Mills & Boon Stars Collection: Ruthless Demands: The Sicilian’s Stolen Son / The Greek Demands His Heir / The Greek Commands His Mistress

‘Yes, but she wouldn’t tell me your name or any details. Julie didn’t trust anyone...ever,’ Jemima completed with feeling emphasis. ‘She knew that I wasn’t comfortable with the decisions she had made and although she left Nicky in my care she didn’t give me any information that I could have used to interfere with her plans.’

Luciano wasn’t convinced. Consistent liars told more lies with ease, adding complex layers of falsehood to their stories to make them seem more credible. Been there, done that...visited the graves, he conceded with a sudden deep inner chill of recoil from his own experiences. His dark eyes iced over with a diamond glitter.

‘You and your sister grew up in separate adoptive homes?’

‘Yes...’

‘And when did you first meet her?’

‘A couple of months before she got involved in the surrogacy agreement with you and she didn’t tell me about that until she turned up again with Nicky.’ Jemima dragged her attention from him to study her tightly linked hands. Time was flinging her back almost two years and reminding her of her excitement and joy when she had first discovered that she had a twin sister who wanted to meet up with her.

Jemima had not tried to trace her birth parents because she had been fearful of hurting her adoptive family’s feelings. It had not, however, occurred to her that she might have a sibling to find and she had been overwhelmed by Julie’s first approach. It had hurt to learn that her birth father was unknown and that their birth mother had died from drug addiction, but it had hurt more to hear about her twin’s early health problems, her unsuccessful adoption and unhappy childhood.

‘I was so much more fortunate than Julie was. My parents loved me from the beginning,’ Jemima said tautly. ‘It wouldn’t have mattered if I’d been a bit slow at school but Julie’s family—’

‘I’m not interested in Julie’s life story,’ Luciano cut in smoothly.

‘She’s Nicky’s mother!’ Jemima condemned.

‘And I’m grateful she’s not here to cause my son any more damage,’ Luciano told her truthfully.

‘That’s an appalling thing to say!’ Jemima slammed back at him, sliding her legs off the bed and yanking violently at the sheet for cover.

‘Is it?’ Luciano rebutted grimly, angry dark eyes hard as obsidian. ‘She was his mother and that gave her rights over him but she wasn’t a decent, caring person fit to exercise those rights!’

With a final forceful jerk, Jemima dislodged the sheet and wrapped it round her naked body to stalk back through the interconnecting door into her own room. Eyes wet with tears, she was trembling. Her first foray into sex had gone badly wrong and made her feel worthless and rejected. Her late sister was being abused and there was very little she could say because Julie had done wrong. But very few people were all bad. Jemima blinked back the tears as she dug through her case to extract her dressing gown and dropped the sheet to walk into the bathroom.

She needed to shower, wash away the memory of Luciano’s touch and the feel of his body on hers. Shivering, she switched on the water. Her mind drifted back inexorably to her sister and powerful regret filled her because she kept on thinking that if she had only had a little more time with Julie she could have got closer to her and somehow changed things for the better. On another, more rational level, though, she was painfully aware that Julie had never listened to her and had neither respected her opinion nor sought her advice, particularly where Nicky had been concerned.

But Nicky had crept into his aunt’s heart the moment she’d met him because he had been a most unhappy baby.

‘I don’t know how to be a mum!’ Julie had complained, becoming almost hysterical because her son had been crying and inconsolable. ‘You tell me to cuddle him but I don’t feel comfortable with that. He’s making me feel bad!’

Nicky had suffered from colic and Julie had not been able to cope with him or the sleepless nights. Jemima had tried to help and had ended up taking over. She had blamed herself when Julie had gone back to London to work, leaving her baby in Jemima’s care. She had blamed herself too when her twin had failed to bond with her child but she had also been aware of Julie’s chequered past history. In truth Julie had had many troubled relationships in her life and rarely settled anywhere for any length of time. Running away from difficult situations had been the norm for Julie.

Luciano had no compassion, Jemima thought wretchedly. Julie had done bad things but her sister had not set out to be a bad person. Tightening the tie on her dressing gown, Jemima walked back to the door that still lay open between the two bedrooms.

‘I loved my sister...and I won’t say sorry for that!’ Jemima told Luciano defiantly. ‘But I am sorry I lied to you. That was wrong. I got too attached to Nicky and I was frightened of losing him but I do appreciate that that doesn’t excuse my not immediately telling you that his mother had passed away.’

Luciano’s full sensual mouth twisted. ‘It was a power play, wasn’t it?’

Jemima gazed back at him without comprehension. ‘Power didn’t come into it...’

Somewhere in the distance she heard a thin high-pitched wail and stiffened. ‘Nicky’s crying,’ she muttered, walking to the door.

‘Carlotta will take care of him,’ Luciano countered.

Wrenching open the door, Jemima listened to the wails drifting down from the floor above and started down the corridor. ‘I can’t leave him upset,’ she called apologetically over her shoulder, sensing Luciano’s disapproval and refusing to look back at him.

She would be gone from his fancy island castle soon enough, she reflected wretchedly. He was hardly likely to allow her to stay now that he knew she had lied to him and had no real claim to Nicky. Yet it still stunned her that he had gone to bed with her in spite of that knowledge. He had admitted that he had been drinking. Inwardly she cringed. Had alcohol made her seem more attractive than she was? Why was she even thinking in such a way? What did it matter now? They had had sex and there was no going back from that. It had been a casual thing for him and he had been quick to vacate the bed afterwards. He had actually asked her what price she put on her virginity, she recalled painfully. She felt ashamed and humiliated and blamed him for it.

Why, oh, why had he had to make her feel so bad about their ill-starred intimacy?

CHAPTER SEVEN (#u75afd505-af84-5d5f-a5c7-be3d0aba9fb8)

CARLOTTA WAS ANXIOUSLY rocking Nicky in her arms. His little face was scarlet with tears and he was sobbing noisily.

‘He doesn’t like being rocked when he’s upset,’ Jemima told the brunette in an apologetic tone, thinking that it would have made more sense if she had been given the opportunity to consult with the nanny before the other woman started taking care of Nicky.

A voice spoke up in Italian from the doorway and Carlotta gave Jemima a frowning look of surprise before turning rather abruptly to hand Nicky over to her. Although conscious that Luciano was present and had acted as an interpreter, Jemima ignored him and concentrated on his son. Nicky went rigid as he was passed over and then sagged against her, shoving his face into the curve of her neck and whimpering.

‘He has nightmares. He’s frightened when he wakes up. He only needs to be soothed,’ Jemima declared, walking the floor of the elaborately decorated room with Nicky cradled in her arms. She was still alarmingly conscious of the ache at the heart of her body and hot pink flushed her cheeks as she buried her face in Nicky’s tumbled curls, revelling in the clean baby scent of innocence. With a heavy sigh she sank down into the rocking chair beside the cot.

Luciano had paused long enough to grab up a shirt and don it on his way to the nursery, but nobody seeing his bare feet and rumpled damp hair could doubt that he had recently undressed only to get dressed again in a hurry. Naked below her sensible dressing gown, Jemima could feel her face burning as if she were on fire. Their mutual state of undress was noticeable and embarrassing. She didn’t want anyone to know or guess that she had slept with Luciano. That was her private disgrace and not for public sharing. Carlotta, however, simply smiled at Jemima, clearly relieved that the baby had calmed down.

His son’s sobs had subsided almost immediately, Luciano registered without surprise while he watched. The baby’s fingers clutched convulsively at Jemima for reassurance. Niccolò had missed her. Obviously he had missed her. How much of the little boy’s misery had been caused by the sudden change in his routine and surroundings and the equally sudden absence of the one person he trusted? Luciano paled beneath his dark skin, shaken by the reality that he had set down rules that could well have hurt his son and caused him unnecessary suffering. He had instructed Carlotta to deal with the baby alone and to involve Jemima as little as possible in his care.

But how could he love his son and yet deny the child the one person whom he so clearly loved and wanted? Shame writhed inside Luciano, a reaction he had not experienced in more years than he cared to count. He watched her smooth the baby’s head with a tender hand and read the softness in her eyes.

‘He knows his mother,’ Carlotta said quietly in Italian to her employer.

It seemed a terrible irony to Luciano at that moment that Jemima was not his son’s mother because the boy was deeply attached to her and she was equally attached to him. He realised he needed to talk to his lawyer to find out exactly what kind of woman Jemima Barber was. How could he trust his own instincts now? Nor could he have any faith in what Jemima’s version of the truth might be. Anyone determined to speak up in defence of Julie Marshall would have failed to inspire Luciano with confidence.

As he stepped unconsciously closer to the woman in the rocking chair Nicky lifted his head off Jemima’s shoulder and stared at Luciano with wide dark eyes. And then he smiled with sudden brilliance, freezing his father to the spot in shock for it was the very first positive response Luciano had received from his son. It was significant too that the child had smiled only when he was secure in Jemima’s presence, he acknowledged ruefully.

Resting his head back down drowsily again, Nicky fell asleep. Getting to her feet, Jemima lowered him with care into the cot, straightened his sleep suit and covered him up gently. ‘He should sleep the rest of the night now,’ she whispered.

Luciano stared down at his slumbering son, then glanced up again and noticed that Jemima was deliberately avoiding looking at him. Annoyance skimmed along the edges of his sensitised awareness as they left the room. She tried to step past him out in the corridor but he rested a staying hand on her arm.

‘Jemima...we—’

‘I’m really hungry,’ Jemima proclaimed in a rush, jerking her arm back out of reach and addressing his shirt-clad chest. ‘Would it be too much trouble for me to have something to eat in my room? Even a sandwich and a cup of tea would do.’

‘Put on something in your new wardrobe and come downstairs to join me for dinner instead,’ Luciano suggested, falling into step beside her as she walked down the corridor.

Her facial muscles clenched tight. ‘Thanks but no, thanks... I’m not in a very sociable mood.’

As she descended the stairs she saw a huge portrait of an exquisite brunette on the landing and, already regretting her tart reply to his invitation, she said in an effort to break the pounding silence, ‘My goodness, who’s that?’

‘My mother, Ambra. It was painted shortly before she married my father. She probably never smiled like that again,’ Luciano breathed harshly.

His intonation made Jemima wince. ‘When did she die?’

‘When I was three years old,’ Luciano admitted between gritted teeth, fighting off his terrible memories with all his might.

‘Did your father remarry?’

‘No.’