The Price Of A Dangerous Passion (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Jane Porter

  “I see no reason for us to delay the test.”

  “Good, thank you.” She rose and tucked her purse beneath her arm. “And I apologize for barging in on you like this. I should have realized you might have a guest.”

  “It’s fine. This was important.” He couldn’t imagine anything being more important, nor could he imagine any woman more beautiful than Charlotte Parks. He’d wanted her from the very first meeting. She’d been the elusive one, but he hadn’t given up...not until she’d returned to Los Angeles and ghosted him.

  He walked her to the front door now. “Where are you staying?”

  She gave him the name of her hotel, a five-star property overlooking the river. It’s where she had stayed before. There were smaller hotels, more affordable hotels, but this one took such excellent care of her the last time she was in Florence, it’s where she wanted to be this time.

  “Let me call a taxi for you,” he said.

  “I think I’ll walk.” She forced a faint smile. “The fresh air will do me good and maybe then I can get some work done.”

  “You’re still working?”

  “But of course.” She flashed a smile. “It’s what I do best.”

  “It’s not too much at this stage of your pregnancy? It won’t hurt the baby?”

  “No. Everything is good.”

  The baby, Charlotte silently repeated as she walked back to her hotel. He’d referenced the baby in such a way that emotion fluttered in her, little wings of pain and heartache.

  It was strange talking about her pregnancy. She’d kept the news to herself all this time, carrying the secret within her, just as she carried the baby, close to her heart, protective of the world’s reaction. And yet in a matter of minutes she’d shared her news, and Brando had knocked away the walls of secrecy and made the news...matter-of-fact.

  She paused at the curb, checked for traffic and dashed across, grateful for the brisk walk, needing the quick pace to help her process everything she was thinking and feeling.

  All this time she’d thought she was most concerned about the pregnancy, about becoming a single mother, but seeing Brando had stripped away the pretense.

  Seeing him made her feel naked and nervous and incredibly vulnerable.

  She didn’t have feelings for him, and yet...

  Charlotte exhaled hard, and blinked even harder, and wondered why she felt so terribly discombobulated. Seeing Brando made her feel...strange.

  Raw.

  Hurt.

  Which didn’t make sense as he’d been nothing but polite, and respectful considering how shocking her announcement had to have been. She was grateful there had been no drama and he’d been quite cordial about taking the paternity test. The lack of drama made her suspect, though, striking her as too good to be true.

  Maybe Brando was in shock. Maybe he wasn’t as sanguine as he appeared, and underneath his veneer of calm, he was secretly rattled.

  Or maybe he didn’t believe her and was just waiting for the test results before challenging her...

  Or maybe he wasn’t even thinking about her news anymore and maybe he was back in bed with Louisa.

  She blanched, and her stomach rose.

  Oh, why, oh, why did Louisa have to be there today? And why, oh, why did Charlotte have to know about her?

  Brando left the clinic across the street from Maria Beatrice Hospital and called Charlotte. It took her a few rings to answer the phone.

  “It’s Brando,” he said when she answered. “Am I interrupting anything?”

  “No. Just trying to write a press release but can’t focus. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “You should try to nap.”

  “Maybe,” she said.

  “What are you doing later?” he asked. “Do you have plans for dinner tonight?”

  “No. Just more work.”

  “Have dinner with me.”

  “Did you have the test done?”

  “I did, and we should have results in the morning. There is a lab here in Florence that will expedite testing for us.”

  “How? I heard three days was the fastest—”

  “Unless you pay enormous sums of money to get something done.”

  “Ah.”

  He heard the wary note enter in her voice. “So, dinner?”

  “What about Louisa?”

  “She’s not invited.”

  “Brando.”

  “Can we just focus on you for the time being? You’re here, six months pregnant. Isn’t it time we finally started communicating?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  BRANDO WATCHED CHARLOTTE emerge from the hotel’s elevators and cross the marble lobby. Unlike this morning’s form-fitting dress that had outlined her shape, she had chosen narrow black trousers and a stylish white tunic that skimmed her stomach, the tunic’s natural fullness making the bump harder to detect.

  Suddenly he flashed back to a different pregnancy with a different woman. It was years ago and when confronted by the news of her pregnancy, he’d been horrified. They’d had a brief relationship, and it had ended when he discovered she was not at all what she seemed, her vivacious, sparkling beauty a cover for an insecure, unkind, manipulative personality. It filled him with dread to think of her raising any child of his, and yet he’d promised her he’d support her and the baby...if the baby truly was his.

  Thank God, the blood test came back negative. The child wasn’t his. Adele had cried and protested, claiming the DNA blood test flawed.

  It was only much later that he’d learned she’d manipulated some other wealthy man to marry her.

  The pregnancy scare had been a wake-up call, and for a while Brando didn’t date, choosing to be celibate over risking paternity claims. But after an eight-month celibacy period, he began dating again, and now here he was, waiting for the results of another DNA test.

  He didn’t like comparing Adele to Charlotte, though. They were nothing alike, and to be honest, Brando didn’t need a paternity test to prove he was the father of Charlotte’s baby. She wouldn’t have come here, to him, if she hadn’t been certain. Charlotte had money of her own, as well as a successful career. She’d even said earlier that she wanted nothing from him, and was planning on raising the baby in California, apart from him.

  Which would be fine if it was someone else’s child, but if the baby was his, since the baby was his, Brando was not going to be forced to the sidelines.

  He’d taken the paternity test this afternoon to fight for his rights. He was going to be part of his child’s life, and not as a distant figure on the periphery, but as a hands-on parent who was present from birth.

  He moved toward Charlotte now, meeting her near the reception desk. “You look lovely,” he said, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek.

  She stiffened at the kiss, shooting him a suspicious look. “No need for compliments. This isn’t a date.”

  “Would you prefer I had said something along the lines that you’re very punctual?” he replied mockingly.

  “Yes.”

  “Charlotte, good to see you. You’re very punctual tonight.”

  She shot him another disapproving glance. “It’s discourteous making people wait.”

  “You must have hated it when Marcello showed up an hour late for our first meeting.”

  “I wasn’t impressed, no.” And then her expression softened a fraction. “But you were on time. You’re always on time.”

  “Speaking of time, we have a reservation in ten minutes. We can drive there, or walk, if you’re feeling up to it. The restaurant isn’t far.” He glanced down at her feet. She was wearing pumps with a stylish kitten heel. “Would you prefer to drive, or walk?”

  “I’d love to walk.”

  “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.” Brando placed his hand lightly on her lower back and steered he
r out the front door, where he handed the keys of his car to the hotel valet.

  Charlotte was exquisitely aware of Brando’s hand on the small of her back as they left the hotel. He’d smelled heavenly when he’d kissed her in the lobby. It had been just a brief kiss on the cheek, and yet the warm brush of his lips and the light spicy scent he wore made her stomach curl and breath catch. He was sin on two legs, and her undoing.

  “Where are we going for dinner?” she asked, trying to distract herself.

  He named a restaurant she wasn’t familiar with and for a few minutes they made small talk about Florence’s cuisine. It was an inane conversation, she thought, as superficial as it could be, but also better than talking about what was really at stake.

  The baby, and the future.

  “You really think they will have results from the blood test tomorrow?” she asked, glancing from the golden sky to Brando.

  “They said they might be able to rush something tonight, but we’d know for sure in the morning.”

  Charlotte wasn’t worried he wasn’t the father. He was the only one she’d been with in years, but she didn’t expect him to take her word for it. After all, she’d slept with him on the first date. Why should he not think she did that all the time?

  “Are you nervous?” he asked.

  Her brow furrowed. “About the results? No. I think I’m more overwhelmed just seeing you again. It’s...surreal.”

  “You had no plans to see me again, did you?”

  She glanced up at him again, her gaze skimming his handsome profile. “No,” she answered honestly. “I didn’t. I don’t mix business and pleasure, and once I’d slept with you, I wasn’t going to be able to see you, or work with you, again.”

  “Why did you sleep with me, then?”

  She mustered a small, tight smile. “I think you know the answer to that.”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t have asked.”

  “I found you quite irresistible,” she said, her voice lightly mocking. “And I thought, why not, just once, live a little? I should have remembered there are always consequences—” She broke off, stumbling, her toe catching in one of the cobbled stones lining the street. She didn’t fall, though. Brando’s arm tightened around her, keeping her upright.

  “I’ve got you,” he said.

  He certainly did. His arm felt like a hot brand around her waist, his fingers sending forks of lightning through her middle. He was so very close and she felt completely overwhelmed by his nearness, creating an aching awareness she didn’t want or need. Brando was already her kryptonite. If she wasn’t very careful, she’d implode.

  “Maybe,” she said carefully, as she stopped walking, “I would be steadier without you.”

  “I don’t want you to trip.”

  “I’m klutzy because you are close. I’d feel surer of myself if you didn’t touch me.” She tried to keep her tone light. “It must be a pregnancy thing where my center of balance is changing.”

  He looked skeptical, his silver gaze penetrating. “I was barely touching you.”

  Heat rushed through her, his words reminding her of the night where he did touch her, all over, giving her endless pleasure. She’d never felt anything like that, and doubted she’d ever feel anything like that again. He’d taken sex and elevated it to an art form. Making love with him had been transcendental...transformative.

  “Nonetheless, I find it unsettling.” The words sounded harsh, and so she added, “Take that as a compliment if you can. I might be six months pregnant, but you’re still you, and apparently, I can’t help responding to you.”

  Brando faced her on the street. “What we had was good, wasn’t it?”

  “Too good. I didn’t trust it.” She realized they were blocking the sidewalk and people were having to walk around them, some glancing at Brando and nodding, recognizing him. “We should keep walking.”

  Five minutes later they arrived at a building tucked off a hidden street not far from one of the famous squares. They took stairs down into the cellar. The walls were frescoed, the floor covered in thick tiles, the beams of the ceiling stenciled in shades of blue, red and gold. There were perhaps a dozen tables, almost all booths framed by rich burgundy velvet curtains. Italian glass chandeliers hung over each table, creating a mosaic of glittering light within each cozy booth.

  They were seated at a table in the far corner away from the other guests. No one had paid them any attention when they arrived and Charlotte was happy to be off her feet, tucked into their booth, the cushion covered in rich, midnight-blue brocade with hints of gold thread, and yet her pulse raced and butterflies filled her. She couldn’t remember when she’d last felt so worried. She hadn’t been nervous when she’d arrived in Florence this morning, but ever since leaving Brando’s house, she’d struggled. “I didn’t think this would be easy,” she said bluntly, “but at the same time, I didn’t think it would be quite so difficult.”

  “Have I been difficult?”

  “No. You haven’t. But at the same time, I’m rattled.”

  “What is troubling you?”

  She didn’t know how to put her worries into words. She didn’t know how to explain her feelings. They weren’t making sense to her. How could they make sense to him?

  She hadn’t come to Italy expecting a declaration of love from Brando. She hadn’t come imagining that he would even want to be part of her future. They’d had a one-night stand, and that was really all it was, and she’d had realistic expectations about what he’d say and do. And yet for some reason, seeing Louisa at the front door in that sheer negligee had maddened a small part of her brain, torturing her with a jealousy she couldn’t, shouldn’t, feel. There was no relationship between her and Brando, and certainly no commitment, or feelings of any kind, so why should remembering Louisa make her feel heartsick, and anxious, and angry?

  And why should remembering Brando appearing in the salon, handsome and sophisticated and oh, so very calm, make Charlotte feel almost impotent with need, and pain?

  That was the part that baffled her.

  Why had she been so upset today?

  Why did she feel cheated?

  How could she possibly feel resentful, and played, when Brando wasn’t even hers?

  “I can’t read your mind, cara. You’ll have to try to use words,” he said.

  “It’s ridiculous. You’ll think I’m ridiculous—”

  “I won’t.”

  “No,” she corrected, “you will, because I find myself ridiculous right now.” She fiddled with the trio of stemware on the table, adjusting the glasses, forming them into a line. “I’m usually incredibly confident, and yet I’ve been rattled by your girlfriend Louisa.” Charlotte glanced at Brando and shrugged. “I’m sorry. It sounds petty—”

  “No, it doesn’t. You’re pregnant and feeling quite alone—”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. I’m excited about the baby. But seeing Louisa at your door made me realize how weird this really is. I should have called you first. I shouldn’t have just shown up.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Louisa must be upset.”

  “She doesn’t know. I haven’t said anything to her.”

  “That makes sense, especially as you need to wait for results from the DNA test.”

  “I’m certain the results will show I’m the father.”

  She nodded. “They will.” She hesitated. “And then you’ll tell her?”

  “No one needs to know anything, not right now.”

  She sighed with relief and felt some of her tension knotting her shoulders ease. “Thank you. I’m not ready for the world to know.”

  “I agree.”

  Charlotte then had another troubling thought. “But Brando, if you keep the information from her, it’s going to cause trouble, it has to.”

  “Louisa and I are having f
un. It’s not a serious relationship.”

  “Do you ever have serious relationships?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Do you really want to discuss my relationship history tonight?”

  Charlotte grimaced. “No. I’m quite sure that’s more than I could handle.”

  Brando laughed softly, the sound low and husky. “Before we put the subject of Louisa behind us, let me just reiterate that Louisa is lovely and fun, but we’re not serious, or exclusive.

  “You and me being here, having dinner together, isn’t problematic, nor is it deceptive. We’re not going behind Louisa’s back. She knows I’m out with you tonight, just as I know she’s with others tonight. So, you don’t need to worry about her, or fear that you’re stepping on toes.”

  “And yet she opened your front door almost naked.”

  “She’s a bit of an exhibitionist. She enjoys the attention. Don’t let her overly upset you. You’ve come a long way to meet with me and address the issue of co-parenting—”

  “Co-parenting? Is that what you’re thinking?”

  “I’m the father.”

  Charlotte’s chest squeezed. Her pulse began to race. Panic set in. “What if you’re not?”

  He gave her a look that made her stomach somersault.

  “You are,” she said lowly, “but I didn’t think...didn’t assume...” She couldn’t finish the thought. She felt sick. Her limbs felt cold. She struggled to find her center and breathe. Keep calm, keep calm, keep calm. “You’re a bachelor, living the bachelor lifestyle.”

  “You’re single, as well.”

  “But I’m not dating others, and not sleeping around—” She stared at him horrified, and yet unable to take the words back. “What I mean is, we live really far apart. It’s not as if we can fly a baby back and forth across the Atlantic.”

  He said nothing, but she felt the weight of her words between them as well as the accusation.

  He was still sleeping with others. She was upset that he was sleeping with others. She hadn’t even phrased it as nicely as that. She’d made him sound like a tomcat.