Seductive Billionaires: The Complete 3-in-1 Billionaires and Babies Collection

By Alyssa J. Montgomery

Three billionaires are going to have to fight for a chance at unconditional love and a happy ever after ... from a USA Today bestselling author.

Seduced by the Enemy

I have every reason to know the Borghettis are pure evil ... So why won't my heart listen to my head?

Luca Borghetti might be pure Italian sex appeal, and powerful, and a damn billionaire, but he and his family are responsible for everything Olivia has lost. Her sister. The baby. Her father. All gone because of him.

I will protect what I love. No matter what.

Olivia Temple is going to give Luca what he wants, sparks between them be damned. This heartless woman has what Christiana needs and whatever that little girl needs, Luca will get. But if what Olivia is telling him is true ... someone has lied to both of them.

Seduced by the Stranger

I can't do this. I can't go through with it.

Moments from the altar, Jenna Sinclair has a moment of clarity. If she can't even remember who she is, how can she go ahead with a wedding to a man she doesn't love? But can she trust the stranger she is immediately attracted to who is now claiming her as his?

'Stop! This wedding is not taking place!'

Max Bennett has only ever loved one woman: Jenna. All he needs to do is reignite the love she once had for him ... which means keeping a secret that could destroy her trust. With danger stalking them, can Jenna and Max find their way back to each other before it's too late?

Seduced by the Billionaire

Of all the people to be here, why does it have to be him? As if this isn't hard enough for me already.

Top model Sarah Bryant will do whatever necessary to fight for opportunities for her wheelchair-bound brother-even if it means working with a man she detests. But could she have been wrong about Nick Henderson?

She might make my heart race, but Sarah Bryant is hiding something, and I'm going to uncover the truth.

Nick might not like Sarah, but she is the perfect choice for the documentary that will raise his charity's profile. Nick's urge to unwrap her secrets-and her clothes-gets stronger every time he sees her. But Sarah is holding onto a bombshell that has the potential to hurt his family, ruin his reputation ... and destroy any growing feelings he might have for her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Mar 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781867282280

Alyssa J. Montgomery

USA Today bestselling author Alyssa J. Montgomery lives with her husband and three children on a five-acre property nestled into a mountain range south of Sydney, Australia, and enjoys having the space for gardens, a dog, horses, goats and chickens. Visits from the native wildlife (echidnas, wallabies and a variety of native birds) are particularly welcome ... although visits from native wildlife with scales and fangs aren't met with quite as much enthusiasm! She continues to work in her private practice as a Speech-Language Pathologist. Previously she's done a stint with Qantas Airways as an international flight attendant, completed her Master of Science degree, and has also been a professional pianist. If you'd like to know more about Alyssa, her books, or to connect with her online, you can visit her webpage: http://www.alyssajmontgomery.com Follow her on Twitter: @Alyssaromance or like her Facebook page:https://www.facebook.com/AlyssaJMontgomery

Book preview

Seductive Billionaires

Alyssa J Montgomery

romance.com.au

Three billionaires are going to have to fight for a chance at unconditional love and a happy ever after...from a USA Today bestselling author.

Seduced by the Enemy

I have every reason to know the Borghettis are pure evil…So why won’t my heart listen to my head?

Luca Borghetti might be pure Italian sex appeal, and powerful, and a damn billionaire, but he and his family are responsible for everything Olivia has lost. Her sister. The baby. Her father. All gone because of him.

I will protect what I love. No matter what.

Olivia Temple is going to give Luca what he wants, sparks between them be damned. This heartless woman has what Christiana needs and whatever that little girl needs, Luca will get. But if what Olivia is telling him is true...someone has lied to both of them.

Seduced by the Stranger

I can't do this. I can't go through with it.

Moments from the altar, Jenna Sinclair has a moment of clarity. If she can’t even remember who she is, how can she go ahead with a wedding to a man she doesn’t love? But can she trust the stranger she is immediately attracted to who is now claiming her as his?

‘Stop! This wedding is not taking place!'

Max Bennett has only ever loved one woman: Jenna. All he needs to do is reignite the love she once had for him...which means keeping a secret that could destroy her trust. With danger stalking them, can Jenna and Max find their way back to each other before it's too late?

Seduced by the Billionaire

Of all the people to be here, why does it have to be him? As if this isn't hard enough for me already.

Top model Sarah Bryant will do whatever necessary to fight for opportunities for her wheelchair-bound brother—even if it means working with a man she detests. But could she have been wrong about Nick Henderson?

She might make my heart race, but Sarah Bryant is hiding something, and I'm going to uncover the truth.

Nick might not like Sarah, but she is the perfect choice for the documentary that will raise his charity’s profile. Nick's urge to unwrap her secrets—and her clothes—gets stronger every time he sees her. But Sarah is holding onto a bombshell that has the potential to hurt his family, ruin his reputation...and destroy any growing feelings he might have for her.

About the author

ALYSSA continues to work in her private practice as a Speech-Language Pathologist. Previously she’s done a stint with Qantas Airways as an international flight attendant, completed her Master of Science degree in Health Policy and Management, and has also been a professional pianist.

Alyssa lives with her husband and three children on a five acre property nestled into a mountain range south of Sydney, Australia, and enjoys having the space to have gardens, a dog, horses, goats and chickens. Visits from the native wildlife (echidnas, wallabies and a variety of native birds) are particularly welcome … although visits from native wildlife with scales and fangs aren’t met with quite as much enthusiasm!

If you’d like to know more about me, my books, or to connect with me online, you can visit my webpage alyssajmontgomery.com follow me on Twitter @Alyssaromance, or like my Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/AlyssaJMontgomery

Contents

Seduced by the Enemy

Seduced by the Stranger

Seduced by the Billionaire

Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing...

Seduced by the Enemy

Alyssa J Montgomery

romance.com.au

Acknowledgements

As always, my husband has been my rock—supporting and encouraging me in writing this novel just as he supports me in everything I do. He takes over some of my domestic duties at times when I’m juggling all my responsibilities and writing deadlines approach. My children continue to respect that my writing is important and give me space to pursue this interest. There aren’t enough superlative adjectives for my former Managing Editor, Kate Cuthbert from Escape Publishing. Kate has been thoroughly supportive and the entire team at Escape Publishing, Harlequin Enterprises Australia make publication a joy. Thanks also to my fabulous editor Brooke Halliwell and to my newest Beta reader, Brandi Morrone for her feedback!

To my parents, Jack and June, who’ve been happily married for 68 years and raised five children in a wonderfully loving family. Mum and Dad, you’ve been fabulous role-models for marriage and parenting. The closeness of your children and grandchildren both to you and to each other is a huge credit to you. Thank you for everything you’ve done and continue to do for all of us. xx

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

Chapter 1

Who in God’s name knocked so insistently on anybody’s door at seven o’clock on a Sunday morning?

A disgruntled growl emerged from Olivia’s throat as she tried to wake up properly and haul herself out of bed. Damn! The protest made her realise her throat was sore.

All the more reason why she should be sleeping in today.

After a hellishly difficult term of teaching she was exhausted beyond belief and, thanks to some virus she’d picked up, her body felt like it’d been run over by a truck.

One more week to go until school holidays.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Hell. There it was again.

‘I’m coming,’ she croaked as she threw on a dressing gown, but there was still no end to the imperious knocking.

So much for living in one of Sydney’s quieter suburbs. Whoever was at her front door seemed intent on waking the entire neighbourhood.

Olivia moved as quickly as she could down the hallway to the front door. Still a little fuzzy-headed, she turned the key in the lock and yanked the door open in agitation.

Craning her neck, she looked up at her visitor. Hard, coal-black eyes blasted her with hot antagonism. For a split-second she struggled to free herself from the visual snare, but when she managed to absorb the rest of his features, she gasped.

Even as her brain reeled against the reality of his identity, her heart catapulted against her ribcage and the fine hairs on the nape of her neck rose in alarm. She’d never met the man, but she recognised him immediately as her sworn enemy.

A reactive surge of adrenaline forced her to take a defensive step backward. Too late, she realised she’d opened the door wider despite every impulse screaming at her to slam it shut, double-lock it and secure the bolt.

‘I’m—’

‘I know exactly who you are, Mr Borghetti,’ she hurled at him with resentment. His name tasted unpleasant on her tongue and although she was all too aware of the tight, downward pull of the muscles at the corners of her lips, she didn’t try to hide her contempt.

The second she’d uttered his name like a vulgar profanity, his eyes widened. The stiffening of his spine added even more height to his six-feet-something stature and indignation radiated off him in waves.

He was insulted?

How could he possess any pride in his name when it represented the destruction of her family?

‘May I come in?’

There wasn’t the slightest hint of remorse in his features for the brutal way in which he’d treated her sister.

‘You must be joking!’ Disgusted she’d allowed him to intrude on her life for even this short period of time, Olivia started to close the door. Her action met with resistance when his foot, clad in an expensive-looking leather shoe, slid forward. Then, his arm shot out to push the door open wider.

‘I don’t think so, Miss Temple.’ Every syllable carried a dark warning made more sinister by the deep, commanding voice with a very distinct Italian accent. ‘You and I need to talk.’

Talk? The only words she had to say to him would be ones she’d never generally utter aloud, and nothing he could say would compensate for his ruthless actions and earn him her forgiveness.

‘Go back to whichever rock you crawled out from under.’ She shoved her shoulder against the door, putting all her weight behind her action, but her effort was futile. A very real frisson of fear snaked its way through her as she registered his physical strength.

This man was an aggressor. Even if she hadn’t recognised him, the threat he posed was evident in the forward thrust of his clenched, square jaw; the grim, determined set of his mouth and the rigid set of his shoulders.

Scared now, she glanced beyond him to the suburban street hoping someone would be walking past at this early hour, but there was nobody in sight.

‘What I have to say is better discussed in private,’ he declared.

‘You’re not welcome here.’ Her grip tightened around the door handle as she maintained her stance, pushing back against his resistance even as she realised he wasn’t using anywhere near the power he had at his disposal. ‘Go away or I’ll scream.’

‘I’m not here to hurt you.’

‘Really?’ A harsh, scoffing sound emerged from her throat. ‘How comforting.’

His actions had already destroyed two of the people she’d held dearest in her world. How could he possibly hurt her anymore than he already had?

‘It’s important,’ he insisted.

‘You’re lower than a sewer rat, Borghetti. Whatever it is, I’m not listening.’

A flicker of shock crossed his chiselled features as his gaze swept over her, then his lip curled in distaste.

Her body trembled with rage. Who did he think he was, standing there looking down his straight, aristocratic nose at her?

‘What you want is immaterial. I’ve flown from Rome to speak with you and you will listen.’

Anxiety morphed into near hysteria as she read the sheer, bloody danger in his expression and knew his demands weren’t to be easily dismissed. Heart pounding, her stomach clenched with dread and loathing. His branch of the Borghetti family was linked to a web of criminal activities in Italy and she’d learned the hard way that his father was every bit as powerful as a Mafia Don.

‘I know what you are.’ This man was as good as a murderer. The blood of her sister—whose only sin had been to fall in love with him—stained his hands. He was also to blame for the death of her father. ‘Leave me alone!’

The sharp, cramping ache of her tightened fingers around the door handle barely registered through her deep emotional pain.

‘You’d be wise to stop wasting my time,’ he warned.

No doubt he was used to making demands and having everything go his way.

Olivia’s control snapped at the unfairness of it all. ‘You bastard!’ she vented before she wrenched the door open completely, and leapt at him like a tigress.

Gaining a strength borne from five years of tightly suppressed emotion, her hands clenched into fists. Catching him off-guard, she pummelled at him with a force she’d never known she possessed and an energy which surged through her, despite her body’s virus-weakened state. The need to inflict bodily harm on this man was all-consuming and the searing pain of her hatred took over and obliterated all reason. She’d never be able to make him pay physically for the deaths of her sister and father, but by God she wanted to hurt him.

In those seconds she didn’t even register the physical threat he could pose to her.

Grief raged within her and hot tears scalded her cheeks as she struck him, but her attack was short-lived. Within mere moments he’d gripped her flying fists firmly in his hands, preventing further strikes against the solid wall of his chest.

Her normally reasonable, level-headed mind was void to everything but her shocking losses as she struggled against him. The anguish she’d known every day since the official, detached voice had informed her via telephone that her sister lay in a morgue thousands of kilometres away, ripped afresh at Olivia’s heart.

She was helpless in her struggle against her enemy in the same way she’d been unable to prevent her father from dying from a severe heart attack minutes after he’d learned of the dreadful news.

Tears obscured Olivia’s vision as she remembered watching her dad clutch his chest and his face contort with pain. She was still haunted by the sound of her father’s last guttural gasp for breath before he’d collapsed to the floor.

The same sense of panic consumed Olivia now as she recalled the desperation of trying to administer CPR. Doggedly and in complete denial, she’d persisted for an interminable length of time until she’d finally slumped over her dad’s lifeless body.

Olivia’s agonised wailing had alerted a neighbour to the tragedy, but Olivia had no clear recollection of what had followed immediately afterwards. The only thing she remembered was her dad’s body being taken away as her mother returned home, and how she’d had to break the news of two family deaths to her mum.

Since that night, her home had been clouded by a depressing aura. Once filled with love, joy and laughter, her childhood home now echoed eerily with sadness. At times it struck her that the very walls seemed to weep silently at the tragedy of two lives needlessly cut short.

The silence was broken now though—replaced by a hideous, furious, feral screaming she didn’t even recognise as coming from her raw throat as she twisted and pulled, trying to break free from Borghetti’s hold.

‘Stop,’ he commanded.

There was no way she could stop.

It was all this man’s fault.

All her loss was his fault.

‘No,’ she raged. Her hands were useless so she tried to kick out at him while she sobbed, but he pulled her so hard up against him she couldn’t even knee him in the groin.

Tears of frustration spilt from her eyes and ran down her cheeks because it was useless to fight against him. No wound she might be able to inflict on this man could bring Jane or her father back.

Beyond the point of emotional and physical exhaustion she knew she’d lost her fight. It became a battle to fill her lungs with oxygen; and then each short, shallow breath she managed to gulp in, abraded her throat.

Her legs weakened and her head began to spin. Right at the periphery of her awareness she registered he’d wrestled her inside the house. The door was closed to the outside world and she was trapped with no chance of escaping from him.

A whooshing sound filled her ears and the well-cut line of his navy blue suit lapel blurred in front of her eyes.

‘Stop it,’ he ordered again in an unsympathetic, dictatorial tone. ‘You’re hyperventilating.’ He gave her a slight shake. ‘There’s no need for this behaviour.’

Darkness began crowding her.

It beckoned her.

It seduced her with its call to merciful oblivion and its promise to take away her panic and her pain.

Completely spent, she gave in to the darkness. Her limbs grew weaker and heavier until she escaped from her enemy in the only way she could—by passing out.

Chapter 2

Luca Borghetti uttered a sharp expletive as he supported the slight frame of the blonde, pyjama-clad woman who’d collapsed against him.

Inferno! He didn’t have time for this.

What was the matter with her?

After all he’d learned about her, he’d loathed having to come here to deal with her. He’d expected to have to buy her cooperation, but he hadn’t even been able to make his offer.

Nothing had prepared him for the unhinged wrath of this madwoman. She’d been completely and inexplicably irrational from the moment she’d opened her front door—as though she hated him.

After all these years was she still furious because she hadn’t managed to blackmail his brother for more money?

Despite Luca’s contempt for her, he lifted her up carefully and walked the short distance into the living room so he could place her on the worn settee.

Was she on drugs?

It was the only conclusion he could reach after her unwarranted, aggressive behaviour. If he was right, she was going to be rehabilitated in lightning quick time, because she was totally worthless to him as a drug addict.

As he shifted a cushion behind her head so it wasn’t lolling at an awkward angle, a throaty little murmur escaped through her lips. The soft, almost-wounded sound made him still. For a moment he felt unsettled—as though something indefinable but fundamental had shifted at the core of him.

Porca miseria! He was more jet lagged than he’d realised.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Luca registered a light, seductive, floral fragrance. He wasn’t sure whether it was the scent of her soap, perfume or shampoo but it wove inexplicably around his senses and teased them with the promise of feminine sweetness.

Under different circumstances … Merda!

What was he thinking? How could he forget, even for a second, the sordid, mercenary character of this woman and the vital importance of his visit here? How could he forget that—like his ex-wife—she didn’t feel any special connection with the gift of human life?

Despite himself, there was a basic, masculine part of him responding to her vulnerable femininity as she lay defenceless on the settee—some elemental instinct making him want to help her when she was so clearly in need. It overrode his knowledge that she was selfish to the core and that her uppermost goal had been to accrue wealth by whatever means possible.

As he reached out to take her wrist and check her pulse, he couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on her face. Although she still bore a strong resemblance to the photograph taken by his brother more than five years ago, in some ways it didn’t do her justice. Now the wild rage had left her features, he was struck by the fragile beauty she possessed.

Fragile beauty? Was her madness contagious?

There’d been nothing fragile about the demented woman who’d attacked him moments before and nothing fragile about a woman who could’ve entered into the arrangement she’d had with his brother.

How could Antonio have been so foolish as to become involved with such a violent, mentally unstable woman?

With a frustrated shake of his head, Luca registered the steady beat of her pulse before sliding up the loose sleeves of her robe and pyjama top to check her arms for needle marks.

Nothing.

Taking a couple of paces back and forth in front of her prone form, he deliberated whether he should try to rouse her back to consciousness or call an ambulance.

At least her complexion had recovered some of its colour. She still looked as washed out as she had when she’d first opened the door, but not as ghostly white as she’d become immediately after she’d recognised him.

Madonna! It was impossible now not to notice the perfection of her flawless skin and the fine bone structure of her face from her high cheekbones to her delicate nose.

Luca’s lips twisted as he continued to study her features. There was something different about her. Something had changed over the time since the photo had been taken.

She was still beautiful—there’d be no argument from anybody about her stunning appearance. Her bone structure was even more exquisite in real life than the photo portrayed. Her eyelashes were longer than he’d realised and her lips were so much fuller he concluded she must’ve undergone cosmetic surgery.

He frowned. There were definitely differences, but not all of them were good. She’d lost weight. The slender body that’d once curved in all the right places now bordered on being too thin. Lines of sadness rather than laughter bracketed her lips and the cornflower blue eyes that’d flirted happily from the photograph had flashed with fire and murderous intensity as she’d launched herself at him.

The very faint lines around her lips and across her forehead suggested she’d had her share of stress. Perhaps she’d finally found a conscience and it now pressed down on her?

Whatever.

Miss Temple may have thought she’d live on easy street after the exorbitant amount of money she’d received from his brother, but by the look of her, wealth hadn’t brought her happiness.

Enough. The most pressing problem was to ensure the well-being of this avaricious woman he had every reason to despise.

Water. She’d probably need water when she came to.

Despite the early hour, he’d appreciate something much stronger. This female lunatic was enough to drive any man to drink.

Making his way to the kitchen, he was struck by the impoverished appearance of the home. The faded, almost thread-bare curtains above the sink were ripped and the linoleum on the floor was badly pitted. Everything was neat and tidy—almost clinically clean, but appallingly shabby.

What had she done with all the money?

With economy of movement, he filled a glass with water and made his way back into the living room. He placed the water on a nearby coffee table with a heavy, impatient thud, bent over her and reached for her upper arm to shake her back to consciousness. He needed her alert. Now.

***

Olivia’s eyes flickered open. Hazy at first, her brain cleared at super-fast speed and her body jerked upright as her gaze clashed with the scowling expression of the stranger.

Not such a stranger, she amended, but her sworn enemy. Antonio Borghetti.

Dear Lord! He was inside her home and they were quite alone.

Fear skittered through her and she looked around the room, trying to find something she could access quickly in case she needed to physically defend herself.

‘Good. You’re conscious.’ He sent her a perfunctory nod. ‘Now, we talk.’

‘I have nothing to say to you.’

‘But, I have plenty to say to you.’

Generations of Borghetti arrogance pumped through his veins. His family were among the wealthiest families in Italy but Olivia doubted there was any goodness in them. Hard. Uncaring. Selfish. Arrogant. There weren’t enough negative words in the dictionary to describe this man and his father.

Glaring at him, she took in the barely leashed strength of his powerful body which was emphasised rather than cloaked by the superior cut of his suit. The image of him towering over her was so intimidating her first instinct was to shrink back against the sofa at the heated disdain in his eyes. Thankfully, defiance rose to the fore—defiance and the knowledge he had no right to be here.

The Borghetti men were done hurting her family. She wasn’t about to let him take anything more from her.

‘Get out!’ She pointed to the door.

‘Are you on drugs?’

‘What?’ The word exploded from her lips. ‘You bastard! How dare you come here and suggest—’

‘Answer the question,’ he demanded through teeth clenched with displeasure.

‘No, I’m not bloody well on drugs. Despite everything you and your father have done and how you both treated me, I haven’t resorted to substance abuse.’

‘You’re no victim.’ His scowl deepened as he angled his head and continued to examine her as though she was some unidentifiable species. ‘You’re still talking rubbish but at least your eyes aren’t as glazed now.’

Olivia barely refrained from cursing at him as she stood up and pulled her robe more securely around her. Watching him closely, she edged towards the phone. Again, she pointed to the door. ‘I’ll give you ten seconds. If you’re not making your way out, I’m calling the police.’

‘You think I’d let you?’ His question sent a chill down her spine. ‘You have no idea who you’re challenging and what’s at stake here.’

It was hardly a surprise he’d threaten her—he was his father’s son. And, while Damiano Borghetti had won on his home ground while Olivia was at the lowest emotional point in her life, this was her turf. ‘I know exactly who you are. More importantly, I know what you are and what you’re capable of. Let me tell you, I’ve never tolerated bullies in the playground and I certainly won’t tolerate bullies in my home.’ She took another step towards the phone. ‘Three seconds!’

‘I’m not leaving until you give me what I want so you may as well sit down and hear me out.’

Her eyes widened. ‘You’re out of your mind. I have nothing you could possibly want. Get the hell out of here.’

‘Naturally I didn’t expect you to comply without some financial incentive,’ he drawled with contempt. ‘You’ll receive a generous payment if you come with me immediately to see a doctor.’

Her jaw went slack and she shook her head in an attempt to clear her befuddled brain. This couldn’t be real. Any moment now she’d wake up.

‘A very generous payment,’ he stressed.

‘I don’t need a doctor. It’s just a virus and all I need is rest—rest which you’ve disturbed with your damned banging at this ungodly hour of the morning.’ Even as she spoke she tried to make sense of this.

How would he know she was sick?

Why would he care?

‘None of this makes sense. Why would you pay—?’

‘Believe me, I find it abhorrent you should receive any more money from my family, but—’

‘What are you talking about? I haven’t received a cent from you or your rotten family. How dare you come here after all these years when you didn’t even care enough to …’ Her anger evaporated and she wrapped her arms around herself as a ball of grief lodged in her throat. ‘You didn’t even care enough to …’

Overwhelming sorrow made speech impossible. Antonio hadn’t even bothered to go to the morgue to identify Jane’s body. The agonising responsibility had fallen to Olivia. She’d flown to Rome to complete the gruelling task of claiming the corpse of the younger sister she’d spent most of her life trying to shelter—trying to protect from every cruel taunt that’d come her way.

Olivia had been alone in her cheap hotel room—completely unsupported by the Borghetti family—while the coroner examined the body and ruled that, while under heavy sedation from sleeping tablets, Jane had died from undetected postpartum haemorrhaging.

Now, unbelievably, Antonio Borghetti stood in her home unmoved by her loss and pain, showing no remorse and treating her as though she was the one who had to atone for past wrongs.

How could Jane have fallen for this man?

Olivia had to admit he was extremely good-looking, but how could Jane have failed to see beneath the handsome exterior to his black heart?

Poor Jane.

Jane had loved Antonio but it was obvious she’d never meant anything to him.

So, why was he here?

‘Spare me the theatrics, Jane. I know Antonio paid you a small fortune but you were greedy and tried to extort more from him. Think of this as your lucky day because I’m here with a chance for you to make more money.’

‘What?’ The word whispered out from her mouth. This had to be a ridiculously bad dream. Extortion? ‘What the …?’ She stilled. Her skin pinched across her cheekbones as the most important of his words registered.

He thought she was Jane?

But that was impossible. He knew Jane had died.

Hang on … He spoke about Antonio?

She looked at him speechlessly, trying to work out what was going on. It was true Antonio had never bothered to meet with her in Rome, but Jane had sent pictures of him and Olivia recognised this man as the one in those photos.

‘Don’t play me like a fool.’ His words were a razor-sharp warning. ‘I’m not gullible like my brother.’

My brother …

She reached out and gripped hard on the edge of the small table that housed the cordless phone. ‘You’re Antonio’s brother?’

‘Of course,’ he confirmed with impatience.

‘You’re … identical twins?’

‘Si. I’m Luca Borghetti. You told me you knew who I was.’

‘No.’ Her head had been swimming in dizzy confusion but now she felt like someone had put all her reasoning capacity in a centrifuge and it was spinning uncontrollably without any ability to form a single intelligent notion. ‘I thought I knew who you were.’

Raising the fingertips of both hands to her temples, she pressed against them, closed her eyes and willed herself to focus—to assemble some pieces of this cryptic puzzle.

Jane had never mentioned Antonio had an identical twin brother.

‘Have a drink.’

She opened her eyes and saw Antonio—Luca, she amended—thrust a glass of water at her. Mind blank, she stared at his strong hand. The same hand had stopped her frenzied attack. She’d attacked him thinking he was Antonio. Should she apologise for her behaviour?

‘Do you swear you’re not on drugs?’

Ignoring the water and his ridiculous question, Olivia grappled with the situation. It didn’t matter who he was, this man was still her enemy if he was here at Antonio’s bidding. He’d forced himself into her home, refused to leave and everything about him still screamed hostility.

When she hadn’t reached for the glass, Antonio’s brother placed the glass of water onto the coffee table with such force the water sloshed over the rim. Long male fingers bit into her shoulder and gave her a non-too-gentle shake.

‘What are you on, Jane?’

She lifted her head and met his dark, menacing expression. Clearly, he believed she was her sister, but … ‘How can you not know?’

‘I’m not a doctor,’ he replied tersely. ‘I don’t know anything about the effects of different drugs.’

She wrenched her shoulder free from his touch. ‘How can you not know,’ she accused, ‘Jane is dead?’

His hand fell to his side, his disbelief evident in the cynical, contemptuous twist of his mouth. ‘What kind of perverted game are you playing now? You’re Jane Temple. I recognise you from your photo.’

Olivia shuddered as his contempt continued to bore into her, but she drew herself up as tall as she could, determined to end this madness and send him packing. ‘I don’t know why you’re here and I don’t care. It’s way too late to make amends for what your brother did to my sister. You can tell Antonio from me—’

‘Antonio is dead. The only reason I’m here is because the little girl you gave birth to needs you.’

Chapter 3

‘Get out!’ Olivia gestured wildly towards the door as her control snapped once again.

‘Not until I have what I came for,’ he declared through gritted teeth. ‘Antonio’s daughter needs you and, as much as I abhor having to pay you another euro, you will do what you can for her.’

‘You’re insane.’ He was certifiably crazy. He had to be.

‘You’re not hearing me. There’s more money in this for you,’ he ground out.

‘Out. Now.’ Olivia stalked towards the door.

‘You sold a baby like a commodity and walked away from her,’ he accused in acid tones. ‘God knows she was better off without you, but she needs you now and you will be there for her because I’m here to make sure of it.’

His words were like giant waves pummelling her solar plexus, throwing her against a rocky shore and leaving her winded. Emotions knotted inside her, making her draw her hands up to her chest to try to ease some of the excruciatingly jagged pain cutting through her like a serrated edged knife.

Seconds ticked.

The mellow chiming of the family’s grandfather clock was the only sound to break the thick silence stretching between them.

‘You’re sick,’ she finally managed in a horrified, breathless whisper as he stood his ground. Her features fought valiantly to stop from crumbling in anguish at his painful lies. ‘Twisted.’ Forcing herself to acknowledge the tragic events of five years ago she said, ‘Jane and Antonio’s little girl died the day she was born, and your brother deserted my sister when she needed him the most. If she hadn’t been so distraught—if he’d been there by her side where he should’ve been—she wouldn’t have needed sedation while she was still in hospital in Rome. If she hadn’t been sedated, the medical staff would’ve realised she was haemorrhaging and she wouldn’t have died.’

A few taut seconds of silence were shattered by the explosion of his words as the swarthy skin along his cheekbones reddened in rage. ‘Don’t lie to me! You’re Jane!’

‘My sister’s dead.’ Olivia’s voice broke. Soul-wrenching grief cracked through her and left a gaping crevice unable to be covered over, even with anger. ‘I was the one who had to fly to Rome to identify her body. Antonio didn’t even have the decency to meet with me at the … morgue … or answer my messages when I pleaded to know where Jane’s daughter was b-buried.’

Luca Borghetti’s head snapped back as though she’d whipped him, then he subjected her to an intense, narrow-eyed appraisal.

She didn’t realise she was holding her breath until she was released from his scrutiny.

He looked around the room quickly, seeming to absorb every detail of his surrounds.

‘Please leave.’ She begged now rather than demanded because this encounter with him was simply too much to bear. Too much of her pain had been re-exposed and she needed him gone so she could crawl back into her bed and huddle under the covers in a self-protective ball.

When he finally moved, it wasn’t in the direction of the front door. Instead, he walked around the sofa and stopped in front of a sideboard cabinet.

Shaking with emotion, she could do nothing but stand and watch as he picked up a photo of Jane and her that’d been taken the summer before Jane travelled to Italy.

The trip overseas was supposed to have been Jane’s new beginning—a chance to gain confidence, enjoy new experiences and find some direction in her life. Instead, she’d been taken advantage of by this man’s brother.

A molten pit of raw loss and bitterness bubbled within Olivia as he inspected the photo. As different as they’d been in personality, Olivia and Jane had been very close. All their childhood and up until Olivia had left home for university, she’d looked out for Jane. Olivia hadn’t been able to protect her from Antonio Borghetti.

Finally, the Italian intruder looked from the photo to her and back again. ‘The familial resemblance is very strong.’

There was only eleven months difference in age and people had often mistaken them for twins. Although they were very similar, nobody had confused their identities in person because Jane walked with a limp.

‘Jane was younger?’

‘What does it matter?’ God but these Borghetti men were callous creatures. There was no reaction to Jane’s death and not a hint of apology for any of his false accusations.

‘What’s your name?’ The words were toneless as he replaced the photograph and moved back towards her.

‘That’s immaterial,’ she bit out tautly. ‘You weren’t invited here and I’m not interested in a social call.’

‘Your name?’ he insisted.

God damn him! ‘Olivia. Now—’

‘Is Jane really dead?’ There was tension in every syllable as he cut across her speech.

Seriously? ‘You shouldn’t have to ask,’ she vented angrily. ‘Your twin brother was supposed to be in love with her. So much for that! Obviously he didn’t even bother to tell you she’d died.’

The deep score of his frown was an indication of his struggle with the truth of her words. ‘Antonio and I weren’t … close, but I don’t believe he was in love with her.’

‘No,’ she pronounced savagely. ‘It became glaringly obvious he was an utter bastard who lied to her and led her on with promises of getting a divorce. It’s his fault she’s dead.’ She didn’t bother asking how Antonio had died because she didn’t care.

Luca lifted one hand and ran it through his hair. ‘Olivia, sit down. There’s much we need to discuss.’

The change in him was dramatic. Suddenly he didn’t look threatening—he looked weary, his expression brooding. His broad shoulders rounded in … defeat?

Standing firm, she folded her arms across her chest. ‘I don’t know why you’ve come looking for Jane, but I have nothing to discuss with you, Mr Borghetti.’

The intensity was back in his regard. ‘I don’t know of the circumstances of your sister’s death, but the little girl your sister gave birth to didn’t die. She’s living with me in Rome.’

No! Why would he say that?

Pain screamed through every one of her nerves. ‘Jane’s—daughter—died.’

‘Christiana is not dead,’ he denied vehemently. It seemed to take him some time to control his emotions as he turned away from her and stared out through the window at some distant point. The conflict within him was so marked, she felt herself being drawn to him against her will.

‘Why would you lie to me about this?’ she pleaded as she took two steps closer to him.

He swung back to face her. ‘I’m telling you the truth.’

‘Jane phoned. She was out of her head with grief. Antonio had flown to London on business almost immediately after their daughter was born, and when the baby died—’ Oh shit! ‘What did you call her?’

‘Christiana.’

Her eyes filled with tears and her lips trembled. ‘Jane’s daughter was Christina.’

‘Christiana,’ he corrected.

She stared at him. ‘This can’t be true. Jane said Christina had died and she couldn’t reach Antonio.’ Anguish speared through her as the awful memories rushed back. ‘I booked myself on a flight to Rome for the following afternoon, but only hours after Jane phoned, I got another call from the hospital telling me my sister had died. It was the trauma of her child’s death and not being able to reach Antonio that made her so frantic. If Christina had lived, Jane would probably still be alive. She wouldn’t have been sedated and they would’ve been aware of her blood loss.’

Luca looked sceptical. ‘I don’t know any of this. You talk about my brother having had feelings for your sister, but surely you know she’d agreed to act as a surrogate mother for Antonio and his wife?’

‘No!’ It wasn’t true.

‘Yes. Antonio’s wife couldn’t have children and they paid Jane to have Christiana.’

‘You’re wrong.’ She refuted the claim with such a violent shake of her head it hurt. Uncrossing her arms, she pointed a finger at him accusingly. ‘I know Antonio told Jane he loved her. She believed he’d seen a lawyer to file for divorce and was intending to marry her. I don’t know what lies he fed you or why, but what you’re saying isn’t true.’

‘I’m sorry to disillusion you. My brother was very much married and I’ve seen the surrogacy contract your sister signed.’

Her lips thinned. This had to be some low Borghetti trick. ‘Whatever you say you’ve seen isn’t real. Jane met Antonio while she was working at one of your family’s hotels in Rome. She fell in love with him and believed he loved her.’

‘That’s a fairytale,’ he denied emphatically. He ran a hand through his hair again and paced back and forth a few times, reminding her of a caged tiger. His stature and energy dominated the room and she moved slightly behind the chair she’d sat in to put some form of physical barrier between them.

Abruptly, he came to a standstill. ‘Regardless of what you believe, Christiana is alive.’ The masculine notch of his larynx worked up and down in his throat as he swallowed. ‘However, she’s seriously ill.’

The gravity and desperation in his voice was impossible to dismiss.

‘She needs a bone marrow donor and there’s no relative on the Borghetti side of the family who’s a match. I came here to find Jane, to see if she would be a suitable donor.’

What he said was impossible, yet everything in his expression compelled her to believe him and why, why, why would he come here and tell her such a lie?

The room spun and Olivia reached out quickly and gripped hard on the back of the chair as she swayed.

If she accepted what he said, she had a niece. A five-year-old niece who lived on the other side of the world and was critically ill.

‘But, why would Jane say—?’

Luca said a little more gently, ‘I don’t know. Perhaps she found it hard to face up to losing her daughter because of the surrogacy contract?’

No. No. No.

Denial beat through her.

Something was terribly wrong here.

No way would Jane ever have planned to give up her child to another mother, particularly when she’d been in love with Antonio and he’d promised to marry her.

‘I was hopeful Jane’s bone marrow would be a match,’ Luca continued, ‘but perhaps you or your parents, or any other siblings you have, might match.’

Olivia’s legs trembled so hard the shaking was probably registering as seismic waves on a Richter Scale. Putting one foot in front of the other slowly, she walked around and sank into the chair she’d been grasping.

She looked up and saw him—Luca Borghetti—for the first time. There was no menace anymore in his expression. If anything, she saw concern. Grave concern.

‘Olivia—’

‘Please …’ Her voice emerged as a hoarse whisper. ‘This is impossible for me to take in.’

‘I’m sorry. I don’t understand why your sister lied to you—’

‘Stop right there! My sister was no liar. If anyone’s told lies it’s your brother.’ If she’d been confident her legs would support her she would’ve jumped to her feet and stared him down.

‘Whatever you think happened between Jane and Antonio, they’re both dead now and they can’t help Christiana. I need to find a bone marrow donor for her.’

A niece. I really have a niece.

Jane’s daughter lived but was a sick little girl.

Christiana.

Luca Borghetti must be telling the truth. Why else would he persist with this need for a bone marrow donor?

‘My father’s dead,’ she told him woodenly. ‘It’s only me and my mother.’

‘Please help her.’ A driven, distressed energy powered his words and her heart cramped as she absorbed his desperate plea.

To find out Jane’s daughter was alive was astonishing. But to discover Christiana was seriously ill with a life-threatening illness was surely the cruellest twist fate could throw at her.

He pulled out his wallet from the pocket inside his jacket lining, and took something out. ‘Here. I have a photo of her.’

Olivia bit down hard on her bottom lip and hot tears stung her eyes as she looked at the photo he handed her.

Christiana.

There was no doubting the little girl in the photograph was her sister’s child. The child’s skin was olive and her hair was dark, but she had the same facial features as both Jane and Olivia. Christiana’s beguiling expression mirrored Jane’s when she’d been a similar age.

‘All these years, I believed she … Christiana … had died.’ Olivia stifled a quiet sob.

Questions hammered at her brain, demanding answers. For now, she pushed them to one side. If Luca Borghetti was to be believed, he didn’t know the answers.

Nothing would bring Jane back now, but even so, Olivia was determined she’d find those answers. She was not going to let Christiana go through life believing Jane had been a willing surrogate mother. One way or another, Olivia would find the answers—find out what had really happened between Jane and Antonio and why Jane believed Christiana had died.

‘You say she needs bone marrow?’

‘Si. Yes. She has an acute form of leukaemia.’ He reached out to prise the photo from her fingers.

She was reluctant to give up her link to Jane’s daughter—but her attention focused on learning more about Christiana’s illness.

‘She’s responded well to chemotherapy, but the doctors have told me her best chance of survival is to have a bone marrow transplant while she’s in remission. They’ve registered her with the international bone marrow registry but to date no matches have been found. Jane was her best, immediate chance.’

‘Then, I might be a match.’

‘It’s possible you or your mother might be. Will you agree to have a bone marrow test?’

‘Of course.’ How could he even think she’d refuse?

‘I have legal papers in the car drawn up for Jane. They’ll need to be re-written for you and your mother but you needn’t worry as the terms are generous. I’ll provide financial compensation when you have the test, and if you’re a match, you’ll be compensated even more generously for the bone marrow donation.’ The sum he named was astronomical. ‘The same applies for your mother.’

She stared at him aghast before indignation shot through her. ‘That’s obscene,’ she pronounced on a hiss of breath as she stood to face him. ‘You think we’d expect to be paid to help Jane’s daughter—our own flesh and blood?’ She didn’t give him time to respond. ‘Your suggestion is the most insulting one I’ve ever heard. You think my bone marrow would come at a price when it could be the one thing to save Jane’s daughter’s life?’

‘I—’

‘I don’t want your filthy money, Mr Borghetti, and neither will my mother. We’ll travel to Rome on the first available flight and we’ll be there for Christiana whether or not our bone marrow’s a match.’

‘No!’

Her body jerked back, punched by his response. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Absolutely not. No flight to Rome. Your bone marrow is all that’s required.’

For a moment she stood and looked at him in shocked disbelief as she tried to make sense of his words. ‘You cruel, arrogant son of a bitch! You come here and tell me I have a niece—a little girl we all believed had died. You tell me she’s seriously ill and then you expect me to roll up my sleeve, have a test, hopefully supply life-saving bone marrow and then just fade away as though I don’t know about her existence—as though I don’t care about her existence?’ Every word had become louder. Angrier. Her words were as furious as the lava-hot flow of blood pulsing through her veins and making her temples pound.

‘Cazzo.’ Luca ran his hands down over his face then up again so his fingertips could comb through his thick pelt of dark hair. ‘I have to think about this.’

‘What’s to think about?’ she demanded. ‘I’m Christiana’s aunt. My mum is her grandmother.’

‘I came here expecting Jane. I had no idea … Obviously this wasn’t what I’d expected.’

Her hands went to her hips and she glared at him. ‘If you really believed you could buy Jane’s bone marrow you obviously never met my sister. She was kind and sweet and cared about others—even those who weren’t worthy of her consideration.’

Pacing around the room, Luca’s indecision looked foreign to him. Olivia guessed he wasn’t used to being wrong-footed or being placed in a position where he had to respond to demands, but she’d be damned if she’d let him keep her and her mother from Jane’s little girl for any longer than it took to arrange travel to Italy.

‘Be reasonable,’ he said at last. ‘I know nothing about you. Christiana knows nothing about you and I can’t have you going to Italy and confusing her by telling her Jane was her mother. As far as she’s aware Antonio’s wife was her mother.’

‘Was her mother?’

‘Both Antonio and his wife were killed in an accident two years ago.’

Oh God! ‘Who’s been looking after Christiana all this time?’

‘I have.’

Impossible. Olivia couldn’t imagine him filling any type of parental role to a five-year-old let alone a three-year-old. She pointed an accusing finger at him. ‘But you’re here. Who’s in Rome with her now?’

A muscle ticked below his cheekbone—a dead give-away he clenched his teeth at her question. ‘Christiana has a nurse and two nannies. And, this is the first time I’ve ever left her.’

‘Nannies and a nurse,’ Olivia repeated with disgust. ‘Well, in a week I’m going to be on holidays. As soon as travel arrangements can be made, I’ll take leave.’ She voiced her thoughts aloud as they tumbled through her mind. ‘I’ll organise a leave of absence for the remainder of the year at least, make sure Mum’s passport is up to date, and get to Rome as quickly as we can. From now on, Mum and I will be there to look after her.’ She had savings. There’d be no trouble taking a leave of absence, because she was highly respected at the school. If need be, she’d live off every last cent of her savings and, when Christiana was well, she’d bring her niece to Australia and she and her mother would care for her here.

Probably better not to voice her last thought right now.

The muscle tic in Luca’s cheek had been replaced by a visible pulse at his temple.

‘You’re getting ahead of yourself, Miss Temple. I suggest you get dressed. You have the compatibility test done and if you’re a match, we’ll discuss what happens next.’

In answer, she folded her arms across her chest in a pose of absolute refusal. ‘You talked about contracts, Mr Borghetti. Here’s a news flash for you. I don’t want a euro of your money, but I demand an immediate introduction to my niece, and to be able to stay with her while she’s in Rome and her health is stabilising.’

He stared at her as though she’d asked him to cut off his right hand.

‘My mother’s away visiting friends for the weekend but she’ll be home tonight. She’ll be anxious to get to Rome as soon as possible.’ And, when they were there, they’d talk to Christiana and make sure the little girl had a chance to know about her real mother. ‘God willing, one of us will be the person whose bone marrow saves her life.’

‘There’s no need for you to travel to Rome unless you’re a match,’ he told her adamantly. ‘All the initial tests can be done here in Australia.’

She wanted to shake him. Instead, she adopted her most practised teacher’s voice. ‘You’re not listening to me. If you think I’ll be kept from my niece, or my mum will be kept from her granddaughter, you can think again.’

***

Luca ran his fingertips along his jaw, aware Olivia must be reeling from all the revelations as much as he was. He’d expected to have to deal with Olivia’s harsh, money-grabbing sister and from all he’d been told about Jane, he’d believed his offer of a generous payment would have her falling in with his wishes immediately.

Jane was dead.

Why the hell hadn’t he been told she’d died soon after giving birth to Christiana? He filed the question away and tried to come to terms with the reality of the situation he faced.

Christiana’s mother was dead and Olivia was a completely different person. The woman who faced him down said she wasn’t interested in his money—levelled all sorts of accusations against his brother based on her sister’s lies, but clearly believed those lies to be truth.

Part of him empathised with her plight. She’d lost her sister and now she wanted to reach out to Antonio’s daughter as a link to Jane. Family seemed important to her, and it earned her more admiration than she could possibly know—if it was sincere.

But, he didn’t know anything about Olivia Temple and her mother, except their relationship to a woman who’d sold her baby and tried to extort more money from his brother.

Could he believe Olivia was interested in establishing a family tie or was this some elaborate ploy?

He looked around him again at the impoverished condition of the house. It was possible that rather than accept his offer for the bone marrow test, Olivia was trying to inveigle her way into Christiana’s life to wheedle even more money from him over time.

Si. It was a cynical thought, but life had taught him well that there were plenty of people who’d do anything—say anything—for money.

Dio! Olivia’s sister had chased the Borghetti wealth. Why should her sister and mother be any different?

But then, you’re a vastly different man from your father. You don’t appreciate being judged by his standards so maybe you should take the time to get to know these women and then make a judgement, his innate sense of fairness decreed.

Time.

Porca miseria, he didn’t have the luxury of time!

‘I told you Christiana isn’t well. This isn’t about satisfying you and your mother. This is about what Christiana needs. The last thing she needs is any emotional complications in her life.’

‘She’s five years old.’ Her hands went to her hips. ‘Five years she’s been kept from us and I refuse to let you separate us from her any longer. As for presenting any emotional complications, at her age, she’ll be thrilled to have people in her life who’ll love her.’

The implied insult whipped him. ‘Christiana is not lacking in love.’ She meant the world to him and he provided plenty of love and emotional support.

‘She’s lacking in our love.’

‘You expect me to allow you and your mother—complete strangers—into her life?’

‘And whose fault is it we’re strangers to her? Believe me, it’s a situation I would’ve remedied years ago had I known she’d lived.’ She looked like she wanted to use him as a punching bag—again. ‘How dare your father and brother have kept the truth from me. I asked your father where she was buried. He knew I thought Christina—Christiana—had died.’

Every vertebra in Luca’s spine locked rigid at the mention of his father and he recalled she’d previously mentioned something about his father’s treatment of her. ‘When did you speak to my father?’

‘When I was in Rome to … to bring Jane … Jane’s body home.’

Merda. This woman’s pain was so deep it was a tangible thing, reaching out and squeezing hard around his heart.

Surely nobody could feign such a level of grief?

The events she outlined had to be true—from her perspective—and, if his father had been involved, it was believable she’d been treated badly.

Si. He felt empathy. Luca knew all too well what a cold, manipulative bastard Damiano Borghetti was.

‘My father told you Christiana had died?’

For a moment she frowned, as though searching through her memories. ‘He didn’t tell me she was still alive when I demanded to know where she’d been buried.’ She held out her hands palms up in a gesture of helplessness. ‘How could he lie to me, even by omission? We’d already lost Jane. How could he deny us all knowledge of her daughter?’

Her words moved him more than she could know. ‘I can’t explain my father’s actions, but I will get answers.’ He ran his palms down over his cheeks. As he felt himself being drawn to her—almost bonding with her through her pain—he reminded himself Olivia Temple was a stranger. ‘I agree Damiano should never have let you think Christiana was dead, but you have to understand you had no legal rights to a relationship with Christiana.’

‘Rubbish!’

‘You mightn’t like it, but it’s true.’ He steeled himself against her emotion and reiterated the cold, hard facts of what he’d always considered a cold, hard arrangement. ‘You’re the sister of the woman who acted as a surrogate mother for my brother and his wife. From the moment she signed the contract and conceived her, Jane had no legal rights to Christiana. You and your mother certainly have no legal rights.’

Even though she jerked as his words sank in, he respected the way she appeared to steel herself as she came right back at him.

‘Firstly, I don’t believe there was any surrogacy contract—unless she was somehow tricked and taken advantage of. You Borghetti men would say or do anything to get your way but it won’t wash with me. Secondly, although I’m sure you have no understanding of the concept, we have moral rights.’

Colour washed across her high cheekbones and her cornflower blue eyes lit with challenge.

The morning sun had risen higher in the sky and now shone through the window behind her, illuminating her so she looked like some golden-haired avenging angel.

Inferno, she was beautiful when she was all fired up like this.

‘Your money might buy you a lot of things, Mr Borghetti, but money can’t buy love and love is the most important thing in the world. You want our bone marrow and either of us would be prepared to give it in a heartbeat, but it doesn’t come without our love. After everything your family has taken from us, you have a moral right to grant us full access to Christiana.’

He had to stick to the facts and not let this become personal. ‘Jane was well compensated for the role she played in Christiana’s birth. You’ll also be financially compensated, but you will not challenge me on this.’

Her long-lashed eyes narrowed as she glared at him with resentment. ‘You’re an insufferable, insulting individual. You storm in here and degrade my sister’s memory—claiming she s-sold her child off like some … commodity on the stock exchange …’ Her voice broke and he watched her swallow as though she had a constriction in her throat.

Cazzo! He didn’t want to stand here and argue with her when she was obviously emotionally vulnerable. He didn’t want to have to tarnish the memory of her sister, but he wasn’t responsible for her loss.

‘I’ve seen the contract. I’ve been told Jane threatened to go to the press and tell the story of her surrogacy. She demanded five million euro for her silence. My brother ended up paying her an extra two million to prevent her from going to the tabloids because—rightly or wrongly—he wanted Christiana to grow up believing his wife was her mother.’

‘Who told you these lies?’

Merda. His confidence took a dive. ‘My father.’

She threw her hands up in the air as she gave voice to a sound of disgusted disbelief and disdain spread across her features. ‘And you believed him?’

It was a valid point and heat prickled across Luca’s skin. ‘My brother was there. He didn’t deny it.’

But, merda, Antonio had never stood up to their father and hadn’t Luca sensed undercurrents of unease between the two men that day?

‘God, but you Borghetti men are such liars!’

She’d given him a lot to think about but he wouldn’t be tarred with the same brush as his father. ‘Be very—’

‘Family was everything to Jane, and I know she wanted her child more than anything. Antonio was supposed to have filed for divorce. Your insinuation Jane was trying to blackmail the man she was going to marry is both ludicrous and foul. I won’t listen to you continually try to blacken her name.’

Antonio may have been weak but he hadn’t been evil like their father, and the cheque had come from his bank account. ‘She was paid off, Olivia.’

‘Really? Then what the hell did she do with all the money?’

It was a good question—one he didn’t have the answer to. Yet, he’d seen the bank statement—seen the transfer of the amount from Antonio’s account into Jane’s. ‘You said she died soon after Christiana’s birth?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then it must’ve been in