Christmas Babies for the Italia (Innocent Christmas Brides #2) - Lynne Graham Page 0,2

‘I don’t want Oliver any more, not since finding out that he’s a liar and a cheat, but I still very much want my baby.’

‘Having a child alone will turn your life upside down,’ Sevastiano warned her. ‘But you can depend on me. I’ll sort out another apartment for you.’

‘I don’t want to depend on anyone. I have to stand on my own feet now.’

‘You can work on that goal once you’ve got yourself straightened out,’ Sevastiano told her soothingly. ‘You’re exhausted. You should go to bed now.’

Annabel flung herself into his arms and hugged him tight. ‘I knew I could rely on you to think outside the box. You don’t care about gossip and reputations and all that stuff! Mama says I’m ruined and that no decent man will want me now.’

‘That sounds a little strange coming from a woman who married your father while carrying another man’s child,’ Sevastiano murmured grimly.

‘Oh, don’t let my stupid mess take you back down that road,’ Annabel urged unhappily. ‘This is a completely different situation...’

And so it was, Sevastiano acknowledged after his sister had gone to bed. His Italian mother, Francesca, had been on the very brink of marrying Sevastiano’s Greek father, Hallas Sarantos, when she had met Sir Charles Aiken on a pre-wedding shopping trip to London. In Annabel’s version of the story, Francesca and Sir Charles had fallen hopelessly in love, even though Sevastiano’s mother had only recently realised that she had conceived by Hallas. In Sevastiano’s version of the story, Francesca had fallen hopelessly in love with Sir Charles’s title and social standing and his stepfather had fallen equally deeply in love with Francesca’s wealth. Two very ambitious, ruthless and shallow personalities had come together to create a social power alliance. Sevastiano would have long since forgiven both his mother and his stepfather for their choices, had they not denied him the right to get to know his birth father, who had strained bone and sinew to gain access to him, only to be denied for the sake of appearances.

What had happened to Annabel, however, was unforgivable in Sevastiano’s estimation. A much older married man had taken advantage of his half-sister and had then tried to intimidate her into having a termination against her will, a termination that would have neatly disposed of the evidence of their affair. And Oliver Lawson would pay for his sins, Sevastiano promised himself angrily as he contacted a top-flight private investigator to request a no-holds-barred examination of the other man’s life, because everyone had secrets, secrets they wanted to keep from the light of day. Sevastiano would dig deep to find Oliver’s secrets and work out where he was most vulnerable. He was pretty certain that Lawson had not the smallest suspicion that Annabel was Sevastiano’s half-sister, because he was a connection that the Aiken family never acknowledged.

The man, however, had seriously miscalculated when he chose to deceive and hurt the younger woman. At some stage of his existence, such a self-indulgent man would have made a mistake with someone else and Sevastiano would uncover that mistake and use it against his target in revenge. Sevastiano cared for very few people but he cared very deeply for his only sister, who had been the one bright spot of loving consolation in his miserable childhood. As long as he was alive neither she nor her child would ever want for anything but, first and foremost, Oliver Lawson had to be punished...

Humming under her breath, Amy rearranged the small shelf of Christmas gifts in the tiny shop area of the animal rescue charity/veterinary surgery where she worked. The display made her smile because she loved the festive season, from the crunch of autumn leaves and the chill in the air that warned of winter’s approach to the glorious sparkle and cheer of the department-store windows she sometimes browsed in central London.

She had a child’s love of Christmas because she had never got to enjoy the event while she was growing up. There had been no cards, no gifts, no fancy foods or even festive television allowed in her home because her mother had hated the season and had refused to celebrate it in even the smallest way. It had been at Christmas that the love of Lorraine Taylor’s life had walked out on her, abandoning her to the life of a single parent, and she had never got over that disillusionment. She had always refused to tell her daughter who her father was, and the