by Jane Porter
Just hearing his voice on the phone slammed her back to the night she’d spent in his bed in Florence. She felt his heat and strength again, and could picture his head between her thighs, his mouth on her where she was oh, so sensitive, his tongue finding every delicate nerve so that when she came, she came hard, and completely fell apart, dissolving into tears because he made her feel, so very much, and it was actually too much. She might live in California now but underneath she was still quite British and didn’t enjoy being flooded with quite so much emotion. Emotion was wonderful in tidy bites and measured doses, but the emotion Brando made her feel, well... Really, there was no place for it, and no room in her life for dazed, dazzled and befuddled.
Which brought her to this exact moment, where she waited on Brando’s doorstep, her elegant swing coat hiding her secret, a secret she had to share, because there was no hiding it any longer. It was one thing to keep a secret when there was no physical evidence, but her bump was impossible to hide now, so here she was, steeling herself for a conversation she did not think she’d ever have. Because she’d been on the pill, and he’d used a condom, and yet...
And yet...
Charlotte’s heart staggered and she exhaled hard, before drawing in a slower calming breath and ringing the doorbell again, pressing on the bell a little longer, and more insistently, than before.
The last time she was here Brando had almost made her believe in miracles. But there were no miracles, just bruised principles, and broken rules, and heart-wrenching consequences.
The front door suddenly swung open, revealing a tall slender young woman with long, dark tousled hair, red lips, her naked body barely covered by a white silk robe, the fabric so sheer, her dusky nipples shone through.
Charlotte recognized the model immediately. She was an Argentinean beauty taking the fashion world by storm.
“Si?” Louisa drawled as her robe slid off her shoulder and down her slender arm, fabric no longer covering one jutting breast.
Charlotte ignored the nipple. “Brando è disponibile?” she asked, utilizing the Italian she’d learned at her Swiss finishing school.
Louisa looked her up and down, a sly smile curving her full lips. “È un po legato.”
He’s a little tied up, Louisa had said, and from the model’s smug smile, Charlotte had a feeling the words were literal.
“Would you be so kind as to untie him?” she said politely in Italian. “Let him know Charlotte Parks is here. I’ll be waiting for him in the grand salon,” she added, stepping into the house and heading for the formal room halfway down the white marble hall.
Charlotte heard the door close hard, and then footsteps on the curving staircase that led to the second floor. Brando’s bedroom was up there. Charlotte knew, because she’d been there, during that second visit to this house when he’d stripped her naked and turned her into a mass of quivering need. She’d been far too intrigued by him, and she’d been far too confident in her ability to manage him, just the way she managed everything else in the world. But one didn’t easily manage Brando Ricci. He was a force to be reckoned with.
That force, all six foot two inches of him, entered the salon, dressed, thankfully, and looking casually handsome in faded denims that wrapped his muscular thighs, and a silver-gray cashmere V-neck sweater that hugged the hard planes of his chest. The cashmere sweater perfectly matched the color of his silver-gray eyes and paired a little too well with the espresso black of his hair.
He was tall, lean, honed and even more beautiful than she remembered. Her heart jumped, a quick staccato that did nothing for her sense of calm. Just that little glimpse of skin at his throat made her remember what it had felt like to be naked against him. His body didn’t just look magnificent, he knew how to move it, and when he’d been inside her, she’d felt satisfied, more satisfied, more...everything...than she’d ever felt in her life.
Being intimate with him hadn’t been just physical pleasure. She’d experienced a feeling of peace and wholeness, which made no sense since Brando had a history of breaking hearts. He didn’t do long relationships. He didn’t want commitments.
Which was why he should be fine with her proposal, relieved to hear that she would handle everything.
“Charlotte,” he said, approaching her, and leaning down to kiss each of her cheeks. “What brings you to Florence?”
“You do.” She smiled up at him. “I hope I haven’t interrupted anything.”
He gave her an amused smile, indicating he was aware that she was aware she’d obviously interrupted something.
“Shall we sit?” he suggested, gesturing to the chic armchairs in the white room with red and coral accents.
“Yes, thank you.” She took the chair opposite his, the chairs a little closer together than she preferred, but it felt good to be off her feet as her heart had begun to race and all her cool, calm confidence deserted her now that he was here. Brando was larger than life, humming with an energy that she found potent and strangely addictive. Her family was filled with beautiful people, but Brando exuded a physicality and a virility that was all his own.
He’d more than impressed her with his virility six months ago in this very house.
New Year’s Eve. What a life-changing night...
Heat rushed through her at the memory, and her stomach did a wobbly flip. The last thing she wanted to do was relive those intense memories now, here, with Brando within arm’s length and his lover upstairs waiting for him in bed. “I imagine Louisa must be growing impatient,” she said.
He smiled, a lazy, almost indulgent smile. “Louisa is good at entertaining herself.” He was still smiling, but his silver gaze narrowed, expression sharpening. “When did you arrive in Italy?”
“Today actually. I’ve left my bags at the hotel, but haven’t yet checked in.”
“That eager to see me?”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be here, or at the country house. If you were in the countryside already, I was going to rent a car and drive out to meet you.”
“I’m heading to the villa tomorrow.” His gaze skimmed over her, studying her intently. “You look well.”
“Thank you. I feel well.” She hesitated, struggling for words, her carefully rehearsed speech forgotten. She’d convinced herself that he wouldn’t care about her news. She’d convinced herself that he’d be relieved she was going to handle everything and do everything. Suddenly she wasn’t so sure and her heart had begun to race, anxiety pulsing just below the surface. “Do you mind if I take off my coat? It’s very warm.”
“Yes, your cheeks are quite flushed.”
The moment her coat came off, he’d see. He’d know. She hesitated, hands no longer steady, her confidence shaken.
What if it didn’t play out the way she anticipated? What if he—
She stopped herself there, unable to imagine any other scenario than the one she’d planned on. He was a bachelor. A playboy. He wasn’t father material. He wouldn’t be interested in the domestic details.
“Charlotte, are you all right?” he asked.
Tell him. Just tell him now.
Instead, mouth dry, heart racing, she slowly, carefully eased her arms from the sleeves and then allowed the coat to slide off her shoulders and fall back onto the chair.
Her emerald dress was slim fitting, the soft knit clinging to her small frame, highlighting her bump. The baby gave a hard kick just then and she touched her bump, not sure if she was soothing the baby, or herself.
“I’m six months,” she said quietly, steadily. “It’s been an easy pregnancy, and there have been no complications. I didn’t want to say anything until I’d made it out of the first trimester—” She broke off, took a quick breath and plunged on. “I wasn’t showing until recently and then I just popped. I couldn’t hide it any longer, and I didn’t think I should.”
“Should I be offering my congrat
ulations?”
“If you’d like to include yourself in the congratulations.”
There was a beat of silence. “Is this your way of saying it’s mine?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re sure it’s mine?”
“Yes.”
His gaze held hers, the silver gray piercing. There was no judgment in his eyes, no censure, no shock, not even disappointment. “We took precautions, both of us.”
“It seems we have a child that very much wants to be part of the world,” she answered, sitting tall, shoulders straight.
“A child with determination,” he replied.
She smiled, her most charming smile, aware that they were now both playing the same game. “It’s an admirable trait.”
“Agreed.” He hesitated. “You never considered an abortion?”
“No.” She eyed him cautiously. “Would you have preferred me to end the pregnancy?”
“I’m Italian. Catholic. So, no.”
“I’m neither, but it was never an option.”
His gaze held hers. “And now you’re here.”
“Yes.” Her chin lifted, and yet she kept her voice even. As long as she maintained control, she’d be fine, and he’d be fine. Really, it was just a matter of needing time to work through the shock that he must be feeling. “It seemed best to tell you in person. I knew you would want to know, and you deserve to know. It didn’t seem fair to just make all the decisions without consulting you.”
Brando arched a brow. “And yet you haven’t consulted me.”
“I am now. That’s why I’ve come.”
Silence stretched and the silence made her pulse do an odd, uncomfortable thudding in her veins, a thudding she felt all the way through her. This was not the Brando she’d last seen. In fact, this was not a Brando she recognized. They were like strangers, and yet the last time she’d been with him they’d been incredibly intimate. She’d given herself all of him and had never regretted it...not until she discovered there were consequences for that night of passion.
“The pregnancy stunned me,” she said after a moment. “It wasn’t part of my plan, and it took me a few weeks to sort through all my feelings, but I’m actually now very much looking forward to motherhood.”
“This consultation... What is your goal? You want money? Financial support?”
“No.”
“What, then?”
Her plan was to offer him exactly what he didn’t want—a chance to be a father. She’d give him the opportunity to co-parent, an opportunity she knew he wouldn’t want, and when he balked, she’d gently offer to do it all herself, and he’d be relieved, and accept. Brando was handsome and brilliant but not ready to settle down. His sister had said so more than once. Brando was the least committed to family. Brando was the rebel and valued his independence. She understood that, though. Charlotte valued hers.
“I want you to be this child’s father,” she said quietly, “if you want to be his or her father, and if not, I am sure one day I will fall in love and marry a man who will raise this child as his. In the meantime, I recognize your rights, and I respect your rights, and would like to include you in the decision-making, should you want to be included.”
“You were pregnant when I was in Los Angeles earlier in the year.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me then?”
“It was early in my pregnancy, and I wasn’t sure that the pregnancy was viable. My sisters have miscarried in the first trimester, and they warned me that it could happen to me.”
“Your family knows, then?”
“No. I’ve managed to hide the pregnancy so far, but it’s impossible now. I’m obviously expecting.”
“Why haven’t you told your family?”
“It’s none of their business.” She put a hand to her bump again, feeling another fluttery shift inside. “And if I was going to share the news with anyone, it should be you.”
Charlotte Parks was every bit as beautiful as the last time Brando had seen her, naked in his bed, her long golden hair splayed across the pillow, her mouth swollen from his kisses. This morning she looked impossibly self-contained, as well as impossibly glowing. Pregnancy suited her. Her skin appeared more luminous, her eyes bluer, brighter, her long, golden blond hair shimmering in the sunlight that poured through the tall windows.
When Louisa had come upstairs to tell him there was a woman at the door, demanding to see him, he’d arched a brow, but hadn’t been concerned. When he discovered it was Charlotte in the salon, he’d been intrigued. Charlotte, fascinating Charlotte, never made demands, and yet she’d been pure pleasure in his bed. But now he wasn’t as sanguine. Apparently, she was pregnant. With his child.
He’d heard this before, years ago. Thankfully he’d asked for a paternity test, and the test had turned out negative. He couldn’t have been more grateful.
Now... Now he didn’t know what to think and Brando’s gaze swept over Charlotte, skimming her fair hair, high elegant cheekbones, before dropping to her full breasts and her taut, round bump. She looked radiant, but not quite as serene as he’d first thought her to be. “Hasn’t this been a difficult secret to keep?” he asked.
“No.”
“Really?”
She shrugged. “I’m not one that needs to discuss things to make decisions, and I’ve never turned to others for advice. What I needed was time, and I had that time, which is why I’m here, ready to discuss the future.”
“And yet this is all news to me.”
Color swept her lovely high cheekbones, and her head dipped. “True.” Her chin lifted and her gaze met his. “I expect you’ll want a paternity test. I’ve already checked into clinics that do the testing here in Florence. It’s a simple procedure, just a blood draw for both of us and then we wait for results.” She hesitated a moment. “If possible, I’d like to get it done today. That way we’ll have the results sooner than later.”
“And if I am the father?”
“Well, you are the father, but please let me reassure you that I have things well in control. I’m not asking for anything from you. In fact, nothing in your world needs to change. I just wanted to be courteous—”
He laughed, a low husky sound that stopped her midsentence.
She glanced at him, winged eyebrows arching higher, her color even more heightened. “I wasn’t trying to be funny,” she said rather stiffly.
“Maybe not, but I found it comical when you said nothing in my world needs to change. Bella, everything in my world will change. It’s already changed, if I’m to become a father.”
“I’m obviously going to become a mother. But you... You don’t have to do this...or be part of this. I’m quite comfortable parenting on my own.”
“Which would be fine, if it wasn’t my child, but if it is my child, then I’m going to be involved.”
Her lips parted and then pressed together. She glanced to the tall windows framed by large red-and-white-check silk curtains, the checked fabric a contrast to the marble terra-cotta parquet floor. She suddenly looked anxious and appeared to be struggling to find the right words.
“I’m surprised you’re taking this so well,” she said at last, looking over at him, her blue gaze clear. “We had one night together, little more than a fling, and yet you seem ready to embrace parenthood.”
“I’ve always taken precautions to prevent an unplanned pregnancy, and yet now that we’re here at this crossroads, it’s not a tragedy, not something that needs to be overcome. We’re mature and independent, able to provide a safe, happy home for our child.”
Again, her lips parted, and again they pinched closed. Color washed through her cheeks, her eyes shone overly bright.
It struck him then that he’d caught her off guard. What had she imagined he’d say? No thank you, and goodbye?
Th
at he’d wash his hands of his child?
“But maybe it’s not mine,” he said, thinking back to that other time where a woman had tried to trick him.
“No, it’s yours. Without a doubt. But I didn’t expect you to believe me. Why should you? We spent only one night together. Which is why I want the blood test done today. I’m only here for the weekend, and then Monday I head to England for a week, but we should get the results in seven business days, or three, if we pay to rush the results.” She drew a breath. “I’d prefer to pay the rush fee, so I could return here and draw up custodial paperwork before my flight back to California.”
“Custodial paperwork?” he echoed, thinking she’d certainly mapped it all out.
“The baby will live with me.”
Her calm, crisp answer stirred his temper. “It seems we do have things to discuss.”
“I just want to reassure you, Brando, that I have no intention of sharing the baby’s paternity with anyone. This isn’t anyone’s business but ours, and the secret will be safe with me.”
He lifted a brow. “Our child isn’t to know I’m his or her father?”
“Do you want to be a father?” she asked bluntly.
“I don’t understand the question, cara. If I’m the father, I am the father.”
Fresh color swept through her face. “I suppose that is the part we need to discuss.”
Was she seriously wanting to cut him out? Was she envisioning him as a sperm donor, but nothing more? He felt a surge of temper, but swiftly checked it. “It seems you and I do have a great deal to discuss,” he said, “but I’d prefer more privacy. Now isn’t the ideal time, not with Louisa here.”
Charlotte glanced up to the ceiling, as if she expected Louisa to be there, on the hand-blown glass chandelier. “True.” She slipped her coat back on, opened her handbag and drew out a slip of paper. “This is the nearest clinic that can do the blood draw. They can get you in this afternoon. I’ll be going straight there when I leave here. If you could just call and make an appointment for today? Would that be possible?”
