Catherine George - Dante's Unexpected Legacy

To secure his heir…

The night that Rose Palmer met enigmatic Italian tycoon Dante Fortinari she threw caution to the wind, allowing him to sweep her off her feet and into his bed! But by the next morning Dante was gone, leaving Rose heartbroken, alone…and pregnant.

Two years later, Rose comes face-to-face with the father of her daughter and can no longer hide the truth of that night. She knew he’d be angry, but never expected him to demand marriage! She longs to accept, but can her heart withstand life with a man who might never love her back?

‘Hold on!’ She shook her head decisively. ‘That’s not going to happen, Dante.’

He pulled her to her feet and stood staring down at her. ‘We made a child together—’

Rose held her ground. ‘I didn’t tell you about Bea to force you to marry me, Dante. I don’t want—or need—a husband.’

‘But this is not all about you, Rose,’ he flung at her. ‘My daughter needs a father. You have not considered this?’

‘Are you serious? Of course I have!’ She sighed wearily. ‘But I like being in charge of my own life—and of hers. If I married you, Dante, I suppose you would expect me to uproot us to live with you in Italy?’

‘Naturalmente. I have a home ready for you,’ he said swiftly.

Rose shook her head firmly. ‘It’s not the basis for a marriage, Dante.’

‘You would find it so hard to be my wife?’ he demanded, eyes glittering.

In some ways not hard at all, but that wasn’t the point. ‘I think it’s a mistake to rush into anything, Dante,’ she said at last.

Dante stood with long legs apart and arms folded as he stared down at her. ‘I will do whatever it takes to make it happen.’

ONE NIGHT WITH CONSEQUENCES

A high price to pay for giving in to temptation!

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?

If you enjoy DANTE’S UNEXPECTED LEGACY

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Dante’s Unexpected Legacy

Catherine George

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CATHERINE GEORGE was born in Wales, and early on developed a passion for reading which eventually fuelled her compulsion to write. Marriage to an engineer led to nine years in Brazil, but on his later travels the education of her son and daughter kept her in the UK. Instead of constant reading to pass her lonely evenings, she began to write the first of her romantic novels. When not writing and reading she loves to cook, listen to opera, and browse in antiques shops.

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This one’s for Justin

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EXTRACT

CHAPTER ONE

ROSE SAT RIGIDLY, every nerve on edge as the plane took off. No turning back now. For years she’d been turning down invitations to Florence, flatly refusing to be parted from her little daughter, or to take her child with her. But this time refusal had been impossible.

‘Please, please come,’ Charlotte had begged. ‘Just you and me in a luxury hotel for a couple of days. God knows you can do with a break, and I’ll pay for everything and send you a plane ticket, so absolutely no expenses on your part. You know Bea will be fine with your mother, so don’t say no this time. I really need you, Rose. So come. Please!’ she’d added, and because Charlotte was her oldest and closest friend and she loved her like a sister, Rose had finally given in.

‘Oh, all right. If it means that much to you I will. But why a hotel and not your place?’

‘I want you all to myself.’

‘Fabio can’t be cool about this. It’s your wedding anniversary, isn’t it?’

‘He’ll be away for it on some business trip,’ said Charlotte miserably. ‘Besides, he doesn’t know about the hotel yet. But I’ve already booked, so there’s nothing he can do about it—not that he would, of course.’

Rose wasn’t so sure. A possessive husband like Fabio Vilari would surely be anything but cool if his wife took a hotel break in Florence without him, even if it was with her lifelong friend and the bridesmaid at their wedding. But from the moment Rose had said a reluctant yes to the trip Charlotte rang every day to make sure that she hadn’t changed her mind, and in her final call sprang a surprise with instructions to take a taxi from Santa Maria Novella railway station to the hotel. ‘I’ll meet you there later in time for dinner, Rose. I can’t wait!’

Money, if the hotel brochure was anything to go by, was obviously not part of Charlotte’s problem, but if something was going wrong with her marriage Rose couldn’t see what earthly help a single parent like herself could give her friend, other than to provide a sympathetic ear. Still, the note of tearful desperation in her friend’s voice had been so worrying that Rose had enlisted her mother’s willing help, covered her child’s face with kisses and made for Heathrow with her shoulder ready for Charlotte to cry on.

On terra firma in Pisa Airport, Rose concentrated on collecting her luggage and finding the train for Florence, but once she’d boarded it the Tuscan scenery passed her by almost unnoticed in her worry about possible problems left behind and the all-too-probable ones awaiting her at journey’s end. Her daughter was used to spending time with her beloved gramma while Rose went out to work, but Mummy had always been home before bedtime. Rose blinked hard. The thought of her darling Bea crying for her in the night was unbearable. Yet Charlotte had been there for Rose through thick and thin in the past, and now her friend was the one needing help and support for once Rose had no option but to get to her as quickly as possible to provide it.

Rose came to with a start as the train pulled into Santa Maria Novella and was soon wheeling her suitcase through the heat and bustle of the crowds streaming from the lofty station into the late afternoon Florentine sunshine, so very different from the cool mists left behind. The taxi driver who eventually picked her up took a look at her hotel brochure and whisked her on a fast, chaotic drive past tall old buildings in narrow streets filled with honking cars and scooters en route to the banks of the River Arno. Rose stared, impressed, when they reached the hotel. Charlotte was certainly pushing the boat out for her. A flight of stone steps with a red carpet runner led up to an arched doorway crowned by a fabulous Venetian glass fanlight. Rose paid the driver, wishing she’d worn something more elegant than denim jeans and jacket for her red carpet entrance as she trailed her suitcase past marble statues and urns of flowers in the vaulted foyer. She approached the man behind the reception desk at the foot of a sweeping staircase and gave him her name.