Claiming His Scandalous Love-Child

With difficulty, Eloise cut across her mother. ‘Mum—ignore that! It’s all right after all—it’s all right! In fact...’ she gave a laugh of pure emotion ‘...it’s wonderful! Just wonderful! Mum—’

But the line had gone dead. Slowly she replaced the receiver. Glanced at Vito.

‘That was my mother,’ she said unnecessarily. ‘And I have a bad feeling that she may be about to make an appearance.’

There was foreboding in her voice, but Vito only smiled reassuringly. ‘It is time I made her acquaintance,’ he said.

Eloise made a face. ‘She can be very...formidable,’ she said cautiously.

‘I shall be prepared,’ Vito said resolutely. ‘And I shall take pains to assure her that I will be nothing like your father! If you wish to make a glittering career for yourself you are entirely free to do so—though of course, as a nanny, I would hope that your first devotion would be to our child. And perhaps,’ he added tentatively, ‘to our other children, if that is a happy proposition for you? But of course if not—’

She did not hesitate to reassure him. ‘Oh, Vito, as many as we want!’

A rap on the door interrupted this exchange, and Vito crossed with long strides to answer it.

The woman who sailed in was severely dressed in a sharply cut navy suit, with immaculate hair and a brisk manner. She stopped short, her eyes raking Vito. Then she went to her daughter.

‘Would either of you care to update me?’ she said, her English accent accentuating the cut of her question.

‘It’s all sorted,’ Eloise provided. She crossed to Vito, wrapped her arm around his waist. ‘It’s all wonderful. Fantastic. Blissful!’ She gave a sigh of happiness.

Her mother’s gimlet eyes surveyed them for a moment longer, as if assessing what she saw. Then, abruptly, she nodded.

‘Good,’ she said. ‘In which case Vito might as well be party to this.’

She sat herself down on the sofa, extracting from her handbag a bulky envelope which she placed on the coffee table. Eloise, a bewildered expression on her face, slid onto the sofa opposite and looked at the envelope. Vito came and sat down beside her, a slight frown of curiosity on his face as Eloise pushed the envelope at him.

‘Well, don’t just stare at it—open it!’ Eloise’s mother instructed impatiently.

Her tone of voice changed, and she looked at Vito.

‘Eloise will be the first to tell you that I am unlikely to make a doting grandmother—I leave that office to your own mother!—but nevertheless please believe me that I will take my responsibilities to my grandson very seriously. As I trust this demonstrates.’

She nodded at the envelope, which Vito was beginning to open. It yielded a bulky document, which he unfolded and looked down at. Stared at.

Then his eyes flashed upwards. ‘I don’t understand...’

There was no expression in his voice. Nothing except incomprehension. And shock. Total shock.

Eloise looked up at him, consternation in her eyes. ‘Vito, what is it?’

Nervelessly he handed the document to her, but his gaze was still on her mother. He said something in Italian that Eloise did not understand. She stared at the document. It was in legalese, formal and convoluted, but as she gazed, and made herself read it, she felt herself go completely still.

Her eyes, too, flashed up to her mother. ‘What is this?’ she asked. Her voice was like a ghost.

Her mother stood up and looked at them with an expression of complete satisfaction on her face.

‘It is, Eloise, exactly what it says it is.’ Her voice was as brisk as ever, with a snap of impatience in it directed at her daughter. ‘It’s a certificate for the shares originally owned by Vito’s uncle! Now owned by your son.’

The satisfaction was even more marked now.

‘What?’ The question exploded like a bullet from Eloise. ‘Mum, what have you done?’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Eloise, don’t be so obtuse!’ The snap was even more marked. ‘It’s perfectly obvious. I’ve acquired Marlene Viscari’s shareholding.’

Eloise stared—she could do nothing else. But above her she could hear Vito’s voice. So

unding hollow. Disbelieving.