LITMIR.BIZ

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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

      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

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