Heir To His Legacy: His Unexpected Legacy / His Instant Heir / One Night Heir. Chantelle Shaw

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       CHAPTER SEVEN

      WHEN KRISTEN OPENED her eyes she was puzzled to see a stream of bright sunlight filtering through the chink in the curtains. The house was quiet and, unusually, she was alone. Nico had a habit of climbing into her bed in the early hours and he would prod her awake and insist that she read him a story. He must still be asleep, she thought as she stretched, making the most of having the bed to herself.

      She looked at the clock and her heart did a painful somersault. It could not be half past nine!

      A frantic glance at her watch confirmed the worst. She leapt out of bed and cursed as she stubbed her toe on the bedside cabinet. Pulling on her dressing gown, she hurried along the hall and discovered that Nico’s room was empty. It was unlike him to go downstairs on his own, but maybe he’d grown bored of waiting for her to wake up, she thought guiltily. Hell, she would have to phone Steph and apologise for being late for work for the second day in a row. With a dozen thoughts running around her head, Kristen pushed open the sitting room door and felt a flicker of unease when she saw that no one was there.

      The blanket and pillow Sergio had used to make up a bed on the sofa were neatly folded, and Nico’s toy cars were scattered across the carpet. Trying to control her panic, she continued into the kitchen. The half-drunk mug of coffee on the table indicated that Sergio must have left in a hurry. In the silence, the ticking of the clock seemed unnaturally loud. Fear cramped in Kristen’s stomach. There had to be a reasonable explanation for Sergio and Nico’s disappearance, she told herself.

      Catching sight of the empty space where Nico’s Wellington boots were kept by the back door, she felt weak with relief. Maybe Sergio had taken him for a walk or to the park.

      The doorbell rang and she hurried to answer it, determined to impress on Sergio that he must not take Nico out without informing her first. But the man on the doorstep was a stranger—a short, swarthy man dressed in a suit, who introduced himself as Bernardo Valdi, Sergio’s lawyer.

      ‘Signor Castellano asked me to visit you.’ The lawyer spoke in English but with a strong Italian accent. ‘It might be better if we continue our discussion inside the house,’ he added gently when Kristen gasped.

      She stepped back to allow him to enter the hallway, suddenly finding that her legs felt like jelly. ‘Where is Sergio? And, more importantly, where is my son?’ she demanded in a trembling voice. Her fear returned, making her stomach churn as a terrible truth slowly dawned. ‘He’s taken him, hasn’t he? Sergio has taken Nico.’ Her voice rose. ‘He won’t get away with it. He has no right. I suppose he’s gone back to the Hotel Royale. I’m going to call the police.’

      ‘Calm yourself, signorina,’ the lawyer said in a quietly authoritative voice. ‘Signor Castellano has been granted an emergency custody order of his son.’

      ‘Emergency...’ Kristen stared at the lawyer dazedly, wondering, hoping that this was all a horrible nightmare. ‘On what grounds?’ she whispered.

      ‘The signor was concerned for the child’s welfare after he saw bruises on him.’

      ‘Dear God! He thinks I hurt Nico?’ Nausea threatened to overwhelm her. ‘I have to see Sergio and explain.’ She stumbled down the hall. ‘I’ll get dressed and go straight to the hotel.’

      ‘They are not there, signorina. Signor Castellano flew to Sicily on his private jet an hour ago, and he has taken his son with him.’ Bernardo Valdi gave an exclamation as he reached Kristen’s side just in time to catch her as her knees sagged.

      * * *

      The taxi had turned off the main highway running from the airport at Catania to the coastal town of Taormina, and was now heading along narrow roads leading to the Castellano estate. Kristen stared out of the window at the breathtaking Sicilian countryside and felt an ache in her heart. Everywhere was unchanged and familiar, as if time had stood still for the past four years. Farmhouses and small villages dotted the landscape. In early summer the fields were still green but would turn to gold as the crops ripened, and on the far horizon Mount Etna’s peak still wore a snowy mantle. The great volcano was sleeping today and only a thin stream of white smoke drifted from its summit into the blue sky.

      As they passed a vast olive grove, Kristen’s tension increased. She recognised the area and knew that the gates of the Castellano estate were around the next bend. She also knew that the gatehouse was manned by security guards twenty-four hours a day and visitors were strictly vetted before being allowed to enter.

      Bernardo Valdi’s visit had left her distraught and utterly determined to find her son. It had been easy enough to book a seat on the first available flight to Sicily, but as the taxi drew nearer to the estate she had no plan of action in the likely event that Sergio would refuse to allow her to see Nico. Her nerves jangled as the taxi stopped in front of a set of huge iron gates and a security guard approached. She fully expected to be turned away when the guard spoke on his mobile phone and relayed her name to someone at the house but, to her surprise and relief, he stepped back and waved the car through the electronic gates as they swung open.

      The gravel driveway continued for a quarter of a mile before it forked into three separate roads. One led to the main house, La Casa Bianca, where Kristen assumed Sergio’s father Tito still lived. Another road disappeared into a pine forest, and in the distance the turrets of a castle—which had been built in the thirteenth century by a Sicilian nobleman and ancestor of the current Castellano family—were just visible above the tree tops. Four years ago, Sergio’s brother Salvatore and his beautiful wife Adriana had lived at the castle with their daughter, Kristen recalled.

      The taxi took the third road, which wound through an orange grove and skirted a turquoise lake before the terracotta-coloured walls of a large, elegant villa came into view. Casa Camelia held so many memories. Her mind flew back to the first time Sergio had invited her to his home. They had eaten dinner on the terrace overlooking the garden and later he had carried her upstairs to his bedroom and made love to her. It had been her first time, and she had sensed that Sergio had been shocked when he’d discovered she was a virgin. But he had been so gentle, Kristen remembered. The pain of his possession had been fleeting, and СКАЧАТЬ