The Italian Billionaire's Pregnant Bride

Sergio rested brooding dark eyes of derision on her. The crime for which she had once been convicted filled him with distaste. Far from being the refreshingly natural and unspoilt girl he had come to believe her to be, her beauty hid a rotten core of serious greed. In the position of carer and companion, she had abused the trust of an elderly invalid and had systematically robbed her charge over a period of many months. She had been prosecuted for the theft of the single item found in her possession, but she had almost certainly been responsible for stealing and disposing of other valuable antiques that had disappeared without trace during her employment.

r /> ‘I don’t need you to tell me the obvious,’ Sergio responded drily. ‘In this case I’m confident that I’m looking at the culprit.’

‘But then you’re confident in every sphere.’ Kathy slowly shook her head. Her copper and amber hair glittered with bright streaks, forming a metallic halo that accentuated the pallor of her ivory complexion.

Dully she recognised that she was in shock. In the space of minutes he had torn her newly learnt self-belief to shreds. He had tempted her out of the safety of her quiet life only to threaten to destroy her. She hated him for it. She hated him for the arrogant assurance that convinced him that he was right and she was in the wrong. She hated herself for believing, however briefly, that she could aspire to dating a guy like him. What sort of an idiot had she become? Did she believe in fairy stories, as well? She had surrendered her defence mechanisms when she’d put on the pretty yellow dress. Within the anger and the fear lurked a very strong sense of humiliation.

‘Let’s keep this clean and straightforward. I want to know what you did with the watch,’ Sergio repeated grimly. ‘And don’t waste my time with tears or tantrums. They don’t work with me.’

An insidious chill ran down her taut spinal cord as she recorded the cruel lack of emotion stamped on his lean, dark, handsome features. He would never listen to her story of the injustice she had suffered—he would have neither the faith nor the patience. He had no time for her or her explanations, since he dealt in black and white facts. As far as he was concerned, she was a convicted thief and she might have served her sentence, but he was not prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt.

‘I didn’t take it, so I don’t know where you expect to go with this. I haven’t got the information you’re asking for,’ Kathy framed tightly.

Implacable dark as ebony eyes rested on her. ‘Then I hand you over to the police.’

All Kathy could think about was the threat of being sent back to prison. For a split second she was back there in a cell with endless empty hours to fill without occupation or privacy. She was back in the grip of the powerlessness, the despair and the fear. The scar on her back seemed to pulse with remembered pain. Perspiration broke out on her short upper lip, gooseflesh on her exposed skin. Unlike Bridget’s daughter, who had never come home again, Kathy had coped and she had survived. But the prospect of being forced to cope a second time with the loss of all freedom and dignity was too much for her to bear.

‘I don’t want that,’ she admitted half under her breath.

‘Neither do I,’ Sergio confided lazily. ‘Having to admit that I shagged the office cleaner would be tacky.’

Her facial muscles tightened at the insult, while her brain discarded the degrading words as an irrelevance. Her mind was on a frantic feverish search for any solution that might persuade him not to involve the police. Only something unusual was likely to appeal to Sergio Torrente. He liked danger and he liked risk and he loved to compete.

‘If I can beat you at chess tonight, you let me walk away,’ Kathy shot that proposition at him before she could lose her nerve.

That sudden turnaround in attitude took Sergio by surprise. In that one reckless sentence she’d acknowledged her guilt as a thief and bargained with him for her freedom. But she’d done both without apology or explanation. He found her audacity a turn-on. ‘You’re challenging me?’

Her green eyes were alight with defiance, but deep down inside she was a mass of panic and insecurity because she knew that she was literally fighting for the chance to keep her life from falling apart again. ‘Why not?”

‘What’s in it for me? A good game?’ Sergio derided. ‘That watch was worth at least forty grand. You set a high rating on your entertainment value.’

Consternation gripped Kathy at that news. Forty thousand pounds? It had not occurred to her that the missing item might be so valuable. Her apprehension increased. ‘The choice is yours.’

‘If you lose, I want my watch back,’ Sergio delivered with sardonic bite. ‘Or, at the very least, the details of where it was disposed of.’

As he asked for the impossible again Kathy was careful not to meet his astute eyes in a direct collision. But his tacit agreement to her challenge sent the adrenalin zinging through her veins again, loosening the fierce tension in her spine and lower limbs. He would play her and whatever it took she had to win. If she lost she would be right back where she had started out, with the added disadvantage that he would be outraged when she was unable to provide either the watch or the information that might lead to its return.

‘Okay,’ Kathy agreed, toughing out the pretence that she could deliver that deal because he had given her no other choice.

‘And I think that, whatever the result, I should enjoy a reprise of the best entertainment you can offer, delizia mia,’ Sergio murmured, lifting the phone to request that a chess set be brought in.

Her fine brows pleated. ‘Sorry?’

Sergio dealt her an appreciative glance. Her outfit gave her the tantalising femininity of a delicate tea rose but her suggestion that they play for what was, after all, his watch was as ingenious as it was in-your-face impudent. ‘We finish the contest in bed.’

Kathy went rigid, colour splashing her wide, high cheekbones, anger rising and soaring high within her. She was shattered by that demand, for she thought it was utterly unfair. ‘Regardless of who wins?’

‘There has to be something extra in it for me.’

Kathy focused on the superb view through the nearest window and thought of the lack of view she would have in a cell. Her tummy flipped, her skin chilled at that realistic acknowledgement of who held the true power. He had the whip hand while she had only her wits as ammunition. ‘All right.’

A manservant appeared with a polished antique wooden box and laid out a board table with stylish carved chess pieces. A maid arrived to serve refreshments. Kathy took her seat. Even though she had not eaten since lunch time, she refused the offer of a drink and the tiny tempting canapés that accompanied it. It was all so civilised that she almost laughed out loud. On the face of it she was an honoured guest, but she knew she would be playing for her very survival.

Sergio lifted a white and then a black pawn and closed his hands round them. Kathy picked a fist and won white to play. She told herself it was a good omen and her concentration went into super mode. She had no sense of time, only of the patterns and combinations on the board in front of her. He was an aggressive player, who made a steady advance. But her strategy was more intricate, her moves lightning-fast to push up the pace. She let him capture her bishop and then slid her knight behind his.

‘Check,’ she breathed softly and a short while later she trapped his king.

‘Checkmate,’ Sergio conceded, stunned by the level of her brilliance and incensed that she had concealed the extent of her skill during their two previous games.