The Italian Billionaire's Pregnant Bride(40)

Kathy walked away feeling hollow with uncertainty and angry that she had even listened. But the news that Grazia and Abramo were divorcing had come as a shock. Even so, she reasoned, that did not necessarily mean that there was an ongoing connection of any kind between Grazia and Sergio. Her temples were tight with tension. She lifted her hand to massage the taut skin. Maribel suggested that perhaps it was time to call it a night. Bridget asked Kathy if she was tired and she admitted that she was.

Grazia told a good story, Kathy acknowledged unhappily. Sergio had enough powerful pride, ferocious strength of will and a dark, deep secretive nature to nourish the concept of revenge. He kept his emotions in a private place. And nobody knew better than Kathy how closely love, hate and sexual hunger could interconnect until it was impossible to define the boundaries. Grazia did indeed have terrific connections, since not only had she known where to find Kathy that evening, but she was also one of the select few who knew about Ella’s existence.

Leonidas and Maribel Pallis owned a huge country house outside Siena. Kathy scrambled out of the car, eager to see Sergio even if it meant a confrontation. But there was no sign of the men. Maribel took Kathy to the nursery to see Ella, who was sleeping soundly in her cradle. Kathy was then shown into the superb private suite set aside for the bride’s use and left alone. Feeling incredibly weary and free to finally show it, Kathy simply sagged like a worn rag doll. Even the thought of getting undressed was a challenge.

The door opened and she jumped. A tall dark male appeared on the threshold and her heart pounded like a road drill in an instant leap of pleasure and relief.

‘I won’t say I told you so,’ Sergio murmured lazily.

Her attention closed in and clung to him. He was the image of natural elegance in a well-cut jacket and designer jeans. She stamped down hard on an anxious thought about Grazia, determined not to panic into asking stupid questions that would only create friction. ‘About what?

‘Maribel and Tilda have no idea how exhausted you are, delizia mia. You had a difficult birth and weeks of round-the-clock worry about Ella, and it will take time for you to get over that.’

Guilt assailed Kathy, for when he had phoned her earlier she had assumed that he was objecting to her going out on the town when it was obvious that concern had motivated him. ‘I could’ve said no to the night out.’

‘How often do you go for the sensible option around me?’

A dulled flush of chagrin lit Kathy’s drawn features, for it was true. She was so vigilant in fighting her own corner that her choices often related more to a statement of independence than practicality. He moved forward and lifted her up into his arms with easy strength to carry her through to the bedroom where he set her down on the bed. She fought an urgent desire to touch the arrogant dark head momentarily level with her knees as he bent to tug off her shoes. She wanted him to stay; she wanted him to stay so badly she dug her hands like talons into the bedspread. But she said nothing because she was determined not to be a clingy, needy woman.

‘You need all the rest you can get for the wedding.’ In the act of straightening, Sergio paused to swoop down on her ripe pink mouth and claim it in a kiss that startled her and rocked her with a pleasure that made her pulses race. ‘And for me, dolcezza mia.’

She lay in bed in the darkness drowsily reliving that erotic thrill. At the same time she was ashamed of herself for not telling him about Abramo’s visit or Grazia’s poisonous forecast. Keeping secrets from the guy she was about to marry didn’t feel right. On the other hand, if she wasn’t careful he might think she was the jealous type, liable to turn into a bunny boiler. She was painfully aware that he didn’t love her and was only prepared to marry her for Ella’s benefit. What if a reference to Grazia sparked off a change of heart on his part? Kathy despised herself for being so fearful. When had Sergio become so precious to her that the prospect of life without him loomed like a death sentence?




Kathy was truly enjoying her wedding day.

Maribel’s efficient planning had ensured that everything ran like clockwork, from the moment Kathy wakened to a delicious breakfast in bed to the arrival of a parade of beauticians eager to groom the bride to perfection. The pure white off-the-shoulder dress clung to her delicate curves and small waist before flaring out into a full skirt and a swirling embroidered train worthy of a royal wedding. The gown was rather more adaptable, however, than its traditional style suggested.

Mid-morning, Kathy employed reverent fingers to examine the magnificent jewellery that had been brought to her. It had arrived complete with a note from Sergio asking her to wear the emerald and pearl suite worn by generations of Torrente brides. Kathy slowly shook her head in wonderment. ‘I’ll glitter like a Christmas tree.’