The Italian's Unexpected Heir

by Jennifer Faye

  “I just started working here this year.” And yet, it seemed so much longer. “I immediately fell in love with the estate.” And she was pretty crazy about its owner, but she kept that part to herself.

  It seemed like she’d been keeping more and more to herself these days. In the beginning of all this, she and Enzo could talk about most anything. It was like they had an immediate rapport—

  Whinny!

  The next thing she knew Duchess came to an abrupt stop. Before she could think to react, the horse reared up. Sylvie clung tight to the reins and tightened her legs. But gravity was too much for her. She thought she heard Enzo call out her name.

  She went airborne.

  A scream tore from her lungs.

  And then she landed on the hard ground with a thud. The air whooshed from her lungs. And as her head hit the ground, blackness engulfed her, swallowing her whole.

  * * *

  She just had to be all right.

  That was all Enzo could think when he saw Sylvie motionless on the ground. And that was what he thought when she came to and insisted that she was all right. She was more worried about the horse, who’d been spooked, than herself. Against his wishes, she’d gotten to her feet.

  It was all he could do to convince her that they were going to the A&E. When he’d pointed out that she’d blacked out momentarily, she’d grudgingly conceded but insisted that no ambulance was necessary. And so he drove her. She was so stubborn.

  And now, as they waited in a hospital cubicle, Sylvie grew restless. He couldn’t blame her. This place was boring but necessary.

  “This is silly to wait around here,” Sylvie said. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “That bump on your head would indicate otherwise.”

  She sighed as though giving up the fight. Because there was no way she was getting out of the hospital until the doctor cleared her.

  A few minutes of silence passed between them. In that time Enzo’s mind went to a dark place as he thought about how close he’d come to losing her. The thought of his world without Sylvie in it—well, he couldn’t imagine it. Never seeing her bright, sunny smile again or being able to pick up his phone and hear her soft voice and infectious giggle. He halted his troubling thoughts. Thankfully, none of that had happened.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The words were so soft—so faint—that he wasn’t sure he heard her correctly. “Sorry?” When she nodded, he asked, “For what?”

  “For ruining your interview with the magazine. I can’t even imagine what they must think.”

  He wanted to tell her that he didn’t care what they thought. The only important thing was her well-being. But he stopped himself. He told himself that he didn’t want to hurt her feelings since she’d arranged for the magazine coverage and worked so hard to make the estate look picture-perfect. He ignored the part about how his admission might convey how much she’d come to mean to him—as a friend, that is.

  “Everything is going to work out fine,” he said with a conviction he was lacking because he knew they’d soon be parting ways and—and he’d miss their conversations.

  “Ms. DeLuca?” A doctor they hadn’t seen before stepped into the cubicle.

  “Yes.” There was a slight tremor in her voice.

  Enzo couldn’t help but wonder if she was worried about having to spend the night in the hospital. Before he could reassure her that everything would be all right, the doctor turned to Enzo. The words froze in Enzo’s throat.

  “I’m Dr. Costa.” The older man wearing a white coat held out his hand. “And you would be?”

  “Enzo.” Suddenly, he felt nervous. What was the doctor going to say? Was there something wrong with Sylvie and that was why a new doctor was here? As the doctor’s eyes prompted Enzo for more information, Enzo found his voice once more. “I’m, uh, Sylvie’s friend.”

  The doctor nodded in understanding. “If you could go to the waiting area, I’d like to speak to Ms. DeLuca.”

  “I’d like him to stay,” Sylvie said. “He’s never going to believe I’m okay until he hears it from you.”

  The doctor’s bushy white brows drew together behind his silver-framed glasses. “Okay, then.”

  Would the doctor have asked him to leave the room if nothing was wrong? Enzo didn’t think so. And he wanted to be there for Sylvie to lean on if the news wasn’t good.

  The doctor focused on Sylvie. “You’ve had quite a fall and you have a slight concussion. Your other tests came out fine. Are you having any cramping?”

  Sylvie’s eyes showed her confusion. “No.”

  “Any spotting?”

  “Spotting?” Her voice wavered. When the doctor nodded, she said, “No.”

  “That’s good.” The doctor smiled at her. “Now, if your friend will step outside, I’ll just check and make sure everything is all right with the baby.”

  The breath hitched in Enzo’s throat.

  Baby? What baby?

  Surely, the doctor was confused. Enzo turned his attention to Sylvie. All the color had leached from her face. Judging by her wide-eyed gaze and her slack jaw, she was as surprised by this diagnosis as he was.

  “Just move to the waiting area,” the doctor prompted as a nurse rushed in. “We won’t be long.”

  Enzo turned his stunned gaze to Sylvie. He didn’t want to walk away. He had questions. Lots of questions.

  He opened his mouth to say something but his voice failed him.

  How had this happened?

  That was a foolish question. He recalled very vividly how this had happened. Every last sizzling detail.

  The doctor cleared his throat, startling Enzo into action. On wooden legs, he walked away. But not far. Not far at all.

  * * *

  She was pregnant.

  It wasn’t as big of a shock as Sylvie had expected.

  Maybe because way down deep in her subconscious, she’d suspected it. She just hadn’t allowed herself to admit it. After all, what were the chances that the first time you make love that you would turn up pregnant?

  She didn’t think the odds were very high. Leave it to her to be the one in a million. But it explained her symptoms, from her tender breasts, to her upset stomach, to her heightened emotions. And if she were to finally slow down enough to consult her day planner, she’d likely notice that her cycle was late. Inwardly, she groaned. This was the worst timing—the absolute worst.

  When the doctor finished his thorough exam, he said, “Everything appears good. But considering the severity of your fall, I’d like to do a transvaginal ultrasound.” He went on to explain the procedure to her.

  “I’ll be able to see the baby?” she asked. Hope and excitement swelled within her chest.

  The doctor nodded. “And we should be able to hear its heartbeat.” The doctor typed some notes into the computer that was mounted on a cart. “Was that the father who was just in here?”

  “Yes.” There was no hesitation in her answer because Enzo was the only man in her life, if you could stretch the meaning of being in someone’s life.

  “Would you like to have him in here for the ultrasound?” When she nodded, the doctor said, “As soon as you’re all set up, someone will go get him. The technician should be in shortly.”

  And then the doctor left her alone. It was quite loud in her head as one thought preceded another. Quite often they were in contradiction of each other. But in the end, they all boiled down to: What was she going to do now?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  IT WAS A black screen.

  And then some gray lines washed over the monitor.

  Enzo squinted, trying to make out the image of a baby—of his son or daughter. That thought momentarily caused the breath to become trapped in his lungs. How was it that he was going to become a father when he hadn’t even gotten his own life straig
htened out?

  The technician wearing pink scrubs, with her dark hair pulled up in a messy bun, made some adjustments, clearing up the picture. She pointed to the screen. “There’s your baby.”

  Sylvie gasped. And then she sniffled and swiped at her cheeks. “Can you tell if it’s a boy or girl?”

  “It’s too early. That will happen in your second trimester.”

  Sylvie turned to Enzo with a teary smile. “It’s so small. I... I hope I didn’t hurt him or her in the fall.”

  Enzo wanted to reassure her that everything would be all right, but he couldn’t make her that promise. Instead, he reached out and took her cold hand in his. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

  “Would you like to hear the heartbeat?” the technician asked.

  “Oh, yes. Please.” The excitement rang out in Sylvie’s voice.

  A new sense of guilt settled over Enzo. After the way his own family had crashed and burned, he was scared to be responsible for a baby. What if he messed up?

  Sylvie squeezed his hand, drawing him back to the present. A rapid swoosh-swoosh filled the air.

  “That’s your baby’s heartbeat,” the technician said. “A baby’s heart beats more rapidly than an adult’s.”

  For the moment Enzo halted his rambling thoughts and focused on his son or daughter’s heartbeat. The swoosh-swoosh drove home the reality of this situation.

  He and Sylvie were having a baby.

  This shouldn’t be happening. The timing was all wrong. The situation was wrong. And his being a father was all sorts of wrong.

  * * *

  Pregnant. Baby.

  The words echoed in Enzo’s mind during the ride home. It had been a particularly quiet ride as he tried to come to terms with the events of the day. He wasn’t the only quiet one. Sylvie had barely said a word since they got in the car. Was she as stunned as he was? Or had she known all along? Was that why she’d been so excited to hear the baby’s heartbeat?

  He hadn’t needed to ask Sylvie if the baby was his. The fact she’d been a virgin until their night in Paris was enough to answer his question. Things had gotten out of control that night. Obviously, mistakes had been made. Big mistakes.

  And now he had no idea what to do.

  He opened the door of the guesthouse. She walked past him because she refused to let him carry her—even though he’d tried to do just that. She insisted when the doctor said she was to rest for a couple of days that it didn’t mean she couldn’t walk. She was so stubborn.

  Once inside, she refused to go to bed and instead settled on the couch. He sat with her. He rubbed his palms over his jeans. Unable to get comfortable, he jumped to his feet. He started to pace.

  He had questions, lots of questions. But he didn’t know if now was the right time to ask them. In fact, it probably wasn’t the time. He kept his mouth shut and his feet moving over the hardwood floor.

  “Ask me,” she said.

  He stopped and turned to her. “What?”

  “You want to ask me about the baby, so go ahead. And yes, the baby is yours.”

  “How long have you known?” His gaze searched hers as though he could tell if she was lying or not.

  “I didn’t. I swear. I just found out when you did.”

  He raked his fingers through his hair. “This... It changes everything.”

  She glanced down, smoothing out a nonexistent wrinkle in her blouse. “I don’t want it to sway your decision.”

  “What decision?” Was she referring to their relationship? Or had she already skipped ahead to marriage and living happily ever after? Because that had never crossed his mind. Well, not really. Maybe once or twice. But that was it.

  Frown lines etched her eyes. “I don’t want you to keep the estate out of a sense of obligation.”

  He didn’t say anything. Once more he started to pace. He had a lot to think over before they continued this discussion. There was so much to consider.

  “Enzo, I’m sorry.”

  He stopped. His gaze sought out hers. “Sorry for what?”

  “For further complicating your life.”

  He believed her. He really did. But he didn’t blame her. He blamed himself. And right now he couldn’t give her the words of reassurance she wanted to hear. He needed time to think.

  “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he said, glancing away. “It’s getting late. Do you want anything to eat?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  He’d gotten them some takeaway at the hospital while they waited for the test results to come back. It’d taken a while because he insisted the doctors check her thoroughly. He had to be certain she and the baby were all right.

  Sylvie stood as though to head for the door. “I’ll just let you out.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “What?”

  His gaze met hers. “I’m sleeping right here on the couch.”

  “But...but it’s too small for you.”

  He crossed his arms, refusing to budge. “It’ll be just fine. And I want to be close by in case you need anything. After all, you have a concussion.”

  “A slight one.”

  “But one all the same.”

  She opened her mouth as though to argue but then she closed her mouth and walked away. Apparently, she wasn’t up for a fight she wasn’t going to win.

  He resumed pacing and thinking. There wasn’t a tired bone in his body. He was totally wound up. He was going to be a father. They were going to be parents. Sylvie was the mother of his baby. The image of her holding a baby filled his chest with a warm, fuzzy sensation.

  Sylvie returned, interrupting his daydream. She placed a blanket and pillow on the couch. “You’ll need these.”

  “Thank you. But I’m the one who should be waiting on you.”

  “I’m fine.” Her hand moved to her abdomen. “We’re fine. I promise.”

  She turned and walked away. He wanted to go after her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her close, reassure himself that she was truly fine. But he didn’t move. He didn’t have the right to touch her—even if she was carrying his baby.

  His feet resumed their motion. His gaze moved about the room, coming to rest on a mannequin in the corner of the room. The light from the lamp caught the beads and sequins, making them glitter. It was new to the room. He was drawn to it.

  He moved around the armchair that was blocking his full view. And then he realized it was a wedding dress. At first, he assumed it was just part of the wedding business, but a closer inspection revealed that the dress was in the process of being sewn.

  What was it doing here? The business bought dresses, not created them. And if this dress was a part of the business, it would be in the front rooms, in the space dedicated to the business, not back here in Sylvie’s private rooms.

  What in the world? Was Sylvie making her own wedding dress? But why? To marry whom? Him? The breath hitched in his throat. That couldn’t happen.

  But there was a baby to consider—their baby. Still, didn’t Sylvie understand he wouldn’t make a good husband? He’d end up hurting her without meaning to.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE NIGHT HAD been restless.

  And the morning wasn’t much better as Sylvie hurt everywhere, including a few spots she hadn’t known existed. But she refused to let that get her down. The fact the baby was safe was the balm she needed to get up and get moving.

  The baby.

  Those two life-altering words kept playing over and over in her mind. She knew she should be shocked and scared, and she was, but there was also a sense of awe.

  She placed a hand to her still-flat abdomen. It was so hard to believe there was a little baby in there. But it was true. She’d seen it with her own eyes. And Enzo had witnessed it, too.

/>   Enzo.

  What was he thinking? Last night he’d looked like the earth had moved out from under his feet. She had no idea what mood he’d be in today.

  Knowing there was no point delaying the inevitable, she took a quick shower and dressed. When she stepped out of the bedroom, she was surprised to find Enzo rushing around her small kitchen. He didn’t seem to notice her. And so she took in the moment. He looked very busy with whatever he was cooking. From the mess of dirty dishes on the table and counter, she’d hazard a guess that cooking wasn’t something he’d mastered.

  Not wanting to be caught staring, she moved on. In the small living room, she reached for her digital tablet. She wanted to see the teaser the magazine had planned to post online prior to the release of the magazine.

  After all, that was the reason she’d been on horseback. She just hoped it was a glowing article. Perhaps it’d help Enzo’s mood. Maybe he’d see possibilities for the future that he’d been unwilling to accept before.

  But when she pulled up the online magazine, the first thing to come up on the screen was a horrific photo of a fire—a wildfire. Her gaze caught the headlines: “Burning Inferno.”

  She went on to read that the fire was a ways away from the Bartolini estate. They weren’t sure yet how it’d started, but so far there was zero containment. Sylvie’s heart ached for all the destruction and the danger to humans and wildlife. It was an utter nightmare. Hopefully, they’d get it under control quickly.

  Under the circumstances, she assumed the article about the vineyard would be sidelined for now, but that didn’t keep her from scrolling down over the page.

  Near the bottom of the webpage, she spotted a photo of herself and Enzo. What in the world was she doing in the photo? It wasn’t anything they’d posed for as she’d made sure to stay out of the camera’s range. But there they were among the vines, staring into each other’s eyes. The picture made it appear as though they were lovers and that just wasn’t the case—not since Paris.

  She couldn’t even recall this moment, and if Enzo was staring lovingly into her eyes, she’d think she would remember it. All she could figure was that it was a fleeting moment made to appear as something more. Beneath the photo was a headline that caught and held her attention: “Italian Billionaire Off the Market?”