As they passed a vast olive grove, Kristen’s tension increased. She recognised the area and knew that the gates of the Castellano estate were around the next bend. She also knew that the gatehouse was manned by security guards twenty-four hours a day and visitors were strictly vetted before being allowed to enter.
Bernardo Valdi’s visit had left her distraught and utterly determined to find her son. It had been easy enough to book a seat on the first available flight to Sicily, but as the taxi drew nearer to the estate she had no plan of action in the likely event that Sergio would refuse to allow her to see Nico. Her nerves jangled as the taxi stopped in front of a set of huge iron gates and a security guard approached. She fully expected to be turned away when the guard spoke on his mobile phone and relayed her name to someone at the house but, to her surprise and relief, he stepped back and waved the car through the electronic gates as they swung open.
The gravel driveway continued for a quarter of a mile before it forked into three separate roads. One led to the main house, La Casa Bianca, where Kristen assumed Sergio’s father Tito still lived. Another road disappeared into a pine forest, and in the distance the turrets of a castle—which had been built in the thirteenth century by a Sicilian nobleman and ancestor of the current Castellano family—were just visible above the tree tops. Four years ago, Sergio’s brother Salvatore and his beautiful wife Adriana had lived at the castle with their daughter, Kristen recalled.
The taxi took the third road, which wound through an orange grove and skirted a turquoise lake before the terracotta-coloured walls of a large, elegant villa came into view. Casa Camelia held so many memories. Her mind flew back to the first time Sergio had invited her to his home. They had eaten dinner on the terrace overlooking the garden and later he had carried her upstairs to his bedroom and made love to her. It had been her first time, and she had sensed that Sergio had been shocked when he’d discovered she was a virgin. But he had been so gentle, Kristen remembered. The pain of his possession had been fleeting, and the pleasure that had come afterwards when he had brought her to orgasm with his skill and patience had taken her heart prisoner.
How could their relationship have gone so spectacularly wrong that they were now enemies fighting over their son? she thought emotionally. The simple answer was that Sergio had not loved her, while she had loved him too much. She had left him before he could break her heart, but she had been too late.
The taxi drew up in front of the villa and Kristen dismissed her memories of the past as she focused on the battle she knew she faced to reclaim her little boy. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she ran up the stone steps. Someone must have watched her arrive because the front door opened and an elderly man wearing a butler’s uniform ushered her inside. A lightning glance around the large entrance hall revealed that it had not changed since she had last been there. The white walls reflected the sunlight streaming through the mullioned windows and sunbeams danced across the black marble floor.
Kristen’s eyes flew to the two men standing in the hall. Sergio and his twin brother were strikingly similar in appearance, but she noted with a flare of shock that Salvatore Castellano had changed dramatically since she had last seen him. His once-handsome face was thinner, almost haggard, and his mouth was set in a stern line as if he had not smiled for a long time. His black hair fell to his shoulders and was as unkempt as the stubble that shaded his jaw, and his eyes were dull and hard as lava spewed from Etna that had solidified into black rock.
Salvatore walked towards her with a pronounced limp, and Kristen wondered what had happened to him. ‘Kristen, it’s good to see you again,’ he murmured. Like Sergio, his hard features rarely showed any emotion and she had no idea if he was surprised by her visit. He headed out of the front door, but Kristen was barely aware of him leaving as she stared at Sergio.
Dressed in beige chinos and a cream shirt that contrasted with his olive skin, he looked gorgeous and so relaxed that Kristen’s tenuous hold on her composure snapped. How dared he appear as if he did not have a care in the world when she had just spent the worst few hours of her life? Anger swept through her. She resented his powerful physical presence and resented even more her fierce sexual awareness of him.