Heir To His Legacy: His Unexpected Legacy / His Instant Heir / One Night Heir. Chantelle ShawЧитать онлайн книгу.

      If only there was a way she could speak to Sergio before the party. Kristen’s heart lurched at the prospect of revealing to him that he had a son. She glanced into the living room, expecting to find Nico watching TV, but he had picked up a framed photograph of Kathleen and was staring at it with a wistful expression on his face that made Kristen’s heart ache.

      ‘Come and have your dinner,’ she said softly.

      ‘I don’t want any, Mummy.’

      If Nico’s appetite didn’t pick up soon she would have to take him back to the doctor, Kristen thought worriedly. She forced a smile. ‘Try and eat a little bit, and then I’ll tell you something exciting.’

      She was rewarded with a flicker of interest in Nico’s chocolate button eyes as he ran into the kitchen and took his place at the table. ‘What’s ic-citing?’

      ‘Well, I’ve been thinking that it would be nice if I took some time off work so that we could have a holiday by the seaside. Would you like that?’

      Nico’s wide smile was all the answer she needed. It brought home to Kristen that she hadn’t seen his cheeky grin for weeks and her heart broke at the thought of her little boy’s sadness. She would make Nico happy again, she vowed. She would do whatever it took to see him return to his usual sunny nature, and if that meant swallowing her pride and asking his billionaire playboy father for financial help it would be a small price to pay.

      * * *

      ‘Honestly, I’ve no idea why the newspaper printed an article about us being engaged.’ Felicity Denholm met Sergio’s frown with a guileless smile. ‘I admit I told a journalist that you’re in London to finalise a business deal with my father, and I may have mentioned that you’re planning to host a party tonight, but that’s all I said.’

      She perched on the edge of Sergio’s desk so that her skirt rode up her thighs and gave a tinkling laugh that grated on his nerves. ‘I can’t imagine where the story about us planning to get married came from, but you know how the paparazzi like to stretch the truth.’

      ‘In this instance there is not a shred of truth to stretch,’ Sergio bit out. His jaw hardened as he struggled to control his impatience. He disliked the media’s fascination with his private life and he fiercely resented the publication of a story that was pure fiction.

      Felicity shook her glossy chestnut curls over her shoulders. ‘Well, we’ve moved in the same social circles while you have been in London, and we were photographed together the other night when we bumped into one another at the theatre. I suppose it’s understandable that the press believe there’s something going on between us.’ She shifted position so that her skirt rode higher up her thighs and leaned towards Sergio, an artful smile on her red-glossed lips. ‘It almost seems a pity to disappoint them, doesn’t it?’ she murmured.

      Sergio’s eyes narrowed. Denholm’s daughter was an attractive package and he had briefly considered accepting her not very discreet offer to take her to bed. But he had a golden rule never to mix business with pleasure and he had been far more interested in persuading the Earl to sell a property portfolio that included several prime sites in central London than to satisfy his libido with the lovely but, he suspected, utterly self-centred Felicity.

      He was sure it had not been purely coincidence that she had appeared at every party he had attended in recent weeks. Her topics of conversation might be limited to fashion and celebrity gossip but she had stalked him with extraordinary determination. It was even possible that Felicity had been following her father’s instructions, Sergio mused. The Earl was a wily character who had been forced to sell his property portfolio to pay for the costly upkeep of the family’s stately home. Perhaps Charles Denholm had hoped to regain control of his assets by promoting a marriage between his daughter and the Sicilian usurper to his crown.

      Sergio was infuriated that he had no way of proving who had planted the engagement story in the paper. All day his temper had simmered while he had dealt with the speculation caused by the article, and the last straw had been a terse telephone conversation with his father, who had demanded to know why he had learned of his son’s plan to marry from a newspaper.

      ‘The story is just that—a figment of a journalist’s imagination,’ he told Tito. ‘If I ever decide to marry, you will be the first to know. But don’t hold your breath,’ he added sardonically.

      His father immediately launched into a tirade about it being time Sergio packed in his playboy lifestyle, settled down with a nice Italian girl and, most importantly, produced an heir to continue the Castellano family line.

      ‘You already have an heir in your granddaughter.’ Sergio reminded his father of his brother Salvatore’s little daughter, Rosa.

      ‘Of course, but she cannot shoulder the responsibility of the company alone,’ Tito growled. ‘Salvatore is a widower and unlikely to have more children, and so I have to put all my hopes on you, Sergio.’

      Sergio was aware of the unspoken message that he was a disappointment to Tito. But he would not pick a bride in the hope of winning the old man’s approval. It would be pointless anyway. They both knew he was not the favoured son. And he had no wish to marry. It amazed him that his father did not understand his attitude when Tito’s own marriage to Sergio’s mother had been a disaster that had ended in bitterness and hatred that had had lifelong consequences for him and his brother.

      Dragging his mind from the dark place of his childhood, he jerked to his feet and moved away from the desk where Felicity was still artfully sprawled. He wondered why, despite her obvious charms, he didn’t feel a spark of interest in her. In truth, he was becoming bored of meaningless sex. But what other kind of sex was there? he brooded. He had no interest in relationships that demanded his emotional involvement. Work was his driving force, although deep down he acknowledged that his ruthless ambition was partly fuelled by a desire to prove to his father that he was as worthy a son as his twin brother.

      In his leisure time, all he required from the women who shared his bed was physical gratification. So why had he been feeling restless lately? What was he searching for when he had everything he could possibly want?

      ‘I have demanded the paper prints an admission that the story is entirely untrue,’ he told Felicity. ‘I can only apologise for any embarrassment the article may have caused you. As you know, I am giving a party tonight to celebrate the completion