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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.
CHAPTER THREE
CARRIE settled into the quaint bed-and-breakfast in the centre of town, which the taxi driver had recommended. It wasn’t far from the palace walls, and was everything he had promised her it would be: cheap, friendly and clean.
The excitement of being close to Nico kept her in a permanent state of agitation, which grew as she got ready to go out and explore for the first time. She might see him, she hoped from a distance to begin with, so she could feast her eyes and prepare for their meeting without complication.
Like everyone else at the office she had wondered about Nico’s private life. He didn’t have a wife, so, did he have a mistress? Surely, there was someone? What did Nico Fierezza do to amuse himself when he wasn’t courting danger, or at work? Carrie had always felt uncomfortable when she had heard her colleagues discussing him. It had made her feel protective towards him. She had wanted to tell them to leave him alone, but that would have given away her true feelings. She knew why they were fascinated. Nico’s restlessness made women want to tie him down. He pursued danger and they pursued him. Nico lived his life on the edge, and they wanted to be part of it. By not putting himself in the way of gossip he had only succeeded in making himself more talked about, more desired. He gave the impression of a man searching for something just outside his reach. Women knew this and it made him irresistible; it made them long to be his final destination.
She paused to search the street as she left the hotel. Searching for Nico had become a reflex action. And one she had to snap out of, Carrie told herself firmly. But soon her mood lifted. It was hard not to smile when the weather was so beautiful and the people were so friendly. She had barely taken a dozen steps before someone greeted her with a smile.
That was what living in a warm country did for you, Carrie reflected. People came out of their shell as if they wanted you to share in their good fortune at living in such a lovely country. And Niroli was beautiful. She could understand that Nico might want to stay here for ever, though her heart squeezed tight at the thought of it. She had to remind herself that her priority now was a change of clothes. Her budget was tight, but she could afford a simple summer dress and a pair of sandals.
The winding streets lined with boutiques invited investigation and, as Carrie turned onto one offering tempting views of the harbour, she imagined what it might have been like to have discovered it with Nico. Steeply banked steps lined with iron handrails led down to the sea, and she could picture them running hand in hand. Nico steadying her and both of them laughing beneath the strings of brightly coloured washing.
But that was just a foolish fantasy, and exploring had to wait for another day. She had to buy something cool to wear, or she would melt.
She stepped out of the sunlight into the fridge-like temperature of a small boutique. A bell rang deep in the interior of the shop and she could hear a woman talking in an imperious voice somewhere out of sight.
Everyone would be attending to her, Carrie reasoned, taking care not to touch any of the expensive clothes. She realised she must have strayed into one of the most exclusive designer boutiques on the island, and didn’t need to look at the price tags to know there was nothing here she could afford. But she could hardly walk out. The best thing was to wait and ask one of the assistants for directions to the nearest high street store.
Carrie pressed back, making herself invisible as a customer appeared in a flurry of self-importance. The older woman was tall and svelte, and a group of young women rushed in her wake, each of them carrying an elaborate evening gown cloaked in a transparent protective cover. A sleek black limousine swept up to the kerb right on cue, and a chauffeur in full uniform leapt out. Opening the rear door with a flourish, he bowed low as he waited for his elegant passenger to step inside. Once settled, the woman dismissed him with a flick of her wrist.
Carrie was fascinated and, as the limousine swept away and the street fell silent again, she knew it only reinforced her impression that the island Nico called home was out of her league. What more surprises lurked behind the island’s beautiful face?
‘And that was just the principessa’s lady-in-waiting …’
As the young assistant burst through the door Carrie had to laugh as the young girl made a fanning motion in front of her mouth as if her fingers were on fire.
‘I’m sorry to keep you waiting, signorina,’ she said, still smiling at Carrie. ‘Can I help you?’
Seeing herself in one of the mirrors, Carrie lost confidence for a moment. Even after straightening herself out at the hotel, by comparison with the young shop assistant she looked unfashionably dull. ‘I was hoping you could tell me where to find the nearest department store?’
‘A department store in Niroli?’ The girl quickly hid her amazement. ‘We don’t have one, signorina. But we do have a lovely market,’ she added, ‘and that’s just down the street. There are some very good clothing stalls on the market. I use them myself. Would you like me to show you?’
Warming to the young girl’s friendliness, Carrie found it went a long way to restoring her self-confidence and allowed her to ask the question she was dying to ask. ‘When you said that was just the principessa’s lady-in-waiting, to whom were you referring?’
‘To Principessa Anastasia.’ The girl pulled a face. ‘The woman you saw was the Contessa di Palesi.’ She pulled an even bigger face. ‘They are staying at the palace and the contessa is the principessa’s principal lady-in-waiting.’
As the girl continued to grimace comically Carrie forced a laugh, but inside she was in pieces. She had always known it would turn out like this and that Nico would choose someone from his own class, but having her worst fears confirmed made her heart clench tight. She hated the thought of a princess staying at the palace with Nico, but as there was no hiding from the truth and she was curious. ‘Why was the contessa so angry?’
‘Because there is an important dinner at the palace tonight and the principessa’s gown is missing a button.’ The girl shrugged. ‘She won’t wear it, of course. Not even if we sew it on again. “How can the principessa wear damaged goods?”’ The young girl started to giggle after doing a good impression of the contessa’s voice. ‘And so we have provided the principessa with a selection of gowns to choose from.’
Carrie could only wonder at the sort of wealth that allowed someone to discard a dress merely because it was missing a button, and the girl’s phrase ‘damaged goods’ rang in her ears. Would that be how Nico saw her now?
Carrie forced her thoughts onto another, more practical course. ‘Do you think I’ll be able to buy a summer dress and some sandals at the market?’
‘Certo,’ the young girl replied, smiling encouragement. ‘There is a lovely stall where I buy such things, myself. You will find it just beneath the walls of the palace. Here, let me show you. Can you see it?’
Carrie’s pulse picked up pace as she stared at the palace. She already knew that the ancient building was much bigger and far more impressive than the photographs in the in-flight magazine had suggested. Even from her bedroom window at the top of the hotel she had to crane her neck to see the pennants flying on the battlements. Pennants she knew now must be flying in honour of Princess Anastasia. It didn’t take much to imagine what a prominent member of another European royal family was doing at the palace with Nico, or why there was an important dinner tonight … Could she have chosen a worse time to deliver her news? Nico was rich in his own right, he was highly successful and well respected, plus he was the grandson of a king. Why else would Princess Anastasia be staying at the palace if not to announce their betrothal?
Carrie hid her anxiety as she said goodbye to the young shop assistant, but she was racked by the knowledge that, although she carried Nico’s child, unlike Princess Anastasia she was firmly locked out on the wrong side of the palace walls.
It was while she was walking towards the market that Carrie saw a notice advertising a tour of the old city that took in part of the palace. If she could get inside.
Even as her spirits soared a wave of nausea swept over her, reminding her to take cover from the sun and buy some water. The heat was relentless and the physical effects of her pregnancy could often steal her strength away like this.
Having bought the water, she drank it down and was just leaving the shop when the footpath across the street erupted into noisy mayhem. A storm of paparazzi appeared out of nowhere and, for a few moments, there was nothing but noise and confusion and flashlights going off.
It was Nico. Carrie held her breath; every part of her body had tensed. She didn’t need to see him to know he was there; she could feel him in every fibre of her being. And now she could see him. At least a head taller than the other men and so commanding that even the scurrying photographers had backed away to snatch their shots from a safe distance.
As if Nico would lash out at them, Carrie thought, angry on his behalf. He was a man, they were boys; what did they know?
The surge of love she felt put her back where she’d always been, stunned by Nico’s presence, by his aura, his physique. Nico Fierezza was one of the most eligible men in the world and he was also one of the most attractive. She didn’t need media photographs to know he had the face of a film star and the body of a bare-knuckled fighter. And Nico had wanted her. Nico had wanted Carrie Evans, a pallid pudding, with nothing more to recommend her than a hundred-words-a-minute typing speed. And now he was the father of her child….
Even as pride swelled inside her Carrie noticed the woman at Nico’s side, the woman he was protecting from the photographers. She was young and very beautiful. Could this be Anastasia?
Carrie couldn’t tear her gaze away from a girl so lovely she was like a princess in a fairy tale. A princess who was everything she was not. Elegant and cool, she had glossy black hair that hung like a curtain down her back, caressing her naked shoulders like a silken cape. Every inch of her was tanned a deep golden brown and her skin was smooth and flawless. Her lips were red and full and, though her eyes were hidden behind the latest designer sunglasses, her teeth were film star perfect as she smiled up at Nico.
Carrie couldn’t see Nico’s expression, but she was sure that he was smiling, too.
Why was she surprised? She had always known Nico would have a beautiful woman by his side. She had always known her one night with him was more than she deserved. It was time for her to accept that when Nico had withdrawn carefully, pulling down her skirt, and settling her on her feet, he had withdrawn from her in every way a man could withdraw from a woman….
She shrank deeper into the shadows as Nico threw a stare her way. Had he sensed her presence?
Taking no chances, Carrie pressed back against the cold stone wall. It was then that she saw the bodyguards tailing Nico and the princess to their car.
Her instincts had saved her this time, but she would have to be more careful in future. Being taken into custody in front of her baby’s father wasn’t quite what she had in mind!
CHAPTER FOUR
CARRIE found she was trembling as Nico and Anastasia drove away. It didn’t matter how many times she told herself there must be a woman in Nico’s life, seeing him with someone was more than she could bear. The blacked-out windows of his high-performance car hinted at intimate spaces and close personal contact. How could he fail to touch the princess as he leaned across? How could the princess fail to be intoxicated by Nico’s cologne, or by his clean, warm scent? Princess Anastasia was beautiful, and Nico … Nico was Nico. How could they resist each other? She had seen the way the princess looked at him.
But it was more than physical contact that she resented, much more. It was the intimacy of shared conversation and getting to know each other that tore at her heart. But she had to face facts. She didn’t stand a chance with Nico, she never had. And if he hadn’t wanted her three months ago he would hardly want her now. And when she told him about the baby … What would he think when he compared the mother of his child to Princess Anastasia?
By the time she had dredged up every negative thought and examined it twice, Carrie was close to tears. But as crying wouldn’t get her anywhere she pulled out her purse and paid the stallholder for a simple summer dress and a pair of plastic flip-flops instead.
Wasn’t that the perfect outfit for her meeting with Nico at the palace? Carrie reflected wryly. On impulse she added some new underwear to her purchases. Why not? No one would see the frivolous garments, but she would know they were there. It was a small defiance, but sometimes she found small things the most effective.
Having showered and changed into her new outfit, Carrie splashed cold water onto her face and then tied her hair back. By the time she left the guest-house the temperature was soaring and even the stone beneath her feet seemed to radiate heat, which didn’t bode well for her plastic sandals.
She hadn’t realised how far she would have to walk, or that it would all be uphill. She hadn’t thought about the shops closing in the afternoon, or the fact that they wouldn’t open again until seven that same evening. And she had forgotten her sunglasses and her sun lotion in her rush to fly to Niroli. In fact, she had forgotten all the essentials. It was unlike her to be so reckless and impetuous, but her life had never collided with Nico’s before.
Turning the corner, she frowned with concern seeing how many people were waiting to take the tour of the old city. The queue snaked round another corner out of sight, and she was already exhausted, plus she had developed blisters between her toes where the plastic thong of the flip-flops had rubbed her. Looking down, she saw her feet were bleeding.
Pausing in the shade next to one of the palace control posts, Carrie watched the vehicles driving in and out. There was a guard seated behind a glass window in a small command station, and the palace courtyard was just a tantalising few steps away. Going up to the window, she tapped on it politely.
Thanks to the young shop assistant she knew all about the state banquet, and when the officer looked up she told him that she was one of the casual staff hired for that evening to work in the kitchen.
Consulting his list, the officer shook his head.
‘I’m not there?’ Carrie pretended dismay. ‘But I must be … they’re expecting me.’
‘This is the wrong entrance,’ the man told her. ‘Waiting staff must go round the back.’ He tipped his chin.
‘What if they don’t have my name there, either?’ Carrie pressed, adding a plaintive note to her voice. Maybe she reminded the guard of his sister, or some other female he knew, because to her relief the guard’s manner changed towards her.
‘All right.’ He gave her a reassuring wink. ‘I’ll call them and tell them to expect you.’
‘Oh, would you? That’s really kind of you. Thank you so much.’ She dropped her gaze and assumed a meek expression, waiting on tenterhooks for the guard to lift his receiver and speak to his opposite number on the other gate.
Without looking at her he waved her on….
She was inside the palace! Steeling herself to inquisitive eyes, Carrie walked quickly through the servants’ door, her heart thundering with apprehension.
‘La cucina?’ she said when anyone stared directly at her. Her knowledge of Italian was limited to the name of the Italian restaurant close to her aunt’s house, which fortunately had been called La Cucina Italia, or The Italian Kitchen.
Everyone was in such a hurry to get to their appointed place no one thought to question her, or notice when she slipped away. Darting up a stone staircase, Carrie had no idea where she was heading, only that reason told her the private apartments of the royal family would be above the servants’ quarters.
This was madness, she decided, pausing on the stairwell to shed her shoes. She would have to chance her luck and take the next door she found….
Stepping cautiously through an arched doorway, Carrie lingered a moment on the plush carpet to get her bearings. She was in a long and splendid corridor where grizzled Fierezza ancestors stared down sternly from the walls. There was a faint aroma of beeswax and lavender and hangings were ruby-coloured silk.
This was Nico’s home, Carrie reminded herself, shivering as she looked around. It was imperial splendour on the grandest scale, but it was cold and unwelcoming … But Nico was here somewhere, and now all she had to do was find him.
He had to get some air. The artificial atmosphere in the air-conditioned palace was getting to him. But above that, he was in a mood so black he wouldn’t inflict it on anyone, not even his grandfather the king, who was largely responsible for it.
King Giorgio was ninety years old, a fact Nico couldn’t ignore. It was the only reason he hadn’t made his views clear in his usual blunt fashion. His grandfather had proved himself shrewd enough and hard enough to hold the throne and guide Niroli into the twenty-first century, but that didn’t give him licence to construct a future for his heirs. Nico was prepared to accommodate reasonable requests, but he would not allow his grandfather to direct his life….
