‘The house only has two bedrooms.’
‘Then I guess I’ll have to share with you.’
‘I’d rather share my bed with the devil,’ Kristen said tartly, desperate to disguise the ache of tears in her voice as she was overwhelmed by memories of the past.
Sergio’s brows rose. ‘I didn’t get that impression on Friday night.’
She flushed. ‘That was a mistake.’
‘In that case my experiment should reveal the truth.’
Kristen had not been aware of Sergio moving, but suddenly he was far too close for comfort. And as he reached behind her and cupped the nape of her neck she realised too late that she had walked into a trap.
‘Don’t…’ Her voice faltered as his head swooped and his warm breath feathered her lips.
‘I am about to prove that you are a little liar, cara,’ he threatened softly, before he stifled her protest by slanting his mouth over hers.
Bound by blood, separated by secrets
Dark, powerful and devastatingly handsome, the Castellano brothers have fought much to overcome their difficult childhood—but separation and secrets have left their scars.
Now these two men must ensure that their children do not inherit their painful legacy…
This month read Sergio’s story in:
HIS UNEXPECTED LEGACY
Read Salvatore’s story in
SECRETS OF A POWERFUL MAN November 2013
CHANTELLE SHAW lives on the Kent coast, five minutes from the sea, and does much of her thinking about the characters in her books while walking on the beach. An avid reader from an early age, her school friends used to hide their books when she visited, but Chantelle would retreat into her own world, and still writes ‘stories’ in her head all the time.
Chantelle has been blissfully married to her own tall, dark and very patient hero for over twenty years, and has six children. She began to read Mills & Boon as a teenager, and throughout the years of being a stay-at-home mum to her brood found romantic fiction helped her to stay sane!
Her aim is to write books that provide an element of escapism, fun, and of course romance for the countless women who juggle work and home life and who need their precious moments of ‘me’ time. She enjoys reading and writing about strong-willed, feisty women and even stronger-willed sexy heroes. Chantelle is at her happiest when writing. She is particularly inspired while cooking dinner, which unfortunately results in a lot of culinary disasters! She also loves gardening, taking her very badly behaved terrier for walks and eating chocolate (followed by more walking—at least the dog is slim!).
EARL’S DAUGHTER BAGS Sicilian Billionaire!
The lurid tabloid headline caught Kristen’s attention as she hurried past the newspaper kiosk at Camden Town tube station. Maybe it was the word Sicilian that made her stop and buy a copy of the paper, although it did not cross her mind that the headline could be referring to Sergio. It was only when she had jammed herself into a packed train carriage and managed to unfold the paper that she saw his photograph—and for a few seconds her heart stopped beating. Conflicting emotions surged through her as she stared at the image of her son’s father. She had not expected Nico to bear such a strong resemblance to Sergio but the likeness between the three-year-old boy and the swarthy Sicilian was uncanny.
Kristen’s first instinct was to tear her eyes from the page but curiosity compelled her to study the photograph and the caption beneath it:
Lady Felicity Denholm was spotted with her new fiancé, Italian business tycoon Sergio Castellano, when the couple visited the London Palladium earlier this week.
The text beside the picture continued:
Earl Denholm is reported to be delighted that his youngest daughter is to marry one of Italy’s richest men. The Castellano Group owns a chain of luxury hotel and leisure complexes around the world. Sergio heads the property development side of the business, while his twin brother Salvatore runs the family’s world-famous vineyards at the Castellano estate in Sicily.
Wedged between a businessman wielding a large briefcase and a teenager wearing an enormous backpack, Kristen gripped the support rail as the train picked up speed. It was becoming something of a habit to learn of Sergio’s marriage plans in the press, she thought bitterly. She remembered how shocked and hurt she had felt four years ago when she had read about his engagement to a beautiful Sicilian woman, barely two months after their relationship had ended. Presumably his first marriage had not lasted long if he was now about to marry a member of the English aristocracy.
In the photograph Felicity Denholm was clinging to Sergio’s arm and wore the triumphant smile of a cat that had drunk all the cream, Kristen noted sourly. Sergio was even more stunningly good-looking than he had been four years ago. His black tuxedo moulded his broad shoulders and emphasised his powerful physique. But it was his face that trapped Kristen’s attention. Blessed with a perfectly chiselled bone-structure, his features were leaner than she remembered. Harder. And, although in the picture he was smiling, nothing could detract from the implacable resoluteness of his jaw.
He was a man who knew his own mind and who pursued his goals with ruthless determination, proclaimed his dark, curiously expressionless eyes. They appeared to be black, but Kristen knew that his eyes were actually the colour of bitter chocolate and could, on rare occasions, soften and invite you to drown in their depths.
Memories flooded her mind of the golden summer she had spent in Sicily four years ago. She had met Sergio soon after she had arrived and the attraction between them had been instant and electrifying. She remembered the first time he had kissed her. They had been talking and laughing together, when he had suddenly dipped his head and brushed his mouth across hers. Even now, the memory was so intense that her stomach clenched. The kiss had been so beautiful and she had realised at that moment that she was in love. Foolishly, she had believed that Sergio shared the sentiment, but for him she had simply been a fleeting diversion from his jet-setting lifestyle.
It was a relief when the train pulled into Tottenham Court Road station and she shoved the newspaper into her bag as she was swept along with the throng of commuters towards the escalator. But the leaden sensation in Kristen’s chest remained when she reached the street, and a few minutes later she walked through the doors of Fast-track Sports Physiotherapy Clinic and was greeted with a concerned look from her boss, Stephanie Bower.
‘I take it from your expression that Nico didn’t want to go to day-care again?’ Steph’s eyes narrowed on Kristen’s tense face. ‘Or are you ill? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘Actually, I’ve seen Nico’s father.’ The words spilled from Kristen before she could prevent them, the sense of shock that still gripped her causing her to abandon her usual reticence about her private life.
Steph emitted a low whistle. ‘No way? I thought you’d had no contact with him since Nico was born. Where did you see him?’ She stared at the newspaper Kristen handed her.
‘That’s him, Nico’s father,’ Kristen said flatly, pointing to the photo on the front page.
‘Sergio Castellano! You’re kidding, right?’ Steph’s eyebrows disappeared beneath her fringe when Kristen shook her head. ‘Jeez—you’re not kidding. But how on earth did you ever get mixed up with a drop-dead