expression, Kristen swallowed her irritation. It was pointless to argue over a minor issue when the vital question of who would have custody of Nico was yet to be resolved.
‘As for tonight,’ Sergio continued, ‘he can stay here at the hotel. I have already had the second bedroom in my suite prepared for him.’
A tight knot of tension formed in Kristen’s stomach when she realised that she was not included in the invitation. ‘I’m not going to leave Nico with you.’
‘Why not? I am his father.’ His eyes glittered. ‘Dio, is one night, when you have had him to yourself for the past three years, too much to ask for?’
‘Mummy, where’s Hippo?’
Nico’s voice cut through the simmering atmosphere and Kristen tore her eyes from Sergio’s angry face and focused on her son.
‘He’s at home, sweetheart. Would you like to go and find him?’
Relief washed over her when Nico nodded. She could tell that he was tired, and when he climbed onto her lap and put his head on her shoulder she cuddled him. He was her baby and she would fight to the death for him. She glanced at Sergio and flushed at the sardonic expression in his eyes.
‘Hippo is his favourite toy,’ she explained. ‘He takes it to bed with him every night.’
‘In that case I’d better drive you both home,’ he said coolly. ‘I don’t want to upset Nico. But I warn you, cara,’ he added in a dangerously soft voice, ‘don’t try to play games with me.’
* * *
When Sergio parked outside Kristen’s small terraced house she noticed, as he no doubt did, that the front door badly needed a coat of paint. It was one of many jobs that she never had time to do, she thought with a sigh. Walking into the house, she was horribly conscious that the wallpaper in the hallway was peeling. Decorating was another job on the to-do list that lack of time and her tight budget did not stretch to. Since her mum had died she had been getting by, surviving, but not really living, she acknowledged. Grief had sapped her energy and dulled her spirit and it was a bitter irony that seeing Sergio again had made her feel more alive than she had done in months.
Sergio followed her into the kitchen and she saw him frown at the sight of the empty wine bottles on the table. The clothes rack was draped with her underwear and the sink was full of dirty dishes that she hadn’t had time to wash up in the rush to get out that morning. Fortunately the living room was reasonably tidy, although shabby, Kristen acknowledged. It was funny how she had never noticed how worn the carpet was until now, and the red wine stain—courtesy of Steph spilling her drink the previous evening—added to the room’s neglected air.
Sergio had carried Nico in from the car, and Kristen felt a tug of possessiveness at the sight of the little boy resting his dark curls on his father’s shoulder. He was her baby.
‘I’ll take him straight up for his bath. I expect you want to get back to the hotel.’
‘I’m not in any rush.’ Sergio’s jaw tightened at her unsubtle attempt to dismiss him. ‘We need to talk.’
Had four words ever sounded so ominous? Kristen watched Sergio glance disparagingly around the room. It was on the tip of her tongue to point out that, unlike him, she could not afford to buy a luxury mansion in Mayfair, which the newspaper had reported he was currently purchasing, but she thought better of it and led Nico up the stairs.
Left alone in the dismal sitting room, Sergio recalled the empty wine bottles in the kitchen and almost gave in to the urge to chase after his son, snatch him into his arms and take him to Sicily immediately. The house was in dire need of renovation, and it was apparent that Kristen had had a party recently—unless she had drunk several bottles of wine herself.
He grimaced. His mother had preferred gin and, even though it was years since his childhood, he couldn’t bear the smell of it. Patti’s temperament had been unpredictable at the best of times and alcohol had made her either maudlin or cruel. Unfortunately there had been no way of telling what mood she would be in and, as a small boy not much older than Nico, Sergio had felt constantly on edge, fearful of angering his mother and provoking her violent temper.
A loud scream dragged him from his thoughts. The sound of a child’s hysterical sobs chilled Sergio’s blood and he took the stairs two at a time and burst into the bathroom to find Nico—not being beaten, as he had wildly imagined—but in the throes of a full-blown tantrum while Kristen endeavoured to wash his hair.
She was drenched, and one part of Sergio’s mind registered that her white tunic top was virtually see-through and he could clearly make out the firm swell of her breasts beneath her uniform.
‘He hates having his hair washed,’ she explained somewhat unnecessarily as Nico wriggled out of her grasp and covered his head with his hands.
‘No, Mummy,’ the little boy yelled furiously.
Sergio struggled to prevent his lips from twitching when he recognised that his son had inherited his hot temper. ‘Does he always react like this?’ he murmured.
‘Every bath-time,’ Kristen told him wearily. She was unaware that Sergio had frowned because he had glimpsed the shimmer of tears in her eyes. Her shoulders slumped as she waited for him to criticize her once again. He clearly thought she was a useless mother, and maybe he was right, she thought miserably. Nico was adorable, but he was also a strong-willed little boy and she was worried that if she didn’t learn how to deal with his tantrums he would become wilful. If only her mum was still here, she thought, swallowing the lump in her throat. Kathleen had been brilliant with Nico and Kristen missed her advice and guidance.
She stiffened when Sergio knelt down beside her in front of the bath. He seemed unconcerned that the floor was wet and, to her surprise, he rolled up his shirtsleeves. But his next comment surprised her even more.
‘It must be tough working full-time as well as bringing up Nico on your own without any help,’ he said quietly.
Kristen almost believed that he understood how tired and overwhelmed she felt sometimes, but then she remembered his threat to seek custody of Nico. No doubt he would seize on an admission that she found being a single mother challenging.
‘I manage okay,’ she told him shortly. ‘I don’t need anyone’s help.’
Studying Nico’s mutinous expression, Sergio was inclined to disagree with her, but he sensed she was on edge and refrained from pointing out that once he had gained custody of his son she would be free to concentrate on her career.
He smiled at Nico. ‘I’ll make a deal with you. If I let you wash my hair, will you let me wash yours?’
Intrigued, the little boy nodded. Sergio bent his head over the bath and, with a squeal of laughter, Nico filled a plastic jug with water and tipped it over his father’s hair. Within seconds Sergio’s shirt was soaked through, but Kristen could not help but be impressed with his patience with Nico and, to her astonishment, the little boy didn’t make a fuss when it was his turn to have his hair washed.
‘He’s really taken to you,’ she said gruffly as she lifted Nico out of the bath and wrapped a towel around him.
‘Why are you surprised? He is my son and as much a part of me as he is of you.’ Sergio watched Nico scamper along the hallway to his bedroom and felt an almost painful
