The Italian Billionaire's Secret Baby (Baxter Sisters Book 2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  The Italian Billionaire’s Secret Baby

  By Dora Bramden

  All rights reserved. © 2017 Dorothy Bramich

  This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, at the address below.

  email:[email protected]

  website:www.dorabramden.com

  The influence that my grandmothers had on my life was to enrich it with joy, peace and wisdom. They were patient and kind and always had time for me. It gave me a great deal of pleasure to include a loving grandmother in this story to honor their memory. I dedicate this book to these wonderful women with loving hearts big enough to make all their grandchildren feel special.

  Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  One

  Alessandro Rinaldo, Italy’s darling F1 champion checked his rearview mirror as he took the premium position at the top of the tack on the last corner. The car behind drifted a fraction down the steep incline in a challenge to his lead. Alessandro always won what he set out to do. The other driver knew that but would be ready to take advantage the minute Alessandro gave him a tiny break.

  They went deeper into the tight corner, he focused on the camber of the track, his speed, the distance from the wall. But then, A photo he’d seen that morning of Katrina flashed through his mind. She stood on pointe in a pink tutu holding a baby that had his eyes and his father’s smile. The punch in the chest hit him again. A child he’d never met or even knew existed was as familiar to him as his own face.

  He should never have opened his emails. Never read the ballet company donors’ newsletter when preparing for a race. A week ago he’d discovered that his estranged wife had born a child. His child! He’d decided to put the information in his lawyers hands while he focussed on the race, but his will obviously wasn’t strong enough to keep thoughts of her and his child out. His lawyer confirmed that the child was DNA tested shortly after birth, his name was on the birth certificate. Why would she have done this without telling him?

  A bitter taste flooded his mouth just as the challenger behind pulled down sharply from the turn in a suicidal attempt to overtake on the inside. Alessandro checked his speed, too slow. The desperate challenger capitalized on Alessandro’s momentary distraction.

  If Alessandro moved an inch from the barrier, they would clip wheels, but if he sped up, he could scrape the wall.He must maintain his current position if he wanted to win this race. And he wanted to win this one more than ever. The revelation that he was a father meant he had to keep the promise he’d made. This would be his last year on the circuit.

  He hadn’t made this choice. Katrina had gone against their agreement, not to have children. But even if she hadn’t planned it. Not telling him wasn’t fair; they’d made a baby together. She must have been attempting to tell him the last night they were together. God knows he hadn’t made it easy for her. But two years? Not finding a way to tell him in all that time was betrayal, pure and simple. He inhaled deeply and tried to concentrate. I can’t think about that now. I have a race to win.

  He pressed the accelerator. Alessandro, formula one world champion, must put this challenge down. No one was going to get the better of him, and definitely not here on the track. But the nearest driver was now beside him and keeping him pinned against the wall. If he pushed in front to take his chances he’d be gambling with both their lives. Dying or winning was on the table, as it always was during a race, but this time was different. The father in him was young and he’d only known for a day that a child existed, but the impact was high. It demanded survival; squashed the idea of dying.

  He took his foot off the gas just enough to keep him in second place but the challenger was going too fast now, drifting up the track. Fear spiraled though Alessandro and tangled in his gut. Braking hard would put the rest of the field behind them into peril but keeping up this speed meant the two of them would lock wheels on a tight curve. Losing control would result in a major disaster. He did the only thing he could to save everyone. He let the beautiful car, which he’d spent a year engineering, drift up into the barrier. Metal screamed. In his rear mirror, the cars behind were braking and steering away down the track. The idiot beside him shot ahead. After the pack had past Alessandro pulled his disabled car off the barrier. He‘d thrown the race, his distraction had given the challenger an opportunity. His aching, stiff shoulders slumped.

  His tire had a wobble from being pushed against the barrier, and the front guard scrapped it but suddenly dug into it. His back end flipped out and now the front of his car dove into the barrier. The machine lifted briefly and smashed back to the ground before spinning away down the track. The world flashed again and again. I gave the race away and yet I’m going to die anyway.

  Highly combustible fuel vapor prickled his nostrils. Metal scraping on metal meant sparks would be flying. His grandfather, his father and now himself all dying the same way. In that moment a strange sense of peace came over him. He resigned himself to his fate, and then he remembered his child. A child he’d never meet. His fists gripped the wheel as, instinctively, he fought to gain control, desperate to live.

  The world spun and spun, but the car slowed and eventually stopped turning. He landed on the inside on the race track. A miracle. He unclipped and forced himself to breathe slowly while he waited for the emergency team to arrive and pull him out. He prayed the miracle held and a fire didn’t start before they could get to him. Before he could meet and hold his child. His son.

  This child he wouldn’t lose, not like the last time he’d loved a child he thought was his.

  Twirling en pointe, Katrina Baxter focused on the corner of the dance studio, marking each revolution.

  Tangled, jarring worries about Alessandro’s crash yesterday had played over and over in her mind. The father of her baby had nearly died. Her heart had been in her mouth as she watched the rescue crew pull him from the vehicle. Relief had softened the ache in her chest when he gave a jaunty thumbs up.

  She turned faster. Eventually, the prickling memories receded. She breathed deep into her calm center when a reflection – brooding, dark and lithe – flashed past in the long wall mirror. Her breath caught in her throat. A shiver flew down her spine. Her supporting leg shifted a fraction from its axis, and that troublesome kneecap threatened to slip.

  Had the vision been her imagination? An apparition, perhaps?

  Searing pain shot up the nerve but Katrina, a seasoned prima ballerina, resisted her body’s instinct to collapse and relieve the weight on her knee. Instead, she reined in her outstretched right leg, which had been poised for another momentum-filled pump, and relaxed it. Not the barest hint of a wobble, no matter how great the pain. Controlling her spin with out-stretched
arms, she slowed and used the pain that spread up her leg to drive her focus on that corner.

  She landed in perfect, fourth position. Her critical gaze flicked to the mirror to check her form. The screaming pain in her knee had not disturbed the fluid grace of her landing. If this had happened on stage, the audience would never have known. If her father had been watching he’d have been proud of her. Never missing a performance, he only noticed her when she was dancing.

  Her body line passed inspection. The extra weight had been burned off months ago, and her stomach muscles were tight and flat. Satisfied, she allowed herself to step forward. Favoring her throbbing knee, she limped to her towel.

  Alessandro Rinaldo’s reflection stepped into full view. He clapped in slow applause. Six feet of lean, dressed-to-impress, created a perfect foil against the varnished brick, rear wall. His gaze found hers in the mirror. Katarina’s heart pounded as she gulped in air. Her finely tuned body released a rush of adrenaline equal to opening night. She pressed a hand to her heaving chest.

  Soft, dark brown hair fell in waves on his forehead. His muscle toned neck disappeared into the vee of his open polo, stirred a need that had gone unmet since the last time he’d held her. She took a painful gulp over the knot in her throat.

  Two

  He slipped toned hands into raw silk pant pockets as Italian charm slinked across the room and stole any strength left in her legs. “The old injury still gives you trouble, bella.”

  Yeah, right, two years and no contact – as if he cared about her knee. She stooped and picked up her towel. Rubbing vigorously, she dried her sweaty face and neck and resisted the urge to sob into it as her stomach squeezed into a ball of solid rubber. “Alessandro, what are you doing here?”

  The glint of fire in his eyes betrayed his relaxed stance. His brow pressed downward, creating a crease across the top of his aristocratic nose. His gaze fixed on her sore knee as he took a step closer.

  “You should get ice on that soon,” he said.

  Ice would need to wait.

  She made a show of checking her watch and twisted the end of the towel around her palm. “Are you going to tell me what you want?”

  “You’re as beautiful as ever, mia sposa. Your flushed cheeks remind me of the times when I was the reason for your pink glow.” He tilted his head sideways as he narrowed his gaze and showed her the angle of his strong jaw.

  His words slammed into her like burning wind across a sand baked desert. Unbidden memories swam in her mind’s eye. Her womanly places tingled and plumped. She exhaled slowly to control her racing pulse.

  “Get to the point, Alessandro. I don’t have time.”

  “We have unfinished business.”

  “I know it’s not a mistaken belief we might still share something. I’ll see a lawyer and have divorce papers sent to you.” There was nothing to be gained from continuing a marriage that had outlived the rush of their whirlwind romance. Even so, she couldn’t regret it. She’d gained something very precious to her, something Alessandro had never wanted.

  “I didn’t come here for a divorce. There’s something you have that I want. Can you think what it might be?”

  She had no idea. She hadn’t taken any of Alessandro’s things when she left Milan two years ago. Even her wedding ring had been left on the bedside table. The memory of that morning chilled her blood. Their marriage was over, irreconcilably. “I can give you directions to the airport.”

  “I want my child,” he growled.

  A cold chill seized her heart. “You, what? How did you find out?”

  “I found out in an email from the ballet company that you’ve won a new mother grant.”

  Of course. Alessandro was a major benefactor to the ballet in Milan and Australia.

  “I’m sorry you found out like that. I didn’t think…”

  “I’m a father. You didn’t think to pick up the phone at any time over the last two years?” He raised a black eyebrow and drew his lips in tight, as if holding back a flood of sadness. His hands remained in his pockets. Usually, they’d be waving in the air when he spoke.

  His reaction unnerved her but she’d had terrible sadness caused by him. “Two years and not one phone call from you either.” All the pain of hoping he would call during those years rose in her throat and silenced her.

  “I had no idea you were pregnant when you left my townhouse in Milan.” He cleared the sadness from his eyes and leveled a glare at her that stopped her heart from beating. “I would never have let you get on the plane.”

  Another shiver stole through Katrina. She’d stood in the first class lounge hoping he’d come through the doors and demand that she stay. If only she’d simply said it, I’m pregnant, but the words had stuck in her throat. Had she made a mistake? No the risk was too great.

  Her biological father didn’t want her when she’d found him. He’d taught her that blood meant nothing at all to a driven man. If she couldn’t have Alessandro’s heart, she wouldn’t trap him with a child, but to have him reject that child… If that hadn’t kept her painfully silent her sister, Natalie’s experience would have. Her first husband didn’t want their baby. In a fit of rage he drove through a red light and killed himself, their unborn child and almost killed her sister.

  “You’re a racing car driver who cannot consider having children. Children and racing don’t mix. Isn’t that what you said when I was trying to talk to you just before you walked out?”

  He looked as if he’d been shot. He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the ceiling. He shook himself and looked at her again with those brown glissening eyes. “What I said then is irrelevant now. The child is mine.”

  When Alex was born she had made sure there was proof of his parentage. The fact that she had given up on Alessandro coming to find her didn’t change the fact that he was Alex’s father Now she couldn’t avoid the remonstrations the anger and the ultimate rejection of her sweet dear little boy. He had found her and whatever anger she harbored toward Alessandro, he was her baby’s father. But he had to know they didn’t want anything from him. She had made a good life for herself and her son.

  “You’re a sperm donor. He’s my son.” She curled her fingers tighter around the end of the towel.

  “He’s our son.” His words sparked wonderment to dance across his features. Like the time he won his first Grand Prix, like he genuinely cared. He’d discovered he was a parent of a child he’d refused to even consider two years ago but now looked like it was the best feeling in the world.

  She’d worried about him rejecting Alex in the years ahead now the frightening idea that he wanted to take her son away slammed into her. Her baby boy; she loved him more than her own life. The idea that Alessandro might try to separate them chilled her to the core..

  No one was going to take her child away from her. She’d fight to the death for Alex. Being a prima ballerina had once been the only thing she’d valued in life. Now being Prima Ballerina was important only because it meant she could support herself and Alex. Her baby was the sunshine in her life. Katrina had fed him everytwo hours when he first came home. She had rocked him all night when he was teething. She had come home from class exhausted and still found energy to play with her little boy and get him his dinner.

  “You gave up your right to say you have a son when you left me alone and didn’t return my calls or my texts begging you to come back because we needed to talk .”

  “You wanted to have a family, there was nothing more to say. I accepted that’s why you left. But you ran away with my baby growing inside you? I didn’t have the chance to make sure everything was done that should be done. Were you ever going to tell me?” his palms lay open facing her.

  Her own parentage had been under a cloud. She wouldn’t commit that kind of head game on Alex or his father. But She’d waited hours for Alessandro to return on the night he left her alone and pregnant in their apartment in Milan. Panic and confusion about what to do had grown with each passing minute. No job
and no man. What could she do but go home to Australia where she would be able to live with her sister and have her baby?

  “I decided I was going to tell him when he was old enough to handle the truth about a man who didn’t want him to be born. It would be up to him then.”

  “I didn’t know he existed how could I not want him?”

  “You made it clear enough with your actions.”

  “You were going to let him miss out on having a father because you were scared to tell me about being pregnant. I didn’t want to choose to be a father but if that choice is gone I have to accept it.”

  “How could I know that. Some men never accept it. You gave me every sign that you were one of those men. Walking away and never retuyrning my calls was you saying it’s over. That’s why I left with a determination to have our child and stupid hope that you would miss me and come find me. But we both know that didn’t happen.”

  “This is a terrible missunderstanding. Of course I missed you, but you didn’t want me or you wouldn’t have left.”

  He’d missed her! Her heart gave a tiny jump but she shut it down. He hadn’t missed her enough to come after her.

  “You have no idea what what it took to leave you and have a child on my own. If you did, you’d never call it a misunderstanding. ” She stopped herself from confessing her devastation and pain at leaving. The difficulty in trying to put her life back together while carrying a growing child inside her.

  “I didn’t think Alex having a father in his life was an option.”

  It hadn’t mattered how much she’d wanted a father, he hadn’t wanted her and Katrina had been forced to live with it.

  “I came home after the Japan leg of the Grand Prix. You should have waited until I returned. You’re my wife.”

  Getting pregnant had voided her contract with the Milan Ballet Company. Her career at La Scala was gone, so too would be Alessandro’s interest in her. Her father, who she later discovered was really only a step father, watched her when she danced. He didn’t look at her the rest of the time. His attention was always captivated by her older sisters Natalie and Ruby that were biologically his. Then she found out her real father was a family friend that also came to see her dance but wanted nothing to do with her once she wasn’t on a stage.