A Baby Scandal in Italy, page 1
“You refuse to believe that I didn’t talk to a journalist, but I am supposed to accept your wild theory that Bertie is your father’s child?”
“It had to have been you who spoke to the press. I’m confident my theory will be proved right by the extended test.”
“I don’t care about the test. You say you have proof that you were on a business trip and couldn’t have been on the cruise ship, so I accept that Bertie is not your son. Why can’t we just leave it at that? Give me the passports, I’ll take Bertie and you will never hear from either of us again.”
Rafa shook his head. “Unfortunately it is not as easy as that. I don’t trust you.” He ignored her gasp of outrage. “Vieri Azioni was entrusted to me by my father, and I will do whatever it takes to save my position as joint chairman and CEO of my family’s company.” His grey eyes held her gaze. “I have an idea. I think we should announce that we are engaged.”
Once again, Ivy assumed that she had misheard or misunderstood him. “Engaged...to who?”
His brows lifted. “To each other, obviously.”
Chantelle Shaw lives on the Kent coast and thinks up her stories while walking on the beach. She has been married for over thirty years and has six children. Her love affair with reading and writing Harlequin stories began as a teenager, and her first book was published in 2006. She likes strong-willed, slightly unusual characters. Chantelle also loves gardening, walking and wine.
Books by Chantelle Shaw
Harlequin Presents
Proof of Their Forbidden Night
Her Wedding Night Negotiation
Housekeeper in the Headlines
The Italian’s Bargain for His Bride
Passionately Ever After…
Her Secret Royal Dilemma
Innocent Summer Brides
The Greek Wedding She Never Had
Nine Months to Tame the Tycoon
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
Chantelle Shaw
A Baby Scandal in Italy
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EPILOGUE
EXCERPT FROM THE COST OF CINDERELLA’S CONFESSION BY JULIA JAMES
CHAPTER ONE
THIS WAS THE big one. The contract that was guaranteed to show his detractors he was a worthy successor to his father. Rafa Vieri permitted himself a brief smile of satisfaction as he contemplated the business deal he was about to finalise that would cement Vieri Azioni’s position as the largest financial holding company in Europe.
He looked around at VA’s board members seated at the polished mahogany table. There was a palpable air of excitement and expectation in the boardroom. The white-haired man sitting opposite Rafa was Carlo Landini, who was the head of Italy’s most prestigious private bank, Banca Landini. Rafa had used his considerable charm and persuasive powers to convince Carlo to sell a controlling stake in his bank to Vieri Azioni. Banca Landini would continue to operate under its own executive management team, while its assets were protected, and Vieri Azioni would profit hugely from the sound investment.
A few of VA’s directors had been doubtful about Rafa’s suitability for the joint roles of chairman and CEO following the unexpected death of his father two months ago, pointing to his playboy reputation and the messy divorce from his ex-wife which had been played out in the public eye. Rafa had been a paragon of virtue lately in an effort to impress the board.
Just as importantly he had needed to show Carlo Landini that he’d given up the celebrity lifestyle he had led when he’d been a professional basketball player in America before returning to Italy eighteen months ago to utilise his MBA and work alongside his father at Vieri Azioni.
Rafa knew that Carlo had hoped to pass Banco Landini down to his only son—but Patrizio’s body had been found on his yacht in the Bahamas amid rumours that he’d died from an overdose of cocaine. The scandal had been hushed up, but Patrizio’s death had left Carlo Landini without a successor. Perhaps unsurprisingly, after the problems with his son, Carlo did not want a whiff of scandal to be associated with his family’s centuries-old bank.
Rafa called the meeting to order. ‘Are you ready to proceed?’ he asked Carlo.
The older man nodded. ‘I am ready to sign the deal. You have convinced me, Rafa, that Banca Landini will be safely and successfully managed by Vieri Azioni under your leadership.’
Carlo picked up a pen, but he paused with his hand poised above the document on the table in front of him when the boardroom door flew open.
What the hell? Rafa jerked his head towards the source of the disturbance and stared at the young woman who had burst into the room. His confusion quickly turned to anger. He had instructed his PA that the only reason for the meeting to be interrupted would be if the building were burning down.
The woman froze like a rabbit caught in car headlights when every pair of eyes in the boardroom focused on her. The most noticeable thing about her was her bright pink hair, which clashed violently with her orange tee shirt. Her jeans were ripped at the knees and, to complete the bizarre spectacle, she had a baby in a carrier strapped to her front. All that was visible of the child was a tuft of dark hair and two chubby legs poking out of the bottom of the carrier.
Memories of Lola as a baby flashed into Rafa’s mind and his gut twisted. He had been captivated from the moment he had held her in his arms. His princess, his little girl—or so he had believed until his lying, cheating ex-wife had blown his world apart. With a ruthlessness that had made him a champion on the basketball court, and more recently had earned him a reputation as a take-no-prisoners business tycoon, Rafa shoved his past back into a box marked ‘do not open’.
He stood up. ‘My apologies for the interruption,’ he said smoothly to Carlo Landini, disguising his frustration when the deal had been so close to completion.
Rafa’s usually unflappable personal assistant hurried into the room. ‘Miss Bennett, this is a private meeting. You must leave immediately.’ The PA spoke in English to the woman whose garish hair and clothes jarred in the room full of grey-suited businessmen.
‘Giulia, cosa sta succedendo?’ What is going on? Rafa demanded furiously.
‘I’m sorry.’ The PA sounded rattled. ‘I explained to Miss Bennett that you were unavailable to see her. Shall I call security?’
‘No. You can’t throw me out.’ The woman with the baby ran across the room and halted in front of Rafa. ‘Rafael Vieri, I’d like you to meet your son.’
* * *
Ivy heard a collective gasp of shock from around the room. She had hoped to speak to Bertie’s father in private, but she’d panicked at the prospect of being bundled out of the boardroom by a security guard and blurted out her announcement.
‘Is this some sort of joke?’ Rafael Vieri’s cold voice sent an ice cube slithering down Ivy’s spine. She had discovered, when she’d researched him on the Internet, that he was sometimes known as Rafa, and he was a former international basketball superstar and a notorious playboy.
‘It’s certainly not a joke.’ She was angry that he was acting as though he was shocked. After all, her sister had written and informed him that he was the father of her child, but he had not responded. Gemma hadn’t told Ivy much about the man she’d had a brief affair with, which had been odd, because they had always confided in each other. All Gemma had said was that Rafael Vieri was the CEO of a financial company in Rome called Vieri Azioni.
Ivy had felt apprehensive about how Rafa would react to her bringing Bertie to Italy. But what else could she have done, now that Gemma was dead? Grief clutched at her heart when she thought of her sister. Technically, they had been half-sisters, and shared the same father, but despite a ten-year age gap they’d always been close.
Gemma had been a confidante and best friend to Ivy after her parents had split up and her mum’s complicated love-life had meant she’d had little time for her daughter. Now Ivy was Bertie’s legal guardian and her final words to her sister had been a promise to take the baby to meet his father.
The receptionist behind the front desk had been dealing with someone else and hadn’t glanced at Ivy when she’d arrived at Vieri Azioni’s headquarters. But Rafa Vieri hadn’t been in the CEO’s office, and she’d been about to return to the lift when she’d heard voices from behind a door further along the corridor.
An elegant woman had emerged from the room and told her that Signor Vieri was busy. Ivy had recognised her voice as the woman she’d spoken to on the phone when she had called to try to make an appointment with Rafa. ‘I remember I spoke to you a few days ago, Miss Bennett,’ his PA had said. ‘But you refused to say why you wanted to see Signor Vieri.’
At that moment, the PA’s phone had rung, and while she’d been distracted Ivy had seized her chance and darted into the boardroom.
Now she felt uncomfortable that she was the focus of curiosity from everyone in the room, although only one man held her attention. Rafa Vieri was looking at her as though he could not quite believe what he was seeing. It was her pink hair , Ivy supposed. On a dismal, wet day in England, she’d impulsively dyed her hair bubblegum-pink to cheer herself up.
She flushed when she saw him glance at her old jeans and trainers. Three months ago her life had changed irredeemably when she’d become responsible for her baby half-nephew, and since then she hadn’t had the time or energy to think about herself. Every morning she pulled on her jeans and got on with the job of caring for Bertie, and most nights she cried herself to sleep grieving for Gemma.
Rafa’s online profile stated that he was six-foot-four. His height hadn’t been exceptional when he’d played in the American professional basketball league, where some of the players were seven feet tall, but he towered over Ivy, and she had to tilt her head to look at his face. Photos of him on social media did not do justice to his stunningly handsome features. In those pictures, his mouth had invariably been curved in a wickedly sexy smile, and the gleam of sensual promise in his grey eyes had made Ivy understand why Gemma had been swept off her feet by him.
In the flesh, Rafa was even more gorgeous, more compelling, more everything, despite the fact that he was not smiling and his eyes were as hard and uncompromising as steel. Ivy’s body responded to the irresistible pull of his magnetism. Her skin felt too tight, and heat radiated from her central core in a surge of sexual awareness that confused and horrified her. How could she be attracted to the father of her dead sister’s baby? It was wrong!
She exhaled slowly when Rafa released her from his penetrating stare. He looked across the room as an older man, who had been sitting at the table, stood up.
‘Rafa, what is the meaning of this interruption? The boardroom is hardly the place to conduct your private affairs. I may have to reconsider our deal.’
‘Once again, please accept my apologies for the disturbance, Carlo,’ Rafa said smoothly. ‘We will take a short break for refreshments.’
He put his hand on Ivy’s arm and she felt a zing of electricity shoot through her. ‘Come with me,’ he ordered curtly, steering her towards the door. He paused next to his PA and said in a low voice, ‘Giulia, tell the caterers to serve the champagne and canapés while I deal with this situation.’
Ivy’s nerves jangled as she walked beside Rafa along the corridor. His initial reaction to his baby son had not been promising, but she needed his help. The eviction notice she’d received from her landlord, giving her two weeks to move out of her flat, had prompted her to set aside her shock and grief over Gemma and take Bertie to his father. She had used the last of her savings to pay for a budget flight to Rome and had booked to stay for two nights at the cheapest hotel she could find.
‘In here,’ Rafa growled as he ushered her into his office. It was a masculine room, all marble and chrome with a black, glass-topped desk set at an angle in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a panoramic view across Rome. Despite the air-conditioning in the building, sweat trickled down Ivy’s spine and her tee shirt was sticking to her. It had been a twenty-minute walk from her hotel to Vieri Azioni’s headquarters and Bertie was heavy. The straps of the baby carrier were digging into her shoulders. Bertie was stirring and soon he would want another feed. Ivy had packed formula milk, nappies, wipes and all the other paraphernalia necessary for a four-month-old infant in her backpack.
Tenderness swamped her when she looked down at Bertie. She loved her half-sister’s baby with all her heart and was determined to do her best for him, but she had struggled without any family to help her. Gemma’s mother had died many years ago. Their father was divorced from Ivy’s mum and had a new family. He had only seen Bertie once and wasn’t interested in his grandson. The same was true of Ivy’s mother, who had not been close to her stepdaughter and was not involved with Gemma’s baby.
Rafa Vieri followed Ivy into his office and slammed the door shut. He looked grimly forbidding, and her heart sank, knowing that she must try to persuade him to acknowledge Bertie as his son. She lifted her hand to push her hair off her face and caught sight of the tiny butterfly tattoo on the inside of her wrist.
Gemma had been fascinated by butterflies and their symbolism of hope when they emerged from a cocoon and were free to fly away. When Ivy had been diagnosed with cancer as a teenager, Gemma had hung a butterfly mobile above her bed in the hospital and had told her to imagine the future when she was free from the illness that ravaged her body. The butterfly tattoo was in memory of her sister. Ivy took a deep breath, and a sense of calm came over her.
* * *
Rafa scowled at the woman with crazy hair whose untimely interruption threatened one of the most important deals of his life. She was making crooning noises to the baby as she lifted him out of the carrier. If it hadn’t been for the child, Rafa would have instructed a member of his staff to escort Miss Bennett out of the building.
The baby let out a wail and the sound evoked more poignant memories for Rafa. He remembered the nights he’d spent walking up and down the nursery, rocking Lola in his arms to try to soothe her to sleep. Once he’d believed he had everything he could wish for, but his happiness had been an illusion built on Tiffany’s deception. After the divorce, he had vowed never to trust any woman. And he was adamant that he did not want a child. When he’d discovered that Lola was not his daughter, he’d felt as though his heart had been ripped out, and he could not bear to experience that intensity of pain again.
Rafa strode round his desk and threw himself down onto the chair. He was desperate to find a semblance of normality in a situation that felt increasingly like the implausible plot line of one of the very bad films his ex-wife had starred in.
‘Are you an actress? Is this a stunt?’ Maybe it was someone’s idea of a joke. Or could a business rival have paid Miss Bennett to sabotage the deal-signing meeting with Carlo Landini?
Her eyes widened. Despite himself, Rafa noticed that her eyes were startlingly beautiful, huge and dark brown, fringed by impossibly long lashes.
‘I’m not an actress. I used to be a show dancer on a cruise ship, but I can’t do that job now I have Bertie.’
She shrugged off her backpack and dumped it on Rafa’s desk. ‘I need to prepare his milk,’ she explained as she rummaged in the bag and took out a feeding bottle and a carton of ready-mixed infant formula. Holding the grizzling baby against her shoulder, she deftly unscrewed the lid on the carton with her free hand and tipped the formula milk into the bottle.
‘I’m Ivy Bennett. Gemma’s sister.’ She looked expectantly at Rafa. ‘You must remember her. She wrote to you four months ago.’
‘I don’t know anyone called Gemma. More to the point, I have never met you before,’ he drawled as he moved his gaze over her. He had intended to sound dismissive, but his voice was annoyingly husky. Ivy had taken off the baby carrier, and he could not help noticing how her tee shirt clung to her high, firm breasts.
He leaned back in his chair and studied her. She was petite and slim, and her tight-fitting jeans moulded her narrow hips. Her hair had been cut into short, wispy layers framing a heart-shaped face. She was nothing like the glamorous supermodel types Rafa went for, but there was something about her elfin beauty that captured his attention. He wondered what her natural hair colour was. Probably mid-brown, the same as her eyelashes, he mused. His gaze lingered on the sensual fullness of her lips, and he felt an unexpected tug of desire.
Celibacy did not suit him, Rafa decided self-derisively. He assumed that going without sex the past couple of months was the reason for his unwarranted reaction to a fragile-looking girl with atrocious dress sense. He had ended an affair that had been going nowhere shortly before his father had suffered a fatal heart attack. Shock, grief and the responsibilities that went with his new role as the head of Vieri Azioni meant that he hadn’t had the time or inclination to dive back into the dating pool, and one-night stands no longer held the appeal they once had.
Ivy Bennett had said that she’d worked as a dancer and her toned figure was an indication that that, at least, was true. An image flashed into Rafa’s mind of her slender body beneath him, her small breasts pressed against his chest. He watched the rosy flush that appeared on her cheeks spread lower over her throat and décolletage, and silently cursed his libido which had inconveniently sprung to life.
