LITMIR.BIZ

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so easily impressed.”

      “This city is thousands of years old,” she informed him archly.

      “What were you reading on the plane? The history of London?”

      “I was reading a novel. Louisa told me.” Louisa was the flight attendant on their private jet. “London was founded by the ancient Romans!”

      “So really,” he said lazily, “we should get credit.”

      “You?”

      “Italians.” He reached past the baby to put his hand tenderly on his wife’s knee. “Just wait until London Fashion Week. Are you excited?”

      “Yes.” Looking at his hand, she blushed, biting her lip. “Very.”

      And well she should blush, Stefano thought smugly, after the night they’d had. It had been the most amazing twenty-four hours of his life, even better than their first time. He’d made love to her four times last night in the hotel, then twice in the private bedroom in the back of the jet as they crossed the Atlantic. His wife. He couldn’t get enough of her.

      He shivered, remembering.

      “I can’t wait to see everything,” she said softly, looking out at the city. “London, Milan, Paris. I can’t believe I’ll be attending three different Fashion Weeks, back to back.”

      “You never attended the one in New York?”

      She snorted. “Fashion Week is for famous people, not poor design students. I’ve seen pictures on social media, though. I always wondered what it would be like.”

      “To see a runway show?”

      “To hold one of my own.” She gave him a wistful smile. “To be a designer for a major house.”

      Was she hinting that she wanted a job at Mercurio or Fontana? No, surely not. Why would Tess want to work, to hold down a grueling job with long hours that often paid little, when she could live with him in luxury? Stefano smiled at her. “You’ll meet Mercurio’s new designer in Paris,” he said huskily. “And see all the shows up close.”

      Tess returned his smile. “Do you usually sit in the front row?”

      He shrugged. “I could. But I generally leave that to celebrities. I prefer to be in the second row. I don’t need to be photographed. I’m there for business.”

      “And to check out your rivals?” she said, handing their cooing baby a giraffe toy.

      He gave Tess a startled look. She grinned, then said cheerfully, “I used to buy pastries from the bakery down the block for that exact same reason.”

      How funny she was, Stefano thought, his gaze tracing her sweet, pretty face, her pink lips, swollen from a night of kisses. His body stirred again.

      It amazed him that he could still want her, after the night they’d had. He’d married Tess out of sense of duty, and because he desired her. What he hadn’t expected was that he’d enjoy her company so much, even in the daytime. Talking with her. Being with her.

      Somehow, Tess made everything in Stefano’s life, everything he’d previously been bored with, seem different and new.

      Climbing aboard their private jet in New York that morning, Tess had exclaimed over its large, luxurious cabin, newly outfitted with a travel crib and baby toys. Her eyes had been wide as saucers.

      “First time on a private jet?” he’d asked her, smiling.

      “First time on a plane!”

      It was no wonder she’d been excited. When the flight attendant had offered to make them drinks and dinner, Tess had followed Louisa into the galley, to “help.” Stefano was mystified. He always kept a distance from his own employees, even if they’d worked for him for years. His executive assistant, Agathe Durand, had been with him for fifteen years, but until her grandson became seriously ill last year, Stefano had known almost nothing about her family. He respected his employees’ right to privacy and expected them to respect his. Tess obviously felt differently. By the end of the flight, Tess and the flight attendant were apparently best friends.

      The flight attendant glowed under Tess’s friendly attention, and so did the two pilots, at her over-the-top praise. Tess’s sweet, hopeful nature was like sunshine, he realized, making everyone happier around her. Opening people’s hearts.

      Not his, of course. He didn’t have a heart, so he was immune. But he enjoyed the effect she had on others. He was amused by her company and enjoyed the novelty of looking at the world through her less cynical eyes. Her warmth and idealistic heart were good qualities for a wife and mother.

      Plus, she blew his mind in bed.

      Stefano glanced at her now, sitting on the other side of the baby’s car seat in the back of the Bentley. She was exclaiming over everything—even ordinary things such as red post boxes and black taxi cabs. Feeling his gaze, she gave him a happy smile, but he saw faint shadows beneath her eyes. As much time as they’d spent in bed, they hadn’t slept a great deal. He was used to taking business calls and discussing the latest numbers at all hours, but he’d been surprised to discover Tess was awake just as much with the baby. He was accustomed to pushing himself to the limit, but he wanted Tess to be comfortable. He’d already sent a message to his assistant to find a nanny as soon as possible.

      “What’s that?” As the car slowed, Tess craned her neck to look out their window.

      He smiled. “Our hotel.”

      “Wow,” she breathed, looking up at the grand Victorian hotel, its stone turrets towering over them.

      After the Bentley stopped, the hotel’s uniformed doorman opened the door. After unbuckling the baby seat, Tess let him help her out, with Esme in her arms.

      “Welcome to the Leighton Hotel London, madam,” the doorman said, then bowed to Stefano. “Welcome back, Your Highness.”

      “Hello, Walter. This is my wife.”

      The doorman’s eyes widened and he corrected himself, bowing to her, too. “Your Highness, welcome.”

      “Nice to meet you, Walter,” she said warmly, then took Stefano’s arm as he led her into the Leighton’s grand, gilded lobby. The service was impeccable, as always. They were whisked upstairs without even having to pause at the registration desk, with their luggage and new stroller brought behind them.

      Stefano always stayed in the same penthouse suite in London. As they entered the door, he smiled at her, his eyes twinkling. “Will this do for a honeymoon?”

      Holding their babbling baby against her hip, Tess walked through the suite’s five elegant rooms and terrace overlooking Hyde Park. “Wow,” she breathed again. Then she saw the flower arrangements and fruit baskets on the suite’s gleaming wooden table. “What are these?”

      “Congratulations on our marriage, I imagine. From friends who couldn’t attend the ceremony. And business acquaintances.” Coming forward, he kissed her. “Welcome to London, cara mia.” He kissed Esme’s fat cheek tenderly. “And you, mia figlia.”

      “Bah,” said the baby, waving her chunky arms at his nose.

      There was a peremptory knock at the door of the suite, and a chic white-haired woman entered, followed by a plump middle-aged blonde.

      “Tess,” he said, and took his wife’s hand, “I’d like you to meet my executive assistant, Agathe Durand.”

      “Congratulations again, Your Highness,” said the white-haired woman.

      “Thank you, Agathe.” He looked next at the plump blonde. “This is the nanny?”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “Nanny?” said Tess.

      “I am most pleased to meet you, Your Highness,” the executive assistant said to

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