Sicilian's Baby Of Shame. Carol Marinelli

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       CHAPTER ONE

      SOME NIGHTS WERE HELL.

      ‘Bastiano!’

      He heard the familiar, syrupy call of his name and knew that he must be dreaming, for Maria was long dead.

      Unusually, he was alone in bed and as dawn sneaked over Rome, Bastiano fought to wake up.

      ‘Bastiano!’

      She called his name again.

      When he reached his hand down and felt that he wasn’t hard for her, it was a triumph, and Bastiano smiled a black smile as he silently told her she didn’t do it for him any more.

      Maria slapped his cheek.

      She wore his mother’s ring on her finger and he felt the cold metal as she delivered a stinging slap, one that had his hand move to his face for the wound was gaping. His cheek was sliced open and there was blood pouring between his fingers.

      Bastiano fought with himself even in sleep. He knew that he was dreaming, for the savage fight with Raul had happened at the graveyard; the wound to his cheek had come after Maria had been lowered to the ground.

      Everyone had said that it was Bastiano’s fault she was dead.

      And it was the reason that he was here, some fifteen years later—lying in one of the presidential suites at Rome’s Grande Lucia hotel.

      Raul Di Savo was considering its purchase, which meant that it had been placed on the top of Bastiano’s must-have list.

      Bastiano forced himself to wake up. He lay there in the darkness and glanced over at the hotel’s bedside clock. Reaching over, he switched off the alarm. He had no need for it. He would not be going back to sleep.

      Bastiano knew the reason that Maria was back in his dreams.

      Well, she had never really left them, but that dream had been so vivid and he put it down to the fact that he and Raul were staying at the same hotel.

      He heard the soft knock at the main door to his suite and then the quiet attempt to wheel in his breakfast trolley.

      ‘Puzza!’

      Bastiano smiled when he heard the small curse as the maid knocked into something and knew from that one word that the maid was Sicilian.

      The door to the master bedroom had been left open but she quietly knocked again.

      ‘Entra,’ he said.

      Bastiano was more than used to room service. Not only was he considering the purchase of this hotel but he was the owner of several premium establishments of his own. He closed his eyes, indicating, as she came in, that he wanted no conversation.

      * * *

      Sophie could see that he had made no move to sit up so she did not offer him a ‘Good morning’.

      The rules were very specific at the Grande Lucia and the staff were well trained.

      Sophie loved her job, and though she did not usually do the breakfast deliveries she had been asked to do this one before her night shift ended. She had been called in to work late last night and so had missed the handover where the staff were told of any important guests, their idiosyncrasies and specific requests. Sophie, of course, knew that any guest staying in one of the presidential suites was an important one, and she had checked his name on his breakfast order.

      Signor Bastiano Conti.

      Being as quiet as she could, Sophie opened some heavy drapes and the shutters behind them so that the guest, when he sat up, would be greeted by the stunning view of Rome in all her morning glory.

      And what a glorious day it was turning out to be!

      It was as if the theatre curtains were opening on a beautifully set stage, Sophie thought.

      There were a few clouds high in the sky that would soon burn off, for it was going to be a warm summer’s day. The Colosseum was picture-postcard perfect and its ancient beauty gave her goosebumps.

      Oh, it was a good day indeed for had she not made difficult choices and declined her family’s desire for her to marry Luigi, today would have been the eve of her first wedding anniversary.

      For a moment, Sophie forgot where she was and stood there simply taking in the view as she reflected on the past year. Yes, hard choices had been made but she was completely sure that they had been the right ones.

      Oh, she was curious about men, of course she was, and though her mother would never understand it, she could readily separate that thought from marriage.

      When she had tried to picture her wedding night and sleeping with Luigi, Sophie’s blood had run cold. She had been out with a couple of younger men during her time in Rome but Luigi’s wet, whiskery kisses had left their legacy and, though curious, Sophie had found herself ducking her head from any male advances.

      Her parents imagined she was living a sinful life СКАЧАТЬ