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The Heir The Prince Secures
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TESS HAD IMAGINED so many times the moment she’d finally tell Stefano about their precious baby.
She’d pictured him crying out with joy and kissing her passionately, then taking Esme proudly in his arms. She’d dreamed of him falling to his knees to plead for her forgiveness for neglecting her so long—unavoidable as he was trapped on the desert island—and then begging her to be his bride.
She’d never imagined this.
“No.” Stefano’s black eyes were wide as he took a single step back on the sidewalk, his sleek jacket and trousers blending into the dark shadows. He looked down at the sleeping baby. “It can’t be true.”
Her heart twisted. She whispered, “It’s true.”
“How can you be sure?”
She hid the pang she felt at his careless insult. “You’re the only man I’ve ever been with, Stefano. Ever, in my whole life.”
“But we were careful. We used protection.”
Stefano’s hard, handsome face looked so shocked Tess almost felt bad for him. She almost wanted to comfort him, to tell him everything would be all right.
But even Tess’s tender heart couldn’t quite manage that. Not when the man she’d waited for all this time, the man in whom she’d placed her hope and faith, was making his rejection so clear—not just of Tess, but of Esme, too. She lifted her chin.
“I was surprised, too,” she said evenly. “But it turns out condoms aren’t always one hundred percent effective.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded.
Her jaw dropped.
“How could I? I didn’t know your last name or where you lived.” She lifted her chin. “You always knew where to find me. You just didn’t want to. I waited for over a year, believing you’d return.” She hated the tears rising behind her eyes. “Everyone mocked me and teased me for it. I was in love with you, having your baby, and I didn’t even know your last name!”
Tess was relieved for the distraction when her baby started to whimper. Blinking rapidly, she picked up the stuffed giraffe Esme had dropped on the sidewalk, then placed it tenderly in the baby’s arms.
“It’s Zacco,” Stefano said abruptly. “My last name.”
She looked up. “Zacco? Like the fashion brand?”
Even Tess had heard of the legendary luxury brand, famous for its haute couture and iconic handbags printed with flamboyant interlocking Zs.
“Yes,” he said, then shook his head. “My great-great-grandfather started it. I will buy it back soon.”
“You don’t own it anymore? How could you lose rights to a company named after your own family?”
His jaw tightened, and he looked at their baby. “How could you get pregnant?”
The coldness in his voice pierced her heart. It was one thing for Stefano to treat Tess badly; another to be scornful of their baby.
Sweet five-month-old Esme, so plump and adorable and always happy, at least when she wasn’t tired or hungry or teething, was already the person Tess loved most on this planet. Esme was her whole reason for living.
“I’ve just told you that you have a daughter.” Tess felt a wave of dizziness that nearly brought her to her knees. She reached wildly for the stroller handle, gripping it tight so she didn’t fall. “And that’s all you have to say?”
His eyes narrowed. “How do I know she’s mine?”
“Stop asking that! I told you!”
“I need more proof than just your word.”
A white-haired couple holding theater playbills walked past, hand in hand. Seeing the way the couple smiled at each other, Tess’s heart ached. That was what she’d wanted for herself. A lifetime love.
She’d wanted it so badly she’d been desperate to believe Stefano was the one, in spite of all evidence to the contrary. She’d be regretting it the rest of her life.
“Forget it.” Her throat ached as she turned away. “We don’t need you.”
Stefano ground out, “I’m sorry if I hurt you—”
“Sorry?” Her voice trembled. “You’re not sorry!”
“You’re wrong,” he said harshly. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were a virgin until too late. Sorry you imagined yourself in love with me when you didn’t even know me. Sorry you’re now trying to claim your baby is mine!”
“Claim?” Tess’s tears blurred his image as colorful flashing lights from the billboards of Times Square moved over his hard, handsome face. “You’re right,” she whispered. “I don’t know you.”
She couldn’t believe she’d been so horribly wrong about everything. Even now, Stefano still looked like a handsome dream—tall and powerful in his sleek suit. Even his scent, like Italian oranges and hot summer nights, made her heart twist with longing and grief for what she could not have, what had never truly existed.
Reaching out, he gripped her shoulders. His dark eyes burned through her. “I never promised a future.”
As she felt the weight of his hands on her shoulders, electricity pulsed through her, leaving her breathless.
Her gaze fell to his cruel, sensual lips as she whispered, “I know.”
She heard his intake of breath. His grip on her shoulders tightened. “Stop it.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
His eyes were dark pools of hunger. As their eyes locked, sensual awareness coursed through her, sending sparks up and down her body, causing tension to coil low and deep inside her. Unthinkingly, she licked the corners of her lips. First one side, then the other.
With a low growl, he pulled her hard against his body and savagely lowered his mouth to hers.
She was lost in a rush of ecstasy as desire and anguished longing roared through her blood. She surrendered to the pleasure, to his power, his strength, relishing the feel of his arms wrapped around her.
Then, as if from a distance, she heard a choked moan rising from her own throat, wistful and broken, and she remembered how he’d just crushed her heart to a million pieces.
No. No!
Ripping away, she stared up at him in horror, her lips still tingling with pleasure, her heart bruised by that brief fiery joy.
“Don’t you dare kiss me!”
His expression changed. “Tess—”
“Leave me alone.” Her voice wobbled. She was afraid she might burst into sobs, and baby Esme’s tired, hungry whine was threatening to become a wail.
Tess wiped her mouth with her sleeve, trying to forget the sweet taste of his lips, but she couldn’t. A tsunami of grief and regret and exhaustion roared through her, leaving her trembling and dizzy.
She suddenly knew she wasn’t going to make it to the subway. She was going to collapse right here on the street in front of the man who’d caused it all.
No. She had to somehow get back to her friends. She didn’t care anymore if Hallie and Lola said I told you so. They were her only hope now that her whole world was falling down around her.
Swaying unsteadily, she turned, stumbling as she pushed the stroller back down the way she’d come. She could see the distant lights of the Campania at the end of the street.
“Tess.” Catching up with her, Stefano grabbed the handle of the stroller. “Stop. Damn you.”
His face was in shadow. The lights of a single passing car seemed long, smudging before her eyes. The world swam around her as the last of her strength fled. She closed her eyes.
For the last year, she’d tried to have faith while she waited for Stefano to come back and save her. But now that he’d returned, all he’d done was take away the dreams that had sustained her.
“Please,” she whispered, blinking fast, feeling dizzy and sick. “Don’t.”
He frowned, looking down at her. “What’s wrong?”
The dizziness increased, building to a pounding roar in her ears. She felt her knees start to collapse.
His strong arms shot out, keeping her from plummeting to the sidewalk. “Tess?”
The last thing she saw was the worried gleam of his dark eyes as the night folded in around her.
* * *
Tess was swaying, cradled in someone’s arms.
Her eyelids fluttered open, then went wide with shock. Stefano was carrying her in his arms, against his hard chest. They’d already reached the end of the block and were almost at the hotel.
“Esme,” Tess gasped, twisting in his arms.
“She’s safe, behind us.” Stefano’s voice was surprisingly gentle. Peeking over his broad shoulders, she saw a doorman she recognized from the Campania pushing the stroller. She’d met Dalton several times when she’d visited Hallie at the hotel. He gave her an encouraging smile.
“It’s all right, Miss Foster.” He glanced down at the baby. “She’s right here.”
“Thank you, Dalton,” she whispered. Then she glared at the powerful man carrying her. “Put me down.”
“No.” Stefano kept walking. His handsome face was implacable. “You fainted on the street.”
“I’m better now,” she said, struggling in his arms. “Put me down.”
His arms tightened around her. “When is the last time you ate?”
Tess struggled to remember. “This morning?”
“Aren’t you sure?”
She shook her head weakly. “I started work at four. The bakery opens at six, and my uncle doesn’t approve of eating in front of customers. On breaks I’m busy with Esme.” She looked away. “I meant to eat something tonight, but I had to feed Esme. So I just had a glass of champagne.” She put her hand on her forehead, still feeling dizzy. “She’s been teething, so I didn’t sleep much last night...”
Stefano shook his head as they approached the hotel’s gilded revolving door. “I’m taking you upstairs until a doctor looks you over.”
“It’s not necessary,” she said desperately. The last thing she wanted was to be vulnerable—in his arms or his hotel suite.
“A doctor,” he repeated, his glare fierce. “He’ll make sure you’re all right. Then we’ll get a paternity test.”
She stiffened in his arms even as he carried her through the door. How could he ask for a test? Her word should be enough!
The grand lobby of the Campania was huge and luxurious, with midcentury decor and turn-of-the-century architecture. Molded plaster ceilings with crystal chandeliers soared high above the marble floor and paneled walls. Glamorous hotel guests and patrons crowded around the gleaming oak bar at the center.
Tess felt conspicuous as they walked past. They made a strange parade, with Stefano carrying her in his arms and the doorman pushing the stroller behind them. People turned to stare.
A group of gorgeous, very tall, very thin young women gaped at them openly from their table at the lobby bar. Models, Tess thought. They were their own tribe in this city, and you could always tell.
“Good evening, Your Highness,” a man said as he passed, his eyes wide.
“Your Highness,” a woman greeted him, looking as if she were dying to ask all kinds of questions.
Stefano responded only with a nod and kept walking.
“Your Highness?” Tess looked up at him. “That other girl called you that earlier. I thought it was a joke.”
“I’m technically a prince,” he said tersely.
“Technically?”
“Italy is a republic. Aristocratic titles are now merely honorary,” he said flatly. “But my ancestors have been princes of Gioreale for hundreds of years.”
“Gioreale is a place?”
“In Sicily. Once it was an important market village. Now it’s a ghost of its former self. That is what I am.” His lips curved. “Prince of ghosts.”
Prince of ghosts. She thought she saw something haunted in his eyes. What was it? Emptiness? Pain? Despair?
“Miss Foster.” Mr. Loggia, the hotel’s general manager, came forward with an anxious frown. “What has happened? Are you injured?”
“She fainted, sir,” the doorman said from behind them. “Prince Stefano alerted me from down the street, and I rushed to help.”
“I see.” The manager, who’d never been anything but kind to Tess, turned to Stefano with a scowl. “What did you do?”
Stefano replied coldly in Italian, and the manager responded in the same language, lifting his chin.
Mr. Loggia whirled to face her. “Is he taking you against your will?”
Stefano bit out something in Italian that sounded very rude.
“Miss Foster?” the manager demanded.
Tess felt Stefano’s strong arms tighten around her, pressing her body against his powerful chest. As she looked at him, her lips tingled from his savage kiss by Times Square.
“No,” she admitted, her heart in her throat. “He’s right. I fainted.”
Stefano turned icily to the manager. “I’m taking her to my suite, Loggia. Send up the doctor. And room service. What would you like?” he asked Tess.
Food. He was talking about food? She shook her head dimly. “I don’t care.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to call Mrs. Moretti?” the manager asked her with a frown.
For a moment, Tess was tempted to take the offered escape. Then she glanced back at her whining, hungry baby in the stroller. She knew what it was like to grow up without a father. If there was even a chance that Stefano wanted to be part of their baby’s life, didn’t she have to find out?
Even if that meant she had to take a paternity test to make him finally believe her.
“It’s all right, Mr. Loggia,” she said, quietly resigned. “I want to go with him.”
She felt Stefano’s arms relax slightly.
“If you’re sure,” the manager said, looking between them in disbelief. “I’ll have room service send up your usual at once. And the hotel doctor, as well.”
“Grazie,” Stefano bit out sardonically, and turned away, carrying her to the elevator. The doorman pushed the stroller behind them.
“Mr. Loggia doesn’t seem to like you much,” Tess said.
“No,” he agreed, not seeming perturbed about it. “In spite of the fact I’m their highest-paying guest. But his bastard boss despises me.”
“Cristiano hates you?” Tess blinked in surprise. “Why would he?”
“You know Moretti?”
“His wife Hallie is one of my best friends.”
“Ah.” He shrugged. “He and I were drivers in a charity car race last year. We were fighting for the win. His car was in my way, so I—very gently—bumped him over.”
“You hit his car?”
“He was blocking me. Cheating. He left me no choice. After I won, he tried to punch me in the face.”
Tess couldn’t imagine Cristiano losing his temper. He seemed so nice, especially tonight, when he’d declared his love for Hallie. “He punched you?”
“I said he tried to.” Stefano hid a smug smile. “His friends held him back. I felt no need to return his attack. He simply couldn’t accept that his attempts to sabotage me in the race had failed and I’d still managed to win.”
“Winning isn’t everything.”
He looked at her in disbelief. “Of course it is.”
The elevator door opened, and he carried her inside, with the doorman and the stroller behind them.
“If you dislike Cristiano Moretti so much, why do you stay at his hotel?”
“Because it amuses me to force him and his manager to serve me.”
“They might spit in your food.”
“They would not dare. Would they, Dalton?”
“Certainly not,” the doorman replied indignantly. He added with a grin, “You tip far too well for that, Your Highness.”
Stefano returned his grin, then looked at Tess. “Besides. I know Moretti, and he has too much pride in his hotel to ever serve any guest badly. Even me. He contents himself by merely marking up my bill to an exorbitant amount.”
Tess glanced at Dalton, feeling awkward to be discussing Cristiano like this, in front of one of his employees. She asked Stefano helplessly, “Don’t you mind all the conflict?”
“No.”
“You like it!” she accused.
Stefano said with a careless smile, “A man can be measured by the quality of his enemies.”
“My mother used to say that you can be measured by the strength of your love for family and friends.”
He snorted. “That is the most sentimental thing I have ever heard in my life. What was your mother’s profession?”
“Theater actress.” A flash of grief went through her as she thought of her loving but impractical mother, dragging her as a child through summer stock plays and minor roles in small New England towns. She added softly, “Though she was never very successful at it.”
“And your father?”
She felt a different kind of grief. “My mother raised me alone.” She raised her chin. “You can set me down anytime. I’m perfectly able to stand.”
“Not yet,” he said shortly. “Not until we reach my suite.”
With a sigh, Tess watched the elevator numbers go higher. Her baby gave another soft whine from the stroller. Esme was tired and she needed to be fed. At this rate, they wouldn’t be home till midnight. Tess hated the thought of coming home so late and facing her uncle’s wrath.
The elevator door slid open, and Stefano carried her down the hall. As Dalton held open the door, he took her into the suite.
Tess looked around her in amazement.
The royal suite was lavish, spread out across the corner of one of the Campania’s highest floors. Floor-to-ceiling windows provided views of Manhattan from every room. Carrying her into the elegant living room, which had a grand piano in the corner, Stefano finally set her down gently on a white sofa.
“Are you cold? Do you want a blanket?”
“You’re being ridiculous. I’m not an invalid.” She started to get up from the sofa, then felt dizzy and fell back against the pillows. “I just want my baby—”
Without a word, Stefano went back to the foyer. She saw him reach into his pocket.
“Thank you,” he said, handing Dalton a folded fistful of bills.
“You’re so welcome,” the doorman replied fervently, and, with a respectful nod toward Tess, he left.
Kneeling in front of the stroller, Stefano unbuckled the unhappy baby, lifting her up into his arms.
Father and daughter looked at each other with the same dark eyes. Esme’s whimpering stopped. The baby reached out a flailing arm and touched her father’s face.
Stefano laughed, looking down at her. His expression changed. It became almost...tender. Watching them, Tess felt her heart twist in her chest.
Clearing his throat, he returned to the sofa and placed the baby in Tess’s arms. Esme immediately nuzzled toward her.
“Do you want anything else?” he asked.
With a lump in her throat, Tess shook her head. She couldn’t tell him the truth.
There was something she wanted, almost more than she could bear. Watching Stefano hold her baby, she’d wanted him to be the man she’d once believed him to be.
* * *
Two hours later, as Stefano shut the door behind the departing doctor, he looked back across the shadows of the royal suite. Tess and the baby had fallen asleep on the white sofa with the wide view of sparkling city lights. Beside her, there was an empty tray, with only crumbs left of her sandwich and soup. She’d gulped down three glasses of water, too.
Slowly he came closer, looking down at her. Even now, as Tess slept, he could see the dark smudges beneath her eyes. Her beautiful face looked exhausted. She’d fallen asleep in the few minutes he’d spoken privately with the doctor.
“She needs rest,” the doctor had told him at the door. “She’s been working too hard. She has nothing left in reserve. Take care of her.”
Tess had such power over him. Stefano could still feel their kiss and remember how it had felt to hold her soft body in his arms, to plunder the sweet softness of her lips. He wanted her. And she was here. In his suite.
His gaze shifted to the bedroom door at the end of the hall.
Shaking his head hard, he pushed the thought away. Only one thing mattered now. It had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with honor.
Stefano’s gaze slid to the baby still cuddled in Tess’s arms. Esme had fallen asleep hours ago, as soon as she’d been changed and fed. That seemed appropriate given that it was past midnight. He didn’t know much about children, but even in his own disastrous childhood, Stefano had always been tucked safely in his bed every night by a nanny. For all his parents’ selfishness, they’d managed at least that much for their only child.
Which was more than Stefano himself could say if the paternity test proved Esme was his daughter. Had he unknowingly abandoned Tess, pregnant with his baby, without any money or any means to contact him?
His hands tightened.
He’d never wanted to hurt her. He’d tried his best to protect her, by leaving her. Before her love for him could get any worse.
Stefano still wasn’t sure what love was, exactly. Was love real, and was he deficient in some way since he’d never felt it? Or was it an illusion, and were other people deluding themselves?
He preferred to think the latter.
But he’d never known a woman like Tess. The women he dated were usually exactly like him—selfish and ruthless, looking out only for themselves and determined to win at any cost.
Was Tess truly so innocent that she’d given him her heart and virginity, then raised his baby with faith he would return, loving him with such unimaginable loyalty?
He’d never known anyone that unselfish. Ever. Including—and especially—his own parents.
Stefano’s father, Prince Umberto, had only cared about sordid extravagances, and thrilling affairs with women he swore he loved, then quickly discarded. He hadn’t just cheated on his wife, he’d cheated on his mistresses. He’d ruined the family’s famous company, the luxury Zacco brand, through his neglect, then sold it outright during the divorce.
After that, Stefano’s mother, Antonella, had gone on to marry five more times, to progressively younger men, each living off her money during marriage and demanding a fat payout at the end of it. Stefano’s parents had been too self-involved to bother personally with the care of their son, choosing to leave him at their castle in Sicily to be raised by paid servants. At twelve, they’d sent him off to an American boarding school, and left him there, even during the summers.
The Zacco legacy, the legendary hundred-year-old company—even the corporate rights to their very name—had been lost to his parents’ selfishness. After his father’s death when Stefano was finishing college at twenty-two, he’d inherited almost nothing: a falling-down castle in Sicily, some heavily mortgaged real estate, and the nearly bankrupt leather goods company that eventually became Mercurio.
In life, it was every man—and every woman—for themselves. Stefano had learned the lesson well. And life was a game he intended to win.
Over the last sixteen years, Stefano had laboriously rebuilt everything his parents had lost. His international conglomerate, Gioreale S.p.A., was now worth billions, containing luxury brands that sold everything from sports cars to champagne to jewels. And he was building the exclusive fashion line, Mercurio.
It was true, Mercurio’s launch last year hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped, but he’d just hired a hot new designer, the eccentric, trendy Caspar von Schreck. His first clothing collection would be shown next month at Paris Fashion Week.
And soon, if everything went as planned, Stefano would finally acquire what he wanted most—he’d buy back the Zacco brand. Everything was coming together.
He should have been happy, or at least pleased.
But the truth was, at thirty-eight, Stefano was feeling strangely tired of all of it. It was why he’d left tonight’s party early, even arranging for his driver to give teenage model Kebe Kedane a ride back to her anxiously waiting mother on the Upper West Side.
Once, Stefano had loved the thrill of New York Fashion Week, the parties, the clubs, the gorgeous women. Lately, everything he’d given his life to conquer...left him numb. He found himself wanting something else. Something more.
Taking back the Zacco brand would change everything, he told himself firmly. Next week he’d start negotiations with Fenella Montfort to buy back his family’s legacy. Once it was his, he’d finally feel satisfied. He’d finally feel at peace.
He’d finally have won.
“Oh,” Tess murmured, yawning as she stirred on the sofa. She blinked, cradling her baby gently as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. “I must have fallen asleep.”
“You’re tired.” He looked down at her. “I’d like you to stay here tonight.”
Her cheeks went pink. She looked down shyly, her dark eyelashes fluttering against her skin. “That’s very kind of you, but—”
“It’s not kind. I want this settled, one way or the other, before I leave for London tomorrow.”
“London?”
“For Fashion Week.”
She blinked in surprise. “Are you attending all of them?”
“Yes, back to back. New York, London, Milan, Paris.” He gave her a humorless smile. “I do own a fashion brand.”
“But it’s not Zacco?” She said, looking bewildered.
“Mercurio.” His smile dropped. “My father sold Zacco almost twenty years ago. I intend to buy it back. I’ll start the negotiations in London.”
“Good for you.” The deal that meant so much to him obviously meant nothing to her. She stretched her shoulders back, drawing her shoulder blades together, which pushed her breasts forward, stretching the fabric of her modest vintage shirt. Unwillingly, his eyes traced over the shape of her breasts. Catching himself, he forced his attention back to her face.
But her eyes were even more dangerous than her body. They were deep emerald pools, like oceans for an unwary man to drown in.
“When will you be back from Europe?”
“I don’t know.”
Careful not to jostle the sleeping baby in her arms, she rose from the sofa. “Thank you for dinner, and for offering to let me stay, but Esme and I really should be getting home.”
She started toward the foyer where the stroller waited, but he moved to block her. “You’re not going anywhere.”
His voice was harsher than he’d intended. Tess’s lips parted, angry sparks rising in her green eyes.
“Please,” he said, amending his tone. “I want you to stay. Dr. Miller promised the paternity results first thing in the morning.”
“Why should I stay? It’ll only prove what I already know. You’re Esme’s father. I have no reason to wait all night to get the news.” She looked at the floor. “I’ve waited for you long enough.”
An unsettled feeling filled Stefano. If she was telling the truth, then it meant he’d unthinkingly, cruelly abandoned her, pregnant with his baby. He couldn’t let himself even reflect about what that might mean or the choice he’d have to make.
Stefano came closer. “Please stay. Until we know for sure.”
Tess lifted her chin. “I have to get up early tomorrow.”
“Again?”
“I work fifty hours a week.”
“Why? Does it pay well?”
Tess gave a smile tinged with bitterness. “Minimum wage. Plus room and board for myself and Esme.”
“Minimum wage?” He was outraged. “Why would you work so hard for so little?”
“There aren’t many jobs I’m qualified for and where I can keep Esme with me.”
“You should have stayed in design school.”
“Wow,” she said sarcastically. “Thank you for pointing that out to me.” Her cheeks burned. “But I couldn’t afford both tuition and day care, or manage sixteen-hour days of work and school away from her.”
Stefano stared at Tess.
He could instantly picture what her life had been like since he’d left her last year, pregnant, penniless and alone. She’d worked a menial job for little pay, giving up her dreams of college, struggling to provide for her baby with no hope for the future.
All because he’d made sure she had no way to contact him ever again.
His stomach clenched. “If what you say is true and she’s my child...it will change everything. Surely you know that.”
Biting her lip, she glanced down at the sleeping baby in her arms, then said in a small voice, “It would?”
Placing his hands gently on her shoulders, Stefano said quietly, “Please stay, Tess. You’re tired and so is Esme. Just stay. You can have the bedroom. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
She gave him a startled glance, then looked at her sleeping baby cuddled against her chest. With visible reluctance, she sighed. “All right. Fine.” Going to the stroller, she returned with a diaper bag slung over her shoulder. “Where is the bedroom?”
He felt an unexpected rush of triumph that he’d convinced her to stay. “This way.”
Stefano led her down a short hallway to the hotel suite’s bedroom with its huge four-poster bed, marble bathroom and view of the sparkling city lights. He pointed toward the bathroom. “There’s a new toothbrush, toiletries, everything you might need.” He paused uncertainly. “Do you want me to have the concierge send up pajamas? A crib for the baby?”
She shook her head, her eyes looking tired. “Just leave us.”
With a nod, Stefano departed, softly closing the door behind him. As he returned to the main room, his shoulders were tense. He felt strangely restless. He played a few notes on the grand piano, then stopped, remembering Tess and the baby were trying to sleep. Turning to the wet bar, he poured himself a short Scotch and went to the windows, looking at the darkly glittering New York night.
Taking a drink, he stared out bleakly into the night, letting the potent forty-year-old Scotch burn down his throat.
Tess. The bright-eyed redhead was different than any woman he’d ever met, funny and sweet and sexy as hell. The morning he’d woken up in her arms, he’d already been planning to have her in his bed every night until he was satiated with her. Then she’d told him she was falling in love with him, and the whole world had stopped.
Stefano abruptly turned from the window. Work. Work was what he should be focusing on right now. As always.
Setting down his half-empty glass, he grabbed his laptop and sat down on the sofa. Blankly, he read through emails, including reviews of rival companies’ shows during New York Fashion Week and details about Mercurio’s upcoming event in Paris.
As Stefano read through the reports that had seemed so urgent only hours before, all the analysis and numbers seemed like meaningless symbols on the screen. From the bedroom, he thought he heard Tess’s voice singing lullabies to the baby.
His baby.
He didn’t know that yet for sure, Stefano reminded himself fiercely. Yet—he thought of baby Esme’s dark eyes—he knew.
And if it was proved that five-month-old Esme Foster was his child? What would he do then?
Tess’s singing faded and the hotel suite fell silent. Stefano stared at the cold glow of his laptop, wishing Tess would come out to talk to him.
He took a blanket and pillow from the closet and went back to the sofa. He stopped when he realized he’d forgotten to get pajamas. He didn’t want to go to the bedroom and risk waking her, but he could hardly sleep naked, either, with her here.
He compromised by taking off only his shirt. He stretched out on the sofa beneath the blanket. He folded his hands on the pillow, behind his head, and stared at the ceiling, his jaw set.
His life didn’t need to change, he told himself. He could simply tell his lawyers to arrange a generous financial settlement for Tess and the baby, and he could fly off to London as planned.
Tess was obviously a good mother. He could trust her to take care of Esme. Once they had unlimited money, they’d be fine. Tess would be free to do whatever she wanted. They didn’t need Stefano.
Still, Stefano tossed and turned, remembering how alone he’d felt as a child, abandoned by his parents. Would Esme always think her father had deliberately chosen to abandon her? And if she did, wasn’t it true?
Stefano woke from an unsettling dream to hear his phone ringing. He wrenched it to his ear. “Hello.”
“It’s Dr. Miller. I hope I didn’t wake you. You said you wanted to know as soon as possible.”
Looking out the windows, Stefano saw the light of early dawn. He gripped his phone. “Yes?”
“Esme Foster is your daughter. There can be no doubt.”
Stefano closed his eyes. Part of him had already known—from the moment he’d really looked into the baby’s dark eyes, exactly like his own.
You’re Esme’s father, Tess had said. I have no reason to wait all night to get the news. I’ve waited for you long enough.
“Your Highness?” the doctor said.
“Thank you,” Stefano said flatly. “Send me your bill.” He hung up.
Blinking, he sat up on the sofa, staring at the gray dawn over New York City, at the fine mist of September drizzle. Rising to his feet, he rolled his tense shoulders. He quietly went into the bedroom, careful not to wake Tess, who was sleeping half-upright, with their baby cuddled on her chest.
After taking clean clothes from the wardrobe, he went into the en suite bathroom. He closed and locked the door behind him, and took a shower so hot it scalded his skin. He shaved. He brushed his teeth. He wiped the steam off the mirror. He met his own eyes.
Nothing had to change, he repeated to himself. Nothing at all. He could still leave for London today. Let his lawyers handle this. He could continue to live his life as always.
A life of power and money.
Where he risked nothing.
Felt nothing.
Stefano’s expression in the reflection was emotionless and cold. It was a trick he’d perfected long ago, imitating his father.
Once he was dressed in a crisp white shirt, dark trousers and a dark jacket, he went back into his bedroom. Reaching out, he gently shook Tess’s shoulder.
Her eyes flew open, startled. When she saw him, standing over her in the shadows beside the bed, for a moment, she smiled in pure joy, as if all her dreams had come true.
Then she blinked, remembered and looked sad.
“What is it?” she said.
“The baby’s mine.”
She gave him a wistful smile. “I know.” She waited, with painful hope in her eyes.
For what? What was Tess hoping? That he could settle down? Marry her? Help her raise the baby? Give them a home? A name?
Ridiculous.
Stefano had no idea how to be a good husband or father. He’d never even seen it done. Money was all he had to offer them. He’d give Tess a fortune and set her free.
But his body was fighting that decision. Even now, desire shuddered through him as he looked at her. She’d just woken up, but even in her rumpled clothes, tired and cuddling their sleeping baby in her arms, she was the most tantalizing woman he’d ever known.
What would it be like to wake up with her every morning? To have her in his bed every night? What would it be like to possess her completely?
Stefano pushed the thought aside savagely. Setting them free was the right thing to do. It would give Tess and their daughter the chance to be cherished and loved. By someone else.
And Stefano—
He’d focus on his upcoming negotiations. As Tess had said earlier, it was unacceptable that Stefano no longer even owned the corporate rights to his own name. He’d focus on that. Only on that.
And that was final.
“Come on, Tess,” he said roughly, turning away. “I’ll take you home.”
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