Kristen stared in horror at the photograph beneath the headline, which showed her leaning against Sergio, clinging to his shirt front and staring up at him like a love-sick idiot.
‘What on earth...?’ The picture had been taken when Sergio had chased after her to stop her fleeing from his party, she realised. She had stumbled on her stupid high heels and grabbed hold of him for support. Frantically she skimmed the newspaper article.
Sicilian love-rat Sergio Castellano has certainly lived up to his reputation as a serial playboy. Feathers flew when his fiancée and mistress both turned up at a party at the Hotel Royale. Felicity Denholm was said to be distraught when Sergio left the party to chase after the mystery blonde who is believed to be a waitress at the hotel.
‘Oh, heavens,’ she said faintly.
‘Is that all you can say?’ he demanded savagely. ‘Thanks to your little escapade on Friday evening, my business deal with Earl Denholm is threatened, my personal reputation is on the line and the price of the Castellano Group’s shares has plummeted.’
Kristen bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.’
‘My PR manager is frantically putting a damage limitation plan into action and has written a statement for you to make to journalists.’ Sergio glanced at his watch. ‘I’ve arranged a press conference for nine o’clock. If we go now we should make it on time. My car is over there.’ He swung round and took a few steps but, realising that Kristen was not following him, he glanced back at her, impatience etched onto his hard features. ‘Come along. What are you waiting for?’
‘I can’t go with you. I have to take Nic...’ She broke off and watched tensely as Sergio walked back to her. He seemed to realise for the first time that she wasn’t alone and glanced over her shoulder to the child standing behind her. Kristen was thankful that Nico’s baseball cap hid his face but, as Sergio continued to stare, she gripped her son’s hand.
‘Is he your child?’ There was a curious note in his voice she could not define.
Kristen swallowed. ‘Yes.’ She tried to step past Sergio and her tension escalated when he did not move out of her way. ‘Please excuse us. I need to get him to nursery.’
‘So are you married? You have a different surname, which is one reason why it took me forty-eight hours to find you,’ he revealed with an edge of impatience. ‘I was searching for Kristen Russell, but your name now is Lloyd. Is that the name of your child’s father?’
Nico had been standing silently, his gaze fixed curiously on the stranger. But, perhaps conscious of Sergio’s scrutiny, he suddenly pulled off his cap and held it out to him. ‘My hat’s got Bertie Bear on it—see?’ he said innocently.
The ensuing silence only lasted for a few seconds, but to Kristen it seemed as though time was suspended and it was a lifetime before Sergio reacted.
‘Santa Madonna!’ His breath hissed between his teeth and he jerked his head back as if he had been slapped. He flicked his eyes to Kristen’s white face and then back to the child by her side. ‘It’s not possible,’ he said hoarsely. ‘You lost the baby. I was with you at the hospital when you had the miscarriage.’
CHAPTER FOUR
KRISTEN DID NOT reply—could not, when there was no oxygen in her lungs—but she held Nico’s hand tighter as Sergio crouched down so that he could study the little boy’s face.