The Heir the Prince Secures

by Jennie Lucas

  But Stefano was no prince.

  Her friends and family had been right.

  Tess gripped the stroller for support as anguish and exhaustion punched through her.

  They’d been right.

  “Come now. Don’t act like your heart’s broken,” he said sharply. “How long did it take you to get over me? A few days?”

  “How can you say that?” she whispered.

  He looked pointedly at the baby in the stroller. “She’s yours, isn’t she?”

  Yes. And yours. The words rose inside her, but got caught in her throat.

  “And what about her father?” he demanded. “How would he feel if he knew you were here now, talking to me?”

  “You tell me.”

  “How would I know?” Reaching out, he cupped her cheek. For a moment, in spite of everything, she closed her eyes, shivering at his touch as a flash of heat pulsed through her.

  Stefano dropped his hand. “Let’s not try to make more of our night than it was.” He glanced at the baby. “Obviously, you quickly moved on. So did I. Our night was enjoyable enough. But it was meaningless.”

  Enjoyable enough?

  Meaningless?

  It was the final straw. She felt a flash of despair, the destructive kind that froze to the bone.

  “Our night didn’t mean anything to you?” Heart in her throat, she whispered, “You changed my life.”

  “Sorry,” he said coldly.

  She felt the word like a bullet.

  “Fine.” She closed her eyes briefly, shuddering. “We’ll survive alone.”

  Knees shaking, she turned and walked away from him as fast as she could, away from her broken heart, from her shame that she’d so foolishly believed in the fairy tale. She fled the glittering lights of the Campania toward a shadowy side street, desperate to reach the far-off subway entrance, where she could sob in peace.

  *

  Prince Stefano Zacco di Gioreale stared after Tess, shocked by the jolt of her words, by the raw emotion he’d seen on her face and, most of all, by his body’s reaction to seeing her again.

  Tess Foster was even more beautiful than he remembered. He’d lied when he’d said he’d quickly moved on. The truth was that he’d spent the last year trying not to recall her hauntingly lovely heart-shaped face, her red hair, her bright emerald eyes, her sweet pink lips. He’d tried to forget her lush body and the way she’d felt naked in his arms.

  Most of all, he’d tried to erase the memory of her intense, heartfelt whisper the next morning. I’m already falling in love with you.

  For the last year, he’d done his best to forget. He’d told himself he had. Still, when he’d returned to New York in July to preside over the launch of Mercurio’s flagship store, there was a reason he’d chosen to stay at the Campania Hotel rather than return to the Leighton, which had all those sweet, savage memories of their night together.

  From the moment he’d first seen her carrying a tray of champagne at Rodrigo Cabrera’s cocktail party, he’d known he wanted her. He’d felt drawn to Tess in a way he’d never experienced before. Or since.

  He’d made it his mission to seduce her. As beautiful and vivacious as Tess was, it had never occurred to him she might be a virgin. Not until it was too late, not until he’d already pushed himself into her, both of them gasping with ecstasy. His body shivered at the memory.

  He’d felt guilty afterward, though. There was a reason he didn’t seduce virgins. They fell in love too easily and cloyingly imagined a future that bored Stefano to tears. He avoided them at all costs. Virgins didn’t know how to play the game. Play it? They often didn’t even know there was a game.

  His worst fears had been proven true when, after the most spectacular sexual experience of his life, Tess had ruined everything with her outrageous declaration of love.

  So he’d left. He took no pleasure in it. He would have preferred to see her again for many more sensual nights.

  But she’d given him no choice. If she was already imagining herself in love with him after twelve hours, what would she do when he eventually ended their affair? Throw herself off the Empire State Building?

  So Stefano had left. For her own good. He had nothing to offer a dreamy-eyed idealist with a heart full of love. Better to set her free immediately, before anyone got hurt.

  The existence of the baby proved he’d made the right choice. Judging by the infant’s size, Tess couldn’t have waited long before she took another lover.

  An image came to Stefano of another man taking Tess in his arms, doing exactly what he’d done, possessing her in furious, desperate need, in a hot tangle of limbs and sweat and pleasure. Scowling, he pushed the thought away.

  At least Stefano had used protection. Obviously, the other man hadn’t been so careful. The unknown man had gotten her pregnant with his dark-eyed baby.

  He was surprised Tess wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. He would have thought a romantic girl like her wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than happily-ever-after.

  Stefano, a billionaire prince who’d been raised in a Sicilian castle, didn’t believe in such fairy tales.

  But he couldn’t stop his eyes from watching Tess hungrily as her small figure disappeared down the dark street, her shoulders drooping and red hair flying as she pushed the stroller ahead of her.

  Stefano’s hand tingled. Raising his hand, he looked at his fingertips beneath the hotel’s bright lights.

  All he’d done was touch her cheek. That brief, simple touch had scorched his hand. All the emotion and desire he’d repressed for a year had suddenly roared into greedy life, burning him like a fire. Shocked, he’d dropped his hand.

  As he watched Tess disappear down the block, he felt a new sense of loss. Why? Why did he still feel so drawn to her? He’d had beautiful women in his bed before. Why couldn’t he forget this particular one?

  Stefano forced himself to turn away. It was better this way, he repeated to himself. He started to walk toward the hotel’s entrance. He stopped.

  Something didn’t make sense. He frowned.

  If Tess was so happy in her new relationship, raising another man’s child, why had she been so overjoyed to see Stefano? She’d looked at him like unicorns were dancing on rainbows. Like all her dreams had suddenly come true.

  Our night didn’t mean anything to you?

  He could still hear the tremble of her voice, still see the shadows cross her lovely, troubled face.

  You changed my life.

  And as she’d spoken she’d looked away.

  Toward the stroller.

  Toward her baby.

  Her dark-haired, plump-cheeked baby.

  “We’ll survive alone,” she’d said.

  We. Not I.

  A low growl came from the back of Stefano’s throat. Turning, he pursued her grimly down the street.

  Even with his longer stride, it took him time to catch up with her. He reached her at the end of the dark street, almost at the edge of Times Square. Grabbing Tess by the shoulder, he forced her to face him as the colorful lights of the electronic billboards lit up the sky brilliantly behind her.

  “Wait,” he ground out.

  Tess had been crying, he saw. Her green eyes glittered like emeralds in her pale face. She lifted her chin fiercely. “Wait for what? For you?” She wiped her eyes. “What do you think I’ve been doing for the last year?”

  Her voice was quietly accusing. Against his will, Stefano’s gaze fell to her full, pink lips, and lower still.

  Tess’s hourglass figure should have been illegal in the modern world. Her flowy long-sleeved blouse was tucked into a midi pencil skirt, like a sexpot librarian. It showed her curves to perfection—her full breasts, tiny waist, and big hips a man could wrap his hands around. Her red hair tumbled over her shoulders, the color of roses, the color of fire.

  She was different from any other woman he’d ever seen. He wanted her. Even more than before. More than he’d ever wanted any woman.

  Wi
th all his relationships over the years, his mistresses always knew love wasn’t part of the equation. He only dated experienced, beautiful women he enjoyed having in his bed and on his arm. In return, they enjoyed his body, his prestige and the lifestyle he could provide.

  If he was honest with himself, it had all grown rather tedious. Mechanical. He’d started to wonder which of them was using the other one more. Which was why he’d stopped having love affairs, even one-night stands, after his night with Tess. He hadn’t wanted any other woman.

  Why? Why did he want only her? Was it simply because he knew she was forbidden? Surely he couldn’t be selfish enough to desire something only because he knew he couldn’t have it?

  Even now, he found his gaze lingering on her full hips, her plump, generous breasts. Her colorful outfit, with its ridiculously whimsical fabric, set off her amazing figure. His eyes lifted from her breasts to her bare collarbone, up her swanlike throat to her lovely heart-shaped face.

  Her pink tongue nervously licked the corners of her mouth. His whole body felt electrified. All he wanted to do was kiss her.

  Clenching his hands at his sides, he forced himself to turn toward the dark-haired baby in the stroller. She was still sleeping peacefully, her old-fashioned, collared dress half-covered with a blanket, clutching a stuffed giraffe toy in her plump arms.

  No. She couldn’t be. But even as Stefano told himself there was no resemblance, suspicion pulsed through his body, tightening his chest from his shoulders to his taut belly.

  “Tell me about the baby,” he said.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Her name.”

  “Esme.”

  “Her surname?”

  “Foster, like mine.”

  His jaw tightened. “And her father?”

  Tess stared at him, then looked away, her lips pressed in a thin line. Groups of tourists walked by them on the sidewalk, laughing and chatting in bursts of different languages. She stubbornly refused to look at him, or answer.

  “Tess,” he demanded, coming close enough to touch her, his tall, broad-shouldered form casting a shadow over her smaller one.

  Colorful lights swept over her red hair like a halo, as Tess finally looked at him. Her green eyes were half filled with hope, half with anger, as she said in a low whisper, “You, Stefano.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  TESS HAD IMAGINED so many times the moment she’d finally tell Stefano about their precious baby.

  She’d pictured him crying out with joy and kissing her passionately, then taking Esme proudly in his arms. She’d dreamed of him falling to his knees to plead for her forgiveness for neglecting her so long—unavoidable as he was trapped on the desert island—and then begging her to be his bride.

  She’d never imagined this.

  “No.” Stefano’s black eyes were wide as he took a single step back on the sidewalk, his sleek jacket and trousers blending into the dark shadows. He looked down at the sleeping baby. “It can’t be true.”

  Her heart twisted. She whispered, “It’s true.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  She hid the pang she felt at his careless insult. “You’re the only man I’ve ever been with, Stefano. Ever, in my whole life.”

  “But we were careful. We used protection.”

  Stefano’s hard, handsome face looked so shocked Tess almost felt bad for him. She almost wanted to comfort him, to tell him everything would be all right.

  But even Tess’s tender heart couldn’t quite manage that. Not when the man she’d waited for all this time, the man in whom she’d placed her hope and faith, was making his rejection so clear—not just of Tess, but of Esme, too. She lifted her chin.

  “I was surprised, too,” she said evenly. “But it turns out condoms aren’t always one hundred percent effective.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded.

  Her jaw dropped.

  “How could I? I didn’t know your last name or where you lived.” She lifted her chin. “You always knew where to find me. You just didn’t want to. I waited for over a year, believing you’d return.” She hated the tears rising behind her eyes. “Everyone mocked me and teased me for it. I was in love with you, having your baby, and I didn’t even know your last name!”

  Tess was relieved for the distraction when her baby started to whimper. Blinking rapidly, she picked up the stuffed giraffe Esme had dropped on the sidewalk, then placed it tenderly in the baby’s arms.

  “It’s Zacco,” Stefano said abruptly. “My last name.”

  She looked up. “Zacco? Like the fashion brand?”

  Even Tess had heard of the legendary luxury brand, famous for its haute couture and iconic handbags printed with flamboyant interlocking Zs.

  “Yes,” he said, then shook his head. “My great-great-grandfather started it. I will buy it back soon.”

  “You don’t own it anymore? How could you lose rights to a company named after your own family?”

  His jaw tightened, and he looked at their baby. “How could you get pregnant?”

  The coldness in his voice pierced her heart. It was one thing for Stefano to treat Tess badly; another to be scornful of their baby.

  Sweet five-month-old Esme, so plump and adorable and always happy, at least when she wasn’t tired or hungry or teething, was already the person Tess loved most on this planet. Esme was her whole reason for living.

  “I’ve just told you that you have a daughter.” Tess felt a wave of dizziness that nearly brought her to her knees. She reached wildly for the stroller handle, gripping it tight so she didn’t fall. “And that’s all you have to say?”

  His eyes narrowed. “How do I know she’s mine?”

  “Stop asking that! I told you!”

  “I need more proof than just your word.”

  A white-haired couple holding theater playbills walked past, hand in hand. Seeing the way the couple smiled at each other, Tess’s heart ached. That was what she’d wanted for herself. A lifetime love.

  She’d wanted it so badly she’d been desperate to believe Stefano was the one, in spite of all evidence to the contrary. She’d be regretting it the rest of her life.

  “Forget it.” Her throat ached as she turned away. “We don’t need you.”

  Stefano ground out, “I’m sorry if I hurt you—”

  “Sorry?” Her voice trembled. “You’re not sorry!”

  “You’re wrong,” he said harshly. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were a virgin until too late. Sorry you imagined yourself in love with me when you didn’t even know me. Sorry you’re now trying to claim your baby is mine!”

  “Claim?” Tess’s tears blurred his image as colorful flashing lights from the billboards of Times Square moved over his hard, handsome face. “You’re right,” she whispered. “I don’t know you.”

  She couldn’t believe she’d been so horribly wrong about everything. Even now, Stefano still looked like a handsome dream—tall and powerful in his sleek suit. Even his scent, like Italian oranges and hot summer nights, made her heart twist with longing and grief for what she could not have, what had never truly existed.

  Reaching out, he gripped her shoulders. His dark eyes burned through her. “I never promised a future.”

  As she felt the weight of his hands on her shoulders, electricity pulsed through her, leaving her breathless.

  Her gaze fell to his cruel, sensual lips as she whispered, “I know.”

  She heard his intake of breath. His grip on her shoulders tightened. “Stop it.”

  “What?”

  “You know what.”

  His eyes were dark pools of hunger. As their eyes locked, sensual awareness coursed through her, sending sparks up and down her body, causing tension to coil low and deep inside her. Unthinkingly, she licked the corners of her lips. First one side, then the other.

  With a low growl, he pulled her hard against his body and savagely lowered his mouth to hers.

  She was lost in a rush of ec
stasy as desire and anguished longing roared through her blood. She surrendered to the pleasure, to his power, his strength, relishing the feel of his arms wrapped around her.

  Then, as if from a distance, she heard a choked moan rising from her own throat, wistful and broken, and she remembered how he’d just crushed her heart to a million pieces.

  No. No!

  Ripping away, she stared up at him in horror, her lips still tingling with pleasure, her heart bruised by that brief fiery joy.

  “Don’t you dare kiss me!”

  His expression changed. “Tess—”

  “Leave me alone.” Her voice wobbled. She was afraid she might burst into sobs, and baby Esme’s tired, hungry whine was threatening to become a wail.

  Tess wiped her mouth with her sleeve, trying to forget the sweet taste of his lips, but she couldn’t. A tsunami of grief and regret and exhaustion roared through her, leaving her trembling and dizzy.

  She suddenly knew she wasn’t going to make it to the subway. She was going to collapse right here on the street in front of the man who’d caused it all.

  No. She had to somehow get back to her friends. She didn’t care anymore if Hallie and Lola said I told you so. They were her only hope now that her whole world was falling down around her.

  Swaying unsteadily, she turned, stumbling as she pushed the stroller back down the way she’d come. She could see the distant lights of the Campania at the end of the street.

  “Tess.” Catching up with her, Stefano grabbed the handle of the stroller. “Stop. Damn you.”

  His face was in shadow. The lights of a single passing car seemed long, smudging before her eyes. The world swam around her as the last of her strength fled. She closed her eyes.

  For the last year, she’d tried to have faith while she waited for Stefano to come back and save her. But now that he’d returned, all he’d done was take away the dreams that had sustained her.

  “Please,” she whispered, blinking fast, feeling dizzy and sick. “Don’t.”

  He frowned, looking down at her. “What’s wrong?”

  The dizziness increased, building to a pounding roar in her ears. She felt her knees start to collapse.

  His strong arms shot out, keeping her from plummeting to the sidewalk. “Tess?”