The Marriage Ultimatum (Contemporary Romance)

by Christine Glover

  At least she’d delivered an actual child while his ex had faked a pregnancy to trap him into marriage. Fortunately, he’d figured out the truth before he made the mistake of tying himself to the schemer for a lifetime of misery.

  Gian called his name, and Stefano turned to see him running toward him. “It’s Gregorio…” He trailed off. “Nonno heard about the accident just after the doctors gave him his diagnosis.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “Cancer. Terminal. We’ve got to get back to Italy pronto, and you’ve got to get yourself a wife, cousin.”

  Fear struck deep. If his grandfather died before Stefano locked down the deal with Anderson, he had no guarantee that Gregorio would leave Durante Enterprises in his hands. He couldn’t risk it going to anyone in the family who wasn’t on board with the modern changes it needed to survive. Plus, Stefano didn’t want to lose the chance to make things right between them. Deep down he’d always known that Gregorio loved him and wanted Stefano to follow in his footsteps. Unfortunately, Stefano’s shoes were modern and Nonno’s were still walking in the 1950s which caused them to clash regularly.

  “Si,” Stefano said, blood dripping down his leg while he held Gian’s concerned gaze. “First I have to give Grandfather what he wants.”

  “What?” Gian asked.

  “A grandson who is willing to comply with his old-world standards.” If he conceded to Nonno’s demands about his personal life, maybe he’d have a shot at convincing the man to release his power over Durante Enterprises.

  In the distance the little blue car turned onto a side street. “Track down Roxy Baron’s address while I finish getting stitched up.”

  “Wait,” Gian said. “You’re not really planning on—you have no proof.”

  A sharp pain lanced through his chest. The tenderness Roxy had for Matthew cut straight to his heart. As had the claws she’d bared and refused to sheath when Stefano refused to back down about getting Matthew. No. She hadn’t faked that, either.

  Stefano held up his hand to stop Gian’s argument. “The little boy’s eyes are identical to mine, but we’ll run a paternity test to make sure no one in the family doubts my claim.”

  Gian combed his fingers through his jet-black hair. “His mother can’t be trusted.”

  “His mother is the fix to our current situation,” Stefano said. “Why didn’t you tell me about her calls? I’d be in charge of Durante right now if I’d known about this situation.”

  “I’d already established her crappy background, she pawned the watch Nonno gave you for your eighteenth birthday, and her brother could have been calling all the shots.” Gian stood his ground. “No way would I let her take you down the I’m pregnant please marry me path. We’ve been down that road before, and thanks to me you got out of a shitty situation. That’s why I auto deleted her emails and blocked her calls after her first few attempts to reach you.”

  “Damn it, Gian.” Stefano fisted his hands. “I’m capable of taking care of myself. A simple paternity test would have confirmed it then and…”

  “And you’d have been stuck with another lying leech just like your mother.”

  Stefano bit back the urge to lash out. “I understand your intentions were good, but this was my decision to make,” he said. “Don’t interfere with my personal life again unless I demand your help.”

  A muscle jumped in Gian’s jaw. “What do you demand now?” he asked.

  “Find Roxy. Set up the paternity test, and contact our legal staff.”

  “You plan on marrying her if Matthew’s yours?”

  Deep down, Stefano didn’t doubt the boy’s paternity, but he questioned Roxy’s motive for resisting his initial offer of assistance. She had to want something more. All the women in his life fit that bill. The downside of having immense wealth meant having a lot of females trying to take advantage of him.

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to make Nonno happy.”

  A moment of understanding passed between he and his cousin. Not only did they have to give their grandfather peace of mind, but they had to safeguard their company’s interests. Roxy, however unsuitable, provided both.

  Gian sighed. “I assume you have a place for me to start.”

  Her uniform’s insignia popped into Stefano’s brain. “Burt’s BBQ should have her employee records.”

  “I’ll find her.” Gian stepped back. “Then I’ll let you deal with the fallout if this blows up in your face.”

  “It won’t,” he said. “Once I have all the necessary information I’ll be in control of everything.” Durante Enterprises would be his to steer into the future.

  No way would he lose it all now.

  * * *

  Though everyone preferred texting and Facebook messaging, Roxy still relied on the phone when communicating with her friend Maura during a crisis. The less said in writing, the better. She’d learned that the hard way after her brother had conned his way back into her life. His drug addiction and the deals he’d reneged on had forced her to be very careful. And now that she had Matthew to protect, she didn’t want to risk bringing Doug back.

  She’d tried to save her brother from himself because once upon a time he’d shielded her from the rest of her family. But he’d changed in the years that they’d been apart, and she’d realized she had to save herself to ensure Matthew’s safety. Lord. If Doug found out about this… She trembled. Her brother had become someone she no longer recognized—a frightening thug and menace capable of causing great harm.

  Roxy shook her head. No. Never again. She’d made sure he’d never find her or use Matthew against her. Quickly, she commanded the sexy English male voice in her headset to call her babysitter.

  Maura Adams answered in two rings. “I know I’m running late again, but this time I promise it’s not my fault,” she said quickly before Maura read her the riot act about her perpetual tardiness. She’d been her friend from the time they started working together at Burt’s BBQ, but Maura really couldn’t understand the everyday roadblocks to getting anywhere on time with a child in tow.

  Her friend coughed several times. “Didn’t you get my messages?”

  “No.” She’d been too busy escaping the ever sinfully sexy Stefano Durante. “What’s wrong?”

  “The flu.” Maura’s voice cracked. “Sorry.”

  The air left Roxy’s lungs. No sitter meant not making her shift. Burt would eventually forgive her lateness, being a father himself, but another no-show? Not so much. “Dang it. I’d say things could be worse, but that’s like inviting more trouble,” Roxy said.

  Once again she checked her rearview mirror and glanced at Matthew’s toddler seat, making sure he didn’t find some other way to get into trouble. Like father, like son. The words taunted her and she drop-kicked them out of her head.

  “What’s going on?” Maura asked through another wretched cough.

  “Nothing.” Everything. “Don’t feel bad about not being able to keep Matthew tonight. I’m sure everything will be fine. Concentrate on getting better.” She owed Maura too much to be upset, though Roxy’s inner desperation meter was starting to dip in the oh-shit zone.

  After saying goodbye to Maura, Roxy placed the dreaded call to Burt. As predicted, he didn’t like her news and had given her one last chance or she’d lose her job. By the time she’d finished that conversation, her desperation meter had gone from the oh-shit zone to the I’m-in-deep-shit zone.

  Stuffing down the tears that threatened to break free, Roxy recited her internal personal mantra. I expect things to get better every day. Really better. Better than better. After all, she’d survived far worse than the things that this day had brought her. But still. What a day.

  After parking her car in her apartment’s designated spot, she carried Matthew and his diaper bag up the stairs to the loft. Slowly, she regained her equilibrium. Sure, the father of her child had unexpectedly shown up in Mountain Brook, Georgia, and he’d freaked her out with his instant if he’s mine, I want custo
dy scare tactics, but would he really take Matthew from her? She’d been in love with him three years ago—that Stefano had been tender, passionate, and loving until the dang background check sent him packing. Now she didn’t know who he was anymore.

  He didn’t trust her. And she sure as hell didn’t trust him either.

  “Everything will be great,” she said to Matthew as she stepped inside her loft style apartment.

  Money was tight. But even if she lost her job at Burt’s, Roxy still had enough to get through another month’s rent. By that time, she would receive the final payment for her sculpture. A commission she’d worked hard to garner, and one that she knew would get her that much closer to attaining her dream.

  Matthew giggled and squirmed to jump free from her arms. The nurse at the clinic was right. By now overprotective was practically her middle name, but Roxy couldn’t stop the maternal urge to keep him safe. Unlike her own parents who had neglected her throughout her childhood, she’d vowed her son would never feel he didn’t have his mother’s complete attention and devotion. Because no matter how hard it was to be a single parent, she’d die if anything happened to her sweet boy.

  “Hold on, little buddy,” she said, shifting Matthew higher on her hip.

  Roxy shut the door behind her with a back-footed kick, and felt the cold splash of water on her other ankle. “What the heck?” She looked down only to discover water pooling at her feet.

  Heart thudding, she hurried to put Matthew in his playpen where he happily picked up his favorite stuffed dinosaur and began playing. Glad for his baby-induced oblivion, Roxy tamped down her own inclination to scream, dropped her diaper bag on the side table next to the playpen, and rushed to her bathroom where she pulled towels from beneath her sink.

  “Crap, crap, crap,” she moaned as she raced to mop up the water by the door. She tossed the towels onto the ever-growing puddle, and then glanced around to look for the source.

  Water poured down her pedestal light fixture above her sculpting table and supplies. Her piece for the city council sat directly under the swinging fixture, and her future prototypes drooped under the cascading water pressure. Everything she’d pinned her hopes and dreams on was on the verge of ruin. She raced toward the table, fear and panic pinging adrenaline into all her extremities. “This can’t be happening,” Roxy screamed. “Not now. Not after everything else that’s gone wrong.”

  Pounding and Stefano’s voice called outside her door. Expletives more colorful than shit or crap spilled from her mouth while she tried to salvage her precious sculpture and all her ongoing projects. She didn’t have the energy to figure out how to escape the man currently banging outside the door and demanding entrance.

  Without thinking, more frustrated and overwhelmed than she’d ever thought possible, Roxy stopped her frantic attempts to save her art, then ran to the door and opened it. “Go away, Stefano.” She was so not ready to tangle with him now. Or ever. “Your timing sucks.”

  He pushed his way in. “I don’t give a damn.” Stefano scoped the situation and shot her a shocked look. “Where’s Matthew?”

  She heard the concern in Stefano’s voice. “He’s in his playpen. Safe.” For now, and forever if Stefano exited her life again.

  “Not for long by the looks of things.” He glanced at the sopping towel in her hand. “Wring that out. We’ll deal with this leak, then we’ll talk about what happens next.”

  The fight drained out of her. “Absolutely.” Squeezing the towel, Roxy nodded. “Just please move your designer jean ass, or I’ll lose everything.” She’d clear up the mess, then clear him out of her world. No way would she let him take the most important person in her life away from her. But, as he hurried to her sculpting table, she suddenly realized that this flood only made his case against her stronger.

  Chapter 3

  Desperation, a hint of a sob, played under Roxy’s sassy command. Though her fierce determination to save the day garnered a measure of his respect, Stefano refused to allow it to sway him from his purpose. “Where do you want me to take this stuff,” he asked while lifting plaster and marble from her worktable. Cristo. How did this little slip of a human being have the strength to carve and shape these slabs of stone?

  “Over there.” She gestured with her shoulder toward the other side of the expansive, well lit room. A bed barely big enough for one, let alone two, was tucked in the corner. Alongside it was a playpen where Matthew bounced up and down, giggling and clapping his hands. Something stirred deep. Wonder, and a rush of pride coursed through Stefano’s veins. This boy might very well be his son. His son!

  Roxy joined him to scoop a pile of carving instruments in her arms. “Why are you here?”

  “I’ve expedited the paternity test.” Stefano tried to move the framework of the sculpture, but the plaster was soaked and crumbled. “I’ve already had my cheek swabbed for buccal cells. And I’ve got a court order to get Matthew’s.”

  “Her silver eyes flashed. “It better not hurt him.”

  Water dripped onto her wavy hair and continued to soak her unflattering waitressing uniform. But the wet fabric did mold to her sexy curves in extremely interesting ways. His groin tightened and heat flashed through his veins. Damn. He still wanted her despite all her lies because her fierce protectiveness ignited something primal in him.

  “I promise it won’t.”

  He turned away, lifted an iron frame and carried it to the other side of the room. She scrambled to keep up with him while hauling more supplies.

  “Text your superintendent about this leak,” he said when they returned to her work station. “Once we’ve cleared this area, I’ll get Matthew’s cells and send both sets to the lab. They’ve guaranteed to express the results within twelve hours after receiving them.”

  A piece of soggy drywall plopped next to his feet, and she picked it up. “When are you going to get it through your thick skull that the results won’t change anything?”

  “What about your brother? What will he do if he discovers his nephew is mine?”

  She lowered her gaze. “He doesn’t know Matthew exists. And I’d like to keep it that way, she admitted.

  Roxy’s pale cheeks and inability to look him in the eye spoke volumes. “You’re hiding from him. That means you’re afraid of what he’d do,” Stefano said.

  “Not anymore. I ditched Doug after he skipped rehab and his goons squeezed more money out of me.” She gathered more supplies while water gushed onto the table. “I’ve kept a low profile ever since I found out I was pregnant.”

  His stomach knotted. “Why?”

  “Because Doug might have used Matthew as a weapon against you.”

  “If he’s mine.”

  “Biologically he’s yours,” she said, fisting her hands. “You don’t need a test to prove it, but you’re still going to subject him to it.”

  “The test is nothing compared to the danger that has chased you for years. Your brother being a case in point.” If the paparazzi caught wind of this situation, that could increase those threats. And he wanted to get this situation resolved before it hit the Internet. He moved toward the playpen.

  “Don’t pursue this and we’ll be fine,” she said, hurrying beside him with the last of her supplies before collapsing on the floor next to Matthew’s playpen. “For once do what’s best for someone else, instead of yourself.”

  He flinched as if she’d struck him. “I’ll confirm Matthew’s mine, then provide the security he needs to remain safe.”

  Her gaze snapped to his. “He won’t require it if you back off.” Fire sparked in her pewter eyes. “Given that you never gave a damn before now, I don’t trust your motivations.”

  Stefano’s wound throbbed, but he remained standing and cast his glance downward. “That makes two of us.”

  “Two. Two.” Matthew bounced cheerfully in his playpen, oblivious to the monsoon pouring down all around them.

  He heard a cracking sound and whipped his head around. More water
slithered down the pedestal light’s pole and onto the table. Paint bubbled overhead and a large piece of sheetrock cracked above them. Stefano didn’t think, acted on instinct, and lifted Matthew out of the playpen, then brought Roxy to her feet and under his arm to shield her.

  “The entire ceiling’s caving in.” He repositioned Matthew, now screaming and squirming in outrage, more securely in his hold then laced his fingers through Roxy’s, tugging her with him. “Run.”

  Moments later, they sat at the bottom of her stairwell. He heard a crash, Roxy’s gasp, and Matthew’s ongoing screeching. Breathing heavily, Stefano looked at Roxy. Bits of plaster had adhered to her long hair, a sprinkling of sheetrock powder dusted her nose, and a silly green stuffed dinosaur poked its head out of her uniform pocket.

  Her mouth looked delectable, and he remembered how it tasted. Need fired low, but he banked it with reality. He had to remain focused on his course of action to ensure his company’s future.

  “Should the paternity test confirm I’m Matthew’s father I refuse to let him continue to live in these circumstances,” he said. No way would he let tabloids unleash stories about a love child in Georgia and bring unwanted, perhaps dangerous, attention onto his child.

  A door opened and closed, people shouted for the superintendent. She glanced around the dimly lit foyer, then back at him. “It’s a temporary setback.”

  His muscles knotted at the base of his neck. “You have a criminal record, a drug-dealing brother who will do anything to get his hands on cash, and your home is nonexistent,” Stefano said. “Those facts, along with my connections and money, will convince a judge to grant me full custody.”

  “I’ll fight you.”

  “You’ll lose.”

  Matthew squirmed in her arms, but she held him closer. “No way. I’ll do anything to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  She spoke in a steady, low tone and held his gaze. A fierce determination glinted sharp as a sword in her eyes. Roxy’s total commitment to Matthew stood in stark contrast to his mother’s abandonment after his father had died in the terrible accident while driving in the Italian Alps. But even that couldn’t stop him from forcing his hand. He had to convince his grandfather and the old guard that he’d become a new man—one with a ready built family.