The Heir The Prince Secures
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
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.