by Jennie Lucas
“It is a reasonable request. I’ve been lied to before.”
“Not by me!”
“By others,” he conceded, then glared at her. “I do not appreciate you taking this hostile tone.”
“Hostile! You haven’t begun to see me hostile!” Rising from the bed, she stomped across the bedroom and snatched up her white fluffy robe. Tying the belt around her, she ground out, “Nico is two months old, we’ve been married since October and you’re suddenly wondering if he’s your son?”
“Scarlett—”
“Go to hell!”
He grabbed her hands. “Stop it.”
“I won’t.” Her breath came in angry gasps as she looked up at him with flashing eyes. “Last night you said you loved me, but now it’s like you’re suddenly trying to make me hate you. Why, Vin? Why?”
His hands tightened. His gaze fell to her lips, to the quick rise and fall of her breasts. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her. That he’d tell her what was really going on. That everything would be all right.
Instead, he abruptly let her go. “I expect you to be settled in my penthouse in New York by the time I’m done in Tokyo.”
“Do you?” she retorted. “Let me guess. You already have a Manhattan doctor on standby to give Nico a few more paternity tests.” She was shaking with emotion. “I’d almost think you want proof you’re not his father!”
“That’s not true, and you know it,” he bit out. “I chased around the world to find you and my son. My intentions should be clear. I want you both in New York. We are a family.” His voice was impersonal, chilly. “Furthermore, you will make sure Larson is always with you and the baby when you leave this house. I mean it, Scarlett.”
“I told you, I’m fed up with having a stupid bodyguard! This is Rome! Who do you think will attack us?”
“I was attacked once in midtown Manhattan. In the middle of the day.”
She exhaled. “What?”
“I was seventeen, an easy target, and the guy wanted my wallet. For twenty bucks, he sent me to the hospital.” He looked at her. “When I got out, I learned how to fight. When I became a millionaire, I also hired bodyguards.” His jaw was tight. “I protect what is mine, Scarlett. That now includes you and my son.”
“I’m sorry about what happened to you, but that was a long time ago, and Rome is very safe...”
“I’m leaving one of the private jets for you,” he continued implacably. “I expect you and Nico to be en route to New York by the end of the week.”
“We’re not flying anywhere!”
“Scarlett.” He ground his teeth. “I own an airline. You need to get over it!”
Get over it?! She was quivering with rage but kept her voice calm. “No, thank you. Neither I nor my child will be getting on one of those flying death traps again.”
“So let me get this straight,” he ground out. “You believe the airline I’ve built into a multibillion-dollar business to be made entirely of flying death traps. You refuse to live in New York. And you intend to flout my wishes by evading the bodyguard I’ve hired for you, leaving both you and Nico continually at risk.”
“That’s pretty much it, yes.”
“You have so little respect for my judgment? For my leadership?”
“Why should I listen to you, when you’ve made it clear you aren’t listening to me?” Her arms, which had been folded angrily, fell to her sides. “I don’t want to leave Rome,” she whispered. “I’m learning Italian. I’ve made friends. Your parents live just a few hours away. Your sister’s getting married here next month!”
“We can order flowers sent from New York.”
“You can’t be serious. She’s your sister!”
“What did you think, Scarlett? That we’d live here forever?”
That was exactly what she’d thought. She’d been happy and she’d thought it would last forever. She whispered over the lump in her throat, “It’s our home.”
“Home?” Looking around the luxurious, comfortable bedroom, he gave an incredulous laugh. “This place isn’t my home. It was my home, when I was a miserable child at the mercy of adults. But now, thank God, it’s not.” He closed his suitcase firmly. “My company is based in New York.”
“I have no good memories there. None.”
“You must have friends in the city.”
“Blaise Falkner?”
“He’s no longer in New York.” His lips pressed together. “My head of security recently informed me that without money or a place to live, he’s fled like the rat he is.” He paused, and she got the feeling there was more he wasn’t telling her. He finished, “So you have nothing to worry about.”
“I know I don’t. Because I’m not living there.”
A knock on the bedroom door interrupted them. An unhappy-looking bodyguard appeared to collect Vin’s suitcase. Scarlett whirled angrily on her husband.
“You’re making Beppe work today? He was going to propose to his girlfriend!” She looked at the man miserably. “I’m sorry.”
“Va bene, signora,” he muttered.
Ignoring him, Vin glared at her. “I grow weary of your constant criticism.”
“Oh, I see. I should just tremble and obey?”
“You’re twisting my words.”
“What am I, if not your partner? Am I your housekeeper? Your nanny?” Her cheeks burned. “Or just your whore?”
She had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes widen. Then they narrowed. “You’re my wife. The mother of my child.”
“Then how can you be so unfeeling? You said you loved me!”
Vin glanced grimly toward Beppe, now walking out with his suitcase, pretending to be deaf and blind to the whole conversation. “I am simply educating you in how it’s going to be. You and the baby will fly to New York within the week. You’ll be ready and willing to take the paternity test!”
Vin stalked out of the bedroom in his turn, slamming the door behind him.
Woken by the noise, their baby started crying in the nursery next door. Scarlett flashed hot, then cold. In a fury, she ran to the top of the staircase.
“We’re not going anywhere!” she screamed down at him. “You can’t force us!”
Vin’s face was startled at the bottom of the stairs. But he didn’t answer. He didn’t even pause. Just kept walking, straight out the door.
Hearing the roar of the engine as his car drove away, Scarlett slumped on the top stair, tears running down her cheeks.
How had it all gone so wrong, so fast?
Just that morning, she’d been so happy. So sure he loved her.
But he couldn’t. Otherwise, how could he act like this?
He didn’t love her. All her dreams came crashing down around her. Covering her face with her hands, Scarlett choked out a sob.
Then, hearing her baby’s wails, she took a deep breath. Wiping her eyes, she rose from the top stair, hoping, as she went to comfort her crying child, that she could somehow comfort herself.
* * *
From the penthouse bar of his ultramodern, luxurious Tokyo hotel, Vin stared out unseeingly through floor-to-ceiling windows displaying a panorama of the city, from Hamarikyu Gardens to the illuminated Rainbow Bridge stretching across Tokyo Bay. The night sky was dazzling from the bar on the thirtieth floor.
Beautiful.
Bright.
Cold.
Vin took another gulp of his scotch on the rocks, then set it back on the gleaming bar. He leaned his forehead against his palm, feeling inexpressibly weary.
It had been two weeks since he’d last spoken to Scarlett. Two weeks since their argument. For two weeks, he hadn’t seen his baby, who in his short life might already be forgetting he had a father. Vin’s heart felt twisted, raw, hollow.
He tried to tell himself it was worth it. Because Mediterranean Airlines was his.
It had been a hard fight, against a worthy rival, a far larger company. But Salvatore Calabrese had been duly impressed by Vin abandoning his w
ife and baby on Christmas Day to spend the week through New Year’s and beyond focusing only on negotiations. Vin had spent the last two weeks holed up in this hotel with lawyers.
It was fortunate the view was so nice, because other than the ride from the airport, this was all he’d seen of Tokyo.
But the deal was done. They’d signed the papers an hour ago. Mediterranean Airlines was now part of SkyWorld Airways.
Vin had won.
So why didn’t he feel happier?
Sitting up straight on his bar stool, he tried to shake the feeling off. Scarlett was still in Rome, stubbornly defying him. She hadn’t packed a thing, according to the bodyguards, whom she also continued to evade at will. She just continued her life as before, taking care of the baby and their home, helping his family arrange the last-minute details for his sister’s upcoming wedding.
His so-called sister.
His so-called family.
Vin ground his teeth. It was physically painful for him to be around the Borgias, in spite of—actually, because of—their love for him. If they knew the truth, that he wasn’t really Giuseppe’s son, that Bianca had lied to him and used him for all of Vin’s childhood, they would stop loving him.
It would be subtle, of course. They’d probably claim they were “still a family.” But soon they’d be making excuses not to visit. Christmas cards would grow rare. Finally, there would be no contact at all, to the unexpressed relief of both sides.
Vin was done with Rome. It was the place where he’d been forced to feel emotions he didn’t want to feel.
Especially for Scarlett.
His hands tightened on his glass of scotch.
But it would all soon be over. He glanced at his black leather briefcase on the bar stool beside him.
Ten minutes after he’d left Rome, with Scarlett’s hurled accusations still ringing in his ears, he’d coldly called his lawyers and had the post-nup drawn up.
He should have done it weeks ago. But after their marriage, after the birth of their son, part of his soul had recoiled from betraying Scarlett. He’d known after he tricked her into signing a post-nup, she would hate him, too. So he’d put it off, telling himself there was plenty of time.
He’d been weak. He never should have allowed himself to delay his original plan. Of course he had to make Scarlett sign the post-nup. It was the only way Vin could make sure he could always keep them safe. He had to be in control.
Without it, Scarlett would continue to blithely ignore his demands that she keep the bodyguards close.
She didn’t know that when Blaise Falkner disappeared from New York, he’d left a threat behind: “You’ll lose even more, Borgia.”
But that was just the point. Vin shouldn’t have to explain such dangers to his wife. He didn’t want to scare her. He just wanted to keep her safe.
Why did she have to fight him?
He’d felt so stupidly happy in her arms on Christmas Eve, making love to her. Stupid being the key word.
Waking up in the cold light of Christmas morning, he’d looked down at his wife in his arms, at the sweetly trusting smile on her beautiful face as she slept. For a split second, he’d been filled with joy. Then he’d felt a suffocating panic, even worse than the day they’d wed.
Happiness led to loss. It led to pain. And the joy of love could only end two ways: abandonment or death.
He’d decided long ago that he would never love anyone. He’d never give anyone that power over him.
But had he?
I love you.
He still remembered how he’d trembled when he’d heard Scarlett say those words. When he’d heard himself say them.
I love you.
He angrily shook the memory away.
He wouldn’t think of it. Wouldn’t feel it. And Scarlett’s love for him would evaporate, along with her trust, after he tricked her into signing the post-nup. She would hate him then.
Good.
Vin’s expression hardened as he took another sip of eighteen-year-old scotch. Taking love out of the equation would make things easier all around. Safer. Because he didn’t like the things Scarlett made him feel.
Desire, when he thought of her.
Frustration, when she defied him.
Fear, when he thought of a life without her.
Without even trying, his wife made him feel vulnerable, all the time, in every way. This had to end.
Staring blankly out at the Tokyo night, Vin leaned his head against his hand. He’d return to Rome, ostensibly to attend Maria’s wedding, with the post-nup in his pocket. He’d get Scarlett to sign it. And then—
He’d get his life back. Well-ordered. Controlled. With Vin completely in charge, and no risk of love or being vulnerable ever again.
“Borgia. Didn’t expect to find you here.”
Vin was jolted by a hearty clap on his shoulder. Looking back, he saw Salvatore Calabrese, still wearing the same designer suit and bright silk tie as when he’d signed the papers selling Mediterranean Airlines.
Vin already felt like he’d spent more than enough time around the self-involved, arrogant man, but he stifled his dislike and bared his teeth into a smile. “Hello, Calabrese.”
The older man slid onto a nearby stool at the glossy wooden bar and gestured to the bartender as he continued, “Glad you finally pulled yourself together to convince me you were the right man to take my airline global.”
“Me, too.” Wishing the man would leave, Vin looked idly down at the ice cubes in his glass, so precise and modern, as was everything about this bar, this hotel, this beautiful city.
Calabrese ordered a drink from the bartender, then sat back on the sleek leather bar stool. “You learned a valuable lesson. Never put your family ahead of yourself, kid. Take it from a man who knows.”
That was true enough, Vin thought. Calabrese was supposedly estranged from all three ex-wives and his four grown children, and he’d never even met his only grandchild. He definitely didn’t put his family ahead of himself.
The gray-haired man tossed some bills on the glossy wooden bar, leaving a huge tip, then glanced at Vin indulgently. “I know you’ll take Mediterranean Airlines to the top.”
“That’s the plan.” Vin wondered how to get rid of him so he could order the second scotch he wanted in peace.
“As for me, I’m going to enjoy the big payout. Take life easy for a while.” He picked up his martini and looked across the room. “Maybe I’ll get married again. One of those girls could talk me into it.”
Following his gaze, Vin saw a trio of beautiful young models—Asian, pale blonde, dark-skinned brunette—sitting cozily on a white leather sofa by the floor-to-ceiling windows, with Tokyo as their backdrop.
Smiling, Calabrese raised his martini glass in their direction. They giggled, rolling their eyes and whispering to each other.
“You want to get married again?” Vin said, astonished.
“Why not? A wife’s cheaper than a mistress. As long as she signs a pre-nup. Always make them sign. Take my advice.” He winked. “If not for your current marriage, for the next one.”
Vin watched Calabrese rise from the stool, then sashay toward the young women, his martini glass held high. Vin’s stomach churned as his gaze fell back on his briefcase.
He was nothing like Calabrese, he told himself fiercely. Nothing. Their situations were completely different.
But when Vin left Tokyo that night on his private jet, he couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning on the long flight.
When he finally arrived in Rome, the January light was gray. The holidays were over, leaving only the cold comfort of winter.
His driver was waiting to drive him from the airport. When he arrived at the villa, Vin set his jaw, wondering what he’d find.
He didn’t have to wait long.
“Vin!” Scarlett appeared at the top of the stairs. Her skin looked pale against her vibrant red hair, her eyes flashing emerald green. She was simply dressed in a pale silk blouse and simple
trousers, but he was newly overwhelmed by her beauty. He waited, expecting her anger.
To his surprise, she rushed down the stairs and threw her arms around him.
“I’m so glad you’re home,” she whispered.
The feel of Scarlett’s body against his, the warmth of her, was like fresh oxygen when he hadn’t realized he’d been suffocating. Vin breathed her in, inhaling the scent of cherry blossoms and soft spring flowers.
She was the one to finally pull away. Her eyes were luminous in the shadowy foyer. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about our fight. I was... I was so—” he braced himself “—wrong,” she finished quietly. “I was wrong.”
Her admission shocked him. Vin would never have admitted he was wrong about anything. If he ever was. Which he wasn’t. “About?”
“New York.” She gave him a wobbly smile. “You’re right. It’s your company headquarters. What am I going to do—” she gave an awkward laugh “—demand that hundreds of employees uproot their families and move to Rome, just because I love it here?” She took a deep breath, then tried to smile. “I was being selfish. I’m the one who said we should be partners. So...we should at least talk about it. I still won’t take a plane, but maybe I could take a ship. Isn’t marriage about compromise?”
“Yes,” he lied.
“But—” Scarlett gave him a shy smile “—I’m sure you want to see the baby...”
“Yes.” And he meant it.
Taking his hand, she led him upstairs. Entering the shadowy nursery, Vin looked down at his sleeping son. He heard the soft snuffle of his breath, saw the rise and fall of his chest. Nico. His precious boy. He was here. He was safe. The baby already looked different. He’d grown in two weeks. Vin hated that he’d been away so long.
Never again.
He looked at Scarlett. There could only be one person in control of his life. His home. His child. And that was Vin.
The ends justified the means, he told himself. Scarlett might hate him at first, but eventually she would thank him.
Or she wouldn’t. But either way, he would get his life back. Without the chaos and messy emotion she brought.
All Vin had to do was lull her back into her previous happiness and trust in him, then once she’d lowered her guard, trick her into signing the postnuptial agreement, written in Italian, giving him every right and power over every decision.
