One Night: Sizzling Attraction: Married for Amari's Heir / Damaso Claims His Heir / Her Secret, His Duty

* * *

Charity hadn’t meant to impart the news quite that way.

She had intended to come over slightly more vulnerable. That was the entire point behind coming in her waitressing outfit. The entire point to not dressing up, to show him the way that she really lived.

Maybe it was stupid to try and engender his sympathy, for a second time, but she needed him to understand that she wasn’t living large with his money. Because his money was exactly what she needed.

For her new life. For her.

For the baby.

It was still so surreal. More surreal than sleeping with a stranger at all, was the realization that she had created a life with one. That there would be a person on earth who would share DNA that belonged in part to her, and in part to him. It didn’t seem fair, really. Not to her, not to the child. She didn’t much care if it was fair to Rocco.

There were certain things she could never provide for a child, not with her income. And really, she shouldn’t be ashamed. This was a sacrifice of her pride, to ensure that her child was taken care of. To ensure the child had everything it deserved.

She didn’t want him to play the part of daddy, and try to make a happy family with her. Far from it. She just needed his money.

But, she felt she had a legitimate claim on it, considering.

She ignored the slight jab in her conscience that reminded her she had already taken some of his money.

But I don’t have it. And so neither will the baby.

She needed the baby to have it. Otherwise, what could she offer? It was either life with the server’s wages, or life that looked a lot like hers had when she’d been growing up. Moving from place to place, running cons.

She didn’t want that for her child. She wanted better. She wanted the best. She wanted to try and figure out how to be a good mother. She wanted to figure out how to be something other than a thief.

It had been nearly thirty seconds since she had dropped her bombshell, and Rocco still hadn’t spoken. Charity didn’t feel obligated to fill the silence. He deserved to feel the same shock she had felt when she had taken the test. When she had seen the little pink lines that had changed everything.

Yes, they had used a condom, but she knew enough to know that they did fail sometimes. And anyway, no amount of arguing that point with the universe would take back what had been done.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel she was being punished for the way she’d handled things. Had she refused him, she would simply be in jail rather than expecting a baby.

That thought almost made her laugh. Just because it was so absurd. Just because she could hardly feel any regrets over sidestepping prison. No matter what else had happened since.

In some ways, she had arrived in a hopeful place about the baby. That this would be a true stepping-stone into something different. Into a different life.

“Was that your way of making an announcement?” Rocco finally spoke, his tone hard.

“I suppose it was. That wasn’t exactly the plan, but then I didn’t expect you to be so horrible. I suppose that was my first mistake. We have met after all.”

“We used protection,” he said, the words cold. Blunt.

“Yes, and I did speak to the universe about that when I realized my period was late. However, it didn’t seem to care.”

“How do I know you didn’t rush out and bed the first man you found after we parted? A little bit of revenge? Trying to pass his baby off as mine?”

Charity embraced the genuine, righteous anger that burned through her. “How dare you? You, who blackmailed me into sex. You took my virginity in payment for money my father stole, money that I never touched.” That much was true. She’d never had her hands on the money for a moment. “You are every inch the villain in this scenario, Rocco Amari. I will not lie down and take these accusations. I will not allow you to stand there looking superior when the simple fact is you all but forced me into having sex with you, and you don’t deserve to comment on my character when you were the one who led things between us.”

Rocco drew back as though he had been slapped. But when he recovered, she could feel the rage radiating from him in waves. “Perhaps I did some of those things. But I did not force you into bed. Do not deny that in the end you begged for me. You said yes. Yes please. And I gave you what you wanted.”

She looked away, her cheeks heating. “I was a virgin. It was never going to take much to make me lose my head. I wouldn’t let it go to your ego.” She needed him to feel responsible. And she needed him to feel annoyed. So he would get rid of her, but also offer her money.

“You cannot play the victim now. I would never have gone so far with you had you not asked.”

“Are you honestly going to say that you didn’t intend for it to end in sex?”

He paused, his dark eyes flat, his jaw clenched tight. “I did not. All I really wanted was for you to beg. But you were much more convincing than I anticipated.”

The admission seemed to cost him, and she had no idea why. If it should hurt anyone to hear that, it was her.

She had overpaid. And now, she would keep on paying.

She gritted her teeth. “Don’t forget you begged, too.”

“I didn’t have to beg for long, did I?”

“I hate you,” she said, and she found she meant every word, even though she was speaking it as part of her role. As part of the indignant, downtrodden waitress who found herself alone and pregnant.

That’s exactly what you are.

She swallowed hard, her throat tightening, genuine emotion overwhelming her. “What have you done to us?” she asked.

“Inexperience will not cover your actions in this. Do not put the blame on me entirely.”

“Oh, you don’t want all the blame? Then perhaps you shouldn’t swan around as though you are the God of the universe. You cannot be both all-powerful and without fault. You threatened me, you made me feel as though I had to fall into line or I would be put in jail. Yes, I acknowledge that in the end I consented. But had I not been coerced in the first place I would never have been in your room. Obviously, I have spent my life staying away from men’s hotel rooms, and yours would have been no exception.”

“Fine. I was an absolute monster. Is that what you want to hear? Does that ease your pain? It shouldn’t, as it doesn’t change the situation.”

“I’m surprised you would admit to the fact that you’re a monster,” she said, anger pouring through her.

“Being considered a nice man has never been a concern of mine. I don’t particularly care whether or not I acted with the highest moral standards. That is not what drives me. I wanted success. I have achieved it. And I will keep it. Everything else is incidental. I will have what’s mine, and that is my utmost concern.”

“I can’t get you your money back. I don’t know where my father is. If I did, count on it, I would be the first person to turn him in. I’m not protecting him. I’m not that self-sacrificial. In fact, I’m not self-sacrificial at all. I slept with you to keep myself out of trouble because you wouldn’t listen to me. I would have turned him in to you a thousand times over to avoid that.” The only problem with turning her father in was that he would talk. And then her proclamations of innocence wouldn’t mean much anymore. Because he would confirm her involvement and she didn’t want that. Even though Rocco didn’t believe her innocence she couldn’t bring herself to confess her guilt, either.

“All of this is beside the point,” he said, waving his hand, as though to brush her concerns out of the air as if they were nothing more important or substantial than cobwebs. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to give you the chance to know about the baby. Because I wanted to give you the chance to make a choice about whether or not you wanted to be in its life.”

He only stared at her, dark eyes flat. “And what part would you expect me to play in the life of a child?”

“The part of father I would imagine, as that is the role you played in its conception.” He wouldn’t accept it. And she knew it. But she had to ask. She’d never known her mother, and her father had been distant. She would give Rocco this chance.

But he would turn it down. And she would be grateful. Because while she needed to give him a chance to be involved with his child, the last thing she wanted was for him to have any involvement with her.

Beyond the financial support he would no doubt offer, and which she and her baby would desperately need.

“I would not know the first thing about being a father. I didn’t have one.”

“Well, I don’t have a mother, and yet it seems I’m about to become one. Apparently, lacking a particular parent isn’t an effective form of birth control. Who knew?”

“I do not see why you would want me to participate in the child’s life.”

She was surprised by the depth of anger she felt when he said those words. Surprised by the deep, elemental rage that started down low in her stomach and flowed outward. Because she was only just wrapping her head around this motherhood thing, and that she should have an instinct, of any kind, was shocking. Especially because her ultimate goal was definitely not to have him involved.

But hearing him say it—it affected something in her she hadn’t even known was there. It cut too close to the bone. Too close to her own childhood. So full of indifference, abandonment, regret...

She gritted her teeth. “Then don’t. But you will pay child support. I’m not raising your child in poverty while you eat in fine dining establishments and...and...prop your feet up in your giant Italian villa.”

“I most certainly will pay child support. If it is mine.”

“It is yours. I haven’t been with another man. Ever. My first time was in your godforsaken hotel suite, and it was my only time.” She swallowed hard. “And you know that. I know you do. You, on the other hand, have been with so many women I bet you don’t even know the official number. I made sure to get a panel done when I went in for my blood test to confirm the pregnancy. To make sure that I didn’t catch anything from you.”

His lip curled into a sneer. “I always use protection.”

“And obviously it isn’t always effective.”

His expression went flat again. Unaffected. “Do you need money for medical care?”

She blinked. “I will. Unless I can get on some kind of assistance...”

“How soon can you get a paternity test done?”

She clenched her hands into fists, starting to feel light-headed. “Not for a few weeks. And from what I’ve heard there’s a miscarriage risk.”

“Your choice. Discuss it with your physician at your appointment, and I will leave that decision to you. But, if you do take assistance from me during the pregnancy and upon delivery of the child the test is done and I discover it is not mine, you will owe me for the care you received.”

She gritted her teeth. “I will probably take option two, as I’m completely confident in what the results will be. I’m not worried about owing you a damn thing.”

“Excellent,” he said, as though they had just solved a particularly tricky business issue. “I will arrange for an account to be set up for your medical needs. After the delivery of the baby, after we have legally established paternity, we can work out some sort of child support agreement.”

This was it. She had won. He was agreeing to child support. It was going to get her what she needed, give her and her child the best life possible. And he wasn’t going to be involved.

For some reason, the victory was so much more hollow than she had imagined it might be. For some reason, she didn’t feel victorious at all. She just felt dizzy, dazed.

Maybe because she was in shock. She very likely had been from the moment she’d first taken the pregnancy tests. The first one, at home, and the follow-up blood work at the free clinic. She had probably been in shock the whole time she was formulating this plan. A way to make sure everything was taken care of, without having Rocco in her life.

It was difficult to feel victorious when everything about this just felt frightening. Strange.

“I suppose you know how to contact me,” she said.

“And you know how to contact me. Clearly.”

“Is that everything?”

He shrugged and went to sit behind his desk. “Unless you have any further concerns. Or, have any information on the whereabouts of your father.”

She shook her head, feeling numb. “No.”

“That is a shame. Do let me know when the results of the paternity test are in.”

“You mean when your child is born.”

“I imagine the timing will coincide,” he said, looking away from her now completely. As though she was already gone.

“I’ll call you. Someone. Your secretary,” she said, turning away from him and walking out the door.

She managed to hold it together until she was halfway through the lobby. But then, just as she was passing the receptionist’s desk, a sob worked its way through her frame, catching her breath, making her pause. Her chest burned, her whole body shaking. She didn’t know why this hurt so much. Didn’t know why it mattered whether or not he cared about the child. She didn’t want him to, dammit. Why was she feeling guilty now?

Because you know how much it hurts. You know it hurts forever.

Yes, she did know. Knew that the pain of abandonment, of complete disinterest, didn’t ease.

She hated that her child would be starting out life the way she had started hers. And it was a strange and terrifying thing to know that, already, the needs of her child felt so much more important than her own.

She pressed on through the lobby, sucking in a gasp of fresh air as soon as she was outside. She blinked against the harsh light of the sun, staring up at the cloudless blue sky that seemed to mock the state of her life with its beautiful perfection.

But somehow, while part of her felt angry about the beauty of the day, another part of her took comfort in it. Things were changing in her life, faster than she could process them. But everything around her was the same.

It wasn’t the end of the world. It was just the start of a strange, new one. And no, her child wouldn’t have a father. But she knew from experience that a father who sucked was probably worse than no father at all.

And her child would have a mother. There was no question about that.

It was scary. Terrifying. She was a twenty-two-year-old waitress who didn’t feel as if she’d started her life yet. She didn’t know how to be normal. Her moral compass skewed from childhood. But she would have to change the way she saw things now, change the way she did things. Because she didn’t want to carry on the legacy that her father had tried to instill in her. A legacy she had been taking part in because she hadn’t known what else to do.

She still didn’t know what to do. But with the financial support coming from Rocco, she wouldn’t even be tempted to engage in cons anymore. Maybe she would get a house in the country. Maybe she would make friends with other mothers. Maybe she would make up a story about where she was from, and what happened to her baby’s father.

Maybe that could be her last con. One that she lived in. One that she stayed in. Something normal, something happy.

The thought of it made her smile.

Things were going to change. But she needed that. Desperately. She needed to change. Maybe this was her chance to finally have real connections. To love someone the way she wanted to. Without reserve. With love in return.

A love neither she nor her child would ever have to earn.

No just one more con looming overhead. A mythical destination that would supposedly fix all, but would never arrive.

She closed her eyes and wiped away the tears that had fallen down her cheeks. She didn’t need Rocco Amari to be happy. Neither did her child.

This whole thing with her dad had started out as one of the biggest mistakes of her life. But maybe out of it something amazing would happen.

Either way, it was a new chapter. She was done with her father. She was done with the life they’d led. Done with cheating people.

And she was done with Rocco, except when it came to the financial support he would offer. It was a new life, a new beginning.

And now that she had taken care of the hard part, she was ready to start.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE ROOM WAS EMPTY. Everything was gone. Nothing to identify who might live in this tiny little house in Rome. No toys to show that a child played here. No pots or pans in the kitchen to prove that there was a mother who lived here. A mother who had cooked dinner every night, regardless if the meal was comprised of the most modest portions.

Even the blankets that were usually fashioned into a nest in the corner of the living area were gone.

And there were strangers standing there. Strangers who were smiling although there was nothing to smile about.

His toys were gone.

But worst of all, his mother was gone.

No matter how many times he asked where she was, no one would answer. He asked until he was hoarse, until his voice was gone, and still there was no answer. Only smiling, and strange assurances that everything would be fine, when he knew nothing would ever be fine again.

The room was empty, and he couldn’t find anything that he needed.

* * *

Rocco woke up, his body drenched in sweat, his heart hammering so hard he feared it might burst through his chest. His bedroom was, of course, not empty. He was sleeping on a king-size bed with lush blankets and pillows covering every square inch. In the corner, he could see his dresser, and mounted to the wall the flat-screen TV. Everything was here, just as it should be.

Most importantly, he was not a small crying child. He was a man. And he was not helpless.

Yet for some reason, in spite of the realization that he had been having his usual dream, the unease didn’t let up. His chest still felt as though it was being squeezed tight, a large hand wrapped around his throat.

He got out of bed and walked over to the bar that was next to the door. He needed a drink, and then he could go back to sleep.

He flipped on the light and reached for a bottle of Scotch, pouring himself a generous amount, his hands shaking. As he lifted the glass to his lips, he replayed the dream in his mind. And suddenly the face of the child changed. It wasn’t him any longer, but a child with her mother’s defiant expression and wavy black hair.

He swore and slammed the glass down onto the bar top. There was no reason for him to take part in the life of the child Charity was carrying. The odds that she was truly pregnant were slim. The odds that she was carrying his child slimmer still. It was a tactic to use him. She was a con woman, just like her father, and he knew it.

Yes, she had been a virgin, he knew that, too. But perhaps she had not been. Perhaps it was all part of her elaborate ruse. He couldn’t be sure.

He should forget this. Forget she had ever come to see him. It would be easy for him to send a certain amount of money to her every month, money he would never even look at. She would be cared for, as would the baby, and he could go on as he always had.

Yet again, his mind was filled with large, sad brown eyes.

He looked down into the Scotch as though it betrayed him, then lifted the glass and hurled it at the wall, watching it shatter. It left a dark blot behind, a spray of liquid clearly visible, and shards of glass on the floor. He didn’t care.

And he shouldn’t care about Charity Wyatt and the baby she might or might not be carrying.

You would abandon your child? Is this what you have become?

He did not hear the questions in his own voice, but a voice from far in the past. His mother. Who had left luxury with his father to give birth to him. Who had, before that, sold all of her jewelry, all of her clothes. A mother who had worked nights at a factory, walking a dangerous route home in the early hours, alone.

His mother had given her all, until she had lost her life in pursuit of caring for him.

And he was going to leave his child with nothing more than an automatic deposit once a month.

He ignored the uncharacteristic guilt that wound itself around his lungs, making it difficult to breathe. He didn’t believe in guilt. It was useless. It accomplished nothing. He believed in action.

So take action.

What action could he take? Would he keep the child for himself? Take Charity as his wife? Make a family with the woman who had defrauded him out of a million dollars?

The woman who had tested his control and found it wanting?

Unacceptable.

All of it. He owed her nothing. He didn’t even owe her child support all things considered. He was still half convinced she had his money tucked away somewhere. A million dollars of his ferreted away into an account to use at her discretion.

In truth, he was being generous offering her anything.

Yes, he was generous.

He took another glass from the bar and poured himself more Scotch. He would not think of this again. He would place his assistant in charge of arranging Charity’s medical appointments. She would receive the best care available. Another token of his generosity.

He had made the right decision. And he would not question it again.

He downed to the rest of his Scotch and went back to bed.

* * *

Charity felt like hell. She had for the past two weeks. Everything she ate seemed to disagree with her, and she had no energy at all. She had missed so many shifts at the restaurant that her financial situation was getting dire.

But, the unavoidable fact was that nobody wanted a clammy, pale waitress serving them food.

And today was her first official doctor’s appointment that had been arranged at the clinic chosen by Rocco. It was a strange thing, going to a clinic that had been selected by the man who was so intent on keeping himself separate from all of this.

Well, she was willing to bet that Rocco himself hadn’t actually selected the clinic. More likely he had had his assistant do it. Which, actually sat a bit easier with her.

The place was certainly upscale, a far cry from the free clinic where she’d gone to get her blood work done in the early stages of the pregnancy. Instead of plastic chairs, cracked tile floors and water-stained ceilings there was plush carpet, a comfortable seating area designed to look more like the living room of a nice home and chilled bottles of water offered upon entry.

It was amazing what could be achieved with a little bit of money. Or a lot of money, in this case. She could almost see why her father was so driven to join the elite class and enjoy the fruits of their labor.

Of course, Charity had discovered that it wasn’t really worth the risk. Too little too late, however.

“Ms. Wyatt?” A woman poked her head through one of the doors that partitioned the waiting area off from the patient rooms.

Charity picked up her water bottle and stood, following the woman back to a scale, where her weight was taken, then to a restroom, where a sample was taken. And from there, to one of the little rooms that had a white gown neatly folded on a chair and a large cushioned exam table at the center.

“The doctor will be in to see you shortly. Remove your clothes, and put the gown on,” the woman said.

Charity nodded, feeling slightly numb again. The baby stuff was all fine in theory, but when things got real like this she started to retreat inside herself again.

She went through the motions, removing her clothing, putting the thin nondescript gown on. She sat on the table, her hands folded in her lap, unease pooling in her stomach.