The Di Sione Secret Baby. Майя Блейк

as proud as she was of her achievements, couldn’t dwell on that now.

      Not when Matteo’s words continued to spin in her head. Besides the news of the old man’s declining health, her brother had dropped another bombshell.

      Grandfather’s little fable wasn’t a fable at all, if Matteo was to be believed.

      For as long as she could remember, she’d thrilled to the story about her grandfather’s Lost Mistresses. At one time she’d even wondered if her grandfather had led as decadent a life as her parents to possess such wild stories. She’d discarded that idea because she knew her grandfather had remained devoted to her grandmother until she’d died. His integrity was one of the many stalwarts she’d tried to emulate. Besides that, building the Di Sione fortune had been his number-one priority.

      Discovering that the Lost Mistresses held real-life meaning, however, was one reality she hadn’t been prepared for. Because why would her grandfather task her brother with retrieving a long-lost necklace on a whim?

      As for the look in Matteo’s eyes when he’d told her to return home without delay...

      Allegra sucked in a deep breath as the plane thundered down the runway and lifted into the arid desert sky.

      She’d faced losing her parents in the most horrific, media-guzzling way when she was six years old. She’d smothered her own pain in order to be there for her six siblings, despite desperately missing the mother whose love had been as volatile as it’d been all-encompassing.

      Whatever her grandfather had to tell her, she would face it.

      * * *

      Despite the bracing pep talk she’d given herself all through her flight, Allegra couldn’t stop the full-body tremble as the town car turned into the long driveway that led to the place she called home. She kept a three-bedroom condo on the Upper East Side in New York City, but the Di Sione family estate in Long Island where she’d grown up with her brothers and sisters was her true home.

      As with most homes, the memories that came with it were bittersweet, although in the case of her siblings and her, they were more bitter than sweet. Allegra couldn’t stop her gaze from darting up the northwest corner of the stunning sprawling mansion that was the Di Sione estate. Cultivated lawns surrounded it with just a glimpse of Long Island Sound further beyond.

      It was where she’d been brought after the night she’d stood at her parents’ home, watching her mother and father enact what was to be their ultimate screaming drug-fuelled row.

      Two hours after that harrowing performance, a single, ominous police cruiser had arrived; an officer had stepped out, and, with a few words, turned her and her siblings into orphans.

      Enough.

      Allegra pushed the bad memory to the back of her mind, and exited the car.

      The double doors opened and Alma, the housekeeper, who’d been part of their family for longer than Allegra could remember, stepped out. Although the elderly Italian woman’s smile was huge and welcoming as always, Allegra spotted the worry in her soft brown eyes and in the furtive wring of her hands.

      ‘Miss Allegra, it has been too long,’ she murmured when Allegra stepped into the vast marble-floored hallway.

      Allegra nodded, but her gaze was already seeking the familiar figure of her grandfather, her heart slamming against her ribs anew at the thought of him being taken away from them. ‘Where is he? How is he?’ she asked.

      Alma’s smile dimmed further. ‘The doctor has advised bed rest, but Signor Giovanni...he insists he’s having a good day. He’s sitting outside, in his favourite spot.’

      Allegra turned away from the imposing wrought-iron staircase that soared three floors, intending to head for the west wing of the villa, to the place where her grandfather had taken his breakfast for as long as she could remember.

      ‘Allegra?’

      She stopped and turned back to Alma. The distress on her slightly wrinkled face was pronounced enough to send a cold shiver down Allegra’s spine.

      She hadn’t doubted her brother for one moment, but truth be told, Matteo had been a little preoccupied with the woman he’d attended the foundation gala with. In a secret part of her, Allegra had hoped he was exaggerating the severity of the situation when he’d spoken to her in Dubai.

      The expression on the housekeeper’s face now confirmed to Allegra that Matteo hadn’t been exaggerating.

      ‘He’s not as he was the last time you saw him. Be prepared.’

      Mouth dry, Allegra nodded, ran her damp palms on her knee-length navy blue linen dress and continued down the west hallway, neither seeing nor appreciating the light that filtered through tall windows onto priceless works of art that graced the walls.

      All she cared about was making it to the end of the corridor, and through the double French doors that led to the pillared terrace.

      Be prepared.

      Despite the warning, Allegra gasped as she stepped out into the sunshine. She’d expected her grandfather to be sitting in his favourite outdoor armchair. The sight of the bed, rigged with what looked like an oxygen canister, was such a shock to her system she froze in the doorway.

      In the bed, her grandfather lay, with folds of cashmere blankets tucked up to his waist. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths and his lids were lowered. But it was his normally vibrant complexion, now turned pasty and shrunken, that hit her hardest. Against the thick white hair, since the last time she saw Giovanni two months ago, the transformation was startling in the extreme.

      ‘Are you going to stand there like a statue all day long?’

      Allegra jumped at the gruff query. Her platform-heeled feet freed themselves from the shock and moved towards the figure, whose frailty was outlined harshly in the morning sun.

      ‘Grandfather.’ Allegra stopped, not sure of the appropriate words to tackle what was in front of her.

      ‘Come. Sit down,’ Giovanni Di Sione urged, patting the side of the bed with a gnarled hand.

      She closed the gap and perched on the edge, swallowing a sob when her eyes met her grandfather’s. She couldn’t have borne it if the spirit of the indomitable man who’d arrived on Ellis Island over half a century ago had dimmed. But thankfully, his clear grey eyes were as piercing as ever, if a little shadowed with pain.

      ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she whispered, her voice hoarse from the emotions she was trying to suppress. ‘We’ve spoken on the phone so many times since I was last here. And why didn’t you send for me sooner?’

      ‘You had other things on your mind.’

      Allegra frowned. ‘Things like what?’

      ‘I know how important the foundation gala was to you, and from the reports I’ve heard it was a rousing success. I didn’t want you to worry about an old man when you had a big event needing your attention.’

      ‘My work will never be as important to me as you are. You know that. You should’ve sent for me!’

      A wry smile twisted his thin lips. ‘Consider me suitably berated.’

      Chagrined, Allegra shook her head. ‘I’m sorry.’

      ‘Don’t be. Your quiet fire is one of the many things I’m proud of you for, piccola mia.’ He held out a large hand and she placed hers in it. His touch was warm and reassuring, but her heart dipped to notice that it lacked its usual gripping strength. ‘So, Matteo spoke to you?’

      Swallowing hard, Allegra nodded. ‘Your leukaemia is back? And the prognosis is a year if we’re lucky?’ Her voice shook with the question, and the pit in her stomach she’d been struggling to keep from widening yawned open as she stared back at her grandfather. With every fibre of her being she had wanted it not to be true, but heart in her throat, she watched Giovanni nod.

      ‘Sì,’