LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER TEN

      Four months later

      ‘NICO JUST LANDED.’

      Aurora, who stood in the cool of Reception, nodded to Francesca. ‘Everything is ready.’

      The press were here for the official opening of the hotel, and the guests mainly consisted of Nico’s wealthy contacts and a few select people from the travel industry, who would be dining in the restaurant and staying in the sumptuous suites on this very exciting day for Silibri.

      The real guests would start arriving next week.

      Nico had made it clear—via correspondence rather than in person—that he did not want their luxury stay to be encroached upon by the opening celebration.

      Nico had stayed well away from Silibri—had not been back since the funeral. And Aurora had never been more nervous in her life to see him—though that had nothing to do with work.

      Work was the one thing in her life that was going very well.

      The hotel was stunning: each suite had a sumptuous view, either of the ocean or of the ancient temple ruins. Many of the suites had their own private pool, and all had a balustrade balcony made from the same stone as the temple.

      It was sheer opulent luxury, and it would change the village economy entirely.

      Guests would soon be strolling through the long empty streets. Cafés that had closed and lain empty for years had been renovated and would be opening again—not just for the hotel patrons, but for the fleet of staff who would work at the hotel, as well as their families.

      Life was returning to Silibri.

      And soon Aurora would have no choice but to leave.

      She was pregnant.

      In the first few weeks after Nico had left Aurora had been too angry and confused to consider the possibility that she might be pregnant. She had been grieving for Geo, as well as mourning the loss of Nico from her life.

      She had buried herself in work and it had been her saviour. She hadn’t just worked alongside Vincenzo, but off her own bat had made a gorgeous library of the photos she had taken of the renovations, which now had its own section on the hotel’s website.

      Her first inkling that something was amiss had come when the new uniforms had arrived. Aurora had at first assumed there had been a mix-up and that she had tried on someone else’s.

      The jacket had not done up across her generous bust.

      The skirt had felt too snug on her hips.

      Aurora had checked the label and seen that indeed it was her uniform—and then realisation had started to hit.

       Stupido!

      That had been her first thought as she had frantically tried to remember when her last period had been.

       Stupido!

      It had been her second thought too—but aimed at both of them. Because Nico hadn’t used protection and neither had he asked if she was on the Pill.

      And she hadn’t told him that she wasn’t.

      There had been no thought on that balmy afternoon—just his mouth and his hands and his touch and the heaven to which he had taken her.

      Aurora had sent the uniform back and today she wore one a full size bigger—already it was too tight.

      She could not stand to think of Nico’s reaction. He would consider that she had set out to get pregnant deliberately, Aurora was sure. That she was trying to trap him into marriage. It was an old-fashioned village and marriage was still a foregone conclusion for lovers who found themselves in the family way.

       Family.

      She gave a wry laugh at that.

      Nico did not want one.

      ‘Aurora?’

      Vincenzo was going through the list of questions that might come their way as they took their separate groups around the hotel. He, of course, had Nico and all the bigwigs, and she had the local dignitaries. It didn’t trouble Aurora, for it was an hour that she would not have to spend avoiding Nico’s eyes.

      ‘Right, I’m going to the oratory,’ Vincenzo said. ‘Good luck today. Any questions you can’t handle, just refer them to me—though remember I have to leave by eight.’

      Vincenzo was appearing on breakfast television tomorrow and could not stop mentioning it.

      ‘Of course I’ll remember. You look very smart,’ Aurora added, for in his butterscotch suit indeed he did.

      ‘Thank you,’ Vincenzo said, smoothing his auburn hair. ‘So do you.’

      She wore her hair up and had subtle make-up on, but it had taken some considerable effort to conceal her new curves.

      Aurora had let out the waistband of her skirt herself, and her breasts were practically strapped down. She was bursting out of everything and was just a day away from telling her family the news—once Nico had safely flown out.

      Today, though, he had flown in.

      Should she tell him?

      It was the question that she both woke and fell asleep to, and then asked herself a thousand times during the hours in between.

      And as Nico and his entourage crossed the foyer she asked it again.

      Should she tell the man who did not want her—the man who was attempting to cut all ties with her and the village—that she was having his baby?

      Or rather, did she tell the man who wanted her only in bed and not by his side that she was pregnant? The same man who had told her as they made love to keep on wanting him.

      Oh, she still wanted him—for even from this distance the sight of him jolted her senses and turned her on.

      He wore a dark suit, presumably stitched by his usual master tailor, but to Aurora’s skilled eye it was looking a touch loose on him.

      Nico had lost weight.

      Not a lot, but enough that she wanted to race to the chef, scream for pasta and force-feed him. It was the Sicilian way.

      But she restrained herself.

      In fact, for once, Aurora was a picture of restraint.

      ‘It is good to see you.’ She smiled, and shook his hand. And this time, as Nico moved in to kiss her in the way old friends would, it was she who put up her hand to halt him. ‘I believe Vincenzo has your people gathered

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