The Italian's Unexpected Love-Child. Miranda Lee

on the pill. And he always used a condom. Always!

      As an added precaution, he only dated women these days who were less likely to be looking at him as a meal ticket for life. Women with careers of their own. Money of their own. And minds of their own.

      On Leonardo’s part, he had no intention of marrying until he met the love of his life. Which he hadn’t so far. Strange, given all the clever and attractive girlfriends he’d had. But none had captured his heart. None had inspired the kind of wild passion he’d always imagined being truly in love would engender. Yes, sex with them was satisfying. But not mind-blowing. It never compared to the thrill of hurtling down a snowy mountain, knowing that he was going faster than any of his competitors.

      Leonardo sighed. Ah, those were the days. Days which would never be repeated, his many falls and injuries having caught up with him by the time he’d turned twenty-five, forcing his retirement from the sport. Yes, he’d been a famous skier, as Miss Hanson had pointed out. But fame was fleeting and life moved on. Seven years had passed since then; seven successful but, perversely, frustrating years. He should have been satisfied with his life. Fabrizzi Sport, Snow & Ski was doing very well, with stores in all the major cities in Europe. He’d become a wealthy man in his own right, not just the spoiled only grandson of a billionaire.

      But Leonardo wasn’t satisfied. Sometimes he was consumed with the most awful emptiness, the result perhaps of not having been able to fulfil his ambitions on the ski slopes, injury always having got in the way of success in major championships. There was a restlessness living inside him, a manic energy at times which refused to be quelled, no matter what he did.

      And he did plenty. He still skied in the winter, though not competitively. He went yachting and waterskiing in the summer, along with mountain climbing and abseiling. Recently, he’d gained his pilot’s licence for both small planes and helicopters. His frequent holidays were hectic with activity, but he inevitably returned to work still burning with a fire undimmed.

      The only time Leonardo had really relaxed was when he’d been on Capri, sitting on Laurence’s terrace, looking out at the sparkling blue sea and sipping one of his friend’s excellent wines.

      Thinking of Capri sent his mind back to Laurence’s mystery heiress. Hopefully she would ring him soon and tell him that he could buy the villa. Because he not only wanted it, he needed it. Life without Laurence’s company would be bad enough. Life without the calming influence of his friend’s beautiful home would be a bitter disappointment.

      Leonardo glanced at his Rolex once more, then headed back to his office, not wanting to take Miss Hanson’s call in the street.

       CHAPTER THREE

      VERONICA LAY ON her bed, her head whirling with what she’d discovered. She found it almost impossible to process her feelings. Was she still angry or just terribly sad? What her mother had told her had sort of made sense, and was much better than her mother having slept with a married man. And, yes, she understood why her mother had promised to keep her father’s identity a secret, even if it still upset her.

      What puzzled her the most, however, was the will. Now, that didn’t make sense. Why leave her anything at all? Her father must have known it would stir up trouble and leave so many questions unanswered.

      Her father...

      Tears filled Veronica’s eyes. She’d had a father. A real father, not some unnamed sperm donor. He hadn’t been a nobody, either. He’d been a famous scientist, a groundbreaking geneticist with a brilliant brain. Oh, how she wished her mother had told her years ago.

      But of course she hadn’t been able to. She’d given her word. Down deep, Veronica understood that. Good people honoured their promises. And her mother was a good woman. But, dear God, her father was dead now. Dead and gone. She could never see him or talk to him. Never know what he was like.

      ‘Are you all right, love?’ her mother asked tentatively from the doorway.

      Veronica blinked away her tears then turned her head to smile softly at her very stressed-looking mother. She was well aware that her mother had suffered a big shock too. She had to be worried that her much-loved daughter might never forgive her.

      Whilst Veronica still harboured some natural resentment at the situation, she could not blame her mother for what she’d done. If anyone was to blame, it was Laurence Hargraves. The stupid man should have gone to his grave with his secret intact and not left her anything at all! Then she could have gone on being blissfully unaware of having a father whom she would now never have the opportunity to know.

      ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said with feigned composure. ‘It’s just a shock, that’s all.’

      ‘I know. And I’m so sorry. I don’t know what possessed Laurence to put you in his will. I truly don’t. It was sweet of him, in a way, but he must have known that the truth would come out, and that then you’d be upset.’

      ‘People do strange things when they’re dying,’ Veronica said with a degree of understanding. She’d seen it time and time again in her work. Once, when she’d been treating an old lady, the woman had confessed she was dying and on impulse had wanted to give Veronica a beautiful ring she was wearing. Veronica had declined, knowing that the woman had a daughter who would have been most hurt by such a gesture. But the old lady hadn’t thought of that. Maybe this Laurence hadn’t thought through the consequences of his will.

      Or maybe he’d known exactly what he doing.

      The trouble was she would never really know either way. Because she didn’t know the man.

      ‘Would you like me to make you some coffee, love?’ her mother asked.

      ‘Yes, that would be nice,’ she replied politely, thinking what she really wanted was to be left alone. She needed to think.

      Her mother disappeared, leaving Veronica to ponder the reason why her father had chosen to make his identity known at this late stage, when he could no longer be a living presence in her life. What she wouldn’t have given to have a real father when she’d been growing up, when she’d been at school, when her bitchy so-called friends would tease her about having come out of a test tube. She’d laughed at the time. But she hadn’t found their jibes funny at all. The hurt had struck deep. Teenage girls, she’d found, had a very mean streak. It was no wonder she’d always gravitated to boys when making close friends.

      Thinking of boys reminded Veronica that there was one very grown-up boy she would have to ring back shortly.

      Leonardo Fabrizzi.

      She wasn’t looking forward to telling him that Laurence Hargraves was her biological father. He was sure to ask her lots of questions.

      Still, she had lots of questions she wanted to ask him. After all, if he was close enough to her father to have been made executor of his will, then he had to have known him very well. Maybe he had a photo or two that he could send her. She would dearly love to know what this Laurence looked like.

      Veronica was nothing like her mother in looks. Nora Hanson was quite short with brown hair, grey eyes and a rather forgettable face and figure. In truth, she was on the plain side. Veronica had always assumed she’d inherited her striking looks from her biological father. Maybe now she’d have the opportunity to see the evidence for herself.

      This last thought propelled an idea into Veronica’s brain which had her sitting up abruptly then scrambling off the bed. She raced out into the hallway and bolted down to the kitchen, where she snatched up her phone which she’d left lying on the counter.

      ‘Goodness!’ her mother said, startled perhaps by her sudden exuberance. ‘Who are you ringing?’

      ‘The Italian I told you about. Leonardo Fabrizzi. I promised to ring him back once I’d talked to you.’

      ‘Oh,’ Nora said, looking pained. ‘You’re not going to tell him everything,