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Larenzo's Christmas Baby
Kate Hewitt
‘This night, Emma. That’s all it can ever be.’But Larenzo Cavelli lied. One blissful night in his bed changed Emma Leighton’s life for ever. By dawn she knew two things: Larenzo would spend the rest of his life behind bars, and he would never see the baby their union had made. Two years later Larenzo’s name is cleared – and he will get his life back…starting with Emma. It was deception that imprisoned this self-made Sicilian, so what will he do when he discovers Emma has a secret he might never be able to forgive…?One Night With ConsequencesWhen one night…leads to pregnancy!Discover more at www.millsandboon.co.uk/katehewitt
‘What are you hiding from me, Emma?’
‘Nothing …’ But it sounded feeble.
Larenzo took another step towards her. ‘Tell me the truth. You’re hiding something. I don’t know what it could be, but—’
‘What do you think I’m hiding from you?’ She cut him off scornfully. She nodded towards the stairs. ‘A baby?’
The words hung there, seeming to echo through the sudden silence of the room. Larenzo stared at her, saw how bloodless her lips were as they parted soundlessly. The thought hadn’t fully formed in his mind until she’d said the words. He’d sensed she was hiding something, had felt her panic and fear, had heard a baby cry … And yet it hadn’t all come together for him.
But it did now, crystallising with shocking clarity, and without a word for her he turned from the room and bounded up the stairs.
‘Larenzo—’ She hurried after him, one arm flung towards him in desperate supplication. ‘Larenzo, please, don’t—’
He could hear the child crying, the voice pitiful and plaintive.
‘Mama. Mama.’
He threw open the door and came to a complete and stunned halt as he saw the baby standing in her cot, chubby fists gripping the rail, cherubic face screwed up and wet with tears.
And Larenzo knew. He would have known just by looking at the child, with her ink-dark hair and large grey eyes, the cleft in her chin. He turned to Emma, who was gazing at him with undisguised panic.
‘When,’ he asked in a low, deadly voice, ‘were you going to tell me about my child?’
One Night With Consequences (#ulink_46c921d6-6fa2-53dc-9759-5d04345eb58f)
When one night … leads to pregnancy!
When succumbing to a night of unbridled desire it’s impossible to think past the morning after!
But, with the sheets barely settled, that little blue line appears on the pregnancy test and it doesn’t take long to realise that one night of white-hot passion has turned into a lifetime of consequences!
Only one question remains:
How do you tell a man you’ve just met that you’re about to share more than just his bed?
Find out in:
Nine Months to Redeem Him by Jennie Lucas January 2015
Prince Nadir’s Secret Heir by Michelle Conder March 2015
Carrying the Greek’s Heir by Sharon Kendrick April 2015
Married for Amari’s Heir by Maisey Yates July 2015
Bound by the Billionaire’s Baby by Cathy Williams July 2015
From One Night to Wife by Rachael Thomas September 2015
Her Nine Month Confession by Kim Lawrence September 2015
Look for more One Night With Consequences coming soon!
If you missed any of these fabulous stories, they can be found at millsandboon.co.uk
Larenzo’s
Christmas Baby
Kate Hewitt
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
After spending three years as a die-hard New Yorker, KATE HEWITT now lives in a small village in the English Lake District with her husband, their five children and a golden retriever. In addition to writing intensely emotional stories she loves reading, baking, and playing chess with her son—she has yet to win against him, but she continues to try.
Learn more about Kate at www.kate-hewitt.com (http://www.kate-hewitt.com).
Contents
Cover (#uf9a5372e-869f-5230-8cb8-ddb833f89c22)
Introduction (#u8e62ff86-1dad-598b-9eb7-7d1033bc8bb7)
One Night With Consequences (#ue408902b-973d-562b-89ae-ea772251df46)
Title Page (#uf559e5b9-a527-5400-b35b-34e170b01b0e)
About the Author (#u90c10053-bd92-51ec-acab-053d3693e4a8)
CHAPTER ONE (#u2d3b6a74-7537-5c29-98f9-b550e70f3a8b)
CHAPTER TWO (#uae29b7f4-d6a3-56ae-af03-b8699087e5db)
CHAPTER THREE (#u86c88e5a-4f7f-5728-9c51-20d08d804332)
CHAPTER FOUR (#uf7788ea4-8994-56d1-876c-b322e88e7c79)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_4fadf5af-8f0f-55f2-9842-6f4733192d00)
THE SOUND OF the car door slamming echoed through the still night. Emma Leighton looked up from the book she’d been reading in surprise; as housekeeper of Larenzo Cavelli’s isolated retreat in the mountains of Sicily, she hadn’t been expecting anyone. Larenzo was in Rome on business, and no one came to the villa perched high above Sicily’s dusty hill towns and villages. Her employer liked his privacy.
She heard brisk footsteps on the stone path that led to the villa’s front door, an enormous thing of solid oak banded with iron. She tensed, waiting for a knock; the villa had an elaborate security system with a numbered code that was only known by her and Larenzo, and the door was locked, as Larenzo always insisted.
She held her breath as she heard the creak of the door opening and then the beep of buttons being pressed, followed by a longer beeping indicating the security system had been deactivated. As her heart did a queasy little flip, Emma tossed her book aside and rose from her chair. Larenzo never came back early or unexpectedly. He always texted her, to make sure she had everything ready for his arrival: his bed made with freshly ironed sheets, the fridge stocked, the pool heated. But if it wasn’t him...who was it?
She heard footsteps coming closer, a heavy, deliberate tread, and then a figure, tall and rangy, appeared in the doorway.
‘Larenzo—’ Emma pressed one hand to her chest as she let out a shaky laugh of relief. ‘You scared me. I wasn’t expecting you.’
‘I wasn’t expecting to come here.’ He stepped into the spacious sitting room of the villa, and as the lamplight washed over his face Emma sucked in a shocked breath. Larenzo’s skin looked grey, and there were deep shadows under his eyes. His hair was rumpled, as if he’d driven his hand through the ink-dark strands.
‘Are you—are you all right?’
His mouth twisted in a grim smile. ‘Why, do I not look all right?’
‘No, not really.’ She tried to lighten her words with a smile, but she really was alarmed. In the nine months she’d been Larenzo’s housekeeper, she’d never seen him look like this, not just tired or haggard, but as if the life force that was so much a part of who he was, that restless, rangy energy and charisma, had drained away.
‘Are you ill?’ she asked. ‘I can get you something...’
‘No. Not ill.’ He let out a hollow laugh. ‘But clearly I must look terrible.’
‘Well, as a matter of fact, yes, you do.’
‘Thank you for your honesty.’
‘Sorry—’
‘Don’t be. I can’t bear lies.’ A sudden, savage note had entered his voice, making Emma blink. Larenzo crossed the room to the liquor cabinet in the corner. ‘I need a drink.’
She watched as he poured himself a large measure of whisky and then tossed it back in one burning swallow. His back was to her, the silk of his suit jacket straining against his shoulders and sinewy back. He was an attractive man, a beautiful man even, with his blue-black hair and piercing grey eyes, his tall, powerful body always encased in three-thousand-euro suits.
Emma had admired his form the way you admired Michelangelo’s David, as a work of art. She had decided when she’d taken this job that she wasn’t going to make the mistake of developing some schoolgirl crush on her boss. Larenzo Cavelli was out of her league. Way, way out of her league. And, if the tabloids were true, he had a different woman on his arm and in his bed every week.
‘I wasn’t expecting you until the end of the month,’ she said.
‘I had a change of plans.’ He took out the stopper in the crystal decanter of whisky and poured himself another healthy measure. ‘Obviously.’
She didn’t press the point, because, while they’d developed a fairly amicable working relationship over the last nine months, he was still her boss. She couldn’t actually say she knew Larenzo Cavelli. Since she’d taken the job as housekeeper he’d come to the villa only three times, never more than for a couple of days. He mostly lived in Rome, where he kept an apartment, or travelled for work as CEO of Cavelli Enterprises.
‘Very well,’ she finally said. ‘Will you be staying long?’
He drained his glass for a second time. ‘Probably not.’
‘Well, the night at least,’ she answered briskly. She didn’t know what was going on with Larenzo, whether it was a business deal gone bust or a love affair gone bad, or something else entirely, but she could still do her job. ‘The sheets on your bed are clean. I’ll go switch the heating on for the pool.’
‘Don’t bother,’ Larenzo answered. He put his empty glass on the table with a clink. ‘There’s no need.’
‘It’s no trouble,’ Emma protested, and Larenzo shrugged, his back to her.
‘Fine. Maybe I’ll have one last swim.’
His words replayed through her mind as she left him and walked through the spacious, silent rooms of the villa to the back door that led to a brick terrace overlooking the mountains, a teardrop-shaped pool as its impressive centrepiece. One last swim. Was he planning on leaving, on selling the villa?
Emma gazed out at the Nebrodi mountains and shivered slightly, for the air still held a pine-scented chill.
All was quiet save for the rustling of the wind high up in the trees. Larenzo’s villa was remote, miles from the nearest market town, Troina; in the daylight Emma could see its terracotta-tiled houses and shops nestled in the valley below. She went there several times a week to shop and socialise; she had a couple of friends amidst the Sicilian shopkeepers and matrons.
If Larenzo was planning on selling the villa, she’d miss living here. She never stayed anywhere long, and she would have probably started feeling restless in a few months anyway, but... She glanced once more at the night-cloaked hills and valleys, the mellow stone of the villa perched on its hill gleaming in the moonlight. She liked living here. It was peaceful, with plenty of subjects to photograph. She’d be sad to leave, if it came to that.
But maybe Larenzo just meant a swim before he left for Rome again. She switched on the heating and then turned to go inside; as she turned a shadowy form loomed up in front of her and her breath came out in a short gasp. She must have swayed or stumbled a little, for Larenzo put his hands on her shoulders to steady her.
They stood like that for a moment in the doorway, his strong hands curling around her shoulders so she could feel the warmth of his palms through the thin cotton of her T-shirt, and how her heart pounded beneath it. She didn’t think he’d ever actually touched her before.
She moved one way, and he moved another, so it was almost as if they were engaged in a struggle or an awkward dance. Then Larenzo dropped his hands from her shoulders and stepped back.
‘Scusi.’
‘My fault,’ she murmured, her heart still thudding, and moved quickly through the kitchen to flick on the lights. Bathed in a bright electric glow, things felt more normal, even if she could still feel the imprint of his hands on her shoulders, so warm and strong. ‘So.’ She turned to him with a quick smile, a brisk look. ‘Have you eaten? I can make you something.’
He looked as if he was about to refuse, and then he shrugged. ‘Why not? I’ll go change while you cook.’
‘What would you like to eat?’
Another shrug as he turned away. ‘Whatever you make will be fine.’
