her life unencumbered.’
‘Happily your opinion doesn’t count,’ Luciano fielded.
‘It soon will. She’s the woman I intend to marry.’
Luciano almost rolled his eyes at the idea of Jemima, with her decided preference for the wilder side of life, anchored by a wedding ring to the highly conservative male in front of him, but his lean, dark features remained unrevealing. ‘Congratulations,’ he responded smoothly.
The information he had already requested on Steven Warrington was finally rolling up on Luciano’s computer screen as the younger man departed. Had Luciano the patience, he would have received that information before agreeing to see Warrington but curiosity had driven Luciano to depart from his habitual caution. So, Steven was an ex and there was a very, very long list of exes in Jemima’s chequered past. Did she leave them all longing for a raunchy repeat? Although not the ones whose wallets she had lifted, Luciano conceded, while wondering why that aspect of her nature didn’t bother him more. She was a thief. Why did he want to bed her? He had never knowingly wanted to bed a deceitful woman before. Having grown up in the shadows of a crime-fuelled household, he was not drawn to the dark side in any way. Unlike his late father he was temperate and controlled.
Maybe he had been too ascetic in his habits for too long, he reasoned in frustration, because he was still struggling to understand the key to Jemima Barber’s appeal. Even so, he wanted her and on those grounds he would have her simply because remarkably few things in life gave Luciano genuine pleasure. Steven Warrington’s self-righteousness amused him. Jemima had no plans to marry Steven. He was quite sure of that.
But somehow that didn’t eradicate an almost overwhelming temptation to smash a fist through Steven’s blindingly white teeth. Luciano didn’t comprehend the urge and he suppressed it, thoroughly off-balanced by that sudden lurch towards violence. He had felt it before, of course he had, with his very genes drenched in the violence and corruption of his forebears. But never ever had he had that experience where a woman was concerned and that awareness unsettled him. One night. He would have her in his bed for only one night, he assured himself grimly.
In any case, he reflected thoughtfully, it was not as though he could be at any real risk with Jemima, because Luciano didn’t do emotional connections with anyone. His son would be the sole exception to that rule. Loving and caring for a child was pure and it wouldn’t damage him or anybody else.
* * *
‘I think it’s the best solution for everybody,’ Ellie declared bravely while Jemima was trying to console her weeping mother and her deeply troubled father as the four of them sat round the kitchen table over mugs of tea.
Jemima was feeling sick with shame at having hidden so much from her adoptive parents and she still did not feel up to the challenge of telling them the truth. They would have been horrified if they knew that she was pretending to be her dead sister and faking being Nicky’s mother. No argument she could make would persuade them that such dishonesty was justified. In any case her parents were already dealing with quite enough. The older couple had returned from Devon only that morning to learn that their daughter and Nicky would be leaving the next day for a trip to Sicily, following which Jemima would be returning home alone. Unfortunately Julie’s son had become as dear to Jemima’s parents as any grandchild. They too had been part of Nicky’s life almost from birth.
‘Nicky is Luciano’s son and the poor guy’s been searching for him all these months,’ Ellie pointed out, trying hard to support her friend’s arguments in favour of the trip to Sicily and the inevitable surrendering of Nicky to his sole surviving parent.
‘I believe he’ll be a good father. He’s only asking me along because he knows Nicky’s attached to me and he doesn’t want him to be hurt by me suddenly disappearing from his life,’ Jemima explained afresh.
‘Mr Vitale is being responsible,’ her father conceded thoughtfully. ‘Although I could never condone the agreement he made with Julie. That was rash and she was the worst possible candidate he could’ve chosen—’
‘Yes, but don’t forget it wasn’t Julie he really picked. He believed he was picking Jemima.’ Ellie was quick to remind the older man that Julie had applied to be a surrogate using her twin’s identity rather than her own.
‘True and you’ve certainly stood by the little chap, giving him what he needs to flourish,’ Jemima’s father said to his daughter with warm approval. ‘I suppose we’ll simply have to wait until our daughter gives us a grandchild to fuss over, my dear,’ he said to his wife.
Jemima paled beneath that look of approbation. She knew just how shocked her parents would be if they ever learned about the deceit she had employed in her dealings with Luciano.
That same morning, Charles Bennett made a return visit with a colleague in tow. He read through the confidentiality agreement with Jemima and explained every clause while his companion informed Jemima that he was there on her behalf to protect her interests. He spoke up on several occasions, pointing out that a lot of money could be made from selling stories to the media but that choosing to abide by Luciano’s rules would be financially rewarded by a bonus once she had finished working for him. Jemima signed on the dotted line and was grateful when the lawyers left.
Later that same day, Ellie stood by grinning while Jemima patiently stood and obediently posed while all her measurements were taken and carefully noted down by the middle-aged female tailor and her assistant who had also called at Luciano’s request.
‘So, he’s planning for you to wear a nanny uniform?’ Ellie remarked teasingly after the women had departed.
Jemima pulled a face. ‘Obviously,’ she pointed out ruefully, far from looking forward to the prospect of being dressed in some starchy formal outfit in the Sicilian heat.
‘I suppose it’s one good way of ensuring that you don’t forget that you’re one of the workers rather than a guest... I mean, it could be a bit awkward with you supposedly being Nicky’s mother,’ her friend opined with a wince. ‘When are you planning to tell Luciano that you’re Julie’s sister?’
Jemima grimaced. ‘Probably not until I’m leaving Sicily, which will be the end of August at the latest because term starts the following week and I’ll be starting teaching again,’ she reminded the other woman. ‘It would be a bit of a risk admitting my true identity any sooner than that because Luciano could just ask me to leave immediately but by late August it’s hardly going to matter to him.’
‘Stop beating yourself up about it. You’re not doing anyone any harm—’
‘It’s not that simple, Ellie. Every time I’m with Luciano I’m lying to him,’ Jemima pointed out heavily, wishing she had found it possible to confide in Ellie about how much more complicated her relationship with Luciano had recently become. The problem was that she was too ashamed to admit that their strained relationship had suddenly—inexplicably, to her—dived into the kind of intimacy she had always held back from.
Only three days had passed since that day in London and she still lay in her bed at night unable to quite accept that she had fooled around with Luciano to the extent that she had forgotten not only the tenets that she had been raised by, but also everything she could not afford to forget about her current predicament. She was acting as Julie, not herself, and, although she was convinced that her late sister would also have succumbed to the advances of a gorgeous billionaire, she knew she couldn’t grasp at that as an excuse for her behaviour. In reality she had lost control and had allowed herself to be swept away on a roller coaster of sexual sensation new to
