The Italian's Christmas Secret

One night, one bed...one baby!

When chauffeur Keira Ryan accidentally drives her car into a snowdrift, she and her devastatingly attractive passenger must find a hotel...only to discover they’ll be sharing a bed! Luckily, billionaire Matteo Valenti takes it upon himself to show virgin Keira just how to make the most of a bad situation—with the most sizzling experience of her life.

It’s nearly Christmas again before Matteo uncovers Keira’s secret. He may have resisted commitment his whole life, but now it’s time to claim his son and heir...

‘Can’t sleep?’

The Italian’s silky voice penetrated her spinning thoughts and Keira could tell from the shifting weight on the mattress that Matteo Valenti had turned his head to talk to her. She swallowed. Should she pretend to be asleep? But what would be the point of that? She suspected he would see through her ruse immediately—and wasn’t it a bit of a relief not to have to keep still any more?

‘No,’ she admitted. ‘Can’t you?’

He gave a short laugh. ‘I wasn’t expecting to.’

‘Why not?’

His voice dipped. ‘I suspect you know exactly why not. It’s a somewhat unusual situation to be sharing a bed with an attractive woman and having to behave in such a chaste manner.’

Keira was glad of the darkness which hid her sudden flush of pleasure. Had the gorgeous and arrogant Matteo Valenti actually called her attractive? And was he really implying that he was having difficulty keeping his hands off her? Of course he might only be saying it to be polite—but he hadn’t exactly been a model of politeness up until now, had he?

‘I thought you said you didn’t find me attractive?’

‘That’s what I was trying to convince myself.’

In the darkness, she gave a smile of pleasure. ‘I could go downstairs and see if I could get us some more tea.’

‘Please.’ He groaned. ‘No more tea.’

‘Then I guess we’ll have to resign ourselves to a sleepless night.’ She plumped up her pillow and sighed as she collapsed back against it. ‘Unless you’ve got a better suggestion?’

One Night With Consequences

When one night...leads to pregnancy!

When succumbing to a night of unbridled desire it’s impossible to think past the morning after!

But, with the sheets barely settled, that little blue line appears on the pregnancy test and it doesn’t take long to realise that one night of white-hot passion has turned into a lifetime of consequences!

Only one question remains:

How do you tell a man you’ve just met that you’re about to share more than just his bed?

Find out in:

Claiming His Christmas Consequence by Michelle Smart

The Guardian’s Virgin Ward by Caitlin Crews

A Child Claimed by Gold by Rachael Thomas

The Consequence of His Vengeance by Jennie Lucas

Secrets of a Billionaire’s Mistress by Sharon Kendrick

The Boss’s Nine-Month Negotiation by Maya Blake

The Pregnant Kavakos Bride by Sharon Kendrick

A Ring for the Greek’s Baby by Melanie Milburne

Engaged for Her Enemy’s Heir by Kate Hewitt

The Virgin’s Shock Baby by Heidi Rice

Look for more One Night With Consequences stories coming soon!

The Italian’s Christmas Secret

Sharon Kendrick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SHARON KENDRICK once won a national writing competition by describing her ideal date: being flown to an exotic island by a gorgeous and powerful man. Little did she realise that she’d just wandered into her dream job! Today she writes for Mills & Boon, featuring often stubborn but always to die for heroes and the women who bring them to their knees. She believes that the best books are those you never want to end. Just like life…

Books by Sharon Kendrick

Mills & Boon Modern Romance

A Royal Vow of Convenience

The Ruthless Greek’s Return

Christmas in Da Conti’s Bed

One Night With Consequences

The Pregnant Kavakos Bride

Secrets of a Billionaire’s Mistress

Crowned for the Prince’s Heir

Carrying the Greek’s Heir

Wedlocked!

The Sheikh’s Bought Wife

The Billionaire’s Defiant Acquisition

The Billionaire’s Legacy

Di Sione’s Virgin Mistress

The Bond of Billionaires

Claimed for Makarov’s Baby

The Sheikh’s Christmas Conquest

At His Service

The Housekeeper’s Awakening

Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

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For the vivacious and beautiful Amelia Tuttiett—who is a great raconteur and always fun to be with. She is also a brilliant ceramic artist.

Thanks for all the inspiration, Mimi!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

One Night With Consequences

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘MR VALENTI?’

The woman’s soft voice filtered into Matteo’s thoughts and he made no effort to hide his exasperation as he leaned back against the leather seat of the luxury car. He’d been thinking about his father. Wondering if he intended carrying out the blustering threat he’d made just before Matteo had left Rome—and if so, whether or not he could prevent it. He gave a heavy sigh, forcing himself to accept that the ties of blood went deeper than any others. They must do. He certainly wouldn’t have tolerated so much from one person if they hadn’t been related. But family were difficult to walk away from. Difficult to leave. He felt his heart clench. Unless, of course, they left you.

‘Mr Valenti?’ the soft voice repeated.

Matteo gave a small click of irritation and not just because he loathed people talking to him when it was clear he didn’t want to be disturbed. It was more to do with the fact that this damned trip hadn’t gone according to plan, and not just because he hadn’t seen a single hotel he’d wanted to buy. It was as much to do with the small-boned female behind the steering wheel who was irritating the hell out of him.

‘Cos’ hai detto?’ he demanded until the ensuing silence reminded him that the woman didn’t speak Italian, that he was a long way from home—in fact, he was in the middle of the infernal English countryside with a woman driver.

He frowned. Having a woman chauffeur was a first for him and when he’d first seen her slender build and startled blue eyes, Matteo had been tempted to demand a replacement of the more burly male variety. Until he reminded himself that the last thing he needed was to be accused of sexual prejudice. His aristocratic nostrils flared as he glanced into the driver’s mirror and met her eyes. ‘What did you say?’ he amended, in English.

The woman cleared her throat, her slim shoulders shifting slightly—though the ridiculous peaked cap she insisted on wearing over her shorn hair stayed firmly in place. ‘I said that the weather seems to have taken a turn for the worse.’

Matteo turned his head to glance out of the window where the deepening dusk was almost obscured by the violent swirl of snowflakes. He’d been so caught up in his thoughts that he’d paid scant attention to the passing countryside but now he could see that the landscape was nothing but a bleached blur. He scowled. ‘But we’ll be able to get through?’

‘I certainly hope so.’

‘You hope so?’ he echoed, his voice growing harder. ‘What kind of an answer is that? You do realise that I have a flight all geared up and ready to go?’

‘Yes, Mr Valenti. But it’s a private jet and it will wait for you.’

‘I am perfectly aware that it’s a private jet since I happen to own it,’ he bit out impatiently. ‘But I’m due at a party in Rome tonight, and I don’t intend being late.’

With a monumental effort Keira stifled a sigh and kept her eyes fixed on the snowy road ahead. She needed to act calm and stay calm because Matteo Valenti was the most important customer she’d ever driven, a fact her boss had drummed into her over and over again. Whatever happened, she mustn’t show the nerves she’d been experiencing for the past few days—because driving a client of this calibre was a whole new experience for her. Being the only woman and the more junior driver on the payroll, she usually got different sorts of jobs. She collected urgent packages and delivered them, or picked up spoilt children from their prep school and returned them to their nanny in one of the many exclusive mansions which were dotted around London. But even mega-rich London customers paled into insignificance when you compared them with the wealth of Matteo Valenti.

Her boss had emphasised the fact that this was the first time the Italian billionaire had ever used their company and it was her duty to make sure he gave them plenty of repeat business. She thought it was great that such an influential tycoon had decided to give Luxury Limos his business, but she wasn’t stupid. It was obvious he was only using them because he’d decided on the trip at the last minute—just as it was obvious she’d only been given the job because none of the other drivers were available, this close to Christmas. According to her boss, he was an important hotelier looking to buy a development site in England, to expand his growing empire of hotels. So far they had visited Kent, Sussex and Dorset—though they’d left the most far-flung destination of Devon until last, which wouldn’t have been how she would have arranged it, especially not with the pre-holiday traffic being what it was. Still, she wasn’t being employed to sort out his schedule for him—she was here to get him safely from A to B.

She stared straight ahead at the wild flurry of snowflakes. It was strange. She worked with men and for men and knew most of their foibles. She’d learnt that in order to be accepted it was better to act like one of the boys and not stand out. It was the reason she wore her hair short—though not the reason she’d cut it in the first place. It was why she didn’t usually bother with make-up, or wearing the kind of clothes which invited a second look. The tomboy look suited her just fine, because if a man forgot you were there, he tended to relax—though unfortunately the same rule didn’t seem to apply to Matteo Valenti. She’d never met a less relaxed individual.

But that wasn’t the whole story, was it? She clutched the steering wheel tightly, unwilling to admit the real reason why she felt so self-conscious in his company. Because wasn’t the truth that he had blown her away the moment they’d met, with the most potent brand of charisma she’d ever encountered? It was disturbing and exciting and scary all at the same time and it had never happened to her before—that thing of looking into someone’s eyes and hearing a million violins start playing inside your head. She’d gazed into the darkest eyes she’d ever seen and felt as if she could drown in them. She’d found herself studying his thick black hair and wondering how it would feel to run her fingers through it. Failing that, having a half-friendly working relationship would have satisfied her, but that was never going to happen. Not with a man who was so abrupt, narrow-minded and judgmental.

She’d seen his expression when she’d been assigned to him, his black gaze raking over her with a look of incredulity he hadn’t bothered to disguise. He’d actually had the nerve to ask whether she felt confident behind the wheel of such a powerful car and she had been tempted to coolly inform him that yes, she was, thank you very much. Just as she was confident about getting underneath the bonnet and taking the engine to pieces, should the need arise. And now he was snapping at her and making no attempt to hide his irritation—as if she had some kind of magical power over the weather conditions which had suddenly hit them from out of the blue!

She shot a nervous glance towards the heavy sky and felt another tug of anxiety as she met his hooded dark eyes in the driver’s mirror.

‘Where are we?’ he demanded.

Keira glanced at the sat-nav. ‘I think we’re on Dartmoor.’

‘You think?’ he said sarcastically.

Keira licked her lips, glad he was now preoccupied with staring out of the window instead of glaring so intently at her. Glad he was ignorant of the sudden panicked pounding of her heart. ‘The sat-nav lost its signal a couple of times.’

‘But you didn’t think to tell me that?’

She bit back her instinctive response that he was unlikely to be an expert on the more rural parts of the south-west since he’d told her he hardly ever visited England. Unless, of course, he was implying that his oozing masculinity was enough to compensate for a total lack of knowledge of the area.

‘You were busy with a phone call at the time and I didn’t like to interrupt,’ she said. ‘And you said...’

‘I said what?’

She gave a little shrug. ‘You mentioned that you’d like to travel back by the scenic route.’

Matteo frowned. Had he said that? It was true he’d been distracted by working out how he was going to deal with his father, but he didn’t remember agreeing to some guided tour of an area he’d already decided wasn’t for him, or his hotels. Hadn’t it simply been a case of agreeing to her hesitant suggestion of an alternative route, when she’d told him that the motorways were likely to be busy with everyone travelling home for the Christmas holiday? In which case, surely she should have had the sense and the knowledge to anticipate something like this might happen.

‘And this snowstorm seems to have come from out of nowhere,’ she said.

With an effort Matteo controlled his temper, telling himself nothing would be achieved by snapping at her. He knew how erratic and emotional women could be—both in and out of the workplace—and had always loathed overblown displays of emotion. She would probably burst into tears if he reprimanded her, followed by an undignified scene while she blubbed into some crumpled piece of tissue and then looked at him with tragic, red-rimmed eyes. And scenes were something he was at pains to avoid. He liked a life free of drama and trauma. A life lived on his terms.

Briefly, he thought about Donatella waiting for him at a party he wasn’t going to be able to make. At the disappointment in her green eyes when she realised that several weeks of dating weren’t going to end up in a swish Roman hotel bedroom, as they’d planned. His mouth hardened. He’d made her wait to have sex with him and he could tell it had frustrated the hell out of her. Well, she would just have to wait a little longer.

‘Why don’t you just get us there as safely as possible?’ he suggested, zipping shut his briefcase. ‘If I miss the party, it won’t be the end of the world—just so long as I get home for Christmas in one piece. You can manage that, can’t you?’

Keira nodded, but inside her heart was still racing faster than it should have been considering her sedentary position behind the wheel. Because she was rapidly realising that they were in trouble. Real trouble. Her windscreen wipers were going like crazy but no sooner had they removed a thick mass of white flakes, there were loads more their place. She’d never known such awful visibility and found herself wondering why she hadn’t just risked the crowds and the traffic jams and gone by the most direct route. Because she hadn’t wanted to risk a displeasure she suspected was never very far from the surface with her billionaire client. Matteo Valenti wasn’t the kind of person you could imagine sitting bumper to bumper on a road of stationary traffic while children in Santa hats pulled faces through the back windows. To be honest, she was surprised he didn’t travel round by helicopter until he’d informed her that you got to see a lot more of the natural lie of the land from a car.

He seemed to have informed her about quite a lot of things. How he didn’t like coffee from service stations and would rather go without food than eat something ‘substandard’. How he preferred silence to the endless stream of Christmas songs on the car radio, though he didn’t object when once she changed the station to some classical music, which she found strangely unsettling—particularly when a glance in the mirror showed her that he had closed his eyes and briefly parted his lips. Her heartbeat had felt very erratic after that particular episode.

Keira slowed down as they drove past a small house on which an illuminated Santa Claus was driving his sleigh above a garish sign proclaiming Best Bed & Breakfast on Dartmoor! The trouble was that she wasn’t used to men like Matteo Valenti—she didn’t imagine a lot of people were. She’d watched people’s reactions whenever he emerged from the limousine to cast his eye over yet another dingy hotel which was up for sale. She’d witnessed women’s gazes being drawn instinctively to his powerful physique. She’d watched their eyes widen—as if finding it hard to believe that one man could present such a perfect package, with those aristocratic features, hard jaw and sensual lips. But Keira had been up close to him for several days and she realised that, although he looked pretty perfect on the surface, there was a brooding quality underneath the surface which hinted at danger. And weren’t a lot of women turned on by danger? As she clamped her fingers around the steering wheel, she wondered if that was the secret of his undeniable charisma.

But now wasn’t the time to get preoccupied about Matteo Valenti, or even to contemplate the holidays which were fast approaching and which she was dreading. It was time to acknowledge that the snowstorm was getting heavier by the second and she was losing control of the big car. She could feel the tyres pushing against the weight of the accumulating drifts as the road took on a slight incline. She could feel sweat suddenly beading her brow as the heavy vehicle began to lose power and she realised that if she wasn’t careful...

The car slid to a halt and Keira’s knuckles whitened as she suddenly realised there were no distant tail lights in front of them. Or lights behind them. She glanced in the mirror as she turned off the ignition and forced herself to meet the furious black stare which was being directed at her from the back seat.

‘What’s going on?’ he questioned, his tone sending a shiver rippling down Keira’s spine.

‘We’ve stopped,’ she said, turning the key again and praying for them to start moving but the car stayed exactly where it was.

‘I can see that for myself,’ he snapped. ‘The question is, why have we stopped?’

Keira gulped. He must have realised why. Did he want her to spell it out for him so he could shovel yet more blame on her? ‘It’s a heavy car and the snow is much thicker than I thought. We’re on a slight hill, and...’

‘And?’

Face facts, she told herself fiercely. You know how to do that. It’s a difficult situation, but it’s not the end of the world. She flicked the ignition and tried moving forward again but despite her silent prayers, the car stubbornly refused to budge. Her hands sliding reluctantly from the wheel, she turned round. ‘We’re stuck,’ she admitted.

Matteo nodded, biting back the angry exclamation which was on the tip of his tongue, because he prided himself on being good in an emergency. God knew, there had been enough of those over the years to make him an expert in crisis management. Now was not the time to wonder why he hadn’t followed his instincts and demanded a male driver who would have known what he was doing, instead of some slip of a girl who didn’t look strong enough to control a pushbike, let alone a car this size. Recriminations could come later, he thought grimly—and they would. First and foremost they needed to get out of here—and to do that, they needed to keep their wits about them.

‘Where exactly are we?’ he said, speaking slowly as if to a very small child.

She swivelled her head to look at the sat-nav for several silent seconds before turning to meet his gaze again.

‘The signal has cut out again. We’re on the edge of Dartmoor.’

‘How close to civilisation?’

‘That’s the trouble. We’re not. We’re miles from anywhere.’ He saw her teeth dig into her lower lip as if she were trying to draw blood from it. ‘And there’s no Wi-Fi connection,’ she finished.

Matteo wanted to slam the flat of his hand against the snow-covered window but he sucked in an unsteady breath instead. He needed to take control.

‘Move over,’ he said roughly as he unclipped his seat belt.

She blinked those great big eyes at him. ‘Move over where?’

‘Onto the passenger seat,’ he gritted out as he pushed open the car door to brace himself against a flurry of snowflakes. ‘I’m taking over.’

He was pretty much covered in ice by the time he got into the car and slammed the door shut, and the bizarre thought which stuck in his mind was how deliciously warm the seat felt from where her bottom had been sitting.

Furious for allowing himself to be distracted by something so basic and inappropriate at a time like this, Matteo reached for the ignition key.

‘You do know not to press down too hard on the accelerator, don’t you?’ she said nervously. ‘Or you’ll make the wheels spin.’

‘I don’t think I need any driving lessons from someone as incompetent as you,’ he retorted. He started the engine and tried moving forward. Nothing. He tried until he was forced to surrender to the inevitable, which deep down he’d known all along. They were well and truly stuck and the car wasn’t going anywhere. He turned to the woman sitting beside him who was staring at him nervously from beneath her peaked cap.

‘So. Bravo,’ he said, his words steeped in an anger he could no longer contain. ‘You’ve managed to get us stranded in one of the most inhospitable parts of the country on one of the most inhospitable nights of the year—just before Christmas. That’s some feat!’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Saying sorry isn’t going to help.’

‘I’ll probably get the sack,’ she whispered.

‘You will if I have anything to do with it—that’s if you don’t freeze to death first!’ he snapped. ‘If it were down to me, I would never have employed you in the first place. But the consequences to your career are the last thing on my mind right now. We need to start working out what we’re going to do next.’

She reached into the glove compartment for her mobile phone but he wasn’t surprised to see her grimace as she glanced down at the small screen. ‘No signal,’ she said, looking up.

‘You don’t say?’ he said sarcastically, peering out of the window where the howling flakes showed no signs of abating. ‘I’m guessing there’s no nearby village?’

She shook her head. ‘No. Well, we did pass a little B&B just a while back. You know, one of those places which offer bed and breakfast for the night.’

‘I’m in the hotel trade,’ he said silkily. ‘And I’m perfectly aware of what a B&B is. How far was it?’

She shrugged. ‘Less than a mile, I’d guess—though it wouldn’t be easy to reach in this kind of conditions.’

‘No kidding?’ Matteo eyed the virtual white-out which was taking place outside the window and his heart thundered as he acknowledged the real danger of their situation. Because suddenly this was about more than just missing his flight or disappointing a woman who had been eager to make him her lover; this was about survival. Venturing outside in this kind of conditions would be challenging—and dangerous—and the alternative was to hunker down in the car for the night and wait for help to arrive tomorrow. Presumably she would have blankets in the boot and they could continue to run the heater. His lips curved into a grim smile. And wasn’t the traditional method of generating heat to huddle two bodies together? But he gave the idea no more than a few seconds’ thought before dismissing it—and not just because she didn’t look as if she had enough flesh on her bones to provide any degree of comfort. No. To take the risk of staying put while the snow came down this fast would be nothing short of madness, for there was no guarantee anyone would find them in the morning.

He ran his gaze over her uniform of navy blue trousers and the sturdy jacket which matched her cap. The material curved over the faint swell of her breasts and brushed against her thighs and was hardly what you would call practical—certainly not appropriate to face the elements at their worst. He sighed. Which meant he would have to give her his overcoat and freeze to death himself. ‘I don’t suppose you have any warmer clothes with you?’

For a few seconds, she seemed to brighten. ‘I’ve got an anorak in the boot.’

‘An anorak?’

‘It’s a waterproof jacket. With a hood.’ She removed her peaked chauffeur’s cap and raked her fingers through her short dark hair and Matteo felt inexplicably irritated by the brief smile which had lightened her pale face.

Was she expecting praise for having had the foresight to pack a coat? he wondered acidly.

‘Just get it and put it on,’ he bit out. ‘And then let’s get the hell out of here.’