Hollywood Baby Affair

by Anna DePalo

  She got up, paced, went downstairs to poke around in her fridge and then came upstairs again to stare at her phone.

  When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she called Odele and spilled all to her manager.

  Odele was surprisingly equanimous at the news.

  “Don’t you know this means I’ll be too pregnant to take on another action movie?” Chiara demanded, because she knew career suicide was at the top of Odele’s list of sins.

  “You wanted to stop doing them anyway.”

  Chiara lowered her shoulders. “Yes, you’re right.”

  “What was Rick’s reaction?”

  “I haven’t told him yet. I’ve been working up to that part.”

  There was a long pause on the line as Odele processed this information. “Well, good luck, honey. And remember, it’s best to eat the frog.”

  “We fairy-tale types are supposed to kiss them, not eat them,” Chiara joked weakly. “But okay, I get your point about doing the hard stuff first and getting it over with.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I just...” She took a deep breath. “I’m not sure I’m prepared to make that call to Rick.” Just yet.

  “I’m always here to help.”

  “Thanks, Odele.”

  The next day, Chiara wasn’t feeling calm exactly, but she’d come down from her crazy tumult of emotions. She ventured out to her doctor’s office for a consultation, having gotten herself an early appointment after there was a cancellation.

  She didn’t go into detail with the staff on the phone. She knew how juicy a piece of gossip a pregnant actress was, and medical staff had been known for leaks despite confidentiality laws. Out of an abundance of caution, she wore sunglasses and a scarf when she showed up for her appointment—because the paparazzi also knew that staking out the offices of doctors to the stars was a great way to get a scoop, or at least a tantalizing photo.

  Dr. Phyllia Tribbling confirmed she was pregnant and assured her that everything was fine. She told her to come back when she was a few weeks further along.

  Chiara found she was calmer after the doctor’s visit, no doubt due to the obstetrician’s soothing manner.

  She spent the rest of the day researching pregnancy online. She didn’t dare visit a bookstore—and certainly not a baby store—because of the risk of being spotted by the press. Instead, she stayed home and took a nap. She should have read the signs in her unusual weariness lately, but pregnancy had been the last thing on her mind.

  When she woke late in the day, she checked herself for any sign of morning sickness, but didn’t feel a twinge. With the all-clear, she fixed herself a salad and a glass of water. Walking into the den, she sat on the sofa and placed the food on a coffee table.

  After a few bites, she scrolled through the day’s news on her phone.

  When she came across a headline about herself, it took her a moment to process it, but then she nearly collapsed against the cushions.

  Chiara Feran Is Pregnant!

  She scanned the article and reread it, and then with shaking fingers, called her manager.

  “Odele,” she gasped. “How did Gossipmonger get this info?”

  “They probably saw you exiting the doctor’s office, sweetie,” Odele said calmly. “You know, paparazzi like to stalk the offices of celebrity gynecologists and obstetricians.”

  “I just got back! Not even the gossip sites operate that fast.” Chiara shook her head, even though her manager wasn’t there to see it. “I should have worn a wig.”

  “I don’t think that would have done the trick,” Odele said drily. “Now, not getting knocked up to begin with, that would have done it.”

  Chiara’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t feed them this story, did you?”

  “No.”

  “But did you slip someone a tip to watch the doctor’s office?” Chiara pressed.

  “You have a suspicious mind.”

  “Did you?”

  “I might have mentioned Dr. Tribbling has seen a lot of business lately.”

  “Odele, how could you!”

  “Why don’t you call Mr. Stuntman and let him know he isn’t shooting blanks?” Odele answered sweetly.

  “Why?” Chiara was close to wailing. She’d done it enough times on-screen to know when she was nearing the top of the emotional roller coaster.

  “Better to squelch the rumor fast that you’ve broken up with Rick. Otherwise we’ll be putting out fires for months. The press loves a story about a spurned pregnant woman going it alone.”

  Chiara took a breath. “Rick and I are broken up. Period.”

  “Not as far as the press is concerned. They’re going to love stringing your two names together in real and virtual ink.”

  “And that’s the only thing that matters, right?”

  “No...it isn’t.” Odele sighed, softening. “Why don’t you talk to him? Then reality and public perception can be aligned.”

  Chiara steeled herself and took a deep gulping breath. “Odele, you’re fired.”

  They were words she’d never thought she’d say, but she’d had enough of manipulation...of public scrutiny...of Hollywood...and yes, of one stuntman in particular.

  “Sweetie, you’re overwrought, and it can’t be good for the baby. Take time to think about it.”

  “Goodbye, Odele.”

  Yes, she’d calm down...right after she burst into tears.

  * * *

  Rick spit out his morning coffee. The hot liquid hit the oatmeal bowl like so many chocolate chips dotting cookie batter.

  He prided himself on being unflappable. A cool head and calm nerves were a must in stunt work, particularly when something unexpected happened. But as with everything concerning Chiara, levelheadedness walked out the door with his better judgment.

  He looked around his West Hollywood rental, still his home since Chiara had canceled his roommate privileges and his Beverly Hills place wasn’t finished. The rain hitting the windows suited his mood. Or rather, it fit the rest of his life, which stretched out in a dull gray line in front of him. He got the same adrenaline rush from being with Chiara as he did from stunts, which probably explained the colorlessness of his days since their breakup.

  Except now... Chiara was pregnant.

  Rick was seized by turns with elation and shock. A baby. His and Chiara’s. He was going to be a father.

  Of course he wanted kids. He’d just never given much thought to how it would happen. He was thirty-three and at some point he’d be too old for stunt work. Sometime between now and then, his life would transition to something different. He figured he’d meet a woman, get married and have kids. Except along the way, he’d never foreseen a fake relationship with a maddening starlet who would then turn up pregnant.

  Suddenly someday was now...and it wasn’t supposed to happen this way—knocking up an actress tethered to fame when they weren’t even married, living together or talking about forever.

  Chiara infuriated and amused him by turns, the combustible passion between them feeding on itself. They were good together. Hell, he’d thought things had been heading to...something. But never mind. She’d made it clear he’d served his purpose and now there was no role for him in her life.

  Now, though, whether she liked it or not, he had a place. She was pregnant.

  He wondered whether this announcement was a public relations ploy, and then dismissed the idea. Chiara had too much integrity. He knew that much even though they were no longer a couple.

  Still, she hadn’t had the decency to tell him, and his family would be reading the news online and in print, just like everyone else. Her handlers hadn’t yet sent out a second volley in this juicy story, but already he was looking like a jerk. He just broke up with her, and now his ex-girlfriend has announc
ed she’s pregnant. That’s what everyone would think. Maybe he left her because there was a surprise baby.

  There was one thing to do—and he wasn’t waiting for an invitation. He still had the passcode to Chiara’s front gate, unless she’d changed it.

  Rick got his wallet, keys and phone, and then made a line for the door. He’d woken up this morning moody and out of sorts—more or less par for the course for him since his breakup with Chiara, but that was even before realizing he’d been served up as delicious gossipy dish for his neighbors to consume along with their morning coffee.

  He cursed. “Moody” had just given way to “flaming-hot pissed off.”

  He made record time on the way to Chiara’s house, adrenaline pumping in his veins. He knew from experience working on stunts that he was operating on a full head of steam. He needed to force himself to take a breath, slow down, collect his thoughts... Hell.

  A baby. And she hadn’t told him.

  When he got to Chiara’s front gate, rationality returned enough for him to pause a moment and call her from his cell. The last thing he needed was for Chiara to assume her surprise visitor was her stalker.

  “It’s Rick, and I’m coming in,” he announced when she picked up, and then hit the end button without waiting for a response.

  When he got to the house, the front door was unlocked and he let himself in.

  He found Chiara in the kitchen, dressed in an oversize sweater and leggings, a mug in one hand.

  His gaze went to her midriff, before traveling back to her face. Not that she would be showing yet—but she did look weary, as if she hadn’t slept well. He resisted the urge to stride over and wrap her in his arms.

  “I assume you unlocked the door for me when I called from the gate and that you don’t have a standing invitation for your overeager fan to walk in.” It was a mild reproach, much less than he wanted to say.

  She set the mug down. “What do you think?”

  “You’re pregnant.” The last word reverberated through the room like the sound of a brass bell.

  Chiara blanched.

  “I found out the news with the rest of the world.”

  “I didn’t have time to call you first.” She wrung her hands. “The story broke so fast.”

  “You could have called me when the pregnancy test came back positive.”

  She hugged her midriff with her arms. “I wanted to be sure. I only went to the doctor yesterday.”

  “How did this happen?” he asked bluntly.

  She raised her eyebrows. “I think you know.”

  “Right.” Mind-blowing sex.

  “My contraceptive ring accidentally fell out, and I didn’t notice. I didn’t give it much thought when I realized what happened.” She shrugged. “I’ve always wanted kids. I guess it’s happening sooner than I anticipated.”

  A very real sense of relief washed over him at her words. She wanted this baby, but birth control failure had led to very real consequences for the both of them. “You’re going to announce we’re still together.”

  She blinked. “Why?”

  “Why? Because I don’t want to look like a first-class jerk in front of the world, that’s why.”

  “That your reason?” She appeared bewildered and a flash of hurt crossed her face.

  “Aren’t you the one who has been all about public image until now?” he tossed back. “Maybe this pregnancy is another PR stunt.”

  She dropped her arms, her expression turning shocked and offended. “What?”

  “Are you saying Odele didn’t plant the story in Gossipmonger?”

  “I didn’t know anything about it!”

  He let another wave of satisfaction wash over him before he turned all-business. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. We’re going to start acting and pretending like we never have before—the happy couple expecting a bundle of joy.”

  She lifted her chin. “I don’t need your help.”

  He knew Chiara had the resources, but that was beside the point. “Sweetheart,” he drawled, making the endearment sound ironic, “whether you want it or not, you’ve got it.”

  “Or?”

  “Odele will be needing medication to deal with the ugly media firestorm.”

  “And will a wedding in Vegas follow?” she asked sarcastically. “I’ll need to put Odele on retainer again.”

  “Whatever works.”

  She threw up her hands. “It’s ridiculous. How long do you plan for this to go on?”

  Until he figured out his next steps. He was buying himself time. “Until I don’t look like a loser who abandoned his girlfriend the minute she turned up pregnant.”

  * * *

  Rick paced in the nearly empty library of his multimillion-dollar new home. Raking his fingers through his hair, he stared out the French doors at the blazing sunshine bathing his new property in light. He’d just met with a landscaper and walked over the grounds. This morning, his appointment had been uppermost in his mind...until he’d checked the news.

  Still, what was it all for? He’d bought and renovated this house as a keen investor...but now it felt insignificant. Because what really mattered in his life was half a city away. Pregnant. With his baby.

  His gaze settled on the two upholstered armchairs. He’d brokered a cease-fire and even a rapprochement between Chiara and her father, but he couldn’t figure out how to dig himself out of a hole—except by muscling in on Chiara earlier and ordering her to get back together until he figured things out. But then what?

  His cell phone buzzed, and he fished it out of his pocket.

  “Rick.” Camilla Serenghetti’s voice sounded loud and clear.

  Rick hadn’t even bothered to look at who was calling. He hadn’t had a chance to figure out what to say to his family, but it was showtime.

  “I read I’m going to be a grandma, but I know it can’t be true. My son would have told me such happy news.”

  Of course.

  “I told Paula at the hairdresser, ‘No, no, don’t listen to Gossipmonger. I know the truth.’” Pause. “Right?”

  Rick raked a hand through his hair. “I just found out myself, Mom.”

  His mother muttered something in Italian. “So it is true? Congratulazioni. I can’t believe it. First Cole has a surprise wedding. Now you have a surprise baby.”

  “You still have Jordan and Mia to count on.” His remaining siblings might go a more traditional route.

  “No, no. I’m happy...happy about the baby.” His mother sounded emotional. “But no more surprises. Basta—enough, okay?”

  “I’d like nothing better,” he muttered, because he’d gotten the shock of his life today.

  When he got off the phone, he texted his siblings.

  The gossip is true, hang tight.

  He knew he had to deal with stamping out questions—or at least holding them off—until he figured things out. Before he could put away his cell, though, his phone rang again.

  “Rick.”

  “What can I do for you?” Rick recognized the voice, and under the circumstances, Chiara’s father was the last person he wanted to have a conversation with. Michael Feran had his number from when he’d helped broker the meeting with Chiara, but he’d never expected the older man to use it.

  “This is an odd request.”

  “Spit it out.” The words came out more harshly than Rick intended, but it had already been a hell of a day.

  Michael Feran cleared his throat. “I can’t get in touch with Chiara.”

  Great. “What did you do, Michael?”

  “Nothing. I called her at eleven, when we’d agreed to talk.”

  Rick knew Chiara had opted to periodically touch base with her father now that she was paying his bills.

  “No one a
nswered.”

  “I was heading out, and I’m not far from her house. I’ll swing by.” He didn’t examine his motives. Michael Feran had given him another excuse to see Chiara, and maybe this time they could have a more satisfactory meeting—one that didn’t end with her turning away and him walking out.

  Besides, she was pregnant. His gut tightened. She could really be in trouble.

  “Good.” An edge of relief sounded in the older man’s voice. “And I understand congratulations are in order.”

  “To you, too.”

  “Thank you. I just got an invite to be a father again. I didn’t expect being a grandfather to be part of the bargain. At least not so soon.”

  “I’m sure,” Rick replied curtly. “But one thing at a time. I’ll go check on the mother-to-be now.”

  After ending the call, Rick made for the front door. For the second time that day, he found himself racing to Chiara’s house, adrenaline thrumming through his veins.

  She was fine. She had to be fine. She was probably dealing with pregnancy symptoms and in no mood to talk to her father. In the meantime, he might have another opportunity to set things to rights between them.

  Marry me. The words popped into his head without thought, but of course they were the right ones. Right, natural...logical.

  Exiting his house, he got behind the wheel of his Range Rover for the drive to Brentwood. Fortunately, traffic was light, and he reached Chiara’s house faster than he expected.

  When he reached her front gate, he tried calling her again. And when she didn’t answer, he stabbed in the security code, jaw tightening.

  Moments later, he pulled up in front of Chiara’s house and saw her car parked there. His gut clenched. Why isn’t she answering her phone?

  Noticing the patio door open at the side of the house, he strode toward it...and then froze for a second when he realized there was broken glass on the ground.

  Stepping inside the house, he could sense someone was there. Then he saw a man reflected in a mirror down the hall. The intruder crouched and ducked into the next room.