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

Jemima was already scolding herself for surrendering to her low mood and turning down the dinner invite. She had allowed Luciano to believe that she was the surrogate mother of his son and had used that pretence as a means of staying in Nicky’s life. Was it any wonder that he despised her? Or that he had assumed that she was like her sister and after his money? Julie had worshipped rich men and money. Yet no matter how much money Julie had had it had never been enough and money had trickled through her fingers like water.

‘We’ll talk over breakfast in the morning,’ Luciano breathed in a driven undertone as he came to a halt outside his bedroom door, which was mere feet from hers.

‘I shouldn’t have lied to you,’ Jemima began, and then an unfamiliar stab of angry bitterness powered through her regret and she added, ‘But you had no right to insult me by suggesting that I would use sex as a means of making money!’

Luciano ground his teeth together and watched her long, unbound mane of golden hair slide off her shoulders and fall almost to her waist as she moved her head. He wanted to run his fingers through that glossy golden hair so badly that he clenched his hand into a fist to restrain himself. So, he liked the long hair? OK, he really, really liked the long hair, particularly now that he suspected it was one hundred per cent natural. He also liked her body...and her eyes...and... With a huge effort he focused on what she had said and murmured grimly, ‘I’ve met a lot of women who sell sex like a product.’

Jemima was so shocked by that blunt admission that she turned up her head to stare at him, ice-blue eyes visibly dismayed. ‘Seriously?’

Teeth gritted more than ever at such naivety, Luciano nodded and wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Now she was probably thinking that he consorted with hookers and he didn’t want her thinking that. What the hell does it matter what she thinks? he snarled at himself, thoroughly disconcerted by his loss of concentration and self-discipline. What was wrong with him? Had the few drinks he had imbibed in his bad mood completely addled his brain? Telling Agnese to hold dinner, he strode downstairs to call his lawyer.

Charles did a great deal of groaning and apologising during the lengthy exchange that followed. Nothing about the situation was quite as anyone had assumed or as clear. Charles still couldn’t answer all his employer’s questions and reluctantly gave Luciano the phone number of his own chief informant. Breathing in deep, Luciano telephoned Jemima’s adoptive father, Benjamin Barber. And not one thing that Luciano learned in the subsequent conversation made him feel happier. Instead he came off that call marvelling at the older man’s optimistic and forgiving outlook while feeling a great deal worse about his own opinions, suspicions and activities. Knowing that the least he owed Jemima was a polite warning about what he had done, he mounted the stairs again and knocked on her bedroom door.

Half asleep after her delicious meal, Jemima rolled off the bed and lifted her tray, assuming someone was calling back to collect it. Instead she was faced with Luciano, infuriatingly immaculate again in tailored chinos and a black tee shirt. ‘Yes?’ she said discouragingly, clutching the tray and feeling horribly irritated that she had not known it would be him at her door.

He leant down and took the tray, setting it down on the table to the side of the door. ‘I have something to tell you—’

‘Can’t it wait until breakfast time?’

‘I’m afraid not.’ Soft pink mouth compressed, Jemima grudgingly stood back to allow him into her room. Since she had no idea what he had to say to her, keeping him out in the corridor where their conversation could be overheard struck her as risky.

‘I spoke to your father an hour ago and we talked for quite some time.’

Transfixed by that staggering announcement, Jemima stared back at him in horror. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I phoned your father and he’s now aware that you were pretending to be your sister for my benefit,’ Luciano divulged.

‘Oh, my goodness...how could you do that?’ Jemima was aghast at the news. ‘I just can’t believe you told him!’

‘The investigators my lawyer employed had already contacted him and it made sense for me to address my questions to your father direct. He was troubled that you hadn’t told him what you were doing but he understands why you did what you did and he wants you to know that he forgives you. I had to warn you in case you were planning to phone home.’

Knees weakening, Jemima sank down on the foot of the bed and bowed her head into her raised hands. ‘I can’t believe you approached Dad... I’ve tried so hard to keep my parents out of all this!’ she exclaimed reproachfully.

‘I wanted a clearer picture of what happened and you’re too emotionally involved,’ Luciano drawled in self-defence. ‘It was...enlightening to hear the facts from your father’s point of view.’

‘I hate you!’ Jemima flung at him furiously. ‘You had no right to go snooping and interfering!’

‘I’m as trapped in the mess your sister left behind her as you are,’ Luciano contradicted coolly. ‘The legal ramifications of her having stolen your identity will take a long time to unravel. She gave birth to a child using your name. She contracted debts in your name and she broke the law using your name—’

Jemima flew upright in one tempestuous movement. ‘Do you think I don’t know all that?’

‘She took advantage of you and your parents,’ Luciano delivered grimly.

‘There’s no way my father said that!’ Jemima accused furiously.

‘Your father is a rather unworldly man and I imagine he has had little contact with the criminal element. I’m rather less innocent and much more accustomed to dealing with life’s users and abusers.’

‘Bully for you!’ Jemima snapped back childishly, marching back to her bedroom door and dragging it open in invitation. ‘Right now all I want to do is go to bed and forget you ever existed!’

Luciano lifted his hand and a forefinger flicked the full tense line of her lower lip in reproof. ‘What a little liar you can be. Without me there would be no Niccolò...and somehow I don’t think you’d give him up so easily.’

The touch of his hand against her lip made her entire skin surface tingle. Her breathing quickened and she pressed her thighs together to suppress the tiny clenching liquid sensation low in her pelvis. Her lashes swept up fully to collide with stunning dark golden eyes welded to her every move and change of expression. Her cheeks coloured, her lashes swept down and she backed away from him, furious that without even trying he could still get a physical reaction out of her.

‘Goodnight,’ she said flatly.

Luciano wanted to scoop her up and carry her back to his bed. It was pure lust, he told himself furiously, the sort of irrational, ungovernable lust that sent a man into cold showers and the depths of neurotic desire. And unlike his late and unlamented father, who had once become obsessed with a woman, Luciano was not the obsessive type. He stayed up late working and by the time he finally fell into bed he was too exhausted to do anything but sleep.

The next morning, Jemima felt more like herself and less traumatised. The truth had come out and she couldn’t hide from it. Lying had gone against her nature and weighted her conscience and she was relieved not to be pretending any more. Her parents knew. She chewed her lower lip and decided to phone home that evening, although she dreaded dealing with her father’s disappointment in her behaviour. Luciano and Nicky, however, were an even bigger challenge.

Presumably over breakfast Luciano would tell her what he wanted to do next and when she would be flying home. She had lied to him. She might have convinced herself that she had lied for her nephew’s sake but in her heart she knew she was lying to herself. In reality, she had not been able to face parting with Nicky and that had been selfish when Nicky’s father was available to take charge of his son. While she thought unhappily about her mistakes, she rooted through her suitcase, grimacing at the reality that there was really nothing in her case suitable for a hot day. At least nothing presentable, she affixed ruefully, choosing not to examine why what she wore had to be more presentable than usual when Luciano was around. After a few moments, she stalked into the dressing room and skimmed through the hanging dresses. What would he do with them after she had gone? Chuck them out? Pass them on to staff or recycling? She lifted down a fitted blue cotton sundress, plainer in style and less revealing than most of the other garments, and began to get ready.

Seated on the floor in the nursery, Nicky was happily playing with his new toys. Carlotta was friendly, addressing Jemima in broken English to let her know that he had slept well and eaten. A maid met Jemima at the foot of the stairs to show her where she was to go to join Luciano. They trekked across the vast building, mounting stairs and crossing hallways before walking down a long picture gallery that opened to an outdoor area that overlooked the sea and the shore.

The panoramic view and the sunlight blinded her and she had a split-second sizzling snapshot of Luciano, rising with fluid grace from his seat, his lean, powerful body sheathed in an exquisitely cut pale grey suit teamed with a black shirt. ‘Buon giorno,’ he murmured smoothly. ‘You look amazing.’

Jemima flushed. ‘Let’s not get carried away,’ she told him reprovingly. ‘I’m wearing this because it’s so hot and I have nothing suitable and—’

‘Rest assured I will not assume that you are wearing it either to please or attract me, piccolo mia,’ Luciano incised as drily as though he could read her mind.

Her flushed cheeks turned a solid mortified red and she averted her eyes as she dropped down hurriedly into a seat. Dishes were proffered by one manservant, beverages by another. Her attention briefly falling on the bodyguards standing several yards away, it occurred to her that Luciano lived rather like a king in a medieval court with an army of staff and everyone bowing and scraping and doing their utmost to ensure his protection and his comfort. It was an isolated lifestyle, divorced from normality, and she wondered how it would affect Nicky to grow up like a crown prince in the lap of such indescribable luxury.

From below her lashes she stole a helpless glance at Luciano. He was looking out to sea, his flawless classic profile turned to her. Her heart thumped very loudly in her ears because she was remembering his mouth, that wide, sensually skilled mouth, roaming over her and making her writhe with raw need and then the dynamic flex and flow of his lithe body over hers, driving her to the apex of excitement. Perspiration broke out on her skin and she quickly looked away from him again. No, try as she might to be sensible, she could not forget the intimacy, the first she had ever known and, much like Luciano, utterly unforgettable.

‘So, what next?’ she muttered in the pulsing silence.

Lustrous dark golden eyes ensnared hers and her breath tripped in her throat. ‘That’s what we have to decide.’

Jemima tore her eyes free and bit into her fresh fruit. He was using the royal ‘we’; she didn’t think she would have much actual input into what happened next.

‘Tell me how your sister got hold of your passport,’ he invited, startling her with that request.

‘It happened by accident. The first time we met she showed me her passport because she had worn her hair long then too, and I got out mine and we were laughing and somehow our passports got mixed up.’

‘And?’ Luciano prompted.

‘Julie only realised she had my passport when she was flying out to Italy and she travelled on it because she didn’t want to miss her flight.’

‘She lied,’ Luciano murmured without any expression at all. ‘She had already used your passport in her application to be the surrogate I hired. And the reason she lied was that she had several criminal convictions in her own name. She probably tracked you down quite deliberately. She set you up to steal your identity, Jemima. Accept that.’

Jemima paled. She was remembering laughing with her sister as they compared unflattering passport photos. ‘It was months before I found out about the...er...exchange and when I contacted her about it, she said she’d give it back when she returned from Italy.’

‘Only she never did,’ Luciano completed.

‘Obviously you think I’m very stupid,’ Jemima said tartly, burning her mouth on an unwary sip of coffee and swallowing hard, burning her throat into the bargain, tears starting into her eyes at the discomfort.

‘No, I think you were scammed. She was a practised, confident trickster and she was your sister and you didn’t want to accept the truth,’ Luciano said in a surprisingly uncritical tone. ‘I can understand ignoring the evidence and wanting to believe the best of someone close to you. It happened to me once.’

‘Oh...’ Jemima was taken aback by that admission. ‘I loved her—I felt an immediate sense of connection with her.’