by Jane Porter
She waited for him to speak. And still he kept silent. She went hot and cold, hating to now be on the defensive. “You are a bachelor. You can do whatever you please. I apologize if I sounded critical of your lifestyle.”
“Is that why you’ve waited so long to tell me about the baby?”
“No.” She forced herself to meet his silver gaze. “No, I promise. I waited because... I didn’t want to share the news.”
“Share the news, or share our child?”
It felt as if he’d struck her in the chest. She inhaled hard, pain splintering her heart.
“I live in California.”
“And I live here.”
She picked through his words, processing the meaning. “Do you truly desire to be part of our child’s life?”
“Absolutely. Any child of mine will be raised by me.”
Another blow that made her throat thicken and her eyes sting. “By you?”
“My father was a hands-on parent, and I intend to be the same.”
“How can you be so sure you want to do this?”
“I would never walk away from my responsibilities.” He hesitated. “Would it make you feel better if I offered to be the custodial parent? I’d raise our child—”
“No. Not an option.”
“Then why is it an option for you to be the sole custodial parent?”
“Because I’m making this baby. I’m carrying it right now.”
“And you wouldn’t be making a baby if it weren’t for my sperm that found a way to reach your egg.”
“I don’t need the biology lesson, Brando.”
“And I will not permit you to cut me out. I might not be carrying our child, but I am as committed to his or her future as you are.”
Things had escalated quickly, she thought, dazed. She sat back, stunned, and uncertain as to what to say in response.
The waiter appeared with a bottle of sparkling water and after a few words from Brando, cleared away the wineglasses.
Silence stretched and Charlotte’s eyes stung, hot and gritty. Six months ago, she’d had sex with Brando, sex that resulted in three unforgettable orgasms, and one very unplanned pregnancy. “I didn’t want any of this to happen,” she said quietly. “I’ve never mixed business with pleasure, never, ever, until you, and now everything is a mess.”
“Not that much of a mess,” he answered. “We’re two capable adults. We will sort things out and come up with a plan that puts the baby’s needs first, because in the end, that is the important thing.”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement. It crossed her mind that she was seriously in over her head, because she’d had a plan, a good plan, but he’d just tossed it out and now they were starting over, and she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like the new plan at all.
“There’s no reason to rush, though,” she said after a length pause. “We should take time to consider all the different options. The baby won’t be here for three months, and that gives us time to discuss the pros and cons of each option. The last thing we want to do is let our hearts overrule our heads.”
He studied her from across the table, the glittering light captured in his narrowed silver gaze and casting shadows beneath his high, hard cheekbones. Brando was no longer smiling. His jaw was hard, lips pressed firm. “Time will not change what is right. My duty is to my child, and the needs of my child come first now.”
“I just thought you might want more time... You’ve only just learned about the pregnancy today. I worry you’re being impulsive—”
“You didn’t expect me to assume responsibility?”
“I—” She broke off, glanced away, the tip of her tongue moistening her dry lower lip. “I thought you’d be more ambivalent. I thought there might be more resistance.”
“Why, if it’s my son or daughter?”
“It took me weeks to get to the place you’ve reached in hours.”
“Sex is how babies are made. I’ve always been cognizant that sex, as pleasant as it is, leads to procreation.”
The waiter returned and there was no menu to read. The waiter rattled off the house specialties and Brando recommended the bistecca alla Fiorentina, claiming it was the best Florentine steak in the city.
“I won’t be able to eat very much,” she answered, “and I’m craving pasta. I thought I heard crespelle mentioned. Is that the dish that’s similar and stuffed with ricotta cheese and spinach?”
“Yes. It’s good here, too.”
“I’ll just have the crespelle and salad.”
Brando spoke quickly to the waiter, placing their order. The waiter topped off their water glasses and left them alone.
“You didn’t order wine,” she said.
“You’re not drinking so I won’t drink,” he said.
“I don’t mind if you drink. You’re a vintner.”
“I’m not giving up wine forever. I just don’t need any tonight.” He studied her, expression hard. “Did you really think I’d agree to let my child be raised on the other side of the world?”
“I thought you’d react differently, yes.”
“What did you expect?”
“That you’d be noncommittal, ask for a pregnancy test and then make me wait while you came to terms with the fact that I’m truly carrying your baby.”
“Did you ever think it might possibly be someone else’s?”
It was a fair question. It shouldn’t put her on edge. She felt defensive, though. “No. You have been the only man I’ve slept with in the past year.”
There was a subtle shift in his expression, his black lashes dropping ever so slightly over his piercing gaze. “Why?”
“I only sleep with someone I’m profoundly attracted to.” She lifted her chin, smiled wryly. “I was profoundly attracted to you.”
“Surely there are other men who catch your eye.”
“Apparently not often enough.” She pushed back a long pale strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear. “On the plus side, it made the question of parentage easy. You’ve been the only one I’ve slept with this year, so, you’re it.”
“Yet we used birth control.”
“My pill, plus your two condoms.” She felt hot bands form across her cheekbones. “Obviously, my pill wasn’t effective.”
“Nor were the condoms.”
“I blame myself,” she said. “Not you. It’s why I’m on the pill. So there are no oops, no mistakes.”
“And yet we still have an oops baby.”
Her eyes met his and held. “I’d like to raise the baby at my home in Los Angeles. I have a lovely garden and I’m close to the ocean—”
“I don’t live in California, cara.”
She ignored the endearment as she held her breath, silently counting to ten. She needed to remain calm. “Perhaps you could buy a place near me. Perhaps you could make Southern California a second home.”
“But it’s not, nor will it ever be.”
“I’ll be there, and the baby—”
“Or, I kidnap you, keep you locked up at one of my estates.”
She waited for him to smile or laugh. He did neither. “You wouldn’t do that.”
“You don’t think so?”
Her insides did a nervous flip. He was being outrageous and she wasn’t worried he’d kidnap her, but she understood the point he was making. He wasn’t just going to walk away from them. He was asserting his rights. Brando would be a permanent part of their lives, and that was what made her heart race, and her anxiety spike. Brando wasn’t one to be managed. Brando Ricci tended to do the managing. “No, you wouldn’t do something illegal,” she said lightly, feigning calm. “It would be bad for business, and we both know you’re very serious about your family business and protecting your family’s reputation.”
“But even more protective of my c
hild. If I’d go to great lengths to ensure the safety of the business, imagine what I’d do for my son or daughter.”
Her pulse jumped yet again and she felt downright nauseous now. This was not going well. She’d thought she’d been prepared for these conversations, but clearly she’d forgotten Brando’s strength and focus. “The point being that you’d never do anything to risk your reputation, and that includes your child’s.”
“Which is why I should whisk you away to keep you out of the public eye until we’ve figured out what we’re going to do.”
“I wish I could say that being whisked away sounded appealing—and yes, it does have a certain Roman Holiday sound to it—but I’m only here through the weekend. I fly into London Monday early afternoon.”
“So soon?”
“I was actually worried that three days was far too long.” She glanced up at the hard planes of his striking face, her gaze briefly meeting his, the silver-gray irises piercing, before looking away. Just that brief look into his eyes made her feel hot and tingly. If she could go back in time and change the past, she would. She would have never given herself to Brando, never allowed herself to imagine that she’d be able to handle all the complications of a night spent with him. “Why did I need to be here for three days? We’d have a conversation, you’d get a blood test and then we’d talk after the results were in. But it’s not going like that. We’re talking now as if we know the results—”
“Because we do. It’s my child.”
“But that doesn’t mean we have to decide everything tonight. We have months—”
“No. We’re not putting this off, and we’re not going to try to negotiate with you in California. We’re going to come to an agreement now, while you’re here, and we get it in writing, and notarized, so that it’s legal and binding.”
“I’m not a runaway bride, Brando. I’m not going to disappear on you.”
“How do I know that?”
“Because I’m giving you my word.”
“That’s a start.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“You waited six months to tell me I’m going to be a father.”
“As I said this morning, I wanted to be sure the pregnancy was viable.”
He said nothing for the longest time, and then, “Are we going to need lawyers? Should we just take it to court...?”
“Why would you say that? We don’t need lawyers, and we don’t need anyone else telling us how to do this. We’re smart and reasonable. Surely we can come up with a plan between us.”
“So, you’d be willing to live here?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“You’d rather a newborn baby spend its first year in the air, flying back and forth between Los Angeles and here? That must be eleven hours or more in the air, without connections.”
“No, of course not. That’s why I think the first year the baby should be with me.”
“And then you hand the baby over to me for a year?” he asked, expression blank.
She shuddered. “No. I’m not ever handing my baby over, not to you, not to anyone.”
“So, we do need lawyers.”
“Don’t go straight there. Can’t we at least try to talk this out?”
“I think you should live here the first few years. Your work is flexible. Your work isn’t tied to a place. Whereas I’m a vintner. I can’t abandon the grapes.”
“Not all your work is in Chianti. You have other business endeavors—”
“So, let me get this straight. You want me to know about my child, but not be involved. You don’t want support, either. You just want me to pretend this child doesn’t exist, and let you do whatever it is you want?”
Her stomach cramped. She balled her hand into a fist. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then how are you including me? Where is the space for me, cara?”
She didn’t answer the question, but then, how could she? Her answer wouldn’t have been positive, or flattering, but at least Brando understood Charlotte’s intentions. She was doing the correct thing—informing him of the pregnancy—but then she was shutting him out. She didn’t truly want him raising the baby with her. She wanted to be mother and father on her own.
That wasn’t an option, but he chose to change the subject to keep her from jumping up and leaving.
He asked about a publicity campaign she’d been part of last winter, and as the subject changed, so did the tension. After a few minutes, he could see her relax. They discussed friends they had in common, as well as what was happening with the Ricci business right now.
Dinner arrived and conversation died as they ate, but at least it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. If anything, Charlotte looked thoughtful. He caught her looking at him several times, her brow furrowed, lips pursed.
“I hope you know that I would have never not told you about the baby,” she said quietly after Brando ordered a coffee. “I wouldn’t have ever kept his or her existence a secret from you. I’m not duplicitous. I genuinely needed time to wrap my head around the pregnancy, and the ramifications. Being a single parent will take work, but we can make it work.”
“Why didn’t you ask me to come to you in California?” he returned.
“And what would I have said to lure you there?”
“That you’re pregnant. That you need me.”
She ducked her head, but he could see the wash of hot pink in her cheeks. “I don’t generally need people,” she said after a moment. “They need me.”
Suddenly he understood her in a way he never had before.
Charlotte wasn’t playing games. She wasn’t trying to cut him out—not in the way he’d first imagined—but she truly believed she was better off trusting no one, relying on no one, and just taking care of everything herself. It wasn’t out of cockiness, or arrogance, but survival. This was how she functioned. This was what had allowed her to be successful.
“People make messes and I clean them up,” she added with a faint smile, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m good at problem-solving. Rather exceptional, if I do say so myself.”
“It’s why we hired you last summer,” he answered. “You were exceptional.”
“I still am.”
This was why he’d been so drawn to her. She was smart, articulate, gorgeous and passionate. The one night only hadn’t been his rule, but hers. He hadn’t liked making rules, or liked letting her make the rules, but he’d agreed because he’d wanted her that much.
He still wanted her, but everything was different now. This, between them, was no longer about sex, but family, and commitment. He couldn’t think of her as an object of desire, but as the mother of his child.
“You might not like admitting it, but you do need me, cara,” he said quietly, “and our child needs me, too. Let me in. Try to trust me a little bit.”
“I will try, but it’s not easy.”
“You said you fly out Monday.”
“Yes.”
“It’s Friday. That gives us the weekend to talk and make plans. Let’s go to my house in the country. It will be quiet there, and we can discuss the future undisturbed.”
She hesitated. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Being alone together created this situation we’re now in.”
“I’m not going to seduce you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I don’t expect you to, not when there are other women in your life now, but I think we have to be clear in our intentions. Yes, I’m carrying your child, but I’m not yours, and you’re not mine, and we don’t have a relationship. We’ve never had a relationship. We had sex.”
“Your point being?”
“One night of intimacy doesn’t equate a relationship, so it’s going to be very difficult for me to imagine a future where we do anything together, bu
t I will try provided you realize that I’m not going to give up who I am, and what I want to do, just to please you.”
Charlotte tried not to fidget as they waited for the bill to be brought. Her pasta had been excellent, but her nerves had kept her from eating too much. Their waiter, who had been attentive during the meal, now seemed to have disappeared, perhaps going on a dinner break of his own. Worse, she and Brando weren’t speaking.
They sat at the table looking in opposite directions when he suddenly reached for his phone, tapped the screen and read something.
“The results are in,” he said, his tone without emotion. “I am the father.”
“There never was doubt at my end,” she answered.
“Nor mine.” He put away the phone. “But at least we have definitive confirmation, because people will ask.”
“You mean, your family will ask.”
“Of course they’ll be interested.”
“Even though it’s none of their business?”
“That’s where you’re wrong, cara. It is their business. My child will become part of the business. You of all people, having worked with my family, should know that.”
After returning Charlotte to her hotel, Brando drove home, and parked his car in his garage, but couldn’t make himself go inside, his thoughts too tangled, his emotions intense, to the point of being overwhelming.
He was going to be a father.
A father.
It wasn’t a hoax this time, or a game. The paternity test was positive. Charlotte was carrying his baby.
His.
Brando pocketed his car key and walked away from his house, heading toward the Arno, which flowed through historic Florence on its way to the sea. He walked along the riverbank to the medieval Ponte Vecchio with its multitude of shops.
Brando knew Florence intimately. He’d grown up here, not far from this very spot, just as his father had, and his grandfather before him.
Now he’d be a father, and he could raise his child here, too, or maybe in the countryside, maybe at his castello in the Chianti Valley.
Either way, his child would know and love Tuscany, just as he loved Tuscany, and the soil and grapes of Tuscany.
