Rumours: The One-Night Heirs: The Innocent's Secret Baby (Billionaires & One-Night Heirs) / Bound by the Sultan's Baby (Billionaires & One-Night Heirs) / Sicilian's Baby of Shame (Billionaires & One-Night Heirs). Carol Marinelli

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      She was with him, Raul realised—she was here to have breakfast with the obnoxious man who sat to his right.

      Pity.

      The blonde beauty walked past his table, and he could not help but notice the delicate row of buttons that ran from neck to hem on her dress. But he pointedly returned his attention to his computer screen rather than mentally undress her.

      That she was with someone rendered her of no interest to him in that way.

      Raul loathed cheats.

      Still, the morning scent of her was fresh and heady—a delicate cloud that reached Raul a few seconds after she had passed and lingered for a few moments more.

      ‘Good morning,’ she said as she took a seat, and unlike her companion’s the woman’s voice was pleasant.

      ‘Hmph.’

      Her greeting was barely acknowledged by the seated Englishman. Some people, Raul decided, simply did not know how to appreciate the finer things in life.

      And this lady was certainly amongst the finest.

      The waiter knew that too.

      He was there in an instant to lavish attention upon her and was appreciative of her efforts when she attempted to ask for Breakfast Tea in schoolgirl Italian, remembering her manners and adding a clumsy ‘per favour’.

      Such poor Italian would usually be responded to in English, in arrogant reprimand, and yet the waiter gave a nod. ‘Prego.’

      ‘I’ll have another coffee,’ the man said and then, before the waiter had even left, added rather loudly to his companion, ‘The service is terribly slow here—I’ve had nothing but trouble with the staff since the moment I arrived.’

      ‘Well, I think it’s excellent.’ Her voice was crisp and curt, instantly dismissing his findings. ‘I’ve found that a please and a thank-you work wonders—you really ought to try it, Maurice.’

      ‘What are your plans for today?’ he asked.

      ‘I’m hoping to do some sightseeing.’

      ‘Well, you need to shop—perhaps you should consider something a little less beige,’ Maurice added. ‘I asked the concierge and he recommended a hair and beauty salon a short distance from the hotel. I’ve booked you in for four.’

      ‘Excuse me?’

      Raul was about to close his laptop. His interest had waned the second he had realised she was with someone.

      Almost.

      But then the man spoke on.

      ‘We’re meeting Bastiano at six, and you want to be looking your best.’

      The sound of his nemesis’s name halted Raul and again the couple had his full attention—though not by a flicker did he betray his interest.

      ‘You’re meeting Bastiano at six,’ the blonde beauty responded. ‘I don’t see why I have to be there while you two discuss business.’

      ‘I’m not arguing about this. I expect you to be there at six.’

      Raul drained his espresso but made no move to stand. He wanted to know what they had to do with Bastiano—any inside knowledge on the man he most loathed was valuable.

      ‘I can’t make it,’ she said. ‘I’m meeting a friend tonight.’

      ‘Come off it!’ The awful man snorted. ‘We both know that you don’t have any friends.’

      It was a horrible statement to make, and Raul forgot to pretend to listen and actually turned his head to see her reaction. Most women Raul knew would crumble a little, but instead she gave a thin smile and a shrug.

      ‘Acquaintance, then. I really am busy tonight.’

      ‘Lydia, you will do what is right by the family.’

      Her name was Lydia.

      As Raul continued to look at her, perhaps sensing her conversation was being overheard, she glanced over and their eyes briefly met. He saw that they were china blue.

      His question as to the colour of her eyes was answered, but now Raul had so many more.

      She flicked her gaze away and the conversation was halted as the waiter brought their drinks.

      Raul made no move to leave.

      He wanted to know more.

      A family had come into the restaurant and were being seated close to them. The activity drowned out the words from the table beside him, revealing only hints of the conversation.

      ‘Some old convent…’ she said, and the small cup in his hand clattered just a little as it hit the saucer.

      Raul realised they were discussing the valley.

      ‘Well, that shows he’s used to old buildings,’ Maurice said. ‘Apparently it’s an inordinate success.’

      A baby that was being squeezed into an antique high chair started to wail, and Raul frowned in impatience as an older child loudly declared that he was hungry and he wanted chocolate milk.

      ‘Scusi…’ he called to the waiter, and with a mere couple of words more and a slight gesture of his hand in the family’s direction his displeasure was noted.

      Noted not just by the waiter—Lydia noted it too.

      In fact she had noticed him the moment the maître d’ had gestured to where her stepfather, Maurice, was seated.

      Even from a distance, even seated, the man’s beauty had been evident.

      There was something about him that had forced her attention as she had crossed the dining room.

      No one should look that good at eight in the morning.

      His black hair gleamed, and as she had approached Lydia had realised it was damp and he must have been in the shower around the same time as her.

      Such an odd thought.

      That rapidly turned into a filthy one.

      Her first with the recipient in the same room!

      She had looked away quickly as soon as she had seen that he was watching her approach.

      Her stomach had done a little somersault and her legs had requested of their owner that they might bypass Maurice and be seated with him.

      Such a ridiculous thought, for she knew him not at all.

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