‘The nanny who looks after Salvatore’s daughter has been helping to care for him. I’ll take you straight to him. Did you ask the taxi driver to bring in your luggage?’
‘I don’t have any luggage. I’m not planning on staying. I’m here to collect Nico and take him home.’
Sergio’s eyes narrowed on her determined face and he seemed about to argue, but thought better of it. ‘We will discuss what is best for him later. You certainly won’t be taking him anywhere while he’s throwing up.’
Kristen hurried after Sergio up the sweeping staircase. On the first-floor landing they walked past the master bedroom. The door was open and she could not resist peeping in. The wallpaper and soft furnishings had been updated and were a soft blue rather than gold as she remembered, but the huge four-poster bed still dominated the room and the sight of it evoked memories she wished she could forget. Now was not a good time to recall in vivid detail Sergio’s naked, muscular body, or to remember the firestorm passion they had once shared and his unexpected tenderness when he made love to her.
There was no hint of tenderness about him now, she noted as she caught up with him. He was waiting outside the door next to his room. His unreadable expression became speculative when his glance travelled from her flushed face to his bedroom but he made no comment other than to say, ‘Nico has been asking for you.’
‘I’m not surprised. He was probably frightened when you whisked him away from everything that is familiar to him and brought him to a place he has never seen before. What were you thinking of?’ Kristen asked him curtly. ‘You told me that when you were a young child your mother snatched you and took you to another country. How could you do the same thing to Nico?’
His jaw tightened. ‘I had my reasons.’
‘Or maybe you were trying to score a point over me and prove how powerful you are?’ she said cynically. ‘This isn’t one of your boardroom battles.’ Kristen broke off at the sound of Nico crying. Her fight with Sergio could wait until later.
Pushing open the door, she entered an elegant bedroom which had a pale carpet and silk covers on the bed that were hardly suitable for a pre-school child, especially one with a stomach upset. Nico looked feverish; his cheeks were flushed and his curls clustered damply on his brow. A woman was leaning over him, trying to persuade him to take a sip of water, but he pushed her away and his sobs grew louder until he looked across the room and saw Kristen.
‘Mummy...’ His lip quivered, and his distress tore Kristen’s heart. She dashed over to the bed and gathered him in her arms.
‘It’s all right, sweetheart. I’m here.’ She frowned at Sergio. ‘He feels very hot. Have you given him anything to bring his temperature down?’
‘He brought up the medicine the doctor left for him,’ Sergio started to explain, but at that moment Nico was sick again—all over Kristen. ‘Santa Madre! I can’t believe he’s got anything left in his stomach,’ Sergio muttered as he sprang forward to lift the little boy off her lap. But Nico clung to her and wouldn’t let go.
‘Leave him,’ Kristen said quietly. ‘I’ll get cleaned up later.’
‘But you’re covered...’
‘It doesn’t matter. Pass me a towel so that I can mop him up.’ She gave Sergio a fierce look. ‘This is what parenting is. It’s not about buying expensive toys—it’s about being there for your child when he needs you.’ She glanced towards the woman who she guessed was the nanny Sergio had mentioned. ‘Please leave me alone with him. He’s confused and upset, and having people around him that he doesn’t know isn’t helping.’