earth is going on?’

  ‘Just go along with it…’ Elijah’s voice was low. ‘Please.’

  ‘The paternal uncle and aunt naturally want to see Guido…’ Ms Anderson said, pausing to frown as she passed the room Ainslie had slept in, her shrewd eyes taking in the backpack on the floor and the noticeably single bed.

  ‘This is your room, Ainslie?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ainslie started, then, feeling his hand tighten around hers, realised the trap she’d unwittingly walked into.

  ‘We were not comfortable sleeping in my sister’s bed,’ Elijah said smoothly. ‘So Ainslie suggested she take the room closest to Guido on his first night.’

  ‘And do you have experience with children?’

  ‘She’s a kindergarten teacher in Australia.’ Elijah smiled like the cat who’d got the cream as he answered for her, and Ms Anderson jotted it down. ‘Well, she was until she met me!’

  They were in Maria and Rico’s room now. Guido was running around and picking up his toys, holding them out to Ainslie and showing her his things.

  ‘Well, it would be nice for Guido to have some consistency during these early days…’ Ms Anderson said. ‘But the Castellas really—’

  ‘Surely,’ Elijah pushed, ‘it is better for now that he stays at home—at least for Christmas?’

  His blue eyes met Ms Anderson’s, and if Ainslie hadn’t known better he’d have had her convinced too. He was so assured, so persuasive—and, Ainslie thought with a sudden flurry of nerves, a truly excellent liar!

  ‘If the situation was different I would invite them to stay here. But there is, as I said…’ he snapped his fingers as he impatiently summoned suitable words ‘…bad blood between the families.’

  ‘They have a right to see him.’

  ‘Take him now…’ Elijah said easily, but a muscle flickered in his cheek. He thanked his lucky stars for his foresight in hiring Tony for the ease it gave him to make the offer. ‘You are meeting with them; let them have some time with Guido. My driver will take you…’