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The Italian millionaire’s secret heir!
Waitress Sophie Bradshaw is used to being ignored at glamorous parties and, bruised by a disastrous relationship, that’s fine by her Until Marco Santoro offers her his jacket, leading to a ether
Exasperated by his faets close to anyone But one heart-stopping night with Sophie isn’t enough, and he invites her to his Venetian palazzo Little does he know that Sophie is bringing one tiny, life-changing surprise with her!
CHAPTER ONE
Early December, Chelsea, London
‘WAIT! STOP! OH, NO’ Sophie Bradshaw skidded to a halt and watched the bus sail past her, the driver utterly oblivious to her outstretched hand ‘Just great,’ she an , careful not to slip on the icy paveainst hope the next bus wasn’t too far behind
She huffed out a sigh of disappoint in pairs—she would have to wait twenty minutes until the next one And, to add insult to injury, the light snowflakes that had been falling in a picturesque fashion over Chelsea’s well-heeled streets all evening had decided to pick up both speed and strength and were now dancing dizzily through the air, blown here and there by soly Would it hurt? Just this once? Only, last time she’d checked, she had only forty pounds left in her bank account, there was still a week to go until payday and, crucially, she still hadn’t bought any Christmas presents
She’d just have to wait and hope her best friend, and felloaitress, Ashleigh, joined her soon so that she could forget her freezing hands and sore feet in a good gossip about the evening’s event Sophie hadn’t received one thank you in the three hours she had toted a laden tray around the expensively dressed party-goers, but she had experienced several jostlings, three toe-tra her hands had been occupied in balancing the tray or the botto the stuffed prahich would have beenbut probably not the best career move
Sophie shivered as another icy gust blew through the bus shelter and straight through her inadequate if seasonally appropriate sparkly cardigan Why hadn’t she brought a coat, a proper grown-up coat with a hood and a war and a waterproof outer layer? ‘Vanity, thy na her just reward now; nothing shrieked high-end fashion like the ‘frozen drowned rat’ look
Huddling down into the cardigan, she turned, hoping once h and Sophie’s phone was out of battery—again The snow-covered street was eerily deserted, as if she were alone in the world She blinked, hot unwanted tears filling her eyes It wasn’t just that she was cold, or that she was tired It was that feeling of being invisible, no more human or worthy of attention than the platters she held, less interesting than the cocktails she had been handing out
She sed, resolutely blinking back the tears Don’t be a baby, she scolded herself So her job was hard work? At least she had a job and she was lucky enough to ith some lovely people So her flat was so sh even a temporary home? At least she had a flat—and, even better, an alht here’ being a twenty-es of Chelsea, but it was all hers
So she was a little lonely? Far, far better to be lonely alone than lonely with someone else She knew that all too well
She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin as if she could physically banish her dark thoughts, but her chest still ached with a yearning for soto London just over a year and a half ago The narrow existence she’d trapped herself in long before that Whatparties and events she worked at? To wear colour and shine, not stay demure and unnoticed in black and white?
With a sigh she looked around once ht sht help her shake this sudden and unwanted h the snow fell thicker and faster than ever there was still no sign of Ashleigh Nor was there any sign of the bus The board in the shelter was resolutely sticking to an arrival in twentyminutes had already passed