Kitabı oxu: «The Royal House of Niroli: Innocent Mistresses: Expecting His Royal Baby / The Prince's Forbidden Virgin»

THE

ROYAL

HOUSE OF NIROLI

SEMPRE APPASSIONATO, SEMPRE FIERO

Always passionate, always proud

The richest royal family in the world— united by blood and passion, torn apart by deceit and desire

Complete your collection with all four books!

The Royal House of Niroli: Scandalous Seductions

The Royal House of Niroli: Billion Dollar Bargains

The Royal House of Niroli: Innocent Mistresses

The Royal House of Niroli: Secret Heirs

WELCOME TO NIROLI!

Nestled in the azure blue of the Mediterranean, the majestic island of Niroli has prospered for centuries. The Fierezza men have worn the crown with passion and pride since the Middle Ages. But now, as the King’s health declines, and his two sons have been tragically killed, the crown is in jeopardy.

The clock is ticking—a new heir must be found before the King is forced to abdicate. By royal decree the internationally scattered members of the Fierezza family are summoned to claim their destiny. But any person who takes the throne must do so according to ‘The Rules of the Royal House of Niroli’. Soon secrets and rivalries emerge as the descendants of this ancient royal line vie for position and power. Only a true Fierezza can become ruler—a person dedicated to their country, their people … and their eternal love!

THE

ROYAL

HOUSE OF NIROLI

Innocent Mistresses

SUSAN STEPHENS

ROBYN DONALD

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Expecting His

Royal Baby

SUSAN STEPHENS

MORE ABOUT

SUSAN STEPHENS

SUSAN STEPHENS was a professional singer before meeting her husband on the tiny Mediterranean island of Malta. In true Modern™ style they met on Monday, became engaged on Friday and were married three months after that. Almost thirty years and three children later, they are still in love. (Susan does not advise her children to return home one day with a similar story, as she may not take the news with the same fortitude as her own mother!)

Susan had written several non-fiction books when fate took a hand. At a charity costume ball there was an after-dinner auction. One of the lots, ‘Spend a Day with an Author’, had been donated by Mills & Boon® author Penny Jordan. Susan’s husband bought this lot and Penny was to become not just a great friend but a wonderful mentor, who encouraged Susan to write romance.

Susan loves her family, her pets, her friends and her writing. She enjoys entertaining, travel and going to the theatre. She reads, cooks and plays the piano to relax and can occasionally be found throwing herself off mountains on a pair of skis or galloping through the countryside. Visit Susan’s website: www.susanstephens.net—she loves to hear from her readers all around the world!

SUSAN STEPHENS
QUESTIONS & ANSWERS

Did you enjoy the experience of writing about Niroli?

Writing about a beautiful fictional island, which I imagine to be something like Sardinia or Sicily, was an inspiration and allowed me to use my great love of the Mediterranean to the full. And, of course, on a sun drenched fantasy island anything is possible …

Would you like to visit Niroli?

I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to visit Niroli with its glorious weather, clean white powder beaches and clear blue sea—not to mention the hunky men who hang out there. If you stay for long enough you might even meet a prince.

Which of the ‘Rules of Niroli’ would you least like to abide by?

The rule about the monarch dictating the education of all members of the royal house. What if the ruler’s aspirations weren’t all that high, or their imagination was stunted—should everyone suffer?.

How did you find writing as part of continuity?

It was a privilege to be writing in a team of such talented authors, not to mention the support we all received from an excellent editorial team.

When you are writing, what is your typical day?

You really don’t want to know! I get up at five to make a start before the phone starts ringing. After that it’s hanging on to a train of thought while I do, or think about, a dozen other things.

Where do you get your inspiration for the characters that you write?

The heroine is always me—younger and far more beautiful, naturally, but me. I add all the bits (make that large chunks) that I admire in my friends, together with quirks, hobbies and interests that make someone unique. It’s great for me to imagine I’m playing a new role with each book I write.

What, in your opinion, makes a great Modern™ hero?

A Modern™ hero might appear at first meeting to be hard and unredeemable, but on closer acquaintance we find he is a true hero in every sense of the word, The leader of the pack, he is strong in both character and principle and always true to himself. He is a caring and competent individual, capable of great love as well as deep passion.

Tell us about the project you’re working on at the moment.

The love story I’m writing at the moment is about two wounded souls who if they only realised it have much in common, but the horrendous incidents in their past are pushing them apart. Can a strong man be brought to his knees by love, and can a woman who has survived a monstrous ordeal see beyond her fight for the island she loves to a man who needs her every bit as much as the islanders do?

For everyone involved in this exciting journey to

Niroli, especially Jenny and the team

at Harlequin Mills & Boon

PROLOGUE

AS HE WATCHED the tiny dot appear through the clouds the ambassador of Niroli’s throat dried. What if this precious heir to the throne should perish? And with Nico Fierezza’s addiction to extreme sports that seemed extremely likely; if not today, then some day soon. The ambassador’s nerves refused to steady even when the dot turned into six feet four of solid muscle and Nico hit the ground on target. Only Nico didn’t hit the ground, he landed like a cat.

As someone took away his parachute Nico lifted off his helmet and stared straight at the ambassador. He had detected the distinguished visitor in the same instant he had located the cross hairs on his jumping target and was relieved to see that duty rather than disaster had brought him to the field.

He maintained a distance between himself and the bickering and power play surrounding his grandfather, King Giorgio of Niroli. The Fierezza family had ruled Niroli since the Middle Ages, but Nico was a selfmade man. Niroli, a tiny island set like a jewel in the Mediterranean, was prosperous and beautiful enough to attract the glitterati from every part of the world, which was enough in itself to keep him away. He had built up his own architectural practice in London free from royal privilege or favour and could state categorically that everything he owned he had earned.

He had been drunk on adrenalin when he’d landed, feeling invincible because he’d survived against the odds the highest jump without oxygen ever recorded, but calm reason had kicked in reminding him that, like any emotion, euphoria was a dangerous deception; it clouded the mind.

Tucking his helmet under his arm, he started forward with his usual purposeful stride. He couldn’t account for the insatiable force driving him. He’d had a happy childhood, idyllic compared to most, with a mother who adored him and poured all her love into the family. Perhaps that was it, Nico thought, halting at a point where he and the ambassador could have some privacy, perhaps men like him came with an inborn gene that insisted they must break away from everything that was feminine and soft and loving and drive themselves to the limit just to know they were alive. His father had done this, taking his yacht to the limit of its capabilities, killing himself along with his brother and sister-in-law. It was a miracle his mother had survived and was a lesson he would never forget.

As the ambassador approached Nico ordered himself to go easy on the man, but there could be no compromise. He might be the grandson of the king, but he neither asked for nor expected any favours. ‘Ambassador?’ he said curtly as the portly man arrived.

‘You recognised me …’ The ambassador gave a nervous laugh.

‘Of course.’ Nico’s voice was clipped and controlled. As always he was polite, toning down his need to know in deference to the other man’s advanced age. ‘My mother?’

‘Is quite well, sir. Your grandfather too….’

Nico’s brow furrowed. Why the hesitation? As if he didn’t know. ‘His Majesty wishes to see me.’ It was a statement rather than a question. Nico never wasted his breath on unnecessary questions.

‘That is correct, sir.’

The ambassador was distracted briefly by the whoops of celebration from other skydivers in the competition. Nico’s had been a landslide victory, but he remained unmoved, his thoughts hidden behind his slate-blue gaze.

As he stroked one hand across the sun-bleached hair he kept aggressively short, Nico had no idea how intimidating he appeared to the older man. Lean and tanned from working outside in all weather, Nico Fierezza towered a good six inches over the ambassador. It didn’t matter that an architectural scheme had been conceived in the clinical surroundings of his high-tech office—Nico liked to see his cutting-edge designs up close. So while the ambassador’s hands were soft and white, Nico’s were weather-beaten and rough, and the ambassador hardly seemed to have a beard in contrast to Nico’s black, piratical stubble. But the ambassador worked for a wily monarch and was used to handling every type of situation. He had recovered from his trot across the airfield and his shrewd grey eyes missed nothing. He rested super alert like a pulsing brain as Nico began to speak.

‘Please tell His Majesty that I will attend him the moment my business allows.’

As a cheer went up and calls rang out for Nico to join the other men on the podium he made a holding gesture with the flat of his hand.

The ambassador weighed the facts. Nico Fierezza was easily the best of all the men there. Surely, he must be feeling the same charge they did, the same adrenalin rush? And yet he appeared to be in no hurry to join the celebrations and there was no hint of self-congratulation in his expression. He’d heard this grandson to the king was a stranger to emotion, and it seemed the rumours were true. Nothing could have suited his purpose better. King Giorgio was eager to put an heir in place before his health deteriorated further, and this man had all the qualities they looked for in a monarch. He put duty first and chose to reveal nothing to the outside world. There wasn’t a woman alive who could cause Nico Fierezza embarrassment. The ambassador maintained his impassive expression, but inwardly he was already celebrating.

‘Please apologise to His Majesty,’ Nico continued, ‘and tell him that I will attend him in Niroli at the earliest opportunity.’

The ambassador dipped his head. compromise was an easy thing with victory in sight. ‘His Majesty will understand. He has empowered me to ask you to attend him at a time convenient to yourself.’

The hint of a smile fed into Nico’s stern gaze. Since when had King Giorgio been any more accommodating than he was? His grandfather had to be desperate to see him if he was prepared to wait. ‘It may be one week, or two,’ he said, ‘but no longer than that.’

‘That’s excellent news,’ the ambassador said. ‘I’m sure His Majesty will be delighted.’ A flicker in Nico’s eyes warned him not to overstate the case. ‘Perhaps if we could settle on a date,’ he added.

‘I’ll let you know.’ Nico’s voice had turned hard. His message was clear: one concession was enough for today. ‘If you’ll excuse me, Ambassador …’

As he strode away Nico didn’t see the ambassador dip into the type of bow he normally reserved for the king.

CHAPTER ONE

THERE WAS A single white rose on a coffin splattered with raindrops….

It made Carrie sad to see the tender bloom lying on the brass plate that spoke to a world that would never read it: the name of an aunt who had never loved her. But love could not be controlled at will, and Carrie had loved her aunt in spite of the woman’s rejection of her. Sad as she was, Carrie was glad there were some things words could never destroy and that love was one of them.

‘Carrie Evans?’

Carrie turned to find a man standing behind her. He was sheltering beneath the oily spread of a black umbrella, which made the shadows on his saturnine face all the deeper, adding to his air of gloom. There were only four people at her aunt’s funeral other than herself—the minister and three undertakers—and it was hard to feel brave as the small group peeled away to allow her some privacy. Lifting up her chin, she gazed squarely into the face of the man. ‘I’m Carrie Evans. Can I help you?’

‘Sorry, miss … I tried the house.’

Carrie didn’t know the man, but she could guess what he had come for. He was here to serve papers evicting her from her aunt’s house on the instructions of relatives who hadn’t been to visit Aunt Mabel in Carrie’s living memory. A solicitor had rung her yesterday to explain.

Yesterday, the day when everything in her life had changed for good….

Carrie was twenty-five, but she looked much younger. Her complexion was pale and she dressed conservatively, keeping her luxuriant hair scraped back neatly in a practical twist. She found the lush tresses an embarrassment. Her natural hair colour was a rich golden red that painters called titian, and she believed it better suited to an actress or a glamour model. She had even thought about dying her hair a pale shade of brown, but the upkeep would have been too much on a secretary’s salary. Her eyes were large and cornflower-blue and were perhaps her most expressive feature. Widely set and fringed with sable lashes, they were quick to darken with emotion, but could turn steely when there was something or someone to defend.

The man addressing Carrie saw a capable young woman, a little too plump to ever be called stylish, but determined, nonetheless, he concluded.

‘I have already cleared my belongings from my late aunt’s house,’ she told him without rancour, ‘and as soon as we’re finished here I will collect my suitcase and deliver the house keys to my aunt’s solicitor….’

She couldn’t do any more, and he felt some sympathy for her. He’d heard she had nowhere to go since her aunt’s heirs had turned up and laid claim to the house where she lived. ‘You’re so well organised,’ he said, trying to soften the blow for her, ‘I hardly need to give you this….’

‘I think you do,’ she told him.

Her tone was serious and exposed his attempt to console her for the sham it was. She held his gaze as she reached for the documents he was carrying and, as he handed over the eviction notice, he couldn’t help thinking that, in spite of the downturn in her fortunes, the young woman in front of him possessed a quiet dignity that commanded his respect.

She had forgotten how cold and bare her attic room was. The eviction notice allowed her twenty-four hours to clear out her things. She neither wanted nor needed twenty-four hours. She missed her aunt, but she was pleased to be leaving such a sad and lonely place. Her aunt’s house could so easily have been filled with love and laughter if only Aunt Mabel had been able to forget that Carrie’s father had chosen Carrie’s mother over herself.

But things could be worse. Carrie’s mouth tipped down wryly as she totted up the facts. She was jobless, homeless, single and pregnant.

Carrie’s wry smile turned into a smile of true happiness when she thought about her baby. The pregnancy was a source of great joy to her that nothing could dim. She was going to have someone to love; someone who would love her, someone she could care for and champion. The only problem was her baby’s father. He would have to be told. He had a right to know, Carrie thought, even as her stomach clenched with apprehension.

Unfortunately, her baby’s father was the hardest and most unfeeling man she had ever known. He was about as approachable as a tiger with a thorn in its pad. He was also the man she was in love with, the man she had loved since the first moment she had set eyes on him; the only man she could ever love … The same man who barely knew she was alive. And the longer she left it, the harder it would be to tell him that he was about to become a father.

Crossing her arms over her stomach in a protective gesture, Carrie determined she would not allow anything to stand in the way of her baby’s future happiness, certainly not her own lack of nerve. She had to face up to him and she would. She didn’t want anything for herself, but she did want recognition and security for her child. Her baby’s father was a very wealthy man and she wondered if he could be persuaded to set up a trust fund to provide for college fees when the time came.

Before Carrie had learned she was pregnant she had dreamed of leaving the office where she had worked as a secretary to try and turn her hobby of painting into a profession, but that was out of the question now. She planned instead to find some cheap accommodation and work until the baby came. Her goal was to build up a small nest egg so that one day she could buy a modest property with a child-friendly garden. A solid base was important. She didn’t want a child of hers to be pushed from pillar to post as she had been after her parents’ tragic accident. She might be homeless today, but not for long.

Nico Fierezza. It was the only name the King of Niroli had allowed to be spoken in his presence for days, and he had just been informed that his grandson Nico was on the final flight path to Niroli.

Nico piloting his own jet. King Giorgio’s mouth curved with appreciation. Nico lived the life he would have enjoyed had not royal duty claimed him. And now the only task remaining in his long and eventful life was to tame this wild grandson of his and persuade him to accept the throne.

Tame Nico Fierezza? King Giorgio’s eyes clouded over. Even a king might find that a challenge. Then his crafty gaze brightened. Maybe there wasn’t a man alive who could tame Nico Fierezza, but a woman might …

What was he doing in Niroli? Nico asked himself as he brought his jet down in a perfect landing. What was he doing back on this small, lush, glamorous island? Niroli, the island of dreams for so many, but not for him.

He was happy to undertake the odd restoration project of the sort he had recently completed for his cousin Isabella, or even to design major projects like the new airportterminal building. But his life was in London. The only things he had missed about Niroli were his mother, Princess Laura, and his brothers, Luca and Max. His younger brother, Max, was fully committed to the wine groves he cared for, and his older brother, Luca, owned the casino that contributed so much to the island’s wealth. Luca had run the casino himself for years, but after a whirlwind romance he had recently married and moved to his bride’s native Australia to develop his business interests over there. Nico was the only member of his family to have inherited the restless gene, and right now that gene was killing him, urging him to leave the island before he had even halted the jet.

Nico’s lips tightened with impatience as he taxied in to the premier spot. They had laid out the red carpet for him. When would they ever learn that pomp and ceremony were the very last things that would lure him back to Niroli? But this was his first visit to the island since the tragedy of the yachting accident. Half his immediate family gone and the weight of their loss still hung heavily on him. Was his time so precious he couldn’t spare any for his remaining family?

He would do what he could to reassure his ageing grandfather and then he’d spend some time with the rest of his family. But not too much time. He didn’t want to raise false hope. He could do the maths as well as anyone. There were three surviving male heirs ahead of him, and he had no doubt they had all found some reason to exclude themselves from the succession, which meant he was next on the list.

Why else would his grandfather want to see him?

Whatever King Giorgio’s reason, it didn’t change a thing; he wasn’t interested in the throne.

Nico’s reasons for refusing the throne of Niroli went far beyond his restless nature. He wouldn’t accept anything under false pretences and knew that the last thing Niroli needed was another king desperately casting about for an heir some time in the future. A childhood illness had left him infertile, which meant marriage and long-term relationships had always been out of the question. He didn’t dwell on it, and in some ways it suited him, because he didn’t answer to anyone.

She couldn’t tell the father of her baby the news over the telephone. She had no alternative other than to face the lion in his den….

Lifting her suitcase as the underground train slowed to a halt, Carrie squeezed her way through the press of commuters. When she finally saw the light of day again she put her suitcase down and turned her collar up. It was a typical summer’s day in London with rain sheeting down from pewter skies. And every cab was taken, which was hardly a surprise. One drop of rain was always enough to ensure that was the case, and this was a full-blown summer storm.

Picking up her bag, Carrie started to walk at a brisk pace towards the commercial centre of the city where she had been employed as a secretary. It seemed so long ago, though it had only been three months since she had left her job on a point of principle.

More pride than principle, Carrie accepted, shivering with cold. Aunt Mabel, never one to miss an opportunity, had immediately dismissed her nursing staff and hired Carrie in their place. It was a job Carrie had been pleased to do. Aunt Mabel hadn’t paid her, but at least she had felt useful, as if she was earning the right to her board and lodgings, though, of course, she had paid for those, too. In her naïvety, she had hoped by working for her aunt it would bring them closer.

She knew better than to expect miracles now, but whatever happened she would cope with it. Apart from sharing the news of her pregnancy with her baby’s father, she was after a reference. With a baby to support she had to find something more than casual work and had left her job in such a hurry she had overlooked the practicalities. Where had her brain been?

Somewhere below Nico Fierezza’s belt, Carrie accepted grimly as she shouldered her way into his sleek steel-and-glass office building. She had been so overwhelmed by Nico noticing her at all that she had been swept into a fantasy of her own making without any thought of the consequences.

The first discovery Carrie made was that the girl who had once been her assistant was now office supervisor. Meek and mild to haughty in twelve weeks flat, which wasn’t bad going, Carrie conceded as she braved the girl’s disdainful stare.

‘Not there.’ The emery board that had been busily sawing at some impressive red talons took a break. ‘If you leave your case there it will drip on the carpet.’

‘I seem to be doing that, anyway,’ Carrie pointed out, holding onto her composure by the thinnest of threads. ‘Do you mind if I take off my coat and hang it up to dry?’

The girl shrugged.

‘Is Nico in?’

‘Mr Fierezza? I’m afraid you can’t just drop in here on the off chance that Mr Fierezza will see you. He’s a very busy man. You will have to make a proper appointment.’

‘I appreciate the fact that he’s busy …’ When was Nico not busy? ‘I’m prepared to wait if I have to, but would you mind telling him that I’m here?’

‘Why can’t I help you?’ The girl’s gaze sharpened as she looked at Carrie.

‘Are you going to call him? Or shall I go straight in?’ Straightening her back, Carrie left the girl in no doubt that she would.

‘It won’t help you to go—’

The girl moved faster than Carrie could have imagined, leaping in front of her to bar the way to Nico’s office. ‘He isn’t here,’ she said smugly.

Carrie’s shoulders slumped. The news was a real blow.

‘Carrie!’

Carrie’s heart lifted as she turned to see an older woman advancing on them like a galleon in full sail.

‘Great to see you, Carrie! What are you doing here?’ Linking arms, she led Carrie away.

Carrie couldn’t believe her luck. Sonia Farraday was one of her favourite people. Legend had it that Sonia came with the building, but Carrie knew that Sonia was the hub around which everything in Nico’s London office revolved when he was away.

‘Let me get you a hot drink—you’re soaked through,’ Sonia insisted. ‘Come into my den. And, Shelley …’ Sonia’s voice hardened ‘.find a cloth and dry off Carrie’s suitcase.

‘Honestly,’ Sonia added as she bustled Carrie into her pin-neat room, ‘young women these days!’ Her gutsy laugh proved exactly why Carrie liked her so much. ‘Now then, what can I do for you?’ Sonia demanded once they were both seated.

‘I need to speak to Nico, Sonia.’

‘Hmm.’ Sonia sat back. ‘That’s not so easy. Nico isn’t in London and he won’t be back for some time. As soon as he’s tied up all the loose ends on his latest project Nico’s going to visit his family in Niroli. There are rumours he may stay there indefinitely,’ she confided with a meaningful glance.

‘In Niroli?’ Carrie paled.

‘He doesn’t share everything with me. Nico keeps his private life private, as you know. He’ll tell me what he intends to do when he’s ready and not before.’ Sonia’s shrewd gaze sharpened as it rested on Carrie’s face. ‘Why don’t you let me get you that drink now? You look worn out. When I come back we’ll have another chat, and then I’ll make some calls and see if I can help you….’

Carrie nodded dumbly as Sonia left her. Nico living in Niroli was a complication she hadn’t factored into her thinking. And now she had aroused Sonia’s curiosity, and she didn’t want to confide in her. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Sonia, but Nico had to be the first to know about their baby.

As she sat waiting in the office Carrie stared thoughtfully at the computer. Nico’s address in Niroli would be there somewhere, and if her password hadn’t changed she could bring it up on the screen….

It only took her a few minutes and then she sat back stunned by what she had discovered. Nico didn’t have an address in Niroli; not as such—he kept an apartment at the palace. She had known Nico was the king’s grandson, but perhaps because he had never made anything of it she had always thought of him as a lesser royal, a man whose connections to the glittering court were so distant as to be insignificant. But now she knew better. Nico Fierezza was not only a member of the ruling family of Niroli, he lived in the palace.

Her baby’s father lived in a palace!

It made her mission to find Nico a lot bigger challenge, but not impossible, Carrie determined as Sonia bustled back into the room with a tray of coffee. ‘Now, drink this up,’ Sonia told her warmly. ‘You look as if you’ve seen a ghost. Are you sure you’re looking after yourself properly, Carrie?’

Sonia was fishing, Carrie realised. ‘I’m doing fine. It’s just so cold outside.’

‘You should be back in this nice warm office. We miss you.’

It was another prompt, Carrie realised, but she couldn’t accept the opening Sonia was giving her. She could never work for Nico again after what had happened between them.

When they had finished their coffee Sonia was as good as her word, and it only took a couple of calls for her to establish that Nico was in Niroli.

Niroli. The island was a legend. It was a smarter and more glamorous world than she could ever imagine. Nico belonging there made him seem more remote and unapproachable than ever.

Sensing Carrie’s reluctance to talk, Sonia didn’t press her, but when the time came for her to leave, Sonia insisted, ‘You mustn’t walk to the underground in this weather, Carrie, or you’ll catch your death of cold. I’m going to call a cab for you. Are you still at the same address?’

As Sonia’s hand hovered over the telephone receiver Carrie accepted that what the older woman had told her changed everything, but she couldn’t embroil Sonia in her difficulties. She had a child to protect now and must stand on her own two feet. ‘If you could call a taxi that would be great, but if you don’t mind I’ll decide where I’m going when it gets here….’

CHAPTER TWO

IT WASN’T as if she had any ties holding her in England, Carrie reflected as the plane banked steeply on the final approach to Niroli and, in spite of her apprehension, she couldn’t suppress her excitement at the thought of seeing Nico again. Her hands tightened around the in-flight magazine in which she had found pictures of the palace taken from the air. Just the thought of trying to gain entrance to somewhere so splendid made her heart race. The question was, could she do it?

She had to do it, Carrie determined, stuffing the magazine back in its net. Staring out of the window, she tried to distract herself. She could see the bright blue ocean far below dotted with tiny boats and, in the distance, the coastline of Niroli, edged with pale golden sand. The island looked so tranquil from the sky she didn’t want to think about the drama that was about to unfold, but she wouldn’t dodge it, either. There was some irony in the situation. When Nico had hired her he’d said it was her quiet perseverance that had brought her to his notice, and now that same determination was about to be turned against him….

She was pregnant because they’d had sex at the office party. It was such a cliché, she could hardly believe it herself, but she had always been ready for Nico; he’d only had to look at her a certain way. She had been hovering on the fringes of the party with a wineglass in her hand. She wasn’t good at small talk, the words would never come quickly enough, and if they did, they were invariably the wrong words. People couldn’t be bothered to wait while she tried to find something witty or fascinating to say. She hadn’t drunk a lot, just a glass or two of wine. In fact, she had been wondering how soon she could slip away without causing offence. It had been during one of those ‘poised for flight’ moments that Nico had sought her out.

‘All alone, Carrie?’

Her heart performed a perfect somersault. Nico Fierezza had never spoken to her outside office hours. Yet he’d been there standing right next to her, so close she could smell his cologne and could separate each complex note: musk, sandalwood, vanilla and an additional edge of something that hinted of warm water and toothpaste and long, hot, soapy showers—

‘Daydreaming?’ He’d broken into her thoughts with that low, husky voice that’d always made her tremble inwardly when she was taking notes for him.

‘That’s not like you, Carrie,’ he’d observed.

The note of censure had made her stare up into slateblue eyes she had never felt brave enough to study before. Then she’d seen they had a striking pewter ring around the iris and that the whites were very white against his tan.

‘I’ve been watching you….’

The fact that he’d even noticed her was news, indeed, and the touch of humour in his voice had ensured that her attention remained fixed to his face. But, as usual, nothing sparkling had flown to her lips. It’d been the most exciting moment of her life and she’d been speechless. She’d taken in Nico’s lashes, so long and thick and black like the stubble on his cheeks, and then her pulse had gone wild when he’d smiled into her eyes.

‘Are you all right? Can I get you something before we land?’

Shocked into the present, Carrie gasped out loud. She had been gripping the seat arms, she realised, which the flight attendant had mistaken for nerves. ‘Nothing, nothing, thank you….’

As the woman walked away Carrie tried to shut the memories out, but Nico’s voice was in her head. Nico teasing her, Nico telling her she was his strait-laced secretary with the big innocent eyes and there were questions he wanted answered … She was spellbound that he was interested in anything other than her secretarial skills. And then he’d said something extraordinary: ‘You must know you’ve been under my wing since you got here….’

Under Nico’s wing? Her mind went into free fall. She’d hoarded up each time he’d smiled at her like a miser hoarding gold, but she’d always believed he was encouraging her to do better, to work harder….

‘I love your modesty,’ he’d gone on. ‘I find subtlety in a woman incredibly attractive….’

Attractive? Nico found her attractive? His words had echoed in her head like a siren call. And then she’d found her voice, but only to stutter clumsily, ‘I’ve not … I mean, I’m not.’

‘If I’ve got this wrong just say the word …’ His voice had been teasing.

What word? None came to mind.

‘I want you, Carrie….’

The moment he’d said that she was lost. She wanted Nico so badly it hurt. And then he’d leaned back against the wall, his timing impeccable. She had been so sure he was about to take her in his arms that she swayed towards him, which was all the answer Nico had been looking for.

She might have made a sound when he’d removed the wineglass from her hand, but she was certainly struck dumb when he’d taken her from the party, lead her by the hand across the room. She’d followed him willingly; she would have followed him anywhere.

When they’d reached the boardroom he’d shut and locked the door. Then, gathering her to him, he’d used the lightest and most persuasive touch on her arms as if asking her permission to go further. She’d given it gladly. He hadn’t needed to ask, her body’d melted like candle wax. She’d not only been willing, she’d been eager to serve. Nico Fierezza was a god amongst men. He was the only man she had ever wanted and it’d been a dream come true. He could have done anything with her.

Nico was everything she had imagined and more. He was tender, loving, considerate and hotter than a man had any right to be. While he’d dropped kisses on her neck above the chaste white barrier of her Peter Pan collar he’d freed the buttons on her blouse with long, deft fingers. Soothing and exciting her at the same time with his lips, tongue and teeth, he’d suggested all sorts of wickedness in husky Nirolian. She’d been so aroused she’d yelped in complaint when he’d paused to push her neatly tailored jacket from her shoulders. But as it was only a short pause, she’d forgiven him, and then her blouse was open to the waist and her heavy breasts in the fine lace bra were fully exposed for his perusal. She’d felt a moment’s shame knowing her bras were far too small for her and she had been meaning to buy more, but the expression on Nico’s face had told her to relax. He’d approved. He’d loved her breasts. He’d loved the way they’d spilled over the confining cups and he’d loved the fact that her nipples had been so engorged they’d pressed like tight red buds against the flimsy lace.

Arching her back, she’d thrust them towards him, making her breasts a gift to him, her first gift to Nico….

Carrie flinched now as the flight attendant lightly touched her hand.

‘We’ve been forced to circle the airport, but we’ll be down on the ground very soon….’

‘Thank you for telling me.’

‘A drink of water, perhaps?’

‘I’m fine, honestly … just a little tense.’And just a little concerned that her guilty thoughts were an open book to the woman!

‘It’s understandable,’ the flight attendant said sympathetically. ‘There’s been a lot of turbulence, but it’s nothing to worry about. In ten minutes or so it will be all over and your holiday will have begun.’

Her holiday? If only! Carrie smiled. ‘Thank you … I’m not usually so much trouble….’

‘No trouble at all,’ the flight attendant assured her, moving on to attend to another nervous passenger.

She couldn’t allow herself to become distracted like this, Carrie told herself firmly. She had to make a conscious effort to blank Nico out of her mind. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on happy thoughts about the tiny child growing inside her until a light touch on her shoulder told her that the flight attendant was back with her water. ‘You’re very kind.’

‘That’s what we’re here for.’

The small kindness brought tears to Carrie’s eyes. She knew her hormones were to blame, but took it as a warning that she must be careful to keep a check on her feelings when she met Nico. She must give him no reason to think her weak.

She drank the water down quickly and closed her eyes, trying to shut her mind to everything, but soon she was drifting into the half world somewhere between waking and sleeping where Nico was waiting for her. She couldn’t blame him for what had happened. She had been as eager as he that night and had turned from meltingly acquiescent to fiercely demanding in the space of a kiss….

Everyone knew Nico was strong, but that night she had discovered that his body felt like warm marble beneath her hands. The intimacy of touching his naked skin had given her an incredible charge. From that moment on she had been able to think of nothing but him sinking deep inside her.

Nico had known exactly what she’d wanted. His hands had been sure as they’d reached for the fastening on her skirt. She had encouraged him, laughing softly, nipping his skin with her small white teeth until he’d appeared to change his mind. Nico had had other plans for her. Swinging her into his arms, he had settled her on the edge of the boardroom table where she was at the perfect height for him. As he had nudged his way between her thighs she had wriggled impatiently, lifting her hips this way and that to make it easier for him to remove her briefs….

A sudden jolt flung Carrie into full consciousness. They had landed, she realised with surprise. Time to put her jacket on … gather her things. Would she ever escape Nico, waking or sleeping?

‘You can let go of the arm rests now and relax,’ the flight attendant told her with a smile.

If only it were that easy. ‘Thank you for everything.’

The girl paused with her hand on the back of Carrie’s seat. ‘We’ll be taxiing for around ten minutes before we reach the terminal building, so you’ll have plenty of time to organise yourself. You’ll have someone meeting you, I expect?’

No, no one. As loneliness washed over her Carrie realised why she had behaved the way she had on the night of the party. She had wanted to be with someone who wanted her … And when that someone had been Nico …’No, there’s no one meeting me,’ she admitted, spinning the words on a note of optimism. ‘This is my first solo trip and I’m looking forward to it.’

‘You know, I’ve always wanted to go it alone. I admire you.’

There was nothing to admire, Carrie thought, maintaining her upbeat expression. ‘I’ll let you know how it goes.’

As the flight attendant hurried away Carrie wondered if anything could blunt the passion she felt for Nico and allow her to think clearly. He didn’t make it easy. ‘Not yet, mouse, I set the pace …’ That was what he had said to her at the party and she had been happy to fall into line. All that had to change now. No one challenged Nico, but she would now for the sake of their child.

It wasn’t as if she was unprepared. She had played the scene where she told him about their baby over and over again in her head, preparing for rejection. She had even drafted the accusations for him: she should have been more responsible; she should have taken precautions; she should have been on the pill at the very least. Condoms? Condoms took a degree of forward thinking and there had been no time for that….

Freeing her seat belt and standing up, Carrie eased her way into the packed aisle. As she waited for the line to move forward a woman in front of her turned and said, ‘Perfect, isn’t it?’

Nico had said she was perfect….

No one had a door into her thoughts, Carrie told herself firmly. The woman was only making a comment about the sun-drenched landscape as they waited to disembark. ‘Yes, perfect,’ she agreed pleasantly, trying to blank the precise moment Nico had said that to her. But it was too late. She was already remembering Nico releasing the clasp on his jeans, lowering the zipper and freeing himself. Helping her to lift her legs and lock them around his waist, he’d leaned over her, pressed her knees back and said, ‘Perfect …’

Her cheeks were on fire as she forced her thoughts back onto a practical track. It was important to keep her wits about her. She had nowhere to stay and very little money … So she would just have to take it one step at a time, Carrie reasoned calmly. First, she would find a bed for the night and then she would find Nico.

Doubt hit her again as she stepped onto the tarmac. As she looked around and inhaled the warm, spicy air she could tell that Niroli was even more glamorous and exclusive than she had thought. Even the airport officials were elegant. She felt pallid and shabby by comparison, just as she had on the night of the party….

Staring at her face in the bathroom mirror after they’d made love she had compared herself to the other women at the party and known she was plain. Her glorious hair was a bad joke that had landed on the wrong head. Just like one of the paper dolls she had played with as a child she was all jumbled up—the wrong eyes in the wrong face on the wrong body. It wasn’t possible that Nico would want her for herself. Nico had wanted sex, and that was all. She had lost her virginity to a man who treated sex like a fast-food meal and used her like a disposable container.

And she was totally innocent of course, Carrie thought dryly, glancing up as she tried to orientate herself and search for some signs to Baggage Reclaim. She had encouraged Nico with everything she’d had, and, unsurprisingly, he had given in without a fight. The moment he had cupped her buttocks in his work-roughened hands was something she would never forget. She had rubbed herself against him, loving the sensation and knowing that for all his power in the boardroom Nico was a man who used physical strength as well as brainpower on-site. One of his greatest pleasures, he had confessed during a meeting where she had been taking notes, was to see his designs rise from the paper and take three-dimensional shape. He liked to see, touch, feel and suck everything he could out of each new experience.

She had always believed this thoroughness accounted for his success; she knew it made him a fantastic lover. She had been frantic by the time he had moved lightly back and forth and, when he had allowed the tip to catch inside her, it had shot the breath from her lungs like a punch. But he had pulled back before she’d had chance to close around him, by which time her body had been liquid fire. Working her nails cruelly into his bunched-up muscles, she had begged him, ‘Nico, please …’

‘Please, what?’

‘You know what I want….’

‘Do I?’ He had seemed amused, and she’d gone way too far to pull back.

Face it, Carrie, you didn’t want to pull back.

Carrie tried not to smile as she heaved her suitcase off the carousel, but it wasn’t easy when she remembered the next time she had bucked towards him Nico had taken her deep.

Thinking about Nico was one way to get through the tedium of airport formalities, Carrie reflected, responding to a prompt to move forward in the queue. Handing over her passport, she smiled thinly in response to the immigration official’s well-mannered scrutiny. Her mood had flattened, tiredness, maybe, or perhaps she had just reached the point in her reminiscences where it had all gone wrong. It had happened when Nico had said he loved her, because what he had actually said was, ‘I love my mouse.’ By reducing her to a cartoon image, Carrie guessed, Nico found it easier to brush her off. He didn’t love Carrie Evans, he loved the compliant mouse she had allowed him to think her.

Carrie’s mood had deteriorated to the point where she was scanning the departure board for flights home by the time she’d walked across the concourse, but the moment she walked outside she changed her mind. Her artist’s eye was immediately drawn to the richness and variety of the colours all around her. Fuchsia-tinted bougainvillea tumbled down yellow-sandstone walls and there was an imposing water feature in front of the terminal building throwing cascades of glittering spray into the air. Then she remembered Nico had designed the building and came back to earth with a bump.

What would he say when she told him about the baby?

What could he say?

Whatever happened she would never think of her baby as a mistake. Loving Nico was the only mistake she had made. Picking up her case, Carrie walked briskly towards the taxi rank.

The taxi driver, clearly proud of his beautiful island home, gave her a running commentary as he drove towards the old city of Niroli. The island had a colourful history, filled with ancient rivalries, rebels and kings. She learned that Nico’s family’s fortune had been founded on ancient trading routes, thanks to the island’s tactically advantageous position to the south of Sicily.

Gradually Carrie found herself relaxing. The sky was so blue, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight and everywhere she looked there was something new and interesting to see … ruined castles, vineyards, orange groves and fields and, leaning forward, she could see mountains capped with snow….

Niroli was beautiful, and it was easy for her to understand the elderly taxi driver’s pride in his homeland. The only problem was his old taxi lacked air-conditioning and she was still wearing her heavy London suit. It was too late to wish she had been less impetuous and had thought to bring more clothes. When had she ever found calm reason possible where Nico was concerned?

Certainly not the morning after the party, Carrie thought as the taxi driver fell silent. She had taken such care with her appearance, knowing she was going to see Nico again. From her small stock of clothes she had chosen the best of her sombre suits and a sensible top. She hadn’t wanted to look like a tease. She had felt shy and embarrassed, remembering her wantonness, her brazen pleading….

She had known it wasn’t going to be easy to face him again, and the last thing she’d wanted was to give Nico the wrong idea. She had known the party was over.

But even so, deep inside she had harboured a kernel of hope … She had brushed her hair until it had gleamed, and had toyed with the idea of leaving it down, but as long hair was impractical in the office she had drawn it back before applying a touch of lipstick. She wasn’t good at makeup, but she had made a special effort that day.

Her pulse had been off the scale, her body humming with awareness when she’d spotted Nico. He had been coming out of a breakfast meeting and she’d had to wait on tenterhooks for him to finish talking to a colleague. But then he’d walked past her….

‘Good morning, Nico …’

She had to call again before he turned. And then his face had lit up, making her heart thunder.

‘Oh, good, you’re here.’ He’d squeezed her arm and looked down into her eyes, all charm, all warmth … and well-honed professional courtesy. ‘Scan these documents and get them back to me ASAP, will you, Carrie? We’ve got a rush on—’ He’d pushed some papers into her hands, hands that had been holding him in the most intimate way only hours before. ‘And could you bring some coffee to the boardroom?’

Sure of her answer, sure of her, he hadn’t even bothered to turn around.

The boardroom had looked the same way it always did: stylish, clinical, perfect. Perfect for serious study and discussion, that was.

She’d done everything Nico’d asked of her that day and then she’d hung around after work like a kid with a crush. She’d waited until the office had emptied and the cleaners had arrived. Nico had still been at work in his office with the door closed. She’d had to do something, so she’d knocked on the door and poked her head round.

‘Hi …’

He’d looked up, distracted. He’d had some plans in front of him and she could tell he hadn’t want to be disturbed.

‘Did you want something, Carrie?’

His eyes had been empty; they’d held nothing for her. Nico had been her boss and nothing more. The Nico she had encountered at the party might have been an imposter. To save face she’d told him a lie. ‘Sorry to disturb you, Nico. I saw your light on and thought I’d pop by to see if you needed anything before I left.’

Dark eyes scanned her briefly. ‘Nothing. Thank you, Carrie. You get home now. No need for you to stay late….’

The end.

It had come as swiftly and comprehensively as that.

It was over. As far as Nico had been concerned it had never begun. He’d seen no reason for them to feel awkward in the office. It was a one-off he had taken in his stride, and so should she. They had been hungry for sex and had gorged themselves on each other. No problem.

No problem … After that she couldn’t remain working for him—her pride wouldn’t allow her to. She loved him. She always would. And so she’d handed in her notice quietly like the mouse he’d thought her, making no fuss, simply saying that her aunt needed her to be at home.

The aftermath of her short-lived affair with Nico was more pain than Carrie cared to remember. She had been heartbroken and had cried herself to sleep each night, waking to each grey, unwanted day, still tired, still punishing herself for her foolishness. There had been no sunshine that summer, or if there had been she hadn’t noticed it. All she remembered was the rain. It had rained and rained, matching her tear for tear as if she were engaged in some bizarre competition with the weather. And when she hadn’t been crying she’d been raging at her stupidity, raging at the virginity she had thrown away on a man who didn’t want her….

Until one day the sun had shone and she had sat up in bed and asked herself: was any man worth so much grief? That was the day she’d discovered she was pregnant with Nico’s baby. She’d known then she had to wise up and toughen up. Ripping the blindfold off, she had accepted that Nico Fierezza had never pretended to be Mr Average, or Mr Comfort-Zone. Nico was a law unto himself and she had always known it. But she wasn’t his mouse. She wasn’t anybody’s mouse. But she was going to be somebody’s mother. And she was going to fight for that tiny soul for the rest of her life.