Her New Year Baby Secret
Jessica Gilmore
The Italian millionaire's secret heir!
Waitress Sophie Bradshaw is used to being ignored at glamorous parties and, bruised by a disastrous relationship, that's fine by her. Until Marco Santoro offers her his jacket, leading to a magical Christmas evening together...
Exasperated by his family's matchmaking, millionaire Marco never gets close to anyone. But one heart-stopping night with Sophie isn't enough, and he invites her to his Venetian palazzo. Little does he know that Sophie is bringing one tiny, life-changing surprise with her!
Dear Reader,
When I was asked to set a book in Venice I was over the moon! It's been many years since I celebrated a birthday and a wedding anniversary there, but I've never forgotten the unusual beauty of the city, the way even taking a bus is transformed into something glamorous and romantic just by being on water, or the joy of turning a corner to find a canal blocking your way, or getting lost in the narrow alleys as we explored.
How would it feel to grow up in a place like Venice but know that to truly be yourself you have to leave? That was my starting point for my hero, Marco Santoro. Marco is very proud of his heritage and loves his home fiercely, but in order to be free from the burden of family expectation, he has built a new life in London. He hopes that by inviting aspiring designer Sophie Bradshaw to his sister's wedding he can keep his overbearing family off his back, but the more time he spends with Sophie the more he wonders just what it is he's running from. Meanwhile Sophie is enjoying her first visit to the beautiful city-and the time she's spending with her gorgeous Italian host-but she's still working out who she is and who she wants to be, and the last thing she's looking for is anything serious.
Exploring Venice again through Sophie and Marco's story was so much fun-and I definitely plan to return there soon! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
Love,
Jessica x
CHAPTER ONE
Early December, Chelsea, London
'WAIT! STOP! OH, NO...' Sophie Bradshaw skidded to a halt and watched the bus sail past her, the driver utterly oblivious to her outstretched hand. 'Just great,' she muttered, pulling her cardigan more closely around her and turning, careful not to slip on the icy pavement, to scan the arrivals board in the bus stop, hoping against hope the next bus wasn't too far behind.
She huffed out a sigh of disappointment. Tonight London buses were definitely not running in pairs-she would have to wait twenty minutes until the next one. And, to add insult to injury, the light snowflakes that had been falling in a picturesque fashion over Chelsea's well-heeled streets all evening had decided to pick up both speed and strength and were now dancing dizzily through the air, blown here and there by some decidedly icy gusts of wind. Sophie eyed a taxi longingly. Would it hurt? Just this once? Only, last time she'd checked, she had only forty pounds left in her bank account, there was still a week to go until payday and, crucially, she still hadn't bought any Christmas presents.
She'd just have to wait and hope her best friend, and fellow waitress, Ashleigh, joined her soon so that she could forget her freezing hands and sore feet in a good gossip about the evening's event. Sophie hadn't received one thank you in the three hours she had toted a laden tray around the expensively dressed party-goers, but she had experienced several jostlings, three toe-tramplings and one pat on her bottom. It was a good thing her hands had been occupied in balancing the tray or the bottom patter might have found himself wearing the stuffed prawns, which would have been momentarily satisfying but probably not the best career move.
Sophie shivered as another icy gust blew through the bus shelter and straight through her inadequate if seasonally appropriate sparkly cardigan. Why hadn't she brought a coat, a proper grown-up coat with a hood and a warm lining and a waterproof outer layer? 'Vanity, thy name is Sophie,' she muttered. Well, she was getting her just reward now; nothing shrieked high-end fashion like the 'frozen drowned rat' look.
Huddling down into the cardigan, she turned, hoping once more to see her friend, but there was still no sign of Ashleigh and Sophie's phone was out of battery-again. The snow-covered street was eerily deserted, as if she were alone in the world. She blinked, hot unwanted tears filling her eyes. It wasn't just that she was cold, or that she was tired. It was that feeling of being invisible, no more human or worthy of attention than the platters she held, less interesting than the cocktails she had been handing out.
She swallowed, resolutely blinking back the tears. Don't be a baby, she scolded herself. So her job was hard work? At least she had a job and she was lucky enough to work with some lovely people. So her flat was so small she couldn't offer Ashleigh even a temporary home? At least she had a flat-and, even better, an almost affordable flat right here in Chelsea. Well, 'right here' being a twenty-minute bus ride away to the unfashionable edges of Chelsea, but it was all hers.
So she was a little lonely? Far, far better to be lonely alone than lonely with someone else. She knew that all too well.
She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin as if she could physically banish her dark thoughts, but her chest still ached with a yearning for something more than the narrow existence she had lived since moving to London just over a year and a half ago. The narrow existence she'd trapped herself in long before that. What must it be like to be a guest at one of the many glittering parties and events she worked at? To wear colour and shine, not stay demure and unnoticed in black and white?
With a sigh she looked around once more, hoping that the bright smile and can-do attitude of her old friend might help her shake this sudden and unwanted melancholy, but although the snow fell thicker and faster than ever there was still no sign of Ashleigh. Nor was there any sign of the bus. The board in the shelter was resolutely sticking to an arrival in twenty minutes' time, even though at least five long minutes had already passed...
Sophie blew on her hands and thought of the warm, inviting glow of the hotel lobby just a few metres behind her. She was staff-and temporary staff at that-but surely, after a night run off her feet catering to some of the most arrogant ignoramuses she had ever had the misfortune to waitress for, they wouldn't mind her sheltering inside for just a few minutes? Besides, a snowstorm changed the rules, everyone knew that. Even a posh hotel turned into Scrooge after the three ghosts had visited, welcoming to one and all. And it would be easier to keep a lookout for Ashleigh if she wasn't constantly blinking snow out of her eyes...
Mind made up, Sophie stepped cautiously away from the limited shelter of the bus stop and onto the increasingly snowy pavement, her feet sinking with a definite crunch in the snow as she began to walk back towards the lobby. She kept her head down against the chill, picking up speed as she neared the door, and warmth was in sight when she collided with a tall figure, her heel slipping as she did so. With a surprised yelp Sophie teetered, arms windmilling as she fought to remain upright, refusing to surrender to the inevitable crash but knowing that any millisecond now she would fall...
Just as she started to lose the battle a strong hand grasped her elbow and pulled her upright. Sophie looked up, startled, and found herself staring into a pair of the darkest brown eyes she had ever seen, framed with long thick lashes. 'Careful! It's snowing. You could hurt someone-or yourself if you don't look where you're going.'
Italian, she thought dreamily. She had been saved by an Italian man with beautiful eyes. Then his sharp tone permeated the fog in her brain and she stepped back, sharply moving away from his steadying grasp.
'Snowing? So that's what this white cold stuff is. Thank you for clearing that up.' She stopped, the anger disappearing as quickly as it came as shock flared up on his face-followed by the ghost of a smile. It was a very attractive ghost; he was probably rather gorgeous when he relaxed. Not relevant, Sophie. More to the point, she had bumped into him. 'I'm sorry, you're right, I wasn't looking where I was going. I just wanted to get inside before I turned into the little match girl. I've had to admit defeat on finding transport. It's looking like I'm going to have to walk home...' She looked ruefully down at her black heels. They were surprisingly comfortable-comfortable enough for her to wear them to work-but patent court shoes probably weren't high on most Arctic explorers' kit lists.
'Typical London, just a few flakes of snow and the taxis disappear.'
Sophie didn't want to contradict him and point out that there was a little more than a drop of snow-several inches more in fact-or that she wasn't actually looking for a taxi but for a far more prosaic bus. 'It's always the same when it snows,' she said airily, as if she were a real Londoner, blasé about everything, even the fairy-tale scene unfolding before her, but instantly ruined the effect by shivering.