The Italian Billionaire's Pregnant Bride

‘Hormones,’ Bridget answered succinctly.

Over the next forty-eight hours Kathy discovered two missed calls from Sergio on her mobile and she kept it switched off because she didn’t want to speak to him. That evening she had an unexpected visitor when Renzo Catallone knocked on the door of her bedsit.

‘I’d like to speak to you. Will you give me five minutes?’ the former police officer asked bluntly.

Pale and stiff with unease, Kathy gave him a grudging nod.

‘Mr Torrente has given me my job back as his chief of security,’ Renzo volunteered. ‘I understand that I have you to thank for that change of heart.’

Kathy was astonished by that assurance. ‘But I only pointed out that it wasn’t fair to blame you for misjudging me when you didn’t actually know me.’

‘In the circumstances, it was very generous of you to make that point on my behalf,’ the older man told her warmly. ‘I wanted to thank you and tell you that if there is ever anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask for my help.’

Kathy went to bed that night feeling a little more cheerful and a little less ashamed of the past she could not change. The next day was Saturday, and she was serving breakfast at the café when Sergio strode in. His hard dark gaze raked across the room and closed in on her with punitive force. For a split second she stared and the edge-of-the-seat excitement was there, instant and powerful, sizzling through her slender taut frame like an electric charge. Her face flamed and she hastened into the kitchen with her order and lingered there.

Bridget put her head round the door. ‘Kathy? We’ll have to do without you today. Let Sergio take you home.’

‘Bridget, I—’

‘You have to talk to him some time.’

Kathy supposed that that was true. But it did mean stifling a seething desire to storm out and tell Sergio exactly what she thought of his two-timing cheating habits. With a baby on the way, she needed to take a long-term view, she told herself doggedly. Sergio was single and he could do as he liked. Her pregnancy was an accidental development. Now that the intimate side of things was over between them, establishing a civil connection with the future father of her child made better sense. Having given herself that quick mental pep talk, she emerged from the rear of the café clutching her bag and jacket.

The epitome of cool elegance in a black business suit teamed with a gold silk tie, Sergio was poised by the cash desk and incongruously out of step with his pedestrian surroundings. A bodyguard stood by the door, while two more hovered on the pavement outside.

Dark deep-set eyes alert, Sergio studied Kathy. As thin and pale as a wraith with her vibrant copper and red hair anchored in a casual pony-tail and her apple-green eyes hostile, she looked barely out of her teens. Yet not one of those facts detracted in the slightest from the power of her haunting beauty.

‘You were supposed to wait for me to phone,’ Kathy complained as she got into the limousine.

‘That’s not my style,’ Sergio murmured lazily, the smoky timbre of his dark drawl ensuring that she remained outrageously aware of his sensual charisma. ‘You need to collect your passport—we’re flying to Paris this morning.’

Already shaken, her studied air of detachment evaporated entirely at that statement. ‘Paris? Is this a joke?’

‘No.’

‘But to go all that way just for one day and when I’m supposed to be working…’ Her voice ran out of steam because the minute she thought about it, the more she wanted to do it.

Sergio elevated a fine ebony brow. ‘Why not? We have to talk and you’re stressed. I would like you to relax today.’

CHAPTER SIX

THE opulent interior of Sergio’s very large private jet took Kathy’s breath away.

The main cabin was furnished with inviting seating areas and adorned with modern art. The interior also offered a purpose-built office, a movie theatre and several en suite bedrooms. In her casual beige corduroy jacket and denim jeans, she felt seriously at odds with the cutting-edge style of her surroundings.

‘Wherever I am I have to be able to work. I spend a lot of time travelling and I usually have several staff with me,’ Sergio explained over the delicious lunch that was prepared for them by his personal chef.

By the time the meal was over the jet was getting ready to land, for it was a very short flight.

‘Why Paris?’ Kathy asked in the limo that ferried them away from the hustle and bustle of CDG airport.

‘France has strict press privacy laws. Many public figures find the media less intrusive here and a private life is more easily maintained,’ Sergio advanced smoothly.

‘So where are you taking me?’

‘It’s a surprise—a pleasant one, I hope, cara mia.’

Their destination was the island of Ile St-Louis, one of the most exclusive residential areas in Paris. The car came to a halt on a picturesque tree-lined quay in front of an elegant seventeenth-century building. Her curiosity rising by the second, Kathy accompanied Sergio inside. Sunlight fell from the tall windows and illuminated an elegant hall and staircase complemented by strikingly contemporary décor.