The Sicilian's Stolen Son

‘I want DNA testing carried out on the child so that I know whether or not he is mine.’ Luciano spoke up for the first time, startling her. His dark, deep accented drawl trailed along her skin like a fur caress and awakened goosebumps.

As the ramifications of what he had said sank in Jemima went rigid at the insult to her sister’s memory. ‘How dare you?’ she shot back at him angrily, her temper rising and spilling out without warning and shaking her with its intensity.

His perfectly modelled mouth took on a derisive slant. ‘I dare,’ he said levelly. ‘There must be no doubt that he is mine—’

‘In any case, mandatory DNA testing after the birth was a clause in the contract you signed,’ the lawyer chipped in. ‘Unfortunately you left the hospital before the test could be completed.’

The reminder of the contract that Julie had signed in Jemima’s name doused Jemima’s anger and covered her with a sudden surge of shame instead. She was about to lie. She was about to pretend that she was her sister when she was not and the knowledge cut her deep because, in the normal way of things, Jemima was an honest and straightforward person who detested lies and deception. Her desire to look out for Nicky’s needs, she registered unhappily, had put her on a slippery slope at odds with her conscience. She should be telling the truth, no matter how unpleasant or dangerous it was, she thought wretchedly. Two wrongs did not make a right. This man was Nicky’s father. But could she simply stand back and watch Luciano Vitale take her baby nephew away from her?

She knew she could not. There had to be safeguards. Nicky was defenceless. It was Jemima’s job to carefully consider his future and ensure that his needs were met. But she had to be unselfish about that process too, she reminded herself doggedly, even if the final result hurt, even if it meant standing back and losing the child she loved.

‘DNA testing,’ Luciano repeated, wondering if his worst fears were being borne out by her pallor and clear apprehension. Maybe the child wasn’t his. If that were the case, it was better that he found that out sooner rather than later. ‘The technician can visit the child here. It is a simple procedure done with a mouth swab and the results will be known within forty-eight hours.’

‘Yes,’ Jemima muttered, dry-mouthed, nerves rattling through her like express trains as yet another fear presented itself to her.

All bets were off if he intended to have her tested for DNA. Did twins have the same DNA? She had no idea and worried that she would be exposed as an imposter. She lowered her feathery lashes. Well, she would just have to wait and see what happened. She was not in a position to do anything else. Arguing against the need for such testing would only muddy the waters. It wouldn’t achieve anything. It would only increase the animosity and uncertainty about her nephew’s future.

‘So, you will agree to this?’ Luciano said softly.

Involuntarily, Jemima glanced at him and connected with liquid dark eyes surrounded by black velvet lashes as lush as his son’s. Her heart went bang-bang-bang inside her and she felt incredibly dizzy, as if she stood on the edge of an abyss gazing down at a perilous drop. Something tugged and tightened low in her pelvis and she was unexpectedly alarmingly aware of her body as if her prickling skin had suddenly become too tender to bear the weight of her clothes. ‘Yes...’

‘In fact you will agree to all my demands,’ Luciano told her without skipping a beat while he silently marvelled at the translucent perfection of her pale blue eyes. ‘Because you are not stupid and it would be very stupid to refuse me anything that I want.’

Brows pleating, Charles Bennett turned to study his client in astonishment and then his attention skimmed back to the young blonde woman staring back at Luciano as if he had cast a magic spell over her.

CHAPTER TWO

‘AND WHY WOULD you think that?’ Jemima fired back in sudden bewilderment, shaking her head as though to clear it.

‘Because I hold pole position,’ Luciano informed her with chilling assurance. ‘I have security-camera footage of you stealing credit cards and using one of them in an act of fraud. If I should choose to pass that evidence to the police, I—’

‘You’re threatening me!’ Jemima interrupted in shock.

Stolen credit cards? Was he serious? Was it possible that Julie had sunk that low while she was working in London? Jemima did recall wondering how her sister was contriving to stay at a fancy hotel. She had asked and Julie had winced as though such a financial enquiry were incredibly rude and had sulkily refused to explain.

‘My client is not threatening you,’ Charles Bennett interposed flatly. ‘He is simply telling you that he has footage of the theft.’