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A Ring For Vincenzo's Heir
JENNIE LUCAS


‘Does anyone here present…’Scarlett Redwood takes an enormous risk interrupting Vincenzo Borgia’s wedding. He’s rich and powerful, whereas she’s penniless and alone but she needs his help… to protect their unborn child!Vincenzo’s furious that Scarlett kept the pregnancy from him, but to claim his heir he has no other option than to make her his wife.Scarlett hadn’t imagined a 24 carat diamond would feel so heavy; it weighs on the ache in her heart. Because she might not get the one, truly priceless, thing she desires…For his heart is off limits!







“Does anyone here present...”

Scarlett Ravenwood takes an enormous risk interrupting Vincenzo Borgia’s wedding. He’s rich and powerful, whereas she’s penniless and alone, but she needs his help...to protect their unborn child!

Vincenzo’s furious that Scarlett kept the pregnancy from him, but to claim his heir he has no other option than to make her his wife.

Scarlett hadn’t imagined a 24 carat diamond would feel so heavy; it weighs on the ache in her heart. Because she might not get the one, truly priceless, thing she desires...for his heart is off-limits!


Why did Scarlett have such power over him?

For the last two weeks, since she’d left him standing on Madison Avenue with a stunned look on his face, he’d thought of nothing else. All Vin’s considerable resources had been dedicated to one task: finding her.

She was in his blood. He hadn’t been able to forget her. Not from the first moment he’d seen her in that bar. From the moment he’d first taken her in his arms. From the moment she’d disappeared from his bed after the best sex of his life.

From the moment she’d violently crashed his wedding and told him she was pregnant with his baby.

Scarlett Ravenwood was half-angel, half-demon. There was a reason he hadn’t seduced any other woman for over eight months—an eternity for a man like Vin. He’d been haunted by Scarlett: haunted body and soul, driven half mad by memories of her naked in his arms.

Scarlett was the woman for him. The one he wanted. And he intended to have her.


One Night With Consequences (#ulink_caaba76b-8c9c-5c22-8440-3d1d449601ce)

When one night...leads to pregnancy!

When succumbing to a night of unbridled desire it’s impossible to think past the morning after!

But, with the sheets barely settled, that little blue line appears on the pregnancy test and it doesn’t take long to realise that one night of white-hot passion has turned into a lifetime of consequences!

Only one question remains:

How do you tell a man you’ve just met that you’re about to share more than just his bed?

Find out in:

Her Nine Month Confession by Kim Lawrence An Heir Fit for a King by Abby Green Larenzo’s Christmas Baby by Kate Hewitt Illicit Night with the Greek by Susanna Carr A Vow to Secure His Legacy by Annie West Bound to the Tuscan Billionaire by Susan Stephens The Shock Cassano Baby by Andie Brock The Greek’s Nine-Month Redemption by Maisey Yates An Heir to Make A Marriage by Abby Green Crowned for the Prince’s Heir by Sharon Kendrick Look for more One Night With Consequences coming soon!


A Ring for Vincenzo’s Heir

Jennie Lucas






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


USA TODAY bestselling author JENNIE LUCAS’S parents owned a bookstore and she grew up surrounded by books, dreaming about faraway lands. A fourth-generation Westerner, she went east at sixteen to boarding school on scholarship, wandered the world, got married, then finally worked her way through college before happily returning to her hometown. A 2010 RITA® finalist and 2005 Golden Heart® winner, she lives in Idaho with her husband and children.


To Pippa Roscoe, editor extraordinaire.


Contents

Cover (#ue337e655-a663-52a6-b619-2fcd9970ae4e)

Back Cover Text (#uba54299a-c427-5010-9fb8-4a81ecf158fb)

Introduction (#u8462bb77-38f7-512b-afed-5c83255a2d02)

One Night With Consequences (#ulink_93dee7bc-8913-5baf-9f1e-e8ee0c06917f)

Title Page (#uf49ce420-2bee-58e7-9626-04f256716eeb)

About the Author (#u49dd99a0-cbc3-517e-96b5-200be546db15)

Dedication (#u5ad6e935-be49-5791-8015-18f4f61ff44a)

CHAPTER ONE (#ue6a00039-e83c-5934-b3ee-7de917e9096f)

CHAPTER TWO (#uf5c21f51-5bb4-5b39-8b70-c1581dfabdad)

CHAPTER THREE (#uf85542ab-009a-588a-a42b-dc8b23f5ee83)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_89e06bed-dd6a-559a-9acb-2ac56a0fa2ab)

“YOU HAVE TWO CHOICES, Scarlett.” Her ex-boss’s greedy eyes slowly traveled from her pregnant belly to the full breasts straining the fabric of her black maternity dress. “Either you sign this paperwork to give your baby away when it’s born, and become my wife immediately, or...”

“Or what?” Scarlett Ravenwood tried to move away from the papers he was pushing toward her. But the man’s overmuscled bulk took up most of the backseat of the limousine.

“Or...I’ll have Dr. Marston declare you insane. And have you committed.” His fleshy lips curved into a pleasant smile. “For your own safety, of course. Because any sane woman would obviously wish to marry me. And then you’ll lose your baby anyway, won’t you?”

Scarlett stared at him, barely seeing the gleaming buildings of Manhattan passing behind him as they drove down Fifth Avenue. Blaise Falkner was handsome, rich. And a monster.

“You’re joking, right?” She gave an awkward laugh. “Come on, Blaise. What century do you think we’re living in?”

“The century a rich man can do whatever he wants. To whomever he wants.” Reaching out, he twisted a tendril of her long red hair around a thick finger. “Who’s going to stop me? You?”

Scarlett’s mouth went dry. For the last two years, she’d lived in his Upper East Side mansion as nursing assistant for his dying mother, and over that time Blaise had made increasingly forceful advances. Only his imperious mother, horrified at the thought of her precious heir lowering himself to the household help, had kept him at bay.

But now Mrs. Falkner was dead, and Blaise was rich beyond imagination. While Scarlett was nothing more than an orphan who’d come to New York desperate for a job. Ever since she’d arrived, she’d been isolated in the sickroom, obeying the sharp orders of nurses and doing the worst tasks caring for a fretful, mean-spirited invalid. She had no friends in New York. No one to take her side against him.

Except...

No, she told herself desperately. Not him.

She couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

But what if Blaise was right? What if she escaped him and went to the police, and they didn’t believe her? Could he and his pet psychiatrist find a way to carry through with his threat?

When he’d crassly propositioned her at the funeral that morning—literally over his mother’s grave!—she’d tried to laugh it off, telling him she was leaving New York. To her surprise, he’d courteously offered a ride to the bus station. Ignoring her intuition’s buzz of warning, she’d accepted.

She should have known he wouldn’t give up so easily. But she’d never imagined he’d go this far. Threatening her into marriage? Trying to force her to give her baby away?

She’d made a mistake thinking of Blaise as a selfish, petulant playboy who wanted her like a spoiled child demanded a toy he couldn’t have. He was actually insane.

“Well?” Blaise demanded. “What is your answer?”

“Why would you want to marry me?” Scarlett said weakly. With a deep breath, she tried to appeal to his vanity. “You’re good-looking, charming, rich. Any woman would be happy to marry you.” Any woman who didn’t know you, she added silently.

“But I want you.” He gripped her wrist tightly enough to make her flinch. “All this time, you’ve refused me. Then you get yourself knocked up by some other man and won’t tell me who.” He ground his teeth. “Once we’re wed, I’ll be the only man who can touch you. As soon as that brat is born and sent away, you’ll be mine. Forever.”

Scarlett tried to squelch her rising panic. As the limo moved down Fifth Avenue, she saw a famous cathedral at the end of the block. A desperate idea formed in her mind. Could she...?

Yes. She could and she would.

It hadn’t been her plan. She’d intended to buy a bus ticket south, use her small savings to start a new life somewhere sunny where flowers grew year-round and raise her baby alone. But as her own father often said when she was growing up, new challenges called for new plans.

Her new plan scared her, though. Because if Blaise Falkner was a frying pan, Vincenzo Borgia was the fire.

Vin Borgia. She pictured the dark eyes of her unborn baby’s father, so hot one moment, so cold the next. Pictured the ruthless edge of his jaw. The strength of his body. The force of his will.

A shiver went through her. What if he...

Don’t think about it, she told herself firmly. One impossible thing at a time. Another maxim she’d learned from her father.

As the chauffeur slowed down at a red light, she knew it was now or never. She took a deep breath, then opened her eyes with a brittle smile.

“Blaise.” Scarlett leaned forward as she tightened her hidden right hand into a fist. “You know what I’ve always wanted to do...?”

“What?” he breathed, licking his lips as he looked down at her breasts.

“This!” She gave him a hard uppercut to the jaw. His teeth snapped together as his head knocked backward, shocking him into releasing her.

Without waiting for the limo to completely stop, she yanked on her door handle and stumbled out onto the sidewalk. Kicking off her two-inch heels, she put her hand protectively over her belly and ran with all her might, feet bare against the concrete, toward the enormous cathedral.

It was a perfect day for a wedding. The first of October, and every tree in the city was decorated in yellow, orange and red. St. Swithun’s Cathedral was the most famous in New York, the place where the wealthy and powerful held their christenings, weddings and funerals. Two hundred years old, it was a towering midtown edifice of gray marble, big as a city block, with soaring spires reaching boldly into the bright blue sky.

Panting as she ran, Scarlett glanced down at the peeling gold-tone watch that had once belonged to her mother. She prayed she wasn’t too late.

A vintage white Rolls-Royce Corniche was parked at the curb, bedecked with ribbons and flowers. Next to it, a uniformed driver waited. Bodyguards with dark sunglasses, scowls and earpieces stood guard on the cathedral steps and around the perimeter.

The wedding had started, then. Scarlett had been trying not to think about it for the last four months, since she’d seen the announcement in the New York Times. But the details had been blazed in her memory, and now she was glad, because only Vin Borgia could help her.

A bodyguard blocked her with a glare. “Miss, stand back...”

Clutching her belly theatrically, Scarlett stumbled forward on the sidewalk. “Help! There’s a man chasing me! He’s trying to kidnap my baby!”

The bodyguard’s eyes widened behind his sunglasses. “What?”

She ran past him, calling back, “Call the police!”

“Hey! You can’t just—”

Scarlett ran up the cathedral’s steps, gasping for air.

“Stop right there!” A second bodyguard came toward her with a thunderous expression. Then he turned when he heard the shout of his colleague as two of Blaise’s bodyguards started throwing punches at him on the sidewalk below. “What the...”

Taking advantage of his distraction, she pushed open the cathedral doors and went inside.

For a moment, she blinked in the shadows.

Then her eyes adjusted, and she saw a wedding straight out of a fairy tale. Two thousand guests sat in the pews, and at the altar, beneath a profusion of white roses and lilies and orchids, was the most beautiful bride, standing next to the most devastatingly handsome man in the world.

Just seeing Vin now, for the first time since that magical night they’d created a baby, Scarlett caught her breath.

“If anyone here today has reason,” the officiant intoned at the front, “why these two may not lawfully be joined...”

She heard a metallic wrenching sound behind her, then Blaise’s harsh triumphant gasp as he burst through the cathedral doors.

“...speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

Desperate, Scarlett stumbled to the center of the aisle. Holding up her hand, she cried, “Please! Stop!”

There was a collective gasp as two thousand people turned to stare at her. Including the bride and groom.

Scarlett put her hands to her head, feeling dizzy. It was hard to speak when she could barely catch her breath. She focused on the only person who mattered.

“Please, Vin, you have to help me—” Her voice choked off, then strengthened as she thought of the unborn child depending on her. “My boss is trying to steal our baby!”

* * *

Unlike many grooms the night before they wed, Vincenzo Borgia, Vin to his friends, had slept very well last night.

He knew what he was doing today. He was marrying the perfect woman. His courtship of Anne Dumaine had been easy, and so had their engagement. No discord. No messy emotion. No sex, even, at least not yet.

But today, their lives would be joined, as would their families—and more to the point, their companies. When Vin’s SkyWorld Airways merged with her father’s Air Transatlantique, Vin would gain thirty new transatlantic routes at a stroke, including the lucrative routes of New York–London and Boston–Paris. Vin’s company would nearly double in size, at very advantageous terms. Why would Jacques Dumaine be anything but generous to his future son-in-law?

After today, there would be no more surprises in Vin’s life. No more uncertainty or questions about the future. He liked that thought.

Yes, Vin had slept well last night, and tonight, after he finally made love to his very traditional bride, who’d insisted on remaining a virgin until they married, he expected to sleep even better. And for every other night for the rest of his well-ordered, enjoyably controllable life.

If he wasn’t overwhelmingly attracted to his bride, what of it? Passion died soon after marriage, he’d been told, so perhaps it was a good thing. You couldn’t miss what you’d never had.

And if he and Anne seemed to have little in common other than the wedding and the merger, well, what difference did that make? Men and women had different interests. They weren’t supposed to be the same. He would cover her weaknesses. She would cover his.

Because whatever his enemies and former lovers might accuse, Vin knew he had a few. A lack of patience. A lack of empathy. In the business world, those were strengths, but once he had children, he knew greater sources of patience and empathy would be required.

He was ready to settle down. He wanted a family. Other than building his empire it was his primary reason for getting married, but not his only. After his last sexual encounter, an explosive night with a gorgeous redhead who’d given him the most amazing sex of his life, then disappeared, he decided he was fed up with unpredictable love affairs.

So, a few months later, he’d sensibly proposed to Anne Dumaine.

Born in Montreal, Anne was beautiful, with an impeccable pedigree, certain to be a good mother and corporate wife. She spoke several languages, including French and Italian, and held a degree in international business. Best of all she came with an irresistible dowry—Air Transatlantique.

Vin smiled at Anne now, standing across from him as they waited to speak their vows. She looked like Princess Grace, he thought, blonde and grave, with a modest white gown and a long lace veil that had been handmade by Belgian nuns. Flawless. A picture-perfect bride.

“If anyone here today has reason,” the archbishop presiding over their marriage said solemnly, “why these two may not lawfully be joined...”

There was a scuffle, a loud bang. Footsteps. From the corner of his eye he saw heads in the audience turn. He refused to look—that would be undisciplined—but his smile grew a little strained.

“...speak now,” the minister finished, “or forever hold your peace.”

“Please! Stop!”

A woman’s voice. Vin’s jaw tightened. Who would dare interrupt their wedding? One of his despondent ex-lovers? How had she gotten past the bodyguards? Furious, he turned.

Vin froze when he saw green eyes fringed with black lashes in a lovely heart-shaped face, and vivid red hair cascading down her shoulders, bright as heart’s blood. She stood in the gray stone cathedral, his dream come to life.

Scarlett. The woman who had haunted his dreams for the last eight months. The flame-haired virgin who’d shared a single night with him he could not forget, then fled the next morning before he could get her number—or even her last name! No woman had ever treated him so badly. She’d inflamed his blood, then disappeared like Cinderella, without so much as a damned glass slipper.

She was dressed completely in black. And barefoot? Her breasts overflowed the neckline of her dress. His gaze returned sharply to her belly. She couldn’t be...

“Please, Vin, you have to help me,” she choked out, her voice echoing against the cool gray stone. “My boss is trying to steal our baby!”

For a moment, Vin stared at her in shock, unable to comprehend her words.

Our baby?

Our?

There was a collective gasp as two thousand people turned to stare at him, waiting for his reaction.

Vin’s body flashed hot, then cold as he felt all control—over the wedding, over his privacy, over his life—ripped from his grasp. Nearby, he saw the glower of Anne’s red-faced father, saw her mother’s shocked eyes. Fortunately he had no family of his own to disappoint.

He turned to his bride, expecting to see tears or at least agonized hurt, expecting to have to explain that he hadn’t cheated on her, of course not, that this had all happened months before they’d met. But Anne’s beautiful face was carefully blank.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I need a moment.”

“Take all the time you want.”

Vin went slowly down the aisle toward Scarlett. The people watching from the pews seemed to fall away, their faces smearing into mere smudges of color.

His heart was pounding as he stopped in front of the woman he’d almost convinced himself didn’t exist. Looking at her belly, he said in a low voice, “You’re pregnant?”

She met his eyes. “Yes.”

“The baby’s mine?”

Her chin lifted. “You think I would lie?”

Vin remembered her soft gasp of pain when he’d first taken her, holding her virgin body so hot and hard and tight against his own in the darkness of his bedroom. Remembered how he’d kissed her tears away until her pain melted away to something very different...

“You couldn’t have told me before now?” he bit out.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t...” Then she glanced behind her, and her expression changed to fear.

Three men were striding up the aisle, the leader’s face a mask of cold fury.

“There you are, you little...” He roughly grabbed Scarlett’s wrist. “This is a private matter,” he snarled at Vin, barely looking at him. “Return to your ceremony.”

Vin almost did. It would have been easy to let them go. He felt the pressure of his waiting bride, of the pending merger, of her family, of the cathedral and the archbishop and the many guests, some of whom had flown around the world to be here. He could have told himself that Scarlett was lying and turned his back on her. He could have walked back to calmly speak the vows that would bind his life to Anne.

But something stopped him.

Maybe it was the man’s iron-like grip on Scarlett’s slender wrist. Or the way he and his two goons were dragging her back down the aisle, in spite of her helpless struggles. Maybe it was the panicked, stricken expression on her lovely face as all those wealthy, powerful guests silently watched, doing nothing to intervene.

Or maybe it was the ghost of his own memory, long repressed, of how it had once felt to be powerless and unloved, dragged from his only home against his will.

Whatever it was, Vin found himself doing something he hadn’t done in a long, long time.

Getting involved.

“Stop right there,” he ordered.

The other man’s face snapped toward him. “Stay out of this.”

Vin stalked toward him. “The lady doesn’t want to leave with you.”

“She’s distraught. Not to mention crazy.” The man, sleek and overfed as a Persian cat, yanked on her wrist. “I’m taking her to my psychiatrist. She’s going to be locked away for a long, long time.”

“No!” Scarlett whimpered. She looked up at Vin, her eyes shining with tears. “I’m not crazy. He used to be my boss. He’s trying to force me to marry him and give our baby away.”

Give our baby away.

The four words cut through Vin’s heart like a knife. His whole body became still.

And he knew there was no way he was going to let this man take her.

His voice was ice-cold. “Let her go.”

“You think you can make me?”

“Do you know my name?” Vin said quietly.

The man looked at him contemptuously. “I have no...” His voice trailed off, then he sucked in his breath. “Borgia.” He exhaled the two syllables through his teeth. Vin saw the fear in the man’s eyes. It was a reaction he’d grown accustomed to. “I...I didn’t realize...”

Vin glanced at his own bodyguards, who’d entered the cathedral and surrounded the other men with surgical precision, ready to strike. He gave his chief of security a slight shake of his head, telling them to keep their distance. Then he looked at the man holding Scarlett. “Get. Out. Now.”

He obeyed, abruptly releasing her. He turned and fled, his two bodyguards swiftly following him out of the cathedral.

Noise suddenly rose on all sides. Scarlett fell with a sob into Vin’s arms, against the front of his tuxedo.

And a young man leaped up from a middle pew.

“Anne, I told you! Don’t marry him! Who cares if you’re disinherited?” Looking around the nave, the stranger proclaimed fiercely and loudly, “I’ve been sleeping with the bride for the last six months!”

Total chaos broke out then. The father of the bride started yelling, the mother of the bride wept noisily and, faced with such turmoil, the bride quietly and carefully fainted into a puffy heap of white tulle.

But Vin barely noticed. His world had shrunk to two things. Scarlett’s tears as she wept in relief against his chest. And the tremble of her pregnant body, cradled beneath the protection of his arms.


CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_e91e497c-640c-5f99-b61a-631cc7fdbb1e)

OUT OF THE frying pan, into the fire.

Scarlett had escaped Blaise, but at what price?

For the last hour, she’d tried to calm the fearful beat of her heart as she sat in a faded floral chair next to a window overlooking a private garden. Vin had brought her to the private sitting room in the rectory behind the cathedral and told her to wait while he sorted things out. A kindly old lady—a housekeeper of some sort?—had pushed a hot cup of tea into her trembling hand.

But the tea had grown cold. She set the china cup into the saucer with a clatter.

Scarlett didn’t know which scared her more. The memory of Blaise’s snarling face. Or the fear of what Vin Borgia might do now to take over her future—and her baby’s.

She should run.

She should run now.

Running was the only way to ensure their freedom.

Growing up, Scarlett had lived in over twenty different places, tiny towns hidden in forests and mountains, sometimes in shacks without electricity or running water. She’d rarely been able to go to school, and when she did, she’d had to dye her red hair brown and use a different name. Things that normal kids took for granted, such as having a real home, friends, going to the same school for a whole year, were luxuries Scarlett had only dreamed of. She’d never played sports, or sung in the school choir, or gone to prom. She’d never even gone on a real date.

Until she was twenty-four. The day she’d met Vin Borgia, she’d been weak, emotional, vulnerable. And he’d caught her up like a butterfly in a net.

She looked out the window with its view of the back garden, full of roses and ivy. A secret garden, surrounded by New York skyscrapers. A strangely calm, verdant place that seemed miles from the noisy traffic and honking cabs of Fifth Avenue. Rising to her feet, she started to pace.

A frosty gray afternoon last February, she’d been picking up a medicine prescription for Mrs. Falkner when she received a text from an old Boston friend of her father’s with news that had staggered her.

Alan Berry had just died in an inconsequential knife fight in a Southie bar. The man who’d betrayed her father seventeen years before, who’d cut a deal for his own freedom and forced Harry Ravenwood to go on the run with his sick wife and young daughter, had died a meaningless death after a meaningless life. All for nothing.

Standing in the drugstore, Scarlett’s knees had gone weak. She’d felt sick.

Five minutes later, she’d found herself at a dive bar across the street, ordering her first drink. The sharp pungent taste had made her cough.

“Let me guess.” A low, amused voice had spoken from the red leather banquette in the corner. “It’s your first time.”

She’d turned. The man came out of the shadows slowly. Black eyes. Dark hair. Powerful broad shoulders. A black suit. Hard edges everywhere. Five-o’clock shadow. He was like a hero—or a handsome villain—from a movie, so masculine and powerful and handsome that he’d affected her even more than the vodka shot.

“I had a...bad day.” Her voice trembled.

An ironic smile lifted the corners of his cruel, sensual mouth. “Why else would you be drinking in the afternoon?”

She wiped her eyes with a laugh. “For fun?”

“Fun. That’s an idea.” The man had come close enough to see her red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks in the shadowy dive bar. She’d braced herself for questions, but he just slid onto the bar stool beside her and raised his hand to the bartender. “Let’s see if the second shot goes down easier.”

In spite of what she knew about him now, Vin Borgia still affected her like that. When Scarlett had seen him standing at the altar with his beautiful bride, all the memories had come back of their night together in February, when he’d taken her back to his elegant, Spartan, wildly expensive penthouse. He’d seduced her easily, claiming her virginity as if he owned it. He’d made her life explode with color and joy.

She’d known Vin’s name, since his doorman had greeted him with the utmost respect as “Mr. Borgia.” But she’d never told Vin her last name. Some habits were hard to break.

A phone call from Mrs. Falkner’s nurse had woken Scarlett when Vin still slept. Only her sense of duty had forced her to wrench herself from the warmth of his bed. She’d returned to the Falkner mansion and handed over the prescription, then dreamily looked up her one and only lover online.

That had woken her up fast. She’d been horrified by what she found.

Vincenzo Borgia was a ruthless airline billionaire who’d risen from nothing and didn’t give a damn who got hurt in his pursuit of world domination. She couldn’t imagine why a man like that had seduced her, when he usually had liaisons with socialites and supermodels. But she was grateful she hadn’t given him her last name. She wouldn’t give him the chance to hurt her.

Later, when she’d discovered she was pregnant, she’d wondered whether she’d made the right decision. But seeing Vin’s engagement announcement in the paper had clinched it.

Scarlett had never expected to see Vin again. She’d planned to raise her baby alone.

She wasn’t scared to be alone. She’d grown up on the run, and her fugitive father had secretly taught her skills after her mother got too sick to notice. How to pick pockets. How to pick locks. And most of all, how to be invisible and survive on almost nothing.

Compared to what she’d already lived through, raising a child as a single parent would be easy. She wasn’t a fugitive. She’d never committed any crimes. She had a marketable skill as a nurse’s aide. She’d even saved some money. She no longer had to hide.

Or did she?

Scarlett stopped pacing the thick rug of the cathedral rectory, staring blankly at the faded floral furniture. Did she really want to take the chance that Vin Borgia, the man she’d read such horrible things about, could be a good father? Did she dare take that risk, just because she’d loved her own father so much?

She could see the soft shimmer of dust motes through a beam of fading golden sunlight from the window. She put her hands gently on her belly.

Vin had saved her from Blaise, but rich, powerful men all had one thing in common: they wanted to be in control. And Vin Borgia was richer and more powerful than most.

She should just leave before he returned.

Right now.

Scarlett took a step, then stopped when she remembered her suitcase and handbag were still in Blaise’s limo, with her money, ID, credit card, phone. When she’d fled him in terror, those had been the last thing on her mind. But now... How could she run with no money and no passport?

She looked down glumly at her bare toes snuggled into the plush rug. She didn’t even have shoes!

“What’s your name?”

She whirled to face the door. Vin had entered the room, his jaw like granite as he loosened his tie. Just looking at his hard-muscled body caused a physical reaction in her, made her tremble from the inside out, with a mixture of fear and desire. Even the sleekly tailored tuxedo couldn’t give him the look of a man who was entirely civilized. Especially with that hard, almost savage look in his black eyes.

She swallowed. “You know my name. Scarlett.”

He glowered at her. “Your last name.”

“Smith,” she tried.

Vin’s jaw tightened. Turning away, he picked up a carafe of water sitting on a tray on a nearby table. He poured water into one of the glasses. “Your last name is Ravenwood.”

Her lips parted in shock. “How did you—”

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he held up her wallet, his handsome face impassive.

“How did you get that?”

“Falkner sent your purse to me. And your suitcase.”

“Sent? You mean he dumped them in the street?”

“I mean his bodyguards personally brought them to me, neatly stacked, with his compliments.”

Oh, this was so much worse than she’d feared. Scarlett breathed, “The worst man I know is afraid of you?”

He smiled grimly. “It’s not unusual.” He held her wallet out toward her. “Here. Seventeen dollars cash and a single credit card. With an eight-hundred-dollar limit.”

“Hey!” She snatched at it. Her cheeks burned. “How do you know my credit limit?”

Picking up his glass, Vin swirled the clear water thoughtfully. “I wanted to know what I was dealing with. An orphan who never lived anywhere for long, who came to New York for a thankless live-in job, who saved every penny for two years, who made no new friends, who worked all the time and never went out.” He tilted his head, looking at her with heavily lidded black eyes as he murmured, “With one memorable exception.”

A flash of heat went through her, then cold. She couldn’t think about that night. Not now. “You have some nerve to—”

“The Falkners barely paid minimum wage, but you saved every penny you could. Impressive work ethic, considering your jailbird father—”

“Don’t you dare call him that!” she shouted. “My dad was the kindest, best man who ever lived!”

“Are you serious?” Vin’s lips curved. “He was a bank robber who became a fugitive and dragged you and your mother into a life on the run. You had no money, barely went to school, and your mother died of an illness that she might perhaps have survived with proper care. What am I missing?”

“Stop judging him,” she raged. “My father gave up that life when I was a baby. But a friend of his convinced him to try for one last score. After my mother found out, she gave him an ultimatum. He gave the money back to the bank!”

“Just gave it back, hmm?”

“He left the bags of money outside the police station, then tipped them off with an anonymous call.”

“Why didn’t he turn himself in?”

“Because he didn’t want to leave my mom. Or me.” Scarlett took a deep breath. “We would have been fine, except Alan Berry was caught spending his own share of the money six months later and threw my father under the bus as the supposed mastermind of the crime! After he’d tried to do the right thing—”

“The right thing would have been for your father to turn himself in at the start,” Vin said mercilessly, “instead of waiting ten years to find the courage, and dragging you and your mother through such a miserable life on the run.” He calmly took a sip of water. “The only truly decent thing your father ever did was die in that plane crash after he got out of prison. Giving you that tidy multimillion-dollar settlement offered by the airline.”

Scarlett nearly staggered to her knees at his easy reference to the greatest loss of her life, one that still left her grief-stricken every day—her father’s sudden death, along with thirty other people, in a plane crash a year and a half before, as he was coming to New York to see her, finally free after five years in a medium-security prison.

Vin looked at her curiously. “You gave all that money away.” He tilted his head. “Why?”

She was so shocked, it took her a moment to find her voice. In mere minutes, Vin Borgia had casually ripped through her privacy and exposed all the secrets of her life.

“I didn’t want their blood money,” she whispered. “I gave it to charity.”

“Yes, I know. Cancer research, legal defense for the poor and help for children of incarcerated parents. All fine causes. But I don’t understand why you’d choose to be penniless.”

“Like you said, maybe I’m used to it. Anyway.” She clutched her wallet. “Some things matter more than money.”

“Like a baby?” Vin said coldly. He put the glass down with a thunk on the wooden table. “You let me seduce you and take your virginity, then snuck out while I slept. You never bothered to contact me. You waited until my wedding to spring the news on me that you were pregnant.”

“I had no choice—”

“There were plenty of choices.” His jaw tightened. “Tell me the truth. If Falkner hadn’t threatened you today, you never would have told me about the baby, would you?”

She stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head.

“Why?” he demanded.

The warmth from the cathedral garden was failing. Scarlett glanced at the fading afternoon light, now turning gray. She didn’t answer.

“You refused to even tell me your last name that night. Why?” he pressed, coming closer. “Was it because you were also encouraging Falkner’s attentions?”

“I never did!” She gaped at him. “I knew he wanted me, but I never thought he’d attack me while giving me a ride from his mother’s funeral!”

“Ah. That explains the black dress.” He looked down at her pale pink toenails. “But why are you barefoot?”

“I kicked off my shoes running on Fifth Avenue. I knew your wedding was here today.” She looked down. “I’m sorry I ruined it.”

“Yes. Well.” His jaw tightened as he said grudgingly, “I suppose I should thank you.”

“You didn’t know your bride was cheating on you?”

“She convinced me she was a virgin and wanted to wait for marriage.”

A laugh rose to her lips. “You thought she was a virgin? In this day and age?”

“Why not?” he said coldly. “You were.”

Their eyes met, and Scarlett’s body flooded with heat. Against her will, memories filled her of that night, of being in his arms, in his bed, his body hard and hot and slick against hers. She tried to smile. “Yeah, but I’m not normal.”

“Agreed.” His dark gaze seared hers. “Am I really the father of your baby, Scarlett? Or were you lying just because you needed my help?”

“Of course the baby’s yours!”

He bared his teeth into a smile. “I will find out if it’s not true.”

“You’re the only man I’ve ever slept with, so I’m pretty sure!”

“The only man? Ever?” For a moment, something stretched between them. Then it snapped. “So what do you want from me now? Money?”

She glared at him. “Just point me in the direction of my suitcase and I’ll be on my way!”

“You’re not going anywhere until this is sorted.”

“Look, I’m deeply grateful for your help with Blaise, and sorry if I ruined your big wedding day, but I don’t appreciate you digging into my life, then assuming that I’m either a con artist or a gold digger. I’m neither. I just want to raise my baby in peace.”

“There will be a DNA test,” he warned. “Lawyers.”

She looked at him in horror. “Lawyers? What for?”

“So we both know where we stand.”

Scarlett felt a whoosh of panic that made her unsteady on her feet. Her voice trembled. “You mean you intend to sue me for custody?”

“That will not be necessary.” She exhaled in relief, before he finished, “Because once I have proof the baby’s mine, Scarlett, you will marry me.”

* * *

With those words, Vin took control over the spinning chaos of the day.

He’d been wrong about Anne Dumaine. He’d convinced himself she was modest and demure when all the while she’d been cheating on him and lying to his face. To say she’d turned out to be a disappointment was an understatement.

“Sorry,” she’d whispered the last time he’d seen her, when she’d pressed the ten-carat engagement ring into his palm. But she hadn’t looked sorry as she’d joyfully turned to her lover—a boy of maybe twenty-three, ridiculously shabby in a sweater, and they’d fled the cathedral hand in hand, Anne’s wedding veil flying behind her like a white flag.

Leaving Vin to face the annoyed glower of her father.

“If you’d bothered to show my daughter the slightest attention, she wouldn’t have fallen for that nobody!”

The merger with Transatlantique was clearly off.

Vin’s mistake. He’d never bothered to look beyond Anne’s cool blonde exterior into her soul. Truthfully, her soul hadn’t interested him. But he should have had his investigators check her more thoroughly. Trust no one had been his motto since he was young. Trust no one; control everything.

Scarlett Ravenwood was different. She didn’t have the education or pedigree of Anne, her manners were lamentable and she had no dress sense. Her only dowry would be the child she carried inside her.

A baby. His baby. After his own awful childhood, he’d decided long ago that any child of his would always know his father, would have a stable home and feel safe and loved. Vin would never abandon his child. He’d die first.

Standing in the shabby room of the rectory, surrounded by chintzy overstuffed furniture, Vin looked at Scarlett, so vivid with her pale skin and red hair.

The dark sweeping lashes over her green eyes, the color of every spring and summer of his Italian childhood, seemed to tremble. When he’d first seen her in that bar nearly eight months ago, right before Valentine’s Day, coughing over her first taste of vodka, it had been like a burst of sun after a long cold night, a sunrise as bright and red as her hair, filling him with warmth—and fire.

His mind moved rapidly. She had no fortune, but perhaps that was an advantage. No father-in-law to scream in his ear. No family to become a burden. She had nothing to offer him but their baby. And her sexy body. And the best lovemaking of his life.

He shivered just remembering that night...

It was, he reflected, not the worst way to begin a marriage. He could make of her what he wanted. She could be the perfect wife, made to his order. She had no money. She was grateful to him for saving her from that imbecile Falkner. He already had complete control.

Now she just had to realize that, as well.

“You want to marry me?” Scarlett repeated, staring at him in shock. “Seriously?”

“Yes.” He waited for her to be suitably thrilled. Instead, she burst into laughter.

“Are you crazy? I’m not marrying you!”

“If the baby is mine, it is our only reasonable course of action,” he said stiffly.

As if he’d told her the best joke in the world, she shook her head merrily. “You really don’t want to lose your wedding deposit, do you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Am I expected to just put on your last bride’s wedding gown, and you’ll let the guests know there’s been a slight change in the lineup? You’ll just change the color of the bride’s hair on the cake topper from blond to red, and proceed as planned?”

“You think I’d marry you to avoid losing a little money?” he said incredulously.

“No?” She tilted her head, on a roll now, clearly enjoying herself. “Then what is it? Is marriage just on your schedule, and you need to check it off your to-do list before you pick up your dry cleaning and pay your electric bill?”

“Scarlett, I get the feeling you’re not taking this seriously.”

“I’m not!” she exploded. “Why on earth would I marry you? I barely know you!”

Vin felt irritated at her irrational response, but he reminded himself that she was pregnant, and therefore to be treated gently. “You’ve had a trying day,” he said in the most soothing voice he could muster. “We should go to my doctor.”

“Why?”

“Just to check you’re doing fine. And we’ll get the paternity test.”

“You can’t just take my word the baby’s yours?”

“You could obviously be lying.”

For some reason, she seemed upset by this. She glared at him. “I’m not doing some stupid paternity test, not if it causes risk to the baby—”

“The doctor just draws a little blood from your arm and mine. There’s no risk to the baby whatsoever.”

“How do you know that?”

Vin didn’t care to explain the sordid story of the one-night stand who last February had tried to claim her baby was his, even though he’d used a condom and she’d claimed to be on the pill. It had turned out the DNA test was unnecessary as she wasn’t pregnant at all. She’d just hoped he would marry her and she’d get quickly pregnant—and he’d be too stupid to do the math. That experience had left him cold.

It was ironic that after confronting that one-night stand over her lies, he’d stopped for a drink in a new bar—and, meeting Scarlett, they’d ended up conceiving a child.

Looking at Scarlett now, he felt his body tighten. She had no right to look so lovely, her riotous red curls tumbling over her shoulders, her eyes so wistful and luminous, her lips so naturally full and pink. Her breasts strained the modest neckline of the simple black dress, and her large baby bump made her even more voluptuous, more sexy.

Pregnant. With his baby.

If it was true, he would devote his life to giving this baby a very different childhood than he’d had. His child would always be safe, and loved. Unlike Vin, his child would always know who his father was.

If her child was even his, he reminded himself. She could be lying. He needed proof. He held out his hand. “Let’s go.”

With visible reluctance, she put her hand in his. “If I go with you to the doctor, and you get proof you’re the father, then what?”

“I’ll have my lawyers draw up a prenuptial agreement.”

“A pre-nup?” Her voice sounded surprised. “Why?”

He gave a grim smile. “I can hardly marry you without control.”

“Control of what?”

“Everything,” he said honestly.

He led her through the now empty cathedral, with only rapidly wilting wedding flowers and a few despondent janitors sweeping up. Her voice trembled as she asked, “What specifically would be in the pre-nup?”

“Standard things.” He shrugged. “Giving me final say on schooling and religion and where we will live. Things like that. I am based in New York but have homes all over. I am often required to travel while running SkyWorld Airways, sometimes for months at a time. I would not want to be away from my children.”

“Children? I’m not carrying twins.”

“Obviously, our child will need siblings.” She made a sound like a squeak, but he ignored her, continuing, “I expect you to travel with me whenever and wherever I wish.”

Her forehead furrowed. “But how would I hold down a job?”

“Money will no longer be an issue. As my wife, your only requirement will be to support me. You will be in society. You will learn to properly entertain powerful people to promote my company’s best interests. You may need comportment lessons.”

“What?”

“And, of course,” he added casually, “in the event we ever divorce, the pre-nup will simplify that process. It will clearly spell out what happens if you cheat on me, or either of us decides to separate. You’ll know what amount of money you’ll be entitled to based on years—”

“Of service?”

He smiled blandly. “Of marriage, I was going to say. Naturally, I would automatically gain full custody of our children.”

“What?!”

“Don’t worry. You would still be allowed to visit them.”

“Big of you,” she murmured. As they walked down the cathedral steps to his waiting car, his bodyguards waiting beside the large SUV behind it, Scarlett abruptly stopped.

“Before we go to your doctor and have the paternity test, could you do me a favor?” She smiled prettily, showing a dimple in her left cheek, then waved helplessly at her bare feet on the sidewalk. “Could we stop at a shoe store?”

Like Cinderella, Vin thought. He was surprised how well she was taking everything. The way she was looking at him so helplessly, so prettily. She would be easy to mold and shape into the perfect wife.

“Of course,” he said almost tenderly. “I’m sorry. I should have thought of that before.” Picking her up in his arms, he carried her. In spite of being heavily pregnant, she seemed to weigh nothing at all. He gently set her into the waiting car, still bedecked with flowers.

The driver’s eyes were popping out of his head to see Vin had left the church carrying a redhead, when he’d gone in to marry a blonde. But he wisely said nothing and just started the car.

Vin climbed into the backseat beside her. “Any preference about the shoe store?”

He expected her to name a designer store, the sorts of luxury brands that Anne had constantly yammered about, but here again Scarlett surprised him.

“Any shoes good to run in,” she said demurely, her black eyelashes fluttering against her pale cheeks.

“You heard her,” he told his driver.

Ten minutes later, Scarlett was trying on running shoes at an enormous athletic store on Fifty-Seventh Street. She chose her favorite pair of running shoes, along with a pair of socks, exclaiming at Vin’s generosity all the while.

“Thank you,” she whispered, suddenly giving him a hug. For a moment, he closed his eyes. He could smell the peppermint of her breath and breathed in the cherry blossom scent of her hair. Then she abruptly pulled back. Staring up at him wide-eyed, she bit her lip. Vin could imagine the sensual caress of those full, plump lips.

Then she smiled, and her eyes crinkled. “I’ll wear the shoes starting now. Excuse me.”

Vin watched her walk toward the ladies’ restroom, past the displays of expensive athletic shoes and equipment. His eyes lingered appreciatively over the curve of her backside, the sway of her hips. Scarlett made even a plain black funeral dress look good.

What a wife she would make. And as for the honeymoon...he shuddered.

Determined to hurry them into the car, he turned toward the cashier. Normally his assistant would have dealt with such mundane details, but he’d left Ernest at the cathedral to handle the logistical problems of the ruined wedding—returning mailed gifts, organizing early rides to the airport for disgruntled guests, donating the expensively catered reception dinner to a local homeless shelter. So Vin himself went to pay for the shoes.

There would soon be lots of other purchases, he thought. Baby booties. A crib. A nursery. He’d have his houses baby-proofed. He’d hire a larger staff. He would buy a few more family-sized SUVs to add to his personal fleet of expensive cars. Small tasks that would distract him from building his empire, but it would be worth it to finally have a family of his own.

He’d be the parent he himself had never had. His child would never know what it felt like to be abandoned. To be used. To be neglected and alone.

Reaching into his tuxedo jacket, Vin felt for his wallet. Frowning, he looked in his pockets. Empty. Had he left it in the car, or back at the cathedral? Scowling, he motioned for one of his bodyguards to pay and told the other one to track down the wallet. Sitting down at a nearby bench, Vin called his doctor to arrange for an immediate appointment. Then he tapped his feet.

Scarlett was taking a long time.

“Go check on her,” he ordered his bodyguard impatiently.

Vin paced. Checked his phone again. Stopped.

Suspicion dawned.

She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

She had.

“Miss Ravenwood is nowhere to be found, boss,” Larson said when he returned. “I had the bathroom checked. Empty.” He hesitated. “There is a door beside it that leads to a storeroom, then out to the alley.”

With a low curse, Vin strode through the sporting goods store, his two bodyguards behind him. In the back, near the ladies’ restroom, he found the storeroom. Store employees shrank back at his glare as he threw open the back door with an angry bang.

Outside was an alley with graffiti-littered brick walls. Vin walked slowly past the Dumpsters to the end: busy Madison Avenue, crowded with people and cars packed bumper to bumper. He stared around him in shock.

Scarlett Ravenwood had not only walked out on him, she’d most likely stolen his wallet. Not only that, she’d warned him first! “Shoes good to run in” indeed!

Clawing his hand back through his dark hair, he gave a single, incredulous laugh. He’d been ditched twice in one day. Lied to by two different women.

Anne’s loss he could accept. That had involved only money.

Scarlett was different. He’d never stopped desiring her. And now she was carrying his baby.

Or was she? Perhaps she’d lied. He rubbed his forehead. Why would any woman run away when he’d asked her to marry him and live in luxury for the rest of her life? Unless she was afraid of the paternity test. That was the only rational explanation: the baby wasn’t his. The thought caused a sick twist in his gut.

Then he remembered the angry gleam in Scarlett’s green eyes.

I don’t appreciate you digging into my life, then assuming that I’m either a con artist or a gold digger. I’m neither. I just want to raise my baby in peace.

Standing motionless as pedestrians rushed by him on Madison Avenue, Vin narrowed his eyes.

Either way, he had to know.

Either way, he’d find her.

And this time, she wouldn’t trick him so easily. Nothing would stop him from getting what he wanted. He wouldn’t listen to her excuses. Next time, he’d bend her to his will.

Barefoot, if necessary.


CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_0306ba8d-5dde-521b-ace1-631c7311b282)

THERE WAS ONLY one thing that mattered in life, Scarlett’s father had always told her as a child. Freedom.

Freedom. It was Harry Ravenwood’s rallying cry every time their family had to flee in the night, tossing their belongings into black trash bags and heading blindly to a new city. At seven years old, when Scarlett accidentally left her teddy bear—her only friend—behind, she’d cried until her father comforted her with stories of Mr. Teddy backpacking around the world, climbing the Pyramids and the Pyrenees. His funny stories of her bear’s adventures finally made her smile through her tears. On cold winter nights in Upstate New York, as their family shivered in unheated rooms and icy wind rattled the windows, Harry sang jaunty songs about freedom.

Freedom. Even on the bleak night when Scarlett was twelve, when her mother died in the emergency room of a hospital in a faded factory town in Pennsylvania, her father kissed Scarlett as tears streamed down his weathered face. “At least now your beautiful mother is free of pain.”

Scarlett had her freedom now. From Blaise Falkner. From Vin Borgia. She and her unborn baby were free.

But it had come at a cost.

To start with, her flight two weeks ago, from Boston to London, had had a little trouble over the Atlantic.

A small fire in the cargo hold caused the plane to divert to a small airport on the west coast of Ireland. As the plane descended, she saw dark clusters of birds through her porthole window, flying rapidly past the plane. “Bird strike!” a passenger cried out, and as one flight attendant rushed toward the cockpit, another tried to murmur reassuring, unconvincing words to the passengers. Wide-eyed, Scarlett gripped her armrests as she felt the plane ominously vibrate and groan in midair.

All she’d been able to think was, she shouldn’t be on this plane. Pregnant women weren’t supposed to fly after their seventh month. She was nearly at eight. She’d fled from New York, with a quick stop in Boston, because she thought it was her only way to escape Vin. But now that danger seemed small when she and her child were both going to die. Just like her own father had died in that wintry plane crash a year and a half ago. She never should have gotten on a plane.

“Prepare for crash landing,” came the pilot’s terse voice over the intercom. “Brace for impact.” The flight attendants repeated the words as the nose of the plane started to plummet and they rushed to buckle themselves in. “Heads down! Brace for impact! Stay down!”

Scarlett had braced herself, hugging her belly, thinking, please don’t let my baby die.

Like a miracle, the plane had finally steadied on one engine and limped hard, landing with a heavy bang on the edge of the runway. No one was hurt, and passengers and crew alike cheered and cried and hugged each other.

Sliding off the plane on the inflatable yellow slide, Scarlett had fallen to her knees on the tarmac and burst into noisy, ugly sobs.

She never should have gotten on a plane. Any plane. After her father’s death, she should have known better.

But just like when she’d accepted that limo ride from Blaise Falkner, she’d ignored her intuition and convinced herself that her fears were silly. And both she and her baby had nearly died as a result.

She’d never ignore her intuition again. From now on, she’d listen seriously to her fears, even when they didn’t make rational sense.

And above all: she would never, ever get on any plane again.

But why would Scarlett need to? She had no family in New York. No reason to ever go back. Vin Borgia had done her a huge favor, warning her in advance that he intended to rule her life and their child’s with an iron fist and separate her from her baby if she ever objected or tried to leave him. She didn’t feel guilty about leaving him, not at all.

She did feel guilty about stealing his wallet. Stealing was never all right, and her mother must be turning over in her grave. Scarlett told herself she’d had no choice. She’d had to cover her tracks. Vin was not only a ruthless billionaire, he owned an airline and had ridiculous connections. If she’d stepped one toe on a flight under her own name, he would have known about it.

So she’d contacted one of her father’s old acquaintances in Boston to buy a fake passport. That cost money.

So she’d taken—borrowed—the money from Vin. She hadn’t touched anything else in his wallet. Not his driver’s license, or his credit cards, most of them in special strange colors that no doubt had eye-popping credit limits. And after she’d arrived safely in Switzerland via ferry and train from Ireland, and gotten her first paycheck at her new job, she’d mailed back Vin’s wallet, returning everything as he’d left it. She’d even tossed in some extra euros as interest on the money she’d borrowed.

She’d gotten the euros from northern Italy, where she’d gone to mail back the package. She could hardly have sent Vin money in Swiss francs, letting him know where she was!

But that was all behind her now. She’d paid everything back. She and her baby were free.

Scarlett took a deep breath of the clear Alpine air. She’d been in Gstaad for over two weeks now, and finally, finally she was starting to relax. She just had to hope when Vin couldn’t easily find her, he would forget about her and the baby, and she’d never have to worry about him again.

Scarlett passed out of the gates of the chalet, if the place could be called a chalet when it was the size of a palace, and turned her face up toward the sun.

It was mid-October, and the morning air was already frosty in the mountains around the elegant Swiss ski resort of Gstaad. The first snowfall was expected daily.

She had her own event to expect soon, too. Her hand moved over her belly, grown so large she could no longer button up her oversize jacket. Only two and a half weeks from her due date. Her body felt heavier, slower. But luckily her new job allowed plenty of opportunity for gentle morning walks.

She’d been lucky to get this job. When she’d fled the shoe store in New York, racing down the alley to hail a cab on Madison Avenue, she’d already decided exactly where to go. Her mother’s best friend, Wilhelmina Stone, worked as housekeeper to a wealthy European tycoon in Switzerland. Though Scarlett hadn’t seen her since her mother’s funeral, she’d never forgotten the woman’s hug and fierce words, “Your mother was my best friend. If you ever need anything, you come straight to me, you hear?”

Since then, she’d gotten only an occasional Christmas card. But when Scarlett had shown up uninvited and shivering at the gate of the enormous villa outside Gstaad, the plump, kindly woman had proved good as her word.

“My boss just asked me to hire a good cook for ski season. The best Southern cook in the US, he said. Can you make grits and fried chicken? Jambalaya? Dirty rice?”

Eyes wide, Scarlett shook her head. Wilhelmina sighed.

“All right, he usually starts coming here in early December, after the season starts. So you’ve got six weeks, maybe more, to learn how to make amazing fried chicken and all the rest. I’ll put you on staff payroll now. Just make sure you learn to cook for groups of ten or more, because Mr. Black always brings friends!”

For the last two weeks, Scarlett had been trying to teach herself to cook, using cookbooks and internet videos. She was still pretty bad. The security guard routinely teased her that even his dog wouldn’t eat what she cooked. It was sadly true.

But she would learn. Being a specialty chef for a hard-traveling, hard-partying tycoon who was rarely around was the perfect job for any single mother with a newborn. She would be able to take a week or two off to heal after the birth, then work with her baby nearby, almost as if this were her own home.

Plus, Switzerland was the perfect place to raise a baby. Scarlett tucked her hands in her jacket pockets as she walked along the slender road. Gravel crunched beneath her soft boots as she took a deep breath of crisp mountain air smelling of sunlight and pine trees. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes, turning her face to the sun. Her heart was full of gratitude.

Then she heard a snap in the forest ahead of her.

She opened her eyes, and the smile dropped from her face.

“Scarlett,” Vin greeted her coldly.

He stood ahead of her, wearing a long black coat, a sleek dark suit and a glower. She saw a sleek sports car and a black SUV parked on the road behind him. Three bodyguards lined the vehicle, an impenetrable wall of money and power.

She stumbled back from him. He was on her in seconds, grabbing her wrist.

“Don’t touch me!” she cried.

His grip tightened, his eyes like black fire. “You stole from me.”

“I paid all your money back—with interest!” She glanced back desperately toward the guarded gate, but it was too far. Johan would never see her. And how could one security guard take on Vin Borgia and at least three of his men?

“I wasn’t just talking about the money.”

She put her free hand protectively over her belly. “You’re not my baby’s father. I—I lied!”

“I think you’re lying now.”

Scarlett tried to pull her wrist from his grip. “Leave me alone!”

“I do not understand your behavior.” He wrenched her closer. “Most women would find it fortunate to be pregnant by a billionaire.”

“A billionaire who destroys people?” She shook her head. “You don’t just take companies—you ruthlessly crush and annihilate your rivals. Their marriages, their families, their very lives!”

Silence fell in the Swiss forest. The only sound was the call of birds.

Then he spoke, his voice low and flat. “So you did some digging on the internet, did you?”

“Why do you think I never tried to contact you after our night together?” She took a deep breath. “I had a good reason to leave you that first morning. A nurse called and I was needed at the Falkner mansion. I hoped to see you again. Until I looked you up online.” She glared at him. “If you think I’m going to let my precious baby be raised by a man who takes pleasure in other people’s pain—”

His lip twisted contemptuously. “If you think I’m such a bastard, why did you ask for my help?”

“I was terrified of Blaise.”

“And now you’re terrified of me?”

“After I interrupted your wedding, I thought maybe I should give you a chance. My own father wasn’t perfect, but I loved him.” She narrowed her eyes. “Then you made your intentions clear.”

“What are you talking about? My intention to take responsibility, marry you and be a good father?”

“If I honestly believed we could be a family, and love and trust each other, I’d marry you in a second. But I’d rather raise my baby alone than with a man who might hurt me!”

“Hurt you?” he said incredulously. “I’ve never hurt a woman in my life!”

“With your cold heart? I bet you’ve hurt plenty.”

He relaxed. “Oh. You mean emotionally.”

“Yes, emotionally,” she retorted. “You don’t think that counts?”

“Not really, no.”

“And that’s why I don’t want to marry you.”

He abruptly released her wrist, his eyes strangely alight. “I’ve never killed anyone, no matter what the rumors say. I never poisoned someone or sabotaged an engine. Nor did I hire someone else to do it. A reporter just happened to notice that during some points in my business career, some men have coincidentally had problems.”

“You expect me to believe that? It was pure coincidence?”

“It’s the truth. A man was discovered in an affair while doing business with me. It was hardly my fault his wife took offense and dumped poison in his morning whiskey. Another man had a heart attack from stress during my hostile takeover. He could have walked away at any time but chose to fight and take the risk. Another man chose to start a feud with his sister when she sold her shares to me. Their family was ripped apart, yes—but again, not my fault.”

“Then why was Blaise so afraid of you? And you expected him to be!”

“I know the rumors about me. They’re not true, but people believe them. I’d be a fool not to take advantage of it.”

“And you’re no fool.”

“No.” His jaw tightened. “So I don’t appreciate that you’ve made me look like one. Twice.”

She turned her head back again toward the distant gate of the chalet. She wished she could run. But she’d become so heavily pregnant and slow—

“I want a paternity test,” Vin said coldly. “You have an appointment today with a doctor in Geneva.”

“I’ve got my own doctor in the village, thank you.”

“Dr. Schauss has a world-renowned clinic. She was obstetrician to a princess of Sweden and has delivered half the babies of the royal houses of the Persian Gulf. She’s well qualified.”

“I’m not gallivanting off to Geneva just because you want some extra-fancy doctor.”

“The choice isn’t yours to make.”

“And if I refuse?”

Vin’s eyes flickered. “I am acquainted with Kassius Black, the owner of this chalet.” He looked up at the imposing roofline over the trees. “What would he say if I told him that your friend, his trusted housekeeper, had knowingly hired a fugitive and thief to live here, and you were both conspiring to steal from his houseguests this coming ski season?”

“You wouldn’t,” she gasped. “It’s not true!”

He shrugged. “You are a proven thief and liar. It could be true. But the point is, are you willing to repay your friend’s kindness in giving you a job by causing her to lose hers?”

“You are despicable.”

His face hardened. “No, cara. You are despicable. I have done nothing but seek to fulfill my responsibility. I am trying to do the right thing, the honorable thing. It is you who are the thief.”

“I repaid every penny!”

“Yes, with interest. At an annualized interest rate of thirty percent. The money you repaid yielded a better return than many of my other investments. So it was profitable.” He gave a slight, ironic bow. “Thank you for stealing my wallet.”

“Oh?” she said hopefully. “So you’re not—”

“Stealing my child is something else.”

Scarlett’s brief hope faded. What could she do? She couldn’t let Wilhelmina be hurt for her loyalty and kindness.

The clinic in Geneva. That could be her escape route. Clinics had back doors. She could sneak out before her blood was even drawn.

Scarlett let her shoulders sag, scuffling her feet in the gravel, hoping she looked suitably downhearted. Her heart was beating fast. “You win.”

“I always do.” He gave a quick motion to the bodyguards waiting outside the black SUV with dark tinted windows, then turned back, his voice brisk. “The trip to Geneva will take two hours by car, and in your state of advanced pregnancy I am concerned this will be uncomfortable for you. I can have a helicopter here in ten minutes—”

“No!” she said a little too quickly. At his frown, she said in a calmer voice, trying to smile, “The drive will give us a chance to talk. It’s so beautiful around Lake Geneva this time of year.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged. “As you wish.”

Five minutes later, as a bodyguard went upstairs to pack up her meager possessions, she went to the kitchen to say farewell to Wilhelmina. The older woman seemed bewildered by the sudden turn in events.

“You’re quitting your job, Scarlett? Just like that?”

“I’m sorry, Wilhelmina. You came through for me, and I’m leaving you in the lurch. I’m so sorry—”

“For me it’s fine. Honestly, your fried chicken still is something awful. Mr. Black would have thought I lost my mind, hiring you. You’re the one I’m worried about.” She looked doubtfully at Vin. “So this man is the father of your baby, but do you really want to go with him?” Her eyes narrowed in her plump face. “Or is he forcing you?”

* * *

The suspicion in the older woman’s face was less than flattering to Vin, but as she was a housekeeper to Kassius Black, a man whose reputation for ferocity was even worse than his own, he could understand her lack of automatic admiration for the average billionaire. The housekeeper, like Scarlett, had obviously had enough experience with the wealthy to know the ugliness that could lie behind the glamorous lifestyle.

“I will take good care of Scarlett and her baby,” he told her gravely. “I promise you.”

The housekeeper stared at him, then her scowl slowly disappeared. “I believe you.”

“Good.” Vin gave her his most charming smile. “We intend to marry soon.”

She looked accusingly at Scarlett. “You’re engaged?”

Scarlett looked a little dazed. “We haven’t decided anything for sure...”

“Mrs. Stone,” Vin interrupted, “I appreciate your loyalty and kindness to Scarlett. Should you ever want to switch jobs, please let us know.”

Handing her a card, he took Scarlett by the hand and led her out of the chalet as the bodyguards followed with her shockingly small amount of luggage: a purse and a single duffel bag. He watched as they packed it into the back of the glossy SUV. An unwelcome image floated through Vin’s mind of his own meager belongings when he’d left Italy at fifteen, after his mother’s devastating revelation and death, to go live in New York with an uncle he barely knew. He’d felt so alone. So hollow.

He pushed the memory away angrily. He wasn’t that boy anymore. He would never feel so vulnerable again—and neither would any child of his.

Vin opened the passenger door of the red sports car, then turned to Scarlett coldly. “Get in.”

“You’re driving us? Yourself?”

“The bodyguards will follow in the SUV. Like you said—” he gave a hard smile “—it’s a beautiful day for a drive.”

Once they were buckled in, he stepped on the gas, driving swiftly out of the gate and down the mountain, to the paved road that led through the expensive village of Gstaad, with its charming Alpine architecture, exclusive designer boutiques and chalets with shutters and flower boxes. The midmorning sun glowed in the blue sky above craggy forested mountains as they looped onto the Gstaadstrasse, heading west.

Vin glanced at Scarlett out of the corner of his eye. She was dressed very casually, an unbuttoned jacket over an oversize shirt, loose khaki pants and fur-lined booties. But for all that, his eyes hungrily drank in the sight of her. Her flame-red hair fell in thick curls down her shoulders. Her lustrous eyes were green as an Alpine forest. He could remember how it had felt to have those full, pink lips move against his skin, gasping in ecstasy...

He shuddered.

Why did Scarlett have such power over him?

For the last two weeks, since she’d left him standing on Madison Avenue with a stunned look on his face, he’d thought of nothing else. All of his considerable resources had been dedicated to one task: finding her.

She was in his blood. He hadn’t been able to forget her. Not from the first moment he’d seen her in that bar. From the moment he’d first taken her in his arms. From the moment she’d disappeared from his bed after the best sex of his life.

From the moment she’d violently crashed his wedding and told him she was pregnant with his baby.

Scarlett Ravenwood was half angel, half demon. There was a reason he hadn’t seduced any other woman for over eight months—an eternity for a man like Vin. He’d been haunted by Scarlett, haunted body and soul, driven half mad by memories of her naked in his arms.

Scarlett was the woman for him. The one he wanted. And he intended to have her.

“How did you find me in Switzerland?” she asked him quietly now.

Lifting his eyebrow, Vin focused on the road ahead. “It was a mistake for you to mail my wallet from a small Italian village. I still have connections in that country. It was easy to track down the postino who’d helped you. He remembered seeing your car with Swiss plates.”

“He noticed my car?”

He smiled grimly. “There are surprisingly few Swiss registrations of a 1970 Plymouth Hemi Cuda convertible in pale green. The postino kissed his lips when he described it. ‘Bella macchina.’ He remembered you, too, a pregnant redheaded woman, very beautiful but a tragic driver. He thought the car deserved better.”

“I chose that car from the chalet’s garage because I thought it was the oldest,” she said, sounding dazed, “so figured it was the cheapest.”

“They’re rare and often sell for two or three million dollars.”

“Oh,” she said faintly. “So if I’d taken the brand-new sedan...”

“I wouldn’t have found you.” Gripping the steering wheel, he looked at her. “You keep wondering if I’m trustworthy. I could wonder the same about you, except I’ve seen the answer. You’ve lied to my face, stolen my wallet. Kidnapped my child—”

“Kidnapped!”

“What else would you call it?” He looked at her. “How do I know our baby will be safe with you? The criminally minded daughter of a felon?”

“Felon!” Fury filled her green eyes. “My father never should have gone to prison. If his accomplice hadn’t betrayed him—”

“Spare me the excuses,” Vin said, sounding bored. “He was a bank robber.”

“He returned all the money. Can you say the same?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you and Blaise Falkner and every other billionaire—you are the real ones who should be...”

She abruptly cut herself off.

“Go on,” Vin said evenly. “You were about to accuse me of something?”

Scarlett looked him straight in the eye. “Every rich man I’ve ever known was heartless. My dad in his worst year was less a thief than all the corporate embezzlers and Wall Street gamblers with their Ponzi schemes, wiping out people’s pension funds, their savings, their hope!”

“You’re comparing me to them?”

“You wouldn’t sacrifice one of your platinum cuff links—” she glanced contemptuously at his wrist “—let alone risk your life or happiness, to save someone else.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?” She lifted her chin. Through the car window he could see the gray-and-blue shimmer of Lake Geneva behind her. “You told me yourself. You don’t think twice about causing emotional pain. I bet you’ve never loved anyone in your life. And you asked me to marry you!”

“Love isn’t necessary.”

“That’s a screwed-up way of looking at things. That’s like saying there’s no point in eating things that taste good. Marriage without love, isn’t that like eating gruel for the rest of your life? Why eat gruel when you can eat cake?”

“Cake is an illusion. It all turns out to be gruel in the end.”

“That’s the saddest thing I ever heard.” She shook her head. “I feel bad for you. A billionaire who’s content to eat gruel for the rest of his life.”

Vin could hardly believe this penniless girl who had nothing and had once stolen his wallet actually felt sorry for him. “Better a hard truth than the sweet comfort of lies.”

“No, it’s worse than that. You’re a cynic who claims not to believe in the existence of love.” She looked up at him through dark eyelashes. “Some woman must have hurt you pretty badly.”

Yes. One woman had. But it wasn’t what Scarlett thought. “Then she did me a favor. Taught me the truth about life.”

“Taught you wrong.” She rubbed her belly, looking out the window as they drove closer to Geneva.

“Right or wrong, once the paternity test proves I’m your baby’s father, we will be celebrating our marriage.”

She tossed him a glance. “No, thanks. I’m no fan of gruel.”

Vin ground his teeth. “Are you trying to tell me your childish, foolish dreams of love are more important than our child’s welfare? A baby deserves two parents. A stable home.”

Her expression changed. “Don’t you think I know that? All I ever wanted my whole childhood was to have a real home. I don’t even know what it feels like to make roots, have friends, be part of a community.” Her voice cracked. “But you know what? We were still happy, even on the run. Because my parents loved each other. And they loved me.”

He didn’t know what that felt like, Vin thought unwillingly. He’d grown up in a derelict villa in Rome, neglected and ignored by a mother who was only interested in her love affairs. Her son was valuable for one reason only: to extort money from his father.

His so-called father.

Vin’s shoulders tightened.

Anyone he loved, he lost. His mother had coldly used him as a bargaining chip to finance her lifestyle, before she violently died. Paid nannies left or were fired. His kindly grandfather had had a stroke when Vin was eight. He’d become estranged from his loving father and stepmother at fifteen. Sometimes he felt like he’d been alone his whole life. As alone as that Christmas Eve, when he was only eight and was left utterly alone in the villa, forgotten in the dark—

He shook the memory away. His own child’s life would be very different. And he’d make sure his child’s mother was either a loving, stable, nurturing influence—or no influence at all.

“Why did you run away from New York?” he demanded. “Because you decided to believe everything you’d read about me?”

“Are you kidding?” Scarlett looked at him in amazement. “That pre-nup.”

Gripping the steering wheel, he glanced at her in surprise. “You wanted to avoid the pre-nup?”

“Did you really think I would sign papers to give you total power over not just me, but our child? Did you think I’d be so happy to become your trophy wife, I’d trade away my freedom for the rest of my life?”




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