as black lace. ‘No, the nanny I’m hiring.’
Jemima stopped breathing. ‘A nanny?’ she gasped in dismay.
‘I will need some support in caring for my son,’ Luciano countered drily, wondering what he was going to do about the problem his son’s mother had become.
Well, he certainly wouldn’t be marrying her as Charles Bennett had ludicrously suggested after the results of the DNA test had been revealed.
‘A paper marriage,’ Charles had outlined. ‘In one move you would legitimise your son’s birth, tidy up any future inheritance issues and gain a legal right to have custody of your son. As an ex-wife you could also give her a settlement without breaking the law. It would be perfect.’
Perfect only in a nightmare, Luciano reflected grimly. No way was he linking his name to a woman who was no better than a thieving hooker, not in a paper marriage of any kind.
He was employing a nanny, Jemima thought wretchedly as panic snaked through her in a cold little shiver of foreboding. Clearly Luciano was planning to remove Nicky from her care as soon as he could.
Luciano surveyed his infant son, who was engaged in contentedly falling asleep against his mother’s shoulder. He could rip him away from Jemima as he himself had once been ripped away from his own mother. All right, he had been almost three years old but he had never forgotten the day he was torn from his mother’s loving arms. Of course there had been a lot of blood and violence involved and naturally he had been traumatised by the episode. He would not be doing anything of that nature. He despised Jemima Barber but he did not wish her dead for having crossed him. At the same time, however, he deeply resented her hold on his son.
‘Nicky’s very emotional,’ Jemima remarked cautiously. ‘He does get upset quite easily.’
‘I’m surprised he’s so fond of you. You’ve spent most of your time in London and left other people looking after him,’ Luciano condemned.
‘I’ve spent much more time with him than you appreciate,’ Jemima protested, tilting her chin. ‘Of course he’s fond of me...’
‘But you always planned to give him away,’ he reminded her coolly. ‘As long as the pay-off was sufficient. Shouldn’t you have prepared him better for the separation?’
An angry flush illuminated her pale porcelain skin. ‘I didn’t know if there was going to be a separation!’ she fired back awkwardly.
‘I would let nothing prevent me from claiming my son. Since you disappeared there has not been a single day that I haven’t thought of him,’ Luciano proclaimed, dark honey-rich eyes glittering with challenge. ‘He is mine—’
‘Yes...’ she conceded raggedly, her breath catching in her throat below the onslaught of his extraordinarily compelling gaze. ‘But handing him over isn’t going to be as simple...er...as I once thought it would be.’
Luciano shrugged a broad shoulder without interest. ‘You convinced a psychiatrist that you knew what you were signing up to do and could cope with it.’
Desperation slivered through Jemima’s taut frame. ‘Things change...’ she whispered.
‘I want my son,’ Luciano told her bluntly.
The germ of a wild idea burst into being inside Jemima and flew straight from brain to tongue without the benefit of any filter or forethought. ‘Couldn’t I be your nanny? Even for a little while?’
Luciano studied her in disbelief. ‘My nanny? You? Are you crazy?’
‘Only until he settles into his new life. You’d be getting a trained infant teacher to look after him. I’m well qualified with young children.’
‘But you’ve never worked with them?’
‘Of course I have work experience.’
‘Before you decided that you much preferred earning easy money as an escort?’
Jemima froze. ‘An...es-escort?’ Her voice stumbled over the mortifying word. ‘That’s a dreadful—’
Luciano sighed. ‘I know everything about you. You can’t lie to me. You were working as an escort in London and you were very popular with older men until you began to steal their wallets. I spoke to the agency that made your bookings for you before deciding to dispense with your services.’
Her lips parted and then closed again. She had turned white as snow, shock thudding through her, her heart thumping loudly in her eardrums. She didn’t want to believe him but she did because Julie’s love of money had been much stronger than her self-respect. An escort? An escort offering extras? Jemima squirmed, raw humiliation bowing her head. Working as an escort had given her twin the chance to steal. And sadly, the stolen credit cards had only been the tip of the iceberg, she acknowledged wretchedly. Seemingly Julie had been as willing to sell herself as she had been to sell her son.
‘It was an exclusive escort service,’ Luciano conceded, recognising her mortification and less gratified by it than he had expected to be.
‘So I wouldn’t be quite what you want in a nanny,’ Jemima breathed, stricken, receiving that message loud and clear from his attitude.
‘I’m afraid not. My security team will pick Niccolò up tomorrow and bring him up to London for the day. I’ll send the nanny with them.’ Luciano read her consternation with ease. ‘Naturally I want to spend time with my son.’
‘Before you do...what?’ Jemima pressed helplessly.
‘Before I take him home to Sicily with me,’ Luciano fielded. ‘You know how this must end, Jemima. Why make it more difficult for all of us?’
Jemima subsided like a pricked balloon. Julie had accepted payment and signed the agreement. There was no escape clause unless she was willing to run screaming to the media with her sad story. And where would that get her? More importantly, what would it gain Nicky? Notified of the circumstances of Nicky’s birth, the social services would probably step in to take charge of Nicky and decide his future and there was no guarantee that Luciano would get him either. In fact there was every chance that Nicky would be placed in an adoptive home and neither Jemima nor Luciano would ever see him again. Seeking outside help would be the wrong thing to do, she decided in despair. The very fact she had lied and faked being Julie to hold on to her nephew would be held against her by the authorities...and by Luciano if he ever found out the truth.
‘SO COULD I have a lift with you up to London?’ Jemima asked the nanny cheerfully. ‘I assure you that a lift is all I want, but my being in the car will make it easier for you to get to know Nicky and I can run through his routine with you as well.’
‘Er... I...’ Nonplussed, the nanny, who had introduced herself as Lisa, hovered on the doorstep and looked at the tall, broadly built bodyguard standing behind her for direction.
The bodyguard dug out a cell phone and punched in a number and Jemima got the obvious message: nothing could be done because no plan could deviate in the smallest way without Luciano Vitale’s permission and approval. She scolded herself for thinking that she
