Claiming His Hidden Legacy

Chapter One A last crescendo was reached before the melodious music faded into silence. The murmurs of the assembly stopped as the priest raised his hands and recited the ancient sacrament's words in the ancient rite. Inside his breast, Alexander could feel his heart thumping fiercely. Overcome with emotion, he turned to face the woman now standing beside him. His wife, clothed in white and with a veil over her face, waited for him. Awaiting the marriage-binding vows that will unite them... The hotel's lavish private salon, one of the most famous on Nice's Promenade des Anglais on the southern coast of France, caught Amelia's attention as she sipped her champagne. The salon was packed with elegant men in tuxedos and women wearing evening gowns and jewels. Nevertheless, Amelia was certain that the man she was with was unlike any other male in the room. He was absolutely the most devastatingly attractive man she had ever seen, and every time she glanced at him, her heart raced. Just like she did now. Her gaze went back to his towering, unique figure, beautifully clad in a hand-tailored tux, his well-defined head, and his chiseled Roman profile. As he spoke to the rest in their small group in French, which he spoke as fluently as English and his native Italian, she looked at his tanned, silky skin, taut over high cheekbones, chiselled jawline, and the easy smile of his mobile mouth. She could feel the usual tiny skip in her tummy. Is this how I'm supposed to be here? Or am I having a dream? Because the previous weeks had been a headlong, intoxicating whirl in the arms of the guy who was now by her side and at whose feet she had actually fallen, she occasionally believed it must be the latter. A warm, clear memory jumped into her mind... Her flight was already shutting, so she had been racing down the airport concourse to her departure gate. Her first vacation in a long time was seized before she knuckled down to hunt for a new nanny position. When the twins she had been caring for started school, her most recent position ended. As she herself had dealt with a series of nannies and au pairs during her own upbringing, Amelia believed that although they would miss her for a while, they would quickly get used to her absence. Amelia had long had to accept that her mother had not only been a busy professional but also utterly devoid of maternal affections. She had also had to accept that, due to her birth as a girl, her father had left them both in order to find a new wife who would provide him with the sons he so desperately desired. The idea that her father would reject her for his new family and stop being involved in her early years had Amelia's jaw clench in a way she was accustomed to. Did I become a nanny for that reason? Amelia pondered sometimes. How provide love and warmth to kids who don't see their parents too often? Like me? Despite the fact that her mother had never been able to comprehend it, she undoubtedly liked her profession. She also found it hard to comprehend why her daughter would have wanted her father to remain in her life. Her mother had straightforward—and uncompromising—opinions. "Amelia, fathers are not at all required." Being a single mother is completely doable for women! It's equally as good. You should never rely on men because they will disappoint you. It's much better to raise a child alone!" Amelia had not brought up the fact that, in reality, nannies, not her mother, had reared her. However, I won't be like that, and I also won't choose a man who would leave me! No, she was adamant that her life would differ greatly from her mother's. She was going to show her mother how wrong she was. A wonderful man would fall completely in love with her, and he would never disappoint her, leave her for another woman, or reject their children, whom they would nurture in love and devotion. She didn't know exactly who that man would be. She had had her fair share of partners at the age of twenty-six, and she was aware without vanity that men had always been attracted to her blonde beauty, but none of them had made her feel anything. Not quite yet. But I'm sure I'll locate him! The man of my dreams! The man with whom I will fall in love! One day, it will occur. She was ready for a wonderful vacation, though, and had been content to be carefree and footloose as she hurried to the closing gate that day. She had dressed comfortably and lightest possible, wearing jeans, a casual jacket and T-shirt, and well-worn pumps. She must have had little too much wear on the shoes because she abruptly and unexpectedly slipped, sending her foot flying backward. Her pull-along cabin bag had slewn in the opposite way, smacking against another passenger's legs as she went careering down in a heap on the hard floor. A sharp, brief profanity in a foreign tongue had been heard, but she had ignored it. She had cried out as the pain shot up her splayed legs. "Are you okay?"" There had been a low, appealing husk to the accented voice. Amelia's line of sight had been interrupted by a crouching pair of extremely male trouser legs, the fine light grey material stretching across hard-muscled thighs, as she raised her head, still feeling the sting of agony from her fall. She had raised her eyes higher. Additionally, she had just stopped breathing in her throat. She had gazed. There had been nothing else she could do. She had seen the worried glance of a set of deep, black eyes fringed with inky lashes. "Are you in pain?"" Her mouth had felt dry all of a sudden when she had attempted to speak. "I..." she croaked. ‘I’m...fine.’ She began to stand up, but she was lifted to her feet by powerful hands that seemed to lift her out of existence. However, gravity appeared to have already vanished. She felt like she was hovering two inches off the ground, which was the oddest sensation. All around them, people were rushing, talking, and strolling, yet it seemed as if they didn't exist. She continued to look blankly at the man she had collided with. "Are you certain you're okay?" Do you want me to call for medical help?’ There was still the same warm concern in his voice, but it had a hint of humour in it, too, as though he were well aware of how she was staring. And why... A slanting smile sifted across his face. Amelia felt her insides go hollow. The thickly lashed dark eyes washed over her, and the hollowness increased a thousandfold. ‘I believe this is your bag,’ he said, and stooped to rescue her carry-on. ‘Thank you...’ Amelia answered faintly. ‘My pleasure.’ He smiled again. He didn’t seem to mind that she was still gazing at him, drinking in his dark, expressive eyes, his sable hair, the sculpted mouth with its slanting smile, the cheekbones that seemed to be cut from the finest marble. She swallowed. Something was happening and she was reeling from it. And it had nothing whatsoever to do with having just tumbled down at his feet, or her luggage slamming into his legs. Realisation hit. ‘Are you all right?’ she exclaimed, contrition filling her voice. ‘My bag thumped right into you!’ He waved a hand dismissively. ‘Niente—it was nothing,’ he assured her. With the fragment of her brain that was still functioning Amelia registered that he spoke in Italian—then simultaneously registered that his gaze was as focused on her as hers was on him. She saw his eyes narrow minutely, as though studying her in great detail. Studying her and finding that she was entirely to his liking... She felt colour run up into her cheeks, and as it did so she saw a glint spark in his gorgeous dark eyes. It was a subtle message between them that only heightened her colour and made her suddenly, piercingly, aware of her body and its reaction to being looked at with such intensity.