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The Heir The Prince Secures
JENNIE LUCAS


Seduced by a stranger…Claimed as his princess!After an exquisite encounter with a Sicilian leaves idealistic Tess alone, penniless and pregnant, she’s raising her tiny daughter by herself. Until Stefano returns to New York, discovers his unknown heir, and reveals himself to be royalty! Suddenly, with Stefano determined to protect his daughter, Tess is days away from being bound to him permanently…as his Cinderella bride!







Seduced by a stranger...

Claimed as his princess!

After an exquisite encounter with a handsome Sicilian, idealistic Tess is left alone, penniless and pregnant. But when Stefano returns to New York, he discovers his unknown heir and reveals a secret of his own: he’s a prince! Stefano is determined to protect his daughter, and the first thing on his royal agenda? Claiming Tess as his Cinderella bride!

Enjoy this dramatic secret-baby story!


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® Award finalist and 2005 Golden Heart® Award winner, she lives in Idaho with her husband and children.


Also by Jennie Lucas (#ulink_f473bc44-47e2-53df-9d93-29e04faab30d)

The Consequences of That Night

The Sheikh’s Last Seduction

Uncovering Her Nine Month Secret

Nine Months to Redeem Him

A Ring for Vincenzo’s Heir

Baby of His Revenge

The Consequence of His Vengeance

Carrying the Spaniard’s Child

Claiming His Nine-Month Consequence

The Secret the Italian Claims

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).


The Heir the Prince Secures

Jennie Lucas






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


ISBN: 978-1-474-07250-2

THE HEIR THE PRINCE SECURES

© 2018 Jennie Lucas

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

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


Dedication (#u213a2eca-e0ce-5036-8827-e5e373def762)

To Katharine,

who inspires me every day,

and who daily shows how the impossible

can be achieved

with both kindness and grace.


Dear Reader (#u213a2eca-e0ce-5036-8827-e5e373def762),

How far would you go for love?

Tess Foster, a romantic, kind-hearted orphan, has dreamed of falling in love all her life. When a handsome Sicilian stranger seduces her one magical night she thinks her dream has come true. Instead she wakes up alone, pregnant and abandoned.

But still Tess has faith. Until—a year later—she finally learns the heartbreaking reason why Prince Stefano never returned: because he didn’t love her.

How can she tell him about their baby? Will her heart be permanently broken? Or will her faith in love be rewarded?

This is the second book in my trilogy about three single mothers who are all very different but have one thing in common: they’ve never told the powerful billionaire fathers about their babies. Hallie’s story was The Secret the Italian Claims, and the trilogy will finish with Lola’s story in November, The Baby the Billionaire Demands.

I loved writing these stories about three vibrant, different women and the powerful, untameable men who finally meet their match. I hope you love them too.

With warmest wishes,

Jennie


Contents

Cover (#u1cc1af92-6e30-5623-b97c-9414acbeb754)

Back Cover Text (#u86e85d31-f213-5ae3-9c31-ee95f2720ca3)

About the Author (#u1c0ea246-bcdc-5fcb-8b70-1f2bbe2b281f)

Booklist (#ulink_e99dacb8-f2a7-5e94-b83f-1c8646da0d52)

Title Page (#u6bc91b6f-8cb5-5e7e-ab83-2a77f7c87ebf)

Copyright (#u2e541151-4201-53f7-8fed-70e7800fdd92)

Dedication (#uaa4e8e09-7d34-586b-bbca-6b1dfd26d197)

Dear Reader (#u62e6f5e2-5991-5b68-99d9-37ec03b747cd)

CHAPTER ONE (#u68a53036-0a44-569e-8513-df24f260f19c)

CHAPTER TWO (#u508d3e70-f5ba-5052-8738-8306b1e3b578)

CHAPTER THREE (#u63f135d1-2440-5b44-be5f-bb46bf97e889)

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)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#u213a2eca-e0ce-5036-8827-e5e373def762)

LOVE MEANT EVERYTHING to Tess Foster.

Not just love. Romance. Pink roses. Castles and hearts.

As a lonely teenager living in the attic of her aunt and uncle’s Brooklyn bakery, Tess tried to keep her romantic dreams secret. In a modern world of easy hookups and one-night stands, it was embarrassing, even shameful, to be an idealistic virgin waiting for true love. As other girls giggled over their first fumbling sexual experiences in the back seats of cars, Tess kept quiet and hoped no one would notice that she spent her own Saturday nights with dusty books in the library, dreaming of handsome princes.

She’d known, even then, that when she finally gave herself to a man, it would only be to someone she truly loved. She’d wear white on her wedding day and lose her virginity on their honeymoon. She’d settle for nothing less than the fairy tale.

Then, at twenty-four, she met Stefano.

One moment, she’d been working as a waitress at a glamorous cocktail party hosted by a Spanish media mogul. Carrying a silver tray of champagne flutes through a crowd of movie stars and tycoons, Tess had been lost in thought, worrying whether she’d be able to afford another semester of design school.

Then a handsome stranger’s dark, smoldering gaze had pierced her heart, making her lose her breath.

That had been it. That one look from him had almost brought her to her knees.

Because no one had ever looked at her like that. It was as if Tess, the hopeless, invisible wallflower, had suddenly become the most desirable, fascinating woman in all the world.

And the man who was looking at her...

Dark and sexy, he’d stood arrogantly apart, his perfectly cut tuxedo a mere veneer of civilization over his powerful, muscular body. His dark eyes had burned through her as he came toward her, moving with an almost feline grace.

“Buonasera,” he’d said huskily.

Tess had turned the silver tray toward him so fast the flutes nearly knocked over. Her voice had squeaked. “Champagne?”

“No.” With a sensual smile, he’d glanced at the martini already in his hand. “I don’t want champagne.”

“Something else, then?”

His voice was husky, with the barest trace of an accent. “I want your name.”

And that had been the start of the most spectacular night of Tess’s life. When she’d finished her shift at the party, he’d whisked her off in his chauffeured town car to an elegant, romantic dinner at the most exclusive restaurant in New York. Afterward, he’d suggested they go dancing. When she’d said she didn’t have a dress, he’d stopped at a designer boutique and bought her one that sparkled and swayed against her skin.

She’d tried to resist, but she couldn’t. Not when he’d looked at her like that.

Tess had danced in his arms for hours before he’d kissed her, leaving her intoxicated, breathless. He’d invited her to his suite at the luxurious Leighton Hotel. Looking into his dark, hungry eyes, she’d known only one answer.

“Yes,” she’d whispered.

In just one night, he’d ruthlessly taken her virginity. And more than that: he’d dazzled her lonely, romantic heart into loving him.

But the next morning, waking up alone in the cold, gray dawn, she realized that she’d never even learned his full name.

A few weeks later, she’d found out she was pregnant. Her uncle had been furious, her aunt disappointed in her.

For the last fourteen months, even as Tess’s two best friends, Hallie Hatfield and Lola Price, had rolled their eyes, she’d stubbornly insisted that Stefano would someday return to claim her and their baby. After all, even if she didn’t know his last name, he knew hers. Stefano could find her anytime he wanted.

If he hadn’t come yet, there had to be a good reason. Maybe he had amnesia, or his plane had crashed on a desert island. Those things happened, didn’t they? Tess imagined every reason she could think of, except for the obvious one. Her friends thought she was nuts.

But Tess had to believe Stefano would return. Because, otherwise, she’d surrendered all her dreams for nothing. She’d given up her chance for a career, for marriage, for one love that would last her whole life—all for a one-night stand that had left her pregnant, abandoned and alone.

If Stefano didn’t come back, it would mean the world was a cold and unforgiving place, and all the fairy tales her mother had read her as a child were wrong. Tess didn’t want to live in a world like that. So she’d done her best to believe.

Suddenly, tonight, she couldn’t.

Not for one more second.

Tess’s shoulders drooped as she wearily pushed her five-month-old baby’s stroller out of the Campania Hotel New York. It was ten o’clock on a warm, humid night in early September, but the night was just getting started. The streets were crowded with people leaving restaurants and streaming out of Broadway theaters, their faces animated and bright as they passed beneath the sparkling lights of the hotel’s porte cochere.

Tess felt empty and sad. She’d just watched her friend Hallie sing at her husband’s luxury hotel. After Hallie’s amazing performance, Cristiano had publicly declared his love for his wife.

She was glad for Hallie, truly she was. Her friend deserved every happiness, especially after what she’d gone through. Normally, Tess would have told herself that seeing a couple so deeply in love proved that it might still happen for her, too.

But not tonight.

She’d been up since four that morning, working at her uncle’s bakery while also caring for her baby. She felt sweaty and exhausted. Tendrils of her long red hair were plastered to her neck. Even Tess’s jaunty handmade outfit, a vintage-style shirt and midi pencil skirt with mixing patterns, was wrinkled. She looked down at her adorable sleeping baby, her plump cheeks and dark hair, and a hard lump rose to her throat.

For over a year, she’d ignored her uncle’s criticism, her aunt’s disappointed sighs and her friends’ teasing. She’d told herself Stefano would come back to her. But after seeing Hallie and Cristiano together, so happy together in their own little world, Tess had realized she was fooling herself.

Give it up. A memory came of Lola’s tart voice. He’s never coming back, Tess.

Tess stopped. As streams of people passed by her stroller on both sides of the sidewalk, she savagely wiped tears off her cheeks. She’d planned to take the subway back to Brooklyn with her baby rather than ask Hallie for a ride and risk crying in front of her. Her friends always teased her about being too cheerful and optimistic. She couldn’t let them know how she really felt inside.

But that was wrong. Hallie was her friend, and Tess had left without so much as a farewell. Taking a deep breath, she tried to smooth her face into a smile. She’d go back inside now and congratulate Hallie. And if she asked why Tess was crying—

As Tess started to turn, she walked into a wall.

Not a wall. A man.

For a second, she saw stars from the blunt force of hitting her head against his chest. Dizzy, she shook her head, mortified.

“I’m so sorry,” she blurted out. “It was my fault—”

Then she saw him.

For a second, Tess couldn’t breathe. Her heart pounded in her throat as she tilted her head back to stare at the man’s handsome face, his sharp cheekbones and jawline shadowed by the lights of the hotel’s grand porte cochere.

Tall and dark-haired, the man wore a sleek black jacket that emphasized his broad shoulders, and trousers that fit snugly over powerful thighs. His tailored shirt was open a single button at the neck.

He wasn’t strictly handsome, perhaps. His aquiline profile was a bit too arrogant, the set of his square jaw too thuggish. But he gave the impression of intense masculine beauty. His face was arresting, his body powerful, giving him the look of a dark angel.

The man’s eyes widened, the irises so dark as to be almost black against his olive-colored skin.

Tess’s lips parted.

“Stefano?” she whispered, gripping the handle of the stroller for balance. “Is it really you?”

She knew those dark eyes. That handsome face. Those cruel, sensual lips. She knew every bit of him. She’d dreamed of him, day and night, for over a year.

“Tess,” he murmured.

His low, husky voice caressed the short syllable of her name. So he was real, then. He was real.

“You came back for me,” she whispered. Joy rose inside her, brighter than all the lights of Broadway and Times Square put together. “You came back!”

His jaw tightened. He looked down at her from his lofty height, his broad shoulders towering over her. “What do you want?”

What did she want? She wanted to throw her arms around him, to cry out her happiness to all the world. After a difficult year, with everyone mocking her, this proved that happy endings still happened as long as your heart was true and you had faith. She’d been right!

But, as Tess moved to throw her arms around him, Stefano stepped back from her.

Something was wrong. She bit her lip, bewildered. “I am so happy to see you. Did you just get back?”

“Get back?”

“To New York.” When he didn’t answer, she continued with a blush, “Our night together, you said that you had to return to Europe but you’d be back soon—”

“Oh. Yes.” His chiseled face was dark with shadow beneath his hard cheekbones as the lights of passing traffic moved past them on the avenue. “I’ve been in New York often this summer. And now for Fashion Week, of course.”

“You’ve been here all this time?” A chill went through her as her joy withered inside her. She whispered, “And you didn’t want to see me?”

Stefano frowned. His voice was a low baritone. “I liked you very much, Tess. It was an amazing night. But...”

“But?” she croaked.

Coming closer, he looked down at her, his dark eyes glittering. “But it was just a night.”

To him it had just been a one-night stand, nothing more? One night, easily enjoyed and easily forgotten?

Tess’s cheeks went hot as she remembered telling him in bed, in the hushed quiet before dawn with their naked bodies still intertwined, “I’m already falling in love with you.”

In her innocence, Tess had meant every word. She’d been intoxicated by sensual pleasure she’d never imagined. In just twelve hours, he’d given her the most intense happiness of her life, more emotion and joy and beauty than she’d known for twelve years before. If that wasn’t love, what was?

Now, looking at his coldly handsome face, Tess realized that her honesty had been a fatal mistake. Because when she woke the next morning, he’d been gone.

“Your Highness!” A young girl caught up behind him on the sidewalk. She was obviously a model—tall, slender, dark-haired and incredibly beautiful in a white dress that set off her dark skin. She held out a small notebook to Stefano. “You forgot this.”

“Thanks, Kebe,” he said gruffly.

She tossed her dark curls. “See you in Paris.”

She left in a perfect catwalk stride.

“Who was that?” Tess whispered.

“A friend,” he said. His dark eyes flicked briefly to the sleeping baby in the stroller behind her. “Well. It was nice to see you again.” His expression was cool. Courteous. Distant. “Goodbye.”

Pain and shock spread through Tess’s body, making her knees shake.

He hadn’t been looking for her.

At all.

He’d rejected her long ago. She just hadn’t known it till now. Stinging tears filled her eyes.

All this time she’d dreamed of him as a romantic hero who was desperate to return to her. The truth was that Stefano simply hadn’t wanted to see her again.

Over the last year, as Tess had dropped out of college to work full-time at her uncle’s bakery, struggling to provide and care for their baby, Stefano had been traveling the world, enjoying himself. In fact, it seemed he’d just been out on a date with a beautiful girl who looked barely eighteen. Whom he’d promised to see again in Paris.

Stricken, she looked at him with tears in her eyes.

Stefano’s expression hardened. “Tess, it was for the best.”

Wordlessly shaking her head, she backed away. For so long, she’d held out hope, imagining one perfect love brought by destiny, by fate. She’d remained faithful to Stefano’s memory, dreaming of the day her handsome prince would return on a white horse to whisk her and the baby to his castle.

But Stefano was no prince.

Her friends and family had been right.

Tess gripped the stroller for support as anguish and exhaustion punched through her.

They’d been right.

“Come now. Don’t act like your heart’s broken,” he said sharply. “How long did it take you to get over me? A few days?”

“How can you say that?” she whispered.

He looked pointedly at the baby in the stroller. “She’s yours, isn’t she?”

Yes. And yours. The words rose inside her, but got caught in her throat.

“And what about her father?” he demanded. “How would he feel if he knew you were here now, talking to me?”

“You tell me.”

“How would I know?” Reaching out, he cupped her cheek. For a moment, in spite of everything, she closed her eyes, shivering at his touch as a flash of heat pulsed through her.

Stefano dropped his hand. “Let’s not try to make more of our night than it was.” He glanced at the baby. “Obviously, you quickly moved on. So did I. Our night was enjoyable enough. But it was meaningless.”

Enjoyable enough?

Meaningless?

It was the final straw. She felt a flash of despair, the destructive kind that froze to the bone.

“Our night didn’t mean anything to you?” Heart in her throat, she whispered, “You changed my life.”

“Sorry,” he said coldly.

She felt the word like a bullet.

“Fine.” She closed her eyes briefly, shuddering. “We’ll survive alone.”

Knees shaking, she turned and walked away from him as fast as she could, away from her broken heart, from her shame that she’d so foolishly believed in the fairy tale. She fled the glittering lights of the Campania toward a shadowy side street, desperate to reach the far-off subway entrance, where she could sob in peace.

* * *

Prince Stefano Zacco di Gioreale stared after Tess, shocked by the jolt of her words, by the raw emotion he’d seen on her face and, most of all, by his body’s reaction to seeing her again.

Tess Foster was even more beautiful than he remembered. He’d lied when he’d said he’d quickly moved on. The truth was that he’d spent the last year trying not to recall her hauntingly lovely heart-shaped face, her red hair, her bright emerald eyes, her sweet pink lips. He’d tried to forget her lush body and the way she’d felt naked in his arms.

Most of all, he’d tried to erase the memory of her intense, heartfelt whisper the next morning. I’m already falling in love with you.

For the last year, he’d done his best to forget. He’d told himself he had. Still, when he’d returned to New York in July to preside over the launch of Mercurio’s flagship store, there was a reason he’d chosen to stay at the Campania Hotel rather than return to the Leighton, which had all those sweet, savage memories of their night together.

From the moment he’d first seen her carrying a tray of champagne at Rodrigo Cabrera’s cocktail party, he’d known he wanted her. He’d felt drawn to Tess in a way he’d never experienced before. Or since.

He’d made it his mission to seduce her. As beautiful and vivacious as Tess was, it had never occurred to him she might be a virgin. Not until it was too late, not until he’d already pushed himself into her, both of them gasping with ecstasy. His body shivered at the memory.

He’d felt guilty afterward, though. There was a reason he didn’t seduce virgins. They fell in love too easily and cloyingly imagined a future that bored Stefano to tears. He avoided them at all costs. Virgins didn’t know how to play the game. Play it? They often didn’t even know there was a game.

His worst fears had been proven true when, after the most spectacular sexual experience of his life, Tess had ruined everything with her outrageous declaration of love.

So he’d left. He took no pleasure in it. He would have preferred to see her again for many more sensual nights.

But she’d given him no choice. If she was already imagining herself in love with him after twelve hours, what would she do when he eventually ended their affair? Throw herself off the Empire State Building?

So Stefano had left. For her own good. He had nothing to offer a dreamy-eyed idealist with a heart full of love. Better to set her free immediately, before anyone got hurt.

The existence of the baby proved he’d made the right choice. Judging by the infant’s size, Tess couldn’t have waited long before she took another lover.

An image came to Stefano of another man taking Tess in his arms, doing exactly what he’d done, possessing her in furious, desperate need, in a hot tangle of limbs and sweat and pleasure. Scowling, he pushed the thought away.

At least Stefano had used protection. Obviously, the other man hadn’t been so careful. The unknown man had gotten her pregnant with his dark-eyed baby.

He was surprised Tess wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. He would have thought a romantic girl like her wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than happily-ever-after.

Stefano, a billionaire prince who’d been raised in a Sicilian castle, didn’t believe in such fairy tales.

But he couldn’t stop his eyes from watching Tess hungrily as her small figure disappeared down the dark street, her shoulders drooping and red hair flying as she pushed the stroller ahead of her.

Stefano’s hand tingled. Raising his hand, he looked at his fingertips beneath the hotel’s bright lights.

All he’d done was touch her cheek. That brief, simple touch had scorched his hand. All the emotion and desire he’d repressed for a year had suddenly roared into greedy life, burning him like a fire. Shocked, he’d dropped his hand.

As he watched Tess disappear down the block, he felt a new sense of loss. Why? Why did he still feel so drawn to her? He’d had beautiful women in his bed before. Why couldn’t he forget this particular one?

Stefano forced himself to turn away. It was better this way, he repeated to himself. He started to walk toward the hotel’s entrance. He stopped.

Something didn’t make sense. He frowned.

If Tess was so happy in her new relationship, raising another man’s child, why had she been so overjoyed to see Stefano? She’d looked at him like unicorns were dancing on rainbows. Like all her dreams had suddenly come true.

Our night didn’t mean anything to you?

He could still hear the tremble of her voice, still see the shadows cross her lovely, troubled face.

You changed my life.

And as she’d spoken she’d looked away.

Toward the stroller.

Toward her baby.

Her dark-haired, plump-cheeked baby.

“We’ll survive alone,” she’d said.

We. Not I.

A low growl came from the back of Stefano’s throat. Turning, he pursued her grimly down the street.

Even with his longer stride, it took him time to catch up with her. He reached her at the end of the dark street, almost at the edge of Times Square. Grabbing Tess by the shoulder, he forced her to face him as the colorful lights of the electronic billboards lit up the sky brilliantly behind her.

“Wait,” he ground out.

Tess had been crying, he saw. Her green eyes glittered like emeralds in her pale face. She lifted her chin fiercely. “Wait for what? For you?” She wiped her eyes. “What do you think I’ve been doing for the last year?”

Her voice was quietly accusing. Against his will, Stefano’s gaze fell to her full, pink lips, and lower still.

Tess’s hourglass figure should have been illegal in the modern world. Her flowy long-sleeved blouse was tucked into a midi pencil skirt, like a sexpot librarian. It showed her curves to perfection—her full breasts, tiny waist, and big hips a man could wrap his hands around. Her red hair tumbled over her shoulders, the color of roses, the color of fire.

She was different from any other woman he’d ever seen. He wanted her. Even more than before. More than he’d ever wanted any woman.

With all his relationships over the years, his mistresses always knew love wasn’t part of the equation. He only dated experienced, beautiful women he enjoyed having in his bed and on his arm. In return, they enjoyed his body, his prestige and the lifestyle he could provide.

If he was honest with himself, it had all grown rather tedious. Mechanical. He’d started to wonder which of them was using the other one more. Which was why he’d stopped having love affairs, even one-night stands, after his night with Tess. He hadn’t wanted any other woman.

Why? Why did he want only her? Was it simply because he knew she was forbidden? Surely he couldn’t be selfish enough to desire something only because he knew he couldn’t have it?

Even now, he found his gaze lingering on her full hips, her plump, generous breasts. Her colorful outfit, with its ridiculously whimsical fabric, set off her amazing figure. His eyes lifted from her breasts to her bare collarbone, up her swanlike throat to her lovely heart-shaped face.

Her pink tongue nervously licked the corners of her mouth. His whole body felt electrified. All he wanted to do was kiss her.

Clenching his hands at his sides, he forced himself to turn toward the dark-haired baby in the stroller. She was still sleeping peacefully, her old-fashioned, collared dress half-covered with a blanket, clutching a stuffed giraffe toy in her plump arms.

No. She couldn’t be. But even as Stefano told himself there was no resemblance, suspicion pulsed through his body, tightening his chest from his shoulders to his taut belly.

“Tell me about the baby,” he said.

“What do you want to know?”

“Her name.”

“Esme.”

“Her surname?”

“Foster, like mine.”

His jaw tightened. “And her father?”

Tess stared at him, then looked away, her lips pressed in a thin line. Groups of tourists walked by them on the sidewalk, laughing and chatting in bursts of different languages. She stubbornly refused to look at him, or answer.

“Tess,” he demanded, coming close enough to touch her, his tall, broad-shouldered form casting a shadow over her smaller one.

Colorful lights swept over her red hair like a halo, as Tess finally looked at him. Her green eyes were half filled with hope, half with anger, as she said in a low whisper, “You, Stefano.”


CHAPTER TWO (#u213a2eca-e0ce-5036-8827-e5e373def762)

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.”


CHAPTER THREE (#u213a2eca-e0ce-5036-8827-e5e373def762)

TESS COULDN’T BELIEVE IT.

She glanced at Stefano out of the corner of her eye. They were sitting in the back seat of his expensive Rolls-Royce, with their baby in a car seat between them, as his uniformed driver maneuvered the morning rush-hour traffic already clogging the streets and avenues of New York in every direction.

She’d thought—really thought—that once he had proof he was Esme’s father that he would offer to help her somehow. Hadn’t he said that if he was the father, it would change everything?

Instead, he was taking her and Esme back to Brooklyn, to drop her off at her uncle’s bakery on his way to the airport. Leaving Tess to face her uncle’s wrath alone, while he flew off to London as planned.

Stefano had changed nothing.

Her disillusionment was complete.

“You’re very quiet,” Stefano said.

She couldn’t even talk to him right now. Leaning forward, she spoke to the driver. “Thanks for the ride. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to drive in Manhattan.”

“You don’t know how to drive?” Stefano said.

She shook her head, still not looking at him. “I’m a New York girl. I take the subway.”

But, as she spoke, her hand unconsciously stroked the smooth leather of the seat. It was a strangely sensual experience. But she’d only been in a luxury car like this once before. The night he’d seduced her. The night she’d conceived Esme.

“Ba-ba-ba,” the baby said wonderingly beside her, waving her fat arms. Tess looked down at Esme with a tender smile.

“Yes. Exactly.”

After Stefano had woken her up that morning, she’d fed and changed Esme, and brushed her own hair and teeth. A chauffeured Rolls-Royce had been waiting at the curb as they’d come out the front door of the Campania Hotel, and she’d found a brand-new infant car seat had already been installed in the back seat.

This must be what it’s like to be rich, Tess thought. Your path through life was always smooth, because paid employees ran ahead of you, clearing and tidying up every problem or delay. Even a child was no problem, apparently. You could just drop her off with a clear conscience and fly away on your jet.

“You’re angry with me,” Stefano said quietly.

As they traveled over the Brooklyn Bridge, Tess looked at him and immediately regretted it. “Why would I be angry?”

His eyes were dark and serious. “It’s better this way.”

“Better for who?”

“For you.” He looked at the happy, gurgling baby. “For her.”

Tess forced herself to smile. “You’re probably right.”

This would probably be the last time she’d ever see him, she realized. Stefano had made that clear since he’d woken her up and told her coldly that Esme was definitely his child, which, duh, she’d already known. What she’d hadn’t known, what she’d waited with painful hope to hear, was how he would react to the news.

But all he’d said was that he was taking her home. After that, he’d avoided looking at her while the hotel staff had brought down his luggage from his suite.

Which was its own answer, really. Even now that Stefano had proof that Esme was his child, in spite of his earlier words, he didn’t actually intend to do anything about it.

Tess was on her own.

It was a bitter pill to swallow. For over a year, she’d dreamed of Stefano returning to claim her, taking her in his arms, kissing her, begging her to be his bride. She’d dreamed of taking only one lover her whole life, and loving him for a lifetime. Being a family.

From the moment she’d met him on the street yesterday, she’d been forced to accept that, though Stefano Zacco might be a prince, he wasn’t anything like the Prince Charming she’d imagined him to be. Still, part of her, deep inside, had hoped that once he knew without a doubt that Esme was his child, he’d change.

She was so stupid. Why did she always seek hope even at times she should have clearly accepted defeat?

“I want only the best for you both,” Stefano said now. His black eyes pierced her heart.

His every action proved those words a lie. Taking a deep breath, she looked out at the passing buildings and said in a small voice, “So you’re off to London now?”

“Yes. To negotiate for Zacco.”

Her voice trembled a little as she said, “Good luck.”

“Grazie,” he said flatly.

They made their way through the most fashionable section of Brooklyn, toward the slightly less upscale neighborhood where her uncle’s bakery had been started by his grandfather in 1940. Heads on the sidewalks turned as the gleaming car passed by.

She felt a hollow pang in her belly as she whispered, “My uncle is going to be furious because I was out all night...”

“Why do you care? You are only here to collect your things, and the baby’s.”

Frowning, Tess looked at him. “What are you talking about?”

Stefano snorted. “Surely you cannot wish to remain here, working yourself to exhaustion for little pay.”

What choice do I have? She bit back the bitter words. She wouldn’t let Stefano think she was asking for his money or anything else not freely given.

She was being foolish, she knew. Her practical, financially focused friend Lola would be screaming at her right now to demand a hefty dose of child support, as was her right, and as he could easily afford.

But she couldn’t do it.

Tess had once wondered how her friend Hallie could have ever refused money from Cristiano Moretti under similar circumstances. Now, for the first time, she understood. It was because, after losing so much, sometimes a woman had only her pride left to cling to.

She set her jaw. “We’ll be fine.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve already called my lawyer.”

Confused, she turned to him. “A lawyer? Why?”

“Now that I have proof of Esme’s paternity, I cannot evade responsibility.”

She sucked in her breath. “What do you mean?”

“Tess.” Stefano’s dark eyes glittered in the gray morning light. “Did you really think I’d leave you and Esme without a penny? My driver will return later this morning to collect you and Esme, and take you to my lawyer’s office in Midtown. He’ll arrange for your bank account and funds to buy a nice apartment in any neighborhood you desire. My driver will be at your disposal anytime, day or night. All your needs will be provided for, anything you need to make your life more comfortable. A housekeeper, a cook, charge accounts at every department store, private school for Esme.”

Tess’s mouth was open. “What?”

Stefano gave a hard, careless smile. “Why does this surprise you? It is now my duty to provide for you. You will never have to work again, Tess. Or do anything you do not wish to do.”

Behind him, dimly Tess could see the Brooklyn Bridge and Manhattan skyline across the East River as the Rolls-Royce turned into her neighborhood.

When he’d said he wanted to take responsibility, for a moment she’d actually thought he intended to help raise their child, to be a real father; instead, he just meant money.

She should have been thrilled by his offer. Lola would have told her so in no uncertain terms. But she wasn’t. Stefano made her feel as if she and Esme were merely another unpleasant obligation, like an electricity bill.

Sadness filled her heart. Her shoulders sagged as she turned away, staring out at the Brooklyn street. Her street.

“Tess?”

As they pulled up in front of the bakery, she said in a low voice, “I don’t want your money.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s all arranged. Watson will be back in about two hours, won’t you, Watson?”

“Maybe three, depending on the traffic, Your Highness.”

Stefano reached over the baby’s car seat to take Tess’s hand in his own. “You’re free,” he said in a low voice. “You and the baby can enjoy your lives.” He paused. “Someday you’ll find a man who deserves you both.”

“Thanks,” she said over the lump in her throat, pulling her hand away. His patronizing words burned her to the core. She would have preferred it if he’d told her that he found her boring and that he’d rather eat glass than raise a child. At least then she could have respected his honesty. Instead, he was trying to make it sound like he was abandoning Tess for her




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