Claiming His Scandalous Love-Child

Vito’s voice, his soft, oh-so-sexy Italian accent that always made her breath catch, set aside her thoughts.

‘They’re serving supper—let’s go through.’

Together they walked into the adjoining salon, where a lavish buffet supper had been laid out. A woman glided up to Vito—a few years older than Eloise, more Vito’s age, immaculately gowned in a clinging designer number in blonde satin that matched the pale blonde of her hair. It was their hostess, holding this evening party at the Viscari Nice to which, of course, Vito had been invited.

It had not taken Eloise long to realise that Vito moved in high society circles—not just in Rome, but in all the sophisticated, cosmopolitan places where rich people gathered. His looks, his wealth, his background all made him a favourite—as did his bachelor status. That last, she was only too aware, drew women to him like moths to a flame. Including, so it seemed, their hostess tonight.

‘Vito—cherie! How lovely that you’re here for my little party! I must drag you away some time to talk over old times together!’

The woman’s wide smile passed from Vito to flicker over Eloise. The pale blue eyes glittered with a hint of frost.

‘So, you are our gorgeous Vito’s latest, are you? How he loves beautiful blondes!’

She gave a tinkling laugh, and glided off.

Vito looked down at Eloise, a rueful expression in his eyes. ‘Mi dispiace,’ he said. ‘Stephanie was quite some time ago—long gone, I promise you!’

Eloise smiled forgivingly. It didn’t bother her, and nor did any of the attention that other women lavished on Vito. Oh, he was charming and polite to all of them, but Eloise knew that the sensual glint of desire in his eyes was for her and her alone.

But will it last? Being the woman in Vito’s life?

An invisible tremor went through her. One day would she be the next Stephanie? The next beautiful blonde ex?

Or was something else growing between them? Something that would mean much more to both of them? Could there be?

Again, the questions hovered in her mind. Seeking answers that it was too soon for her to give. Reminding her of the need for caution where her heart was concerned.

Hadn’t her mother fallen head over heels in love, committed herself in marriage on a whirlwind of romance, only to find out too late how deeply incompatible she and her husband were on matters that were of profound importance to them both? A discovery that had torn them apart and lost their daughter her father.

I mustn’t make the same mistake. It would be so easy to tell myself I’m in love with Vito! Especially when I’m living this kind of dream existence...one gorgeous hotel after another!

But his European tour would be completed soon, for it was all part of Vito making his mark in his new role as head of Viscari Hotels. It was a role he’d been jettisoned into at the young age of only thirty-one, after the unexpected death of his father.

‘I’ve had to step into large shoes,’ he’d told Eloise, his face shadowed. ‘I’m the only Viscari left—the only one to carry on the legacy. It all rests on me now. I can’t let my father down.’

Had there been a tension in his voice that was more than grief for his lost father? But all he had gone on to say was how Viscari Hotels had been founded by his great-grandfather, the redoubtable Ettore Viscari, at the end of the nineteenth century, during the heyday of luxury hotels. He had then passed it on to his son, and thence to his two grandsons—Vito’s father, Enrico, and Vito’s childless uncle Guido.

It had been Guido who’d overseen a major expansion of the chain across the globe, as more and more international locations had become fashionable destinations for the rich clientele the hotels catered to.

Now, as the fourth generation of the Viscari family, it was clear to Eloise, that Vito was pressingly conscious of the legacy he had been left to run, and of the demands it made on him—including much of his social life, as it was this evening and all the evenings since she’d been with him.

‘All this socialising with people who are or who will be guests at the hotels is unavoidable,’ he said now. ‘But, however wearing it gets, I can never let it show.’ The shadows had left Vito’s face. ‘Your being with me makes it so much less onerous!’

It lifted her heart to hear him say such things, and she felt a familiar little thrill go through her—a thrill that was accentuated when, as he helped her to a plate of delicious food, she saw a telltale glint in Vito’s dark, lustrous eyes.

Soon—oh, very soon—he would murmur his farewells to their hostess for the evening, take his leave of the other guests smoothly, courteously, and then whisk Eloise away to his suite to have her entirely to himself! To indulge in a night of exquisite, sensual bliss...

A tremor of anticipation went through her. Making love with Vito was like nothing she had ever known! His skilled, sensitive touch could bring her to an ecstasy that left her breathless, took her soaring into a stratosphere she had never known existed—and that seemed to sweep away all her questions and wariness about her headlong romance with him.

As she lay in his arms later, her heart beating like a wild bird, she felt emotion pour through her. Felt full of longing...

Oh, Vito—be the one for me! Be the one man for me!

It was so easy—so dangerously easy—to believe that he was that one man she could love.

But dare I believe it? Dare I?

She could not answer—only knew in those moments that above all else she longed to dare. Longed to believe he was the man for her. Longed to let herself love him.