The Italian Surgeon's Secret Baby. Sue MacKay

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       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN? Double-booked my room?’ Only the twelve-month-old in Elene Lowe’s arms kept her from crumpling to a heap on the garish red carpet. Landing in a tangle of arms and legs would only exacerbate their distraught mood, and give the receptionist reason to be happy she had missed out on a room. Missed out? Elene slapped the printout of her confirmation lying on the counter. ‘Booked and paid for. Six weeks ago. I am not going anywhere else.’ If only her voice held the conviction required to back that statement, but she was all out of strength and energy. ‘I need this room.’

      ‘I understand, signora.’ A quick glance at Elene’s ring finger had the receptionist changing tack. ‘Signorina, I’m sorry, sometimes mistakes are made. The other people who booked and paid for the room arrived three hours ago and have signed in. We cannot ask them to leave now.’

      ‘Yet you can ask me to go away.’ Elene’s hand tightened around her cherished bundle. All she wanted was to get Aimee settled so they both could fall asleep for hours. ‘What am I supposed to do?’

      Aimee began kicking her feet, a precursor to waking up. Long overdue. She’d woken when they’d disembarked at Naples International Airport, and instantly fell asleep again once in the taxi that brought them down to Sorrento, an expense well worth the money after more than thirty-four hours travelling from Wellington.

      The receptionist seemed particularly interested in her fingernails as she muttered, ‘There are no hotel rooms available in town. I know this from other people coming here looking for accommodation.’

      Full of good news, wasn’t she? ‘I have to find somewhere.’ Careful. Don’t let the anger out. ‘Can you suggest somewhere close by? Another town? My d-daughter.’ She still tripped over that word. ‘She’s tired after a long journey and I need to settle her.’

      ‘Sì, I understand, signorina. I will try the hostels, though you might have to share a room with other women.’ The girl was already picking up the phone.

      Hostels? As in backpackers’ accommodation? With a toddler? Oh, that would be absolutely wonderful for everyone. Then again, what choice did she have? Sleeping outside the train station wouldn’t be a good look; it’d probably scar Aimee for ever, and it would be a negative addition to the pros and cons list a certain doctor would no doubt draw up when he learned why they were here.

      A high-pitched shriek reverberated in Elene’s ear. Little legs kicked and hands pummelled her back and chest. Aimee had had enough.

      ‘Shh.’ Elene kissed her forehead. ‘Shh, we’re nearly there, sweetheart.’ Lying to her girl was not good, but some people out there reckoned positive thoughts brought positive results. Lifting the writhing body above her head, she stared up and found a smile. ‘Aimee, Aimee, wee, wee, wee.’ Wonderful, even her singsong voice was off-key.

      Another shriek bounced off the walls. Tears dripped down Aimee’s red, scrunched-up face.

      ‘Oh, baby, I know.’ It was hard not to join in the crying. Digging into the backpack lying at her feet, she found the bottle of milk and tried to placate Aimee, but it was cold, and only achieved raising the noise level to extreme. Anyone would think she was murdering her little girl. Elene’s heart swelled for this trusting little soul. None of this was her fault.

      The receptionist had turned her back on them and was talking rapidly into the phone. Finding a bed in a hostel wasn’t sounding promising either.

      A bitter gust of breath crossed Elene’s bottom lip. There was no avoiding it. She was going to have to front up early, unprepared, and on the back foot right from the start. Face it—she would never be prepared, didn’t possess the elegance and sophistication required to look Mattia Ricco squarely in the eye as an equal, but she did have right on her side. And the backing of a loving, caring family in New Zealand. If only they were here. Except she had herself to blame for that one, having turned down every offer from both sisters and her mother to accompany her on this life-changing trip.

      She tapped the counter. ‘Mi scusi—taxi?’

       No, be strong.

      ‘Please call me a taxi.’ This time her voice wasn’t a whisper.

      The receptionist turned to point outside the front entrance. ‘Dietro l’angolo.’

      ‘Grazie.’ If only she had the energy to get around the corner.

      ‘Ma-ma-ma-ma.’ Aimee’s tiny fist banged Elene’s shoulder and the bottle went flying, spraying a stream of white droplets over Elene’s crumpled shirt and down to the carpet.

      ‘Yes, baby girl, you’re right. I need to get a grip.’ She looked across to the receptionist with an apology. ‘Excuse me.’ Why hadn’t she booked a hotel room in Naples for the night? Back in New Zealand, it had seemed such a good idea to get to Sorrento and settle in, catch up on sleep before tracking down her adversary. They hadn’t stopped any longer in the places they’d landed on this endless journey than it took to catch the next flight because, back in the comfort of her cottage in Wellington, getting to the end and holing up until fit and ready for the upcoming confrontation had seemed the best way to go.

      The receptionist came around the desk and picked up the bottle. ‘Come on. I’ll help you get a taxi. Where do you want to go?’

      ‘The СКАЧАТЬ