‘Manuel, there’s an American woman. She’s pregnant and I believe the baby’s mine.’
‘Bloody hell, Marco.’ The lawyer groaned. ‘Tell me you’re in a steady relationship with her that I haven’t heard about.’
‘That’s not the case.’
‘Shit. Have you had a paternity test?’
‘No.’
‘You need to insist on a paternity test. Don’t just take her word for it, for God’s sake.’
But Marco’s gut told him he’d misjudged Chloe. Big time. Inferno. It wasn’t just his gut telling him. Everything in the investigative report pointed to the fact that he’d misjudged her monumentally.
‘What sort of demands is she making?’ Manuel demanded.
‘None.’
‘I can’t believe it.’
‘She’s gone back to America. I’ve only just confirmed the pregnancy.’
‘Fine. First you find out whether it’s your baby. If it is, it can’t be born in America. She’ll have to have it in Ralvinia for the child to claim its rights in line to the throne.’ He paused and Marco picked up a pen and twirled it round between his thumb and forefingers as he waited for Manuel to do what he paid him to do and to advise him of his legal rights. ‘The baby needs to be legitimate. You need to marry the woman.’
His initial reaction caused him to burst out, ‘Are—you—mad?’
‘Not at all. You get her to sign a prenuptial agreement and make sure you give her an allowance while you stay married, and as little as possible when you divorce.’
Of course it was what he had to do. How else would he be able to insist the child was born in his home kingdom? How else could he have regular access, unless he married Chloe and brought her to live with him?
‘If the marriage works, great,’ Manuel continued. ‘If not, you find ways to discredit her as a mother and sue for sole custody.’
The stark words of his lawyer rang in his head like a death knell. ‘Cazza dell’inferno. You can’t be serious.’
‘I’m looking after your interests. That’s my job,’ Manuel pointed out. ‘Marriage need only be short-term.’
Marco clicked the pen a few times in his agitation, knowing he would never contemplate such an underhanded suggestion.
‘Do not let that baby be born in America. If you do, you’ll have few legal rights under their system.’
Manuel started to talk about prenuptial agreements, but Marco cut him off. ‘If I decide to take your advice, I’ll let you know. I’ve got my pilots standing by to fly me to the States.’
‘And your parents?’
‘I’ll contact them.’ Merda. They would be far from impressed. The Espositos of the Royal House of Ralvinia were unused to scandal.
Another two hours later he was in his private jet, bound for the Napa Valley. The long journey stretched before him but he’d need every second of the fifteen hours to come to terms with what he’d learned and to make plans as to how the hell he was going to handle this situation and convince Chloe to return to Ralvinia with him and become his wife.
Chapter Ten
It was almost three in the afternoon, local time, when Marco walked into the Napa Valley Legal-Aid Centre and he was far from impressed. Before he’d left London, he’d organised a security team to ensure Chloe’s protection, but where the hell were the police who were supposed to be guarding her? He could be anyone walking into the building and that wasn’t acceptable.
The young receptionist looked up from her desk and her eyes widened appreciatively as she greeted him with an over-friendly smile. ‘Hi there. Can I help you?’
‘I’m here to see Chloe Salvatore.’
‘Oh.’ The girl scanned what appeared to be an appointment book, then tilted her head at him. ‘Are you a journalist?’
‘No. I’m... a friend of hers.’
‘Is she expecting you?’
‘No. I’d like it to be a surprise.’
The girl frowned. ‘I’m sorry, I—’
‘Please.’ He injected every bit of charm he had into his plea.
‘Well, I shouldn’t... but...’ She picked up the telephone receiver. ‘Chloe, there’s a man at reception who’d like to see you. He didn’t give his name because he says he wants to surprise you.’ She looked up at him before her volume lowered. ‘Over six feet, dark hair, green eyes. I’d swear I’ve seen him somewhere before but I can’t place him.’ There was a pause before she said breathily, ‘Sure is. The most—Oh. Okay.’ The telephone receiver was replaced. ‘Please have a seat. Chloe’ll be out soon.’
Marco didn’t sit. Instead, he stood facing the main office so he’d see Chloe as soon as she came to meet him. It wasn’t long before she walked through to reception.
The initial, mutual recognition was electrifying. His gaze fused with her blue eyes in an unbreakable bond and he registered a high-voltage zap jolt through him, rendering him incapable of speech or movement. It was as though everything around him ceased to exist—everything and everyone except Chloe.
Chloe. The woman who’d been impossible to erase from his thoughts and his dreams no matter how many weeks had passed, no matter how much he’d tried to lose himself in the gruelling work schedule he’d set himself. The woman he’d thought was so special before his cynical side had forced him to ignore his intuition.
‘Marco,’ she said in a cool, professional voice, which broke the spell that held them in a suspended animation type of trance.
‘Hello, Chloe.’ He let his eyes lower to focus on the obviously pregnant swell of her body and his breathing hitched. It was his child she carried. He was certain of it.
‘Come through to my office.’ She flushed before she turned quickly, and didn’t bother to look back to see whether or not he followed.
He followed alright. His attention followed every movement—every feminine sway of her hips as she walked down the hall. The way her daisy-yellow skirt emphasised the curve of her firm derriere; the long, shapely legs beneath the hem of her skirt and the silky sheen of her dark hair as it reached halfway down the back of her white blouse. No detail was lost on him.
Finally, they reached a room he gathered was her office, and she ushered him inside and shut the door behind him. Although the words were crisp, he caught the hint of a nervous waver in her voice when she said, ‘Have a seat.’
He didn’t want to have a seat. The tension was coiled too tightly inside him to tolerate sitting down, but he knew he needed to appear relaxed about this, so he did as she requested and watched her walk around behind the desk. Even though she didn’t sit down, the tightness of her features relaxed a little with the large piece of furniture acting as a solid barrier between them.
‘You’re a long way from home,’ she stated simply.
Marco ran his eyes over her beautiful face and noted the shadows under her eyes. He also noted the deep suspicion in them.
‘Why are you here?’ she demanded.
‘You’re pregnant.’
‘You’re observant.’
This was so stilted, but for the first time in his life he wasn’t sure where to begin. ‘I’ve been to a doctor.’
With a curt nod of acknowledgement, she said, ‘You’ve found out your vasectomy wasn’t successful.’
He was surprised she got straight to the heart of it, but then again, if he’d been her only lover, she would’ve known the outcome of his fertility test long before he had. ‘I saw you being interviewed on CNN. I know you’re eighteen weeks pregnant.’
It was a crime to see her lush mouth set into a severe line as her lips pressed together. She looked away from him for a few seconds before she acknowledged, ‘That’s right.’
‘The baby is mine?’ He phrased it as a question even though he was certain of the answer.
‘The baby is mine, but if you’re asking me whether you’re the father, then the answer is yes.’
What the hell? Tension speared through every muscle. Did she plan to exclude him from his child’s life?
<
br /> The baby’s father will play no role in its upbringing.
Even if he was a regular guy, he wouldn’t be cut out of his child’s life. But he wasn’t a regular guy and she knew it. How could she not understand the implications of their child’s paternity in the context of his royal status?
He urged himself to calm down and play this carefully. There was a deeply stubborn streak in Chloe. It was there in the way she held herself, the defiance in her eyes and the slight dare-you-to-take-me-on tilt of her chin. Instinctively, he knew it was going to take a lot more charm than he’d used on the receptionist to bring Chloe around to his way of thinking so his child was born in Ralvinia.
It’s what his parents would expect.
It’s what the people would expect.
Dio, it’s what he wanted and what his child deserved.
‘The baby is ours,’ he corrected quietly but firmly.
One of her fingers tapped against the surface of her desk in a tattoo of agitation. ‘When I came to your office, you said you couldn’t father a child. Obviously you’ve now found out you were wrong. I did plan to contact you within the next few days to recommend you have a medical test. I would’ve contacted you as soon I found that the original test result hadn’t been a mistake, but I’ve been involved in a long court case.’ She stopped the tapping and made a careless gesture. ‘I haven’t had the time or emotional energy.’
Even though she was right there in front of him, she seemed far removed. Marco wanted to reach out and touch her. It was more than the desk between them. Chloe seemed to have placed an invisible barrier around herself, because the vibe she gave off was as though she was agitated by his presence but otherwise completely emotionally removed from him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he apologised sincerely. ‘I misjudged you badly.’
‘You did.’ As soon as the words were uttered, her lower lip trembled. It was the first sign her composure was capable of cracking.
‘If I’d had any idea the procedure hadn’t been effective, I would’ve been here before now.’
She bit her bottom lip and a sheen of moisture glistened in her troubled eyes. Her turmoil was evident in the watery blue depths of those eyes—her anguish tangible. Still she showed him a core of strength. Raising the angle of her chin a few degrees, she told him, ‘Although I haven’t wanted to, I’ve replayed everything that happened and all Lidia said to you. Because you didn’t know me, it was easy to judge me solely on the basis that I was the daughter of a notorious social-climbing gold-digger.’ She lowered her head, focused on her hands and said in a small voice, ‘Had I been in the jury, I may well have convicted me too—even though all the evidence was circumstantial.’
‘You’re right. I didn’t give you a fair hearing.’
‘It didn’t matter, I suppose.’ Her gaze met his briefly before she cast her focus at some point outside the office window. ‘There was never going to be anything more between us than a night or two.’
‘But there’s far more between us now.’ He tried to make her face the unbreakable bond existing between them.
‘There is. But I understand why you didn’t believe it when I came to see you at your office. You really believed you couldn’t father a child, so my declaration that I was expecting your child would’ve convinced you even more firmly that I was targeting your fortune.’
The graciousness of her words—the rationalisation of his reactions—left him stunned. Instead of becoming an emotional mess or ranting and condemning his actions, which she had every right to do, she was working through everything logically and reacting with so much civility, it shamed his harsh judgements.
‘You’re carrying my baby,’ he said in wonder as he looked at her middle.
‘Yes.’ Her mouth twisted into a sad smile.
He’d known it before he boarded the jet to fly here. His eyes rested on the spot where his baby was growing, and struggled to come to grips with the undeniable evidence of his impending fatherhood. ‘Are you well? Is everything going well?’
‘Well enough.’ Her hand rested protectively over her womb.
‘Do you know whether you’re having a boy or girl?’
‘I haven’t had the eighteen-week scan. I’ve been tied up so it’s scheduled for next week and I intend finding out the gender then.’
‘I’d like to be at the appointment.’
Her eyes widened momentarily. ‘I... I suppose you can be there.’ Her chest expanded and deflated as she breathed deeply. ‘I want to make it very clear that I don’t want a dime of your money. I also want you to know that I acknowledge it’s your moral and legal right to have access to the baby if you want it. If you don’t want access—’
Inferno. What was she talking about? ‘Of course I want access. I plan to be very involved in my child’s life.’ He wanted far more than that. His baby was a royal child of Ralvinia and would be raised understanding Ralvinian culture and history.
‘Then I don’t want you to have any doubts about this baby’s paternity. There’s a non-invasive test that can be done.’
‘That won’t be necessary.’ Now it was time for trust.
She regarded him in a detached manner as she leaned against the desk and outlined the procedure regardless of his assertion. ‘A sample of my blood to obtain cell-free foetal DNA, and a mouth swab from you is all that’s required. If you weren’t the father, this test would establish it with one hundred per cent certainty. It will also identify you as the father with ninety-nine point nine per cent accuracy. I hope that will be enough to convince you the baby is yours.’
Common sense demanded he proceed with the test, but her insistence tore at him. He believed it was crucial he trust her now if they were to move forward in their relationship. ‘I didn’t come here to ask for a paternity test.’
‘Nevertheless, I insist on having one.’
Her detachment began to anger him. He didn’t want this polite woman who looked emotionally burnt-out. He wanted the passionate, trusting woman who’d been his lover.
‘Why are you so insistent about this?’
‘I need to know you believe me,’ she continued. ‘I want to make certain that you’ll never wonder if I’ve lied to you—never have any doubts this baby is yours.’
By the time he’d read the report Finn had sent through, and Damien had confirmed his fertility, Marco was convinced this baby was his. The fact that Chloe insisted on the paternity test simply cemented what he already knew. His gaze focused again on the slight swell of her abdomen. It was his baby there.
His baby.
He could hardly identify all the sentiments that coalesced in his chest and had his heart swelling. There was profound joy and wonder along with very real concern as to how to proceed from here with Chloe, and to underline to her the importance of this baby’s heritage.
There was so much ground to make up; so much trust to secure, he’d go along with her on the paternity check. ‘I’ll consent to the test.’ It would certainly make his lawyer happy.
Chloe hung her head and lifted her hands to her temples. ‘That’s settled then. If we leave now, we can make it to the laboratory to have the test done before it closes for the day.’
He raised a hand to forestall her movement. ‘First we need to discuss our marriage.’
Chapter Eleven
Chloe gaped at Marco, certain she mustn’t have heard him properly. ‘What did you say?’
‘You’re having my child. We need to announce our engagement and marry as soon as possible.’
As she replayed his words, the blood left her extremities and she felt light-headed. She sank into her executive chair and gripped at the edge of her desk. ‘I’m not marrying you.’
‘This child’s birth must be legitimate. You’re carrying a child who’ll be in line to the Ralvinian throne.’
No. No. Every part of her screamed out in denial. ‘This is unbelievable. You don’t get to come here and tell me what to do. You certainly don’t get to burst back into my lif
e and demand marriage.’
His eyes narrowed, assessing. ‘Understand that ours is no ordinary baby. You’ll be giving birth to a prince or princess.’
Shit. How easy it’d been to think of this as her baby, to forget Marco was a prince and to overlook all the implications of his royal status. Then again, she’d hardly had time to think on her pregnancy, she’d been so consumed by the trial. ‘I want my baby to have a normal existence,’ she declared defiantly, ‘which it can have here. Titles don’t mean much in the Napa Valley.’
He stood abruptly and his towering height might’ve intimidated a faint-hearted person. ‘Impossible.’
‘My child will not be part of a royal media circus.’
The beat of his pulse at his temple was visible. ‘No royal prince or princess of Ralvinia will be raised in America. For one, it would be a logistical nightmare. My work is based in London.’
‘My work is based right here and this is where I intend to stay.’
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken and his disregard for her position made her blood heat in rage. ‘This child must be born legitimately in Ralvinia otherwise he or she won’t have any claim to royal heritage.’
Whoa. Way too much testosterone-driven possession happening. Summoning her most authoritative courtroom voice, she told him, ‘This baby is as much American as it is Ralvinian—in fact, it’ll be more American because it’ll be an American citizen.’
‘You haven’t thought this through. You haven’t thought about how much our child will miss out on if you insist on this course.’
Pressure at her temples caused a dull, throbbing pain there. The set of Marco’s jaw told her he was determined to assert his will and she had to battle her fatigue and overcome all her fears to try to fight back against him.
Banishing the rising tide of panicked emotion, she clung to her logic and knowledge of the law. She definitely had the upper hand here. Marco may be royal but he was a foreigner on her home soil. No way would he be able to assert any influence here legally to force her to give birth to their child in his kingdom. There was no claim he could make against her which would win him anything but visitation rights on American soil.
The Irresistible Royal Page 13