The Italian Billionaire's Pregnant Bride

‘While I appreciate that it is your job to take care of my security, your zeal is occasionally more than I require,’ Sergio informed his security chief drily. ‘No more enquiries or checks on Kathy Galvin. She’s off limits.’

‘But—sir—’ Renzo began with a frown of dismay.

‘I don’t want to hear another word about her,’ Sergio instructed in a flat tone of finality. ‘With the exception of one piece of information: the lady’s address.’

CHAPTER THREE

KATHY LAY IN BED sleepless far into the night.

She tossed and turned, her emotions reeling between anger, hurt, shame and resentment. Above all she was disappointed in herself. Why hadn’t she paid heed to her misgivings? Bored of the dullness of her life, she had rebelled like a headstrong teenager. She had lived too quietly, played too safe and Sergio Torrente had been more temptation than she could withstand. But she blamed the alcohol for making her reckless. Why had she pretended that the only attraction on offer was a game of chess?

She splayed apprehensive fingers across her concave tummy. The very idea of falling pregnant terrified her: taking care of her own needs was enough of a challenge. She told herself off for panicking. What was that going to achieve? Why did she always expect the worst? It was true that she had suffered some serious bad luck in recent years, but then, she reasoned doggedly, everybody had to live through bad times at some stage.

The next morning she fed Tigger and tried to think only resolutely upbeat thoughts. It was her day off and she could not afford to waste it. She needed to do research at the library for an essay. For the past year she had been studying for a degree with the Open University. On the way to the library, however, she called into a pharmacy and read the small print on the back of a pregnancy test to work out how soon she could use one.

She was queuing for the bus when her mobile phone rang. The cleaning company had received a complaint about her performance at the Torrenco building and, as a result, her services were no longer required.

Being sacked hit Kathy like a bolt from the blue. Sergio Torrente had had her fired! How could any guy sink that low? But, then, was such callous behaviour really that unusual? She suffered an unwelcome recollection of being dumped—not by Gareth but by his mother—and her tummy lurched in humiliated remembrance. Her childhood sweetheart had not even had the courage to tell her himself. He had abandon

ed her at a time when his support had felt like her only hope. His lack of faith in her had made her imprisonment for a crime she had not committed all the harder to bear.

Her memory dragged her back to the summer she had finished school. Her plans to study law at university had been on hold because her father was dying. After he had passed away, she’d had six months to fill before she could take up her deferred university place. She had accepted a live-in job as a career for Agnes Taplow, an elderly woman whom Kathy had been told was suffering from dementia.

When the old lady complained to Kathy that pieces of her antique silver collection were going missing, Agnes Taplow’s niece had assured Kathy that her aunt was imagining things. But items had continued to disappear without trace. The police had been called in to investigate and a small but rare early Georgian jug had been found in Kathy’s handbag. That same day Kathy had been charged with theft. Initially she had been confident that the true culprit, who could only have hidden the jug in her bag to implicate her, would soon be exposed. Caught up in a web of deceit and lies, and with no family of her own to fight her corner, Kathy had been unable to prove her innocence. The court had found her guilty of theft and she’d had to serve her prison sentence.

But those events had taken place at a time when she was too immature and powerless to act in her own defence, Kathy reminded herself urgently. Since then she had learned how to look after herself. Why should she allow Sergio Torrente to get away with putting her out of work? It was hard to see how she could prevent him. He had wealth, status and power and she had none of those things. But even if she couldn’t change anything she had the right to tell him what she thought of him. Indeed standing up for the sake of her self-esteem felt like the only strength she had left.

‘I’m afraid there’s no sign of your watch, Mr Torrente. I’ve searched every inch of your office,’ the security man reported ruefully.

With a faint frown marking his sleek ebony brows, Sergio rose from behind his desk because he had a flight to Norway to catch. Of course there would be a simple explanation. When he had discarded his watch the night before, it must have fallen somewhere beneath the furniture. Searches were rarely as thorough as people liked to think they were. The watch was mislaid, rather than missing, and theft was an unlikely possibility. He did not suffer from Renzo’s paranoia about strangers. It would, however, Sergio felt, be naïve to overlook the fact that his platinum watch was extremely valuable.

His entire personal staff was engaged in an urgent whispered consultation by the door. He was exasperated by the cloud of stress and indecision that hung over them. His efficient senior executive assistant was on vacation and her subordinates seemed lost without her. Finally, one broke away from the group and approached him in an apologetic manner. ‘A woman called Kathy Galvin is out in Reception, sir. She’s not on the approved list but she seems convinced that you will want to see her.’

Cool, hard satisfaction stamped Sergio’s darkly handsome face. As he had suspected, Kathy’s big walk-out had been an empty gesture. He was relieved that he had not sent her flowers, for conciliatory gestures were not his style. ‘I do. She can travel to the airport with me.’

The PA could not conceal his surprise, since Sergio never saw anyone without an appointment and the women in his life invariably knew better than to interrupt his working day. A pleasurable sense of sexual anticipation building, Sergio began to plan his return to London in a fortnight’s time. He strolled out to the private lift that would whisk him down to the car park.

Her vibrant head held high, soft colour defining her slanting cheekbones and bright green eyes, Kathy stepped through the door that had been opened for her. Her heart was beating very fast. Having assumed she was being granted a private meeting with Sergio, she was dismayed when she saw him standing with other men in the corridor. Tall, broad shouldered and dark, he dominated the group in more than the physical sense as he had the potent presence of a powerful man.

As Kathy had no intention of telling Sergio Torrente what she thought of him in front of an audience she was forced to contain her temper. The effort required made her feel like a pressure-cooker on the boil. Nor was her anger soothed by the discovery that that lean, hard-boned face of his could still send a jolt of response through her that was the equivalent of an electric shock. Imperious dark eyes unreadable, he directed her into the lift ahead of him. A positive aristocrat of good breeding and manners, she labelled inwardly, her teeth gritting. She was not impressed by the surface show.

‘I suppose your aim is to get me out of here with the minimum of fuss,’ Kathy condemned hotly.

Sergio was still engaged in tracking his glittering gaze over her gorgeous face and the amazing lithe, long-legged perfection of her body. His companions had studied her like a row of gobsmacked schoolboys. A striking effect, he acknowledged, for a woman who wasn’t wearing either make-up or designer clothes. ‘No, I’m heading to the airport. You can keep me company on the journey.’

‘Don’t waste your time with the charm offensive. I can hardly stick being this close to you in a lift!’ Kathy hissed back at him at the speed of a bullet. ‘You complained about me and I’ve been sacked. I’m only here to tell you what I think of your despicable behaviour—’

The lift doors glided open again on an underground car park. ‘I lodged no complaint.’

‘Someone did. But I didn’t damage your chess set and I always completed my work targets—’

‘It is possible that the enquiries made about you by my security advisors may have been construed as a complaint,’ Sergio conceded, striding out of the lift. ‘Given the temporary nature of your contract, your employer may have decided that dispensing with your services was the wisest option.’

Hurrying along by his side, Kathy didn’t know whether to believe that interpretation or not. ‘If that’s the case, then you should play fair and sort it out for me.’

But Sergio had a different take on the situation. He was not disappointed by the news that she would no longer be cleaning the Torrenco building. He thought that was definitely a development to be welcomed. If she was about to figure in his life in any guise she could not be engaged in such lowly work. ‘I’ll fix you up with something more appropriate—’

‘I don’t want you fixing me up with anything!’ Kathy was incredulous at that cool response. ‘I’m not asking for favours either, only fair treatment.’