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Sergio nodded towards the sofa. ‘In that case, you had better sit down.’
Sitting seemed the safest option when her legs felt like jelly. Kristen sat, and immediately sank into the soft cushions. She tensed when he sat down next to her and stretched his long legs out in front of him. He extended his arm along the back of the sofa and she couldn’t restrain the little quiver that ran down her spine as she imagined his long, tanned fingers stroking her exposed nape where her hair was swept up into a chignon.
An awkward silence fell until he said abruptly, ‘So, what did you want to talk to me about?’
Kristen’s heart missed a beat and, to steady her nerves, she took another gulp of champagne.
‘I...’ While she was searching for the right words she made the mistake of looking at him, and whatever she had been about to say died on her tongue when she discovered that he was looking at her in a way that convinced her he was remembering her naked. The bold glitter in his eyes was inappropriate and outrageous, but the damning heat in her breasts as they swelled and strained against her suddenly too-tight bra was even more shocking.
‘As you probably know, the Castellano Group owns many hotels around the world,’ Sergio was saying. ‘Staff issues would normally be dealt with by the Hotel Royale’s manager, but I will try to be of help.’ He frowned. ‘I admit I am puzzled to find you working as a waitress, Kristen. As I recall, you left me to return to university and finish your studies.’
For a few seconds Kristen stared at him blankly, before realisation dawned that he had mistaken her for a waitress. She glanced down at the plain black skirt she had bought to wear to her mother’s funeral. As far as Sergio was aware, there was no other reason why she would have been at his private party.
He made the past sound so black and white, she thought bitterly. It was true she had left him to go back to university, but only because he had made it clear that in the long-term there was no place for her in his life. His offer for her to be his temporary mistress had not been enough to persuade her to give up everything she had worked for.
She darted a glance at his hard-boned face. There was no point in raking over the cold embers of their relationship. Everything had been said four years ago. Sergio had wanted her, but only on his terms. As much as she had loved him, she had been angry at his refusal to make compromises and ultimately his intransigence had been proof that he had not cared about her.
Sitting beside Kristen, Sergio inhaled the light floral fragrance of her perfume and he felt a sharp stab of desire. He tried to remind himself of the reason he had brought her to his suite. She owed him an explanation for the fiasco in the function room and he was determined to discover the reason she had interrupted the party. But, as he glanced at her and their eyes met, he was finding it hard to think about anything other than the fact that she was even more desirable than she had been four years ago.
Kristen stiffened when Sergio stretched out his hand and brushed a stray tendril of hair off her cheek.
‘You are even more beautiful than I remember.’ His deep voice caressed her senses like rough velvet. ‘Your eyes are the bright blue of a summer sky and your hair is the colour of ripe corn.’
From any other man the statement would have sounded corny, but Sergio’s sexy accent turned the words to poetry. It would be too easy to drown in the molten warmth of his eyes, to fall beneath his spell. Kristen trembled with anger, yet she could not deny the savage, shameful excitement that shot through her. At the party Sergio had been about to announce his engagement to another woman. How dared he now turn his effortless charm on her?
Determined to appear composed, even though she felt anything but, she finished her champagne and hoped he didn’t notice her hand was shaking as she placed her glass on the coffee table. ‘I should leave,’ she said curtly. ‘I’m sure Miss Denholm would be devastated if she knew you had invited me into your suite to...to...’
‘To what, cara?’ he drawled. ‘You asked to speak to me and I simply agreed to your request.’
‘You were flirting with me,’ she snapped, stung by the amusement in his voice. ‘You had no right to call me beautiful.’
‘Why not, when it’s the truth?’
Sergio stared at the pulse jerking at the base of Kristen’s throat before returning to linger on her mouth, and watched as she moistened her lower lip with the tip of her tongue. The anger he had felt earlier had been replaced with a primitive desire he could not control. She was as tightly wound as a coiled spring and he could almost taste the sexual awareness in the air. Four years was a long time and he had had plenty of other women since Kristen. But none had made his gut twist with raw need like she had done. Like she still did.
His senses were so finely tuned to her that he knew she was going to jump up from the sofa and, before she had time to move, he caught hold of her wrist and forced her to remain seated.
‘Let go of me!’ She was breathing hard, drawing his eyes to the thrust of her breasts beneath her high-necked blouse. There was something very tantalising about the row of tiny buttons that were fastened right up to her throat. He would never have the patience to unfasten each one, Sergio thought, sexual hunger corkscrewing through him as a memory came into his mind of her small, pale breasts with their rosy tips.
‘You are despicable,’ Kristen told him hotly. ‘You’re meant to be hosting a party to celebrate your engagement to a beautiful debutante.’
In truth, Kristen had forgotten about the party, but now guilt joined the gamut of emotions churning inside her. She knew full well that Sergio’s emotions were a barren wasteland, but presumably Felicity Denholm was under the illusion that he cared for her. ‘That poor woman...’
‘I’d save your sympathy if I were you,’ Sergio said drily. ‘Don’t believe everything you read in the gutter press. The engagement story was pure fabrication.’
Kristen swallowed. ‘You mean you’re not going to marry Lady Felicity?’
‘You know my feelings about marriage, cara.’
Oh yes, Kristen knew. He had voiced his opinion of marriage loud and clear when they had been together, which had made his decision to marry a Sicilian woman with almost indecent haste after they had broken up all the more hurtful. She closed her eyes against the image in her mind of Sergio and his beautiful dark-haired fiancée. When she had seen the photograph of them in a magazine a few months after she had left Sicily, she had felt sick to her stomach.
Something fluttered against her cheek and she lifted her lashes to find Sergio’s face so close to her that she could see the tiny lines fanning around his eyes. The brush of his fingertips across her skin was as soft as gossamer yet she felt as though his touch had branded her.
‘What is the real reason you sought my attention tonight?’
Sergio was aware that his voice was not quite steady, but the shock of Kristen’s appearance was having a strong effect on him. In the ballroom he had been conscious of a prickling sensation on the back of his neck as he’d been about to address the party guests. He had felt an inexplicable sense of anticipation as he had scanned the room, but he hadn’t noticed Kristen until she had spoken.
‘First you interrupted the party and then you ran away from me, knowing, I am sure, that I would follow.’
This was the moment to tell him about Nico. Only the words were trapped in her throat, as if some primitive instinct she did not understand warned her to keep her son’s existence a secret. It was not a conscious decision. At that moment Kristen was incapable of logical thought. She felt light-headed, and it belatedly occurred to her that she had been too on edge about meeting Sergio to eat any dinner. Drinking a glass of champagne on an empty stomach had been foolish. It must be the effect of the alcohol that was making her heart race, she told herself. The dizzy sensation had nothing to do with the fact that Sergio had lowered his head so that she could feel his warm breath whisper across her lips.
‘Was this the reason you wanted to see me, mia bella?’ he demanded.
Her denial died on her lips, or rather it was crushed beneath Sergio’s lips as he slanted his mouth over hers and claimed her with the arrogance of a tribal chieftain intent on proving his dominance.
The kiss was hot and hungry, demanding a response from Kristen that, heaven help her, she could not deny, although at first she tried. Her common sense made a last ditch attempt to pull her back from the brink of insanity and gave her the strength of will to clamp her lips together while she tried to push him away. But he was too strong for her to fight him when the ache in her heart was so desperate to be healed.
Sergio traced the determined line of her lips with his tongue, tempting her, teasing her until her lips were no longer firm but soft and pliant. Her breath escaped on a soft gasp as she opened her mouth for him, and he made a gruff sound of pleasure that tugged on her heart. She had never been able to resist him, Kristen acknowledged ruefully. Four years ago she had sensed the loneliness inside him that he took such care to hide and she had responded to it as she did now, with tenderness as well as passion.
Sensing Kristen’s capitulation, Sergio gave a growl of triumph. But suddenly they were no longer locked in a battle of wills as the tenor of the kiss subtly altered and became deeper and more intense. The empty years melted away, leaving a scorching desire that had never been doused. When he finally lifted his head, he stared down at her lips—crushed like rose petals after a rain storm—and his eyes glittered.
‘For four years you have been in my blood.’
His words sounded almost like an accusation and snapped Kristen back to reality.
‘Even while you were married?’ she said bitterly. ‘If so, then you betrayed your wife as well as me.’ A sickening thought struck her. ‘Are you still married?’
His expression was unreadable. ‘No.’
He offered no explanation of why his first marriage had ended. It was none of her business, Kristen reminded herself. It had been over between her and Sergio a long time ago and it was time to let go of the past. She bitterly regretted coming to his hotel and she had changed her mind about asking him for financial help. Nico was her responsibility.
‘You look tired,’ he murmured. ‘I hope you are not working too hard at the hotel?’
The unexpected softness of Sergio’s tone caught Kristen unprepared, and her eyes flew to his face. She flushed when she realised that he still believed she was employed as a waitress at his hotel, but the truth was impossible to explain when she was drowning in his midnight-dark gaze.
She snatched a shallow breath as he lifted his hand and released the clasp that secured her chignon so that her heavy mass of hair uncoiled to midway down her back.
‘I’m glad you did not cut it,’ Sergio murmured, threading his fingers through the curtain of gold silk.
No way would she admit that she had kept her long hair because he had loved it. It had been easier for Kristen to assure herself that she eschewed having a more complicated style because she could not afford expensive trips to a hair salon.
She tore her eyes from him. ‘I should go.’ Her composure was balanced on a knife-edge. So why didn’t she stand up and walk over to the door? He was still holding her wrist, not tightly, but the rhythmic brush of his thumb pad over her pulse point was seductive, heating her skin, her blood, her desire.
‘It’s still there, isn’t it, cara?’ His husky voice scraped across her sensitive nerve-endings. ‘All it took was one look across a crowded room and the fire burned for both of us.’
It had been the same the very first time he had seen her on the private beach belonging to the Castellano estate, Sergio remembered. He had been furious when he had spotted a trespasser, but when he had caught up with the young woman his anger had died. With her peaches and cream complexion, corn-gold hair and eyes as blue as the sky, she had reminded him of an exquisite doll. But then she had smiled and he had seen that she was a living, breathing, beautiful woman.
She was even more beautiful now, he acknowledged. But the faint purple smudges beneath her eyes gave her a vulnerable air that filled him with irrational anger. If she had remained as his mistress in Sicily he would have ensured that she was financially secure when he had tired of her. Instead she had chosen her independence, but it had not got her far if her cheaply made clothes were anything to go by. She would look stunning in beautifully designed clothes that flattered her slender figure. In his mind he pictured her wearing silk dresses and lace negligees that would glide over her satiny skin as he undressed her.
Why not rekindle the flame? he asked himself. It was not his usual practice to revisit the past. In his experience, by the time an affair ended it was as stale as old toast and nothing could revive his interest. But his interest in Kristen had never completely faded. The sizzling chemistry between them was so hot it was in danger of combusting and proved that there was unfinished business between them.
Kristen was perched on the very edge of the sofa, as tense and watchful as a nervous gazelle poised to flee. But she had not pulled her wrist from his grasp, and when he glanced at her she swept her long lashes down a fraction too late to hide the hunger in her eyes.
‘Tesoro...’ he murmured.
‘Don’t!’ The endearment felt like an arrow through Kristen’s heart. She jerked to her feet but stumbled on her high heels and fell against Sergio as he leapt up and caught her in his arms. ‘Let me go.’ It was a cry from her soul, but he ignored the husky plea and swept her against him, tangling one hand in her hair as he lowered his head and captured her soft, tremulous mouth.
His second kiss was deeper and sweeter than the first, drugging Kristen’s senses and breaking through her defences so that she sagged against him while he worked his magic. She could hear her blood thundering in her ears, and when she laid her hands on his chest she could feel his heart beating with the same frantic rhythm as her own. The realisation that she had such a strong effect on him was somehow comforting, and with a low moan she slid her hands to his shoulders and kissed him with all the wild passion that had been locked inside her since they had parted.
This was madness. Kristen’s mind whirled as the walls of the room spun when Sergio lifted her into his arms. She knew she should stop him, especially when she opened her eyes and discovered that he had carried her into his bedroom. The sight of a vast bed draped with a black satin bedspread should have rung alarm bells in her head. But when he sank down onto the mattress, still cradling her in his arms, and sought her mouth once more, it seemed so right and so natural to part her lips and allow his tongue to probe between them in an erotic exploration that stole her breath.
How many nights had she dreamed of Sergio making love to her? Kristen wasn’t sure if this was really happening. It seemed impossible that her most intimate fantasies were coming true, but as his mouth plundered her lips, demanding her ever more passionate response, everything faded and there was just this man and this moment in time when the universe stopped.
CHAPTER THREE
‘LA MIA BELLA Kristen!’ Sergio murmured huskily.
The unexpected tenderness in his voice drove the lingering doubts from Kristen’s mind. He had called her his beautiful Kristen and the fire in his eyes, the hard glitter of sexual need that he made no attempt to hide, made her feel beautiful. Caught up in a dream world, he was the only reality and she clung to him, curling her arms around his neck to prevent him from lifting his mouth from hers. His dark hair felt like silk as she shaped his skull with her fingertips, and when she moved her hand to his jaw the faint shadow of growth felt abrasive against her palm.
His hands were equally busy tracing restlessly over her arms, shoulders, the length of her spine, as if he was reacquainting himself with her body by touch. When he stroked his fingertips lightly across her breasts the sensation was so intense that she could not hold back a soft cry of pleasure. It had been so long since she had felt the sweet stirring of sexual desire but now it coursed through her veins, heating her blood so that her cheeks grew flushed and she felt boneless and utterly wanton.
Somehow, without realising that they had moved, Kristen found herself lying flat on her back and Sergio was tugging at the buttons on her blouse.
He cursed. ‘The patience of a saint is required to undo these damned things. And I have never professed to piety,’ he growled as he gripped the hem of her blouse and pushed it up to her neck.
Her bra was made of sheer, stretchy material that offered no resistance when Sergio tugged the cups down to expose her naked breasts. As far as Kristen was concerned her small breasts had never been her best feature, but his breath hissed between his teeth as he stared down at her. ‘Your body is perfetto,’ he said thickly. He touched her nipples delicately, almost reverently, creating starbursts of pleasure that grew stronger as he rolled the tight nubs between his fingers until they were as hard as pebbles.
A fiery path shot down Kristen’s body and unerringly found the heart of her femininity. She felt the moistness between her legs and squeezed her thighs together to try to ease the ache of need that throbbed insistently there. Her nipples felt hot and swollen from Sergio’s ministrations, and when he replaced his fingers with his mouth and laved each rosy peak with his tongue she gasped in delight at the magic he was creating, and felt herself sinking deeper into a swirling black vortex of pleasure.
He kissed her mouth again, a hard, fierce kiss that lacked his earlier tenderness as raw, primitive need took over and set its own urgent demands. Kristen recognised Sergio’s hunger and shared it. He was her man, her master, and her body was impatient to feel him inside her. Her fingers scrabbled with his shirt buttons and a tremor ran through her when she parted the silk and skimmed her hands over his naked torso, revelling in the feel of his satiny skin that gleamed olive-gold in the lamplight.
His chest was covered in whorls of dark hair that arrowed over his flat abdomen and disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers. She trailed her fingertips down his body and caught her breath when she felt the swollen length of his arousal. A memory of his powerful manhood driving into her was almost enough to make her come before he had even touched her intimately, and he must have sensed her desperation for he groaned something in a harsh tone as he caught hold of the hem of her skirt and shoved it up to her waist.
Kristen wished she was wearing prettier underwear rather than a pair of plain white briefs and nude-coloured tights that were surely a passion-killer. But of course she hadn’t dressed for her meeting with Sergio with seduction in mind. Reality made an unwelcome reappearance into her dream world, and she froze. Was she mad? For the past four years she had schooled herself to believe that she was over Sergio and he meant nothing to her, but within an hour of meeting him again she was lying half-naked on his bed and he was about to...
What he was about to do became very clear as he knelt above her and undid his zip. Kristen’s heart lodged in her throat as she watched him drag his trousers and boxers down his thighs to reveal his massive erection. His body was magnificent, a powerhouse of muscle and sinew that at this moment was primed to give and receive sexual pleasure.
Apprehension and doubt faded as she sank back into her dream world. Reality had no place here tonight. This was one stolen night of pleasure to repay her for all the lonely nights when she had huddled in bed, dry-eyed because the ache inside her went too deep for tears. Sergio’s desire for her, the proof of which was jabbing impatiently between her legs, made her feel like the carefree girl she had been when she had met him. Making love with him then had been uncomplicated—passion in its purest form—without the baggage of hopes and expectations that had come later.
‘Cara, it has to be now,’ Sergio groaned. Dull colour seared along his razor-edge cheekbones. ‘You unman me,’ he said harshly. ‘You are the only woman to ever make me lose control.’
Good, Kristen wanted to tell him. You are the only man, full stop. She did not want to think of him having sex with other women. It was easier not to think at all, just to feel, to touch and taste him and absorb the essence of his raw masculinity. When he peeled her tights and knickers down she lifted her hips to aid him and opened her legs as he stroked his finger over her opening before slipping it into her slick warmth. She was on fire instantly and gave a little moan as he moved his hand rhythmically and brought her swiftly to the brink.
‘Sergio...’ She whispered his name like a prayer, a plea, unable to deny her need. She wondered why he hesitated until she saw him slide a condom over his arousal, and then he moved over her and pushed her legs wider apart as he positioned himself and eased slowly forward so that the tip of his shaft pushed into her silken folds.
The sensation of him possessing her inch by incredible inch, and pausing to allow her unused muscles to stretch and accommodate him, was almost too good to bear. Kristen’s heart was pounding, not only with the pleasure he was inducing but with a fierce joy that went beyond the physical experience of making love with him. Her breath left her on a soft sigh that brought a smile to Sergio’s lips.
‘Do you like that, cara?’ He thrust deeply and gave an unsteady laugh when she gasped. ‘The best is yet to come, mia belleza.’
And so he proved as he slid his hands beneath her bottom and established a fast rhythm that drove her wild as each powerful thrust of his body took her inexorably higher towards the peak. She clung to him, digging her fingertips into his shoulders as the ride became faster and more urgent. Caught up in the maelstrom, her body moving in perfect accord with Sergio’s, Kristen lost the sense of them being two individual people, for they had become one unity, one body, one soul.
What was it about this woman that made having sex with her such an intensely sensual experience? Sergio wondered. He had had many mistresses, but only Kristen had ever answered a need deep inside him that he could not explain or define. One thing he did know was that she tested his self-control to its limits. This was not going to be his finest performance, he acknowledged ruefully. He could already feel the pressure building inside him, and he could hear his blood thundering in his ears as he fought against the tide of pleasure that threatened to drag him under.
He wanted it to be good for her. And somehow concentrating on her pleasure lessened the urgency of his own desire so that he was able to pace his strokes and maintain a steady rhythm of hard thrusts deep into her. Her breathless moans told him her orgasm was close and he clenched his jaw as he felt the first spasms rack her body. Suddenly she tensed and arched her hips and the soft cry she gave decimated his restraint. She was so beautiful with her rose-flushed face and her gold hair spread like a halo across the pillows. For a few seconds he glimpsed an unguarded expression in her eyes that shook him, but before he could question what he had seen her lashes drifted down as her body trembled in the throes of a shattering climax.
His own release was almost instantaneous and the power of his orgasm stunned him. His body shook as his seed pumped from him and his lungs burned as he dragged in oxygen. His limbs felt heavy as a delicious lassitude swept through him. Sergio could not remember ever feeling so relaxed. Kristen felt so warm and soft beneath him and he was reluctant to break the spell that held him captive.
The strident ringtone of his phone was a violent intrusion that shattered the peace. With a curse Sergio reached for his phone on the bedside table, intending to cut the call, but he frowned when he glanced at the caller display and saw that his brother was on the line. A call from home was unexpected and he could not ignore it.
‘Excuse me, cara. I have to take this,’ he murmured as with one hand he hauled his trousers back up and climbed off the bed.
Kristen watched Sergio walk out of the room, and only when he had closed the door behind him did she release her breath on a shuddering groan. The sleepy contentment that had swept through her in the aftermath of making love with him had disappeared and her limbs trembled uncontrollably as reaction set in.
Sickening shame churned in her stomach. She must have been out of her mind, she thought grimly. There was no excuse for her behaviour and no use blaming one glass of champagne for her loss of inhibition. The unpalatable truth was that she had been swept away on a tide of lust. But now she felt like a cheap tart and she couldn’t blame Sergio if he thought she was an easy lay. Her humiliation was compounded when she glanced down at her dishevelled clothes. Her skirt was bunched up around her waist to reveal her naked thighs.
Sitting up, she tugged her bra back into place and pulled her blouse down. Her breasts felt tender and when she slid off the bed the slight soreness between her legs was another cringing reminder of her stupidity. Her knickers and tights were lying on the carpet where Sergio had dropped them. Their passion had been so intense that he had not even taken the time to undress himself or her, and the sight of her discarded underwear emphasised how grubby the whole unedifying event now seemed.
Glancing at her watch, she was shocked to find that only an hour had passed since she had run away from the party. When Sergio had taken her to bed she had lost all sense of time, but the reality was that they had had a quickie, and now, in a situation that was painfully familiar, he had abandoned her and was on his phone, no doubt discussing business.
Sergio’s insistence on putting work before everything else, including their relationship, had come between them four years ago and was one reason why Kristen had walked away from him. Nothing had changed, she thought, choking back a bitter laugh that was dangerously close to a sob. Did he expect her to simply lie here and wait for him to come back to the bedroom? If so, then he was going to be disappointed.
Her shoes were at the end of the bed where she had kicked them off. She hurriedly pulled on her knickers but shoved her tights into her handbag, not wanting to waste a second putting them on. To her huge relief, the sitting room was empty and Sergio’s voice came from another room which she guessed was a study. She glimpsed him through the half-open door, but he had his back to her and didn’t turn his head as she walked noiselessly across the thick carpet and let herself out of the suite.
* * *
‘I can’t say how much longer I’ll be staying in London. I’m not certain of my plans,’ Sergio told his brother, aware as he spoke that his meticulously organised schedule had just altered radically. ‘I’m sorry to hear that Tito is unwell, but it sounds like the situation is under control.’
‘This latest lung infection is an indication that age is catching up with Papà, and he is becoming frailer. But he is responding to the antibiotics and there is no need for you to rush back. Whoever this woman is, she must be quite something for you to have interrupted your schedule for her,’ Salvatore commented drily.
The image of Kristen spread half-naked across his bed slid into Sergio’s mind and he felt a tightening in his groin. But he had no intention of confiding to Salvatore that he’d just had the best sex of his life. ‘What makes you think it’s a woman?’
A sardonic laugh sounded down the phone. ‘With you it’s always a woman, Sergio.’
He would be the first to admit that he was no angel, Sergio acknowledged as he ended the call. He had a high sex drive and a low boredom threshold. Only one woman had warmed the coldness inside him but he was pretty sure that the reason Kristen had lingered in his mind for the past four years was because he had never found the same intense sexual compatibility with anyone else. Having sex with her again had proved that theory. Dio, he had been so hot for her that he had behaved like a rutting bull tonight, he thought grimly. There had been no finesse in the way he had made love to her, but next time he would take things slower and satisfy all her needs as well as his own.
He was not unduly surprised to find the bedroom was empty when he strolled in. He assumed that Kristen was in the bathroom, but when she did not reappear after five minutes and there were no sounds to indicate she was running a shower or bath he tried the door and discovered it was unlocked.
Where the hell was she? His stomach gave a sickening lurch of disappointment as it became clear that she had gone. His earlier good mood gave way to frustration. He couldn’t understand why she would take off without a word. Sergio raked his hand through his hair and dismissed an uncharacteristic flash of self-doubt. The sex had been as good for her as it had for him, of that he was certain. Just thinking about the little moans of pleasure she had made when she had come was having a predictable effect on his body.
But maybe, inconceivable though it was to him, she was shy and felt embarrassed that they had fallen into bed within minutes of seeing each other again. It hadn’t been something he had planned when he had invited her into his hotel suite, Sergio thought ruefully. But it wasn’t surprising when their passion for each other four years ago had been as scorching as a Sicilian summer. Now that Kristen had reappeared in his life he did not intend to let her go until his desire for her was utterly sated. And fortunately he would easily be able to find her. She was an employee at the hotel and her details would be on file.
Reassured that she could not slip away from him, he poured himself another glass of champagne and put a call through to the Hotel Royale’s manager requesting information on a waitress named Kristen Russell. Half an hour later, when it became clear that there had never been a woman of that name employed at the hotel, his ice-cold anger made the hapless manager more nervous than if he had given vent to his temper. And, after he had dismissed the man and was alone again, Sergio stared out at the London night sky with eyes that were hard and empty of emotion.
* * *
Monday morning brought rain and grey skies that ended the previous week’s promise that summer was on the way. The postman delivered a pile of bills which Kristen opened while she simultaneously ate a piece of toast, loaded the washing machine and packed Nico’s lunch box.
‘Do you want to take an apple or a banana to nursery?’ She sighed when he made no response. ‘Please choose, sweetheart. We must get going or I’ll be late for work.’
