by Jennie Lucas
“That so-called prince is the biggest jerk in the world,” Hallie had said.
“Second biggest,” Lola had mumbled, but wouldn’t explain. After all this time, she still refused to reveal the identity of her baby’s father, forcing the other two to wonder. Hallie thought the man might be a famous celebrity. Tess guessed he might be a married jerk, like her own father who’d abandoned her. But Lola refused to say, making Tess wonder if baby Jett’s father was even worse than they imagined...
But how would Tess know? She’d been wrong about so much, first and foremost Prince Stefano Zacco di Gioreale. Grief still twisted her heart. How could she face the world without him?
“I’m scared,” she said to her friends, whispering so the models and hairstylists and makeup artists wouldn’t hear.
Hallie squeezed her shoulder, then turned to speak quietly to an assistant, who hurried out of the room.
“Stop whining,” Lola said. “Your clothes are good. You know they are. So just shut up and do it.”
Slowly Tess walked past every model yet again, looking carefully at each outfit. Her clothes weren’t expensive or intimidating. Instead, she’d created warm, colorful, comfortable outfits designed to make women happy, both with how they looked and how they felt.
Twelve outfits, each of them brightly colored, a mixture of old and new. She stopped at the very last model, who was wearing an ivory-colored wedding dress, embroidered with a small blue bird on the edge of the skirt. The bride held a bouquet of bright blue tulips.
Staring at the bouquet, Tess stopped, remembering her own wedding bouquet of pink roses. How happy she’d been, how sure that the two of them would live a fairy tale...
What was she saying? She’d wanted to kill Stefano with her shoe. She should have known a marriage begun in blackmail could only end badly.
And yet... A lump rose in her throat, and she had to blink back tears.
“Don’t worry, Your Highness,” said the girl in the wedding dress. “I won’t let you down.”
It was Kebe, the young model Tess had defended in Paris. When the girl had heard Tess was showing her debut collection in New York, she’d volunteered to walk the runway for free. She’d also promoted the event to her half-a-million followers on social media, causing the event to promptly sell out.
Tears rose to Tess’s eyes at the girl’s kindness even as she chided gently, “I told you, call me Tess. I’m not a princess anymore.”
“You are to me,” the girl said firmly.
“Tess?”
Turning around, Tess saw her uncle standing uncertainly in the doorway, holding baby Esme.
“Uncle Ray.” Coming forward, she hugged him, then took her baby in her arms.
“Your friend—Mrs. Moretti—thought you might want to see Esme before the show,” her uncle said awkwardly. He shook his head in amazement. “Look at you, Tessie. You’re a designer. Just like you said you’d be.”
Tess cuddled her baby in her arms. “I feel lucky.”
“It’s more than luck.” Her uncle hung his head. “I should have believed in you more. Encouraged you.”
She looked up at him in surprise. “You took me in, Uncle Ray. You gave me a home.”
“I gave Serena a hard time, too. Because I never thought crazy dreams could actually come true.” His eyes looked suspiciously wet. “But now, seeing you...it makes me wonder if maybe I should follow a crazy dream of my own.” His voice became a whisper as he patted her shoulder. “Your mama would be so proud.”
For a moment, Tess was too overwhelmed to speak.
Taking the baby back in his arms, Uncle Ray said gruffly, “We’ll be cheering for you out there. Every step of the way.” Smiling, he said to Esme, “Wait till you see all the amazing things your mama has done.”
As Tess watched them leave, those words echoed in her ears. Wait till you see all the amazing things your mama has done.
At that, her shoulders straightened. Her fear melted away.
She wished—how she wished—that Stefano could have loved her. She still loved him in spite of her best efforts. No matter how many times she told herself that she’d loved an illusion. She loved the man he could have been, and suspected she always would.
But she’d be grateful for what remained. Her family. Her friends. Her daughter. She’d do everything she could to make them proud today. And even if she failed, she’d never stop trying.
“All right,” she said firmly to the models. “Let’s go!”
Tess hovered in the back of the large, elegant tearoom as the first model sashayed past the potted palm trees and gilded mirrors. The tea tables had been cleared out, replaced with a long catwalk surrounded by chairs.
The models entered one at a time, some of them dancing, all of them smiling. Music played, lighthearted and free. It was fun, playful, casual.
Tess blinked back tears as she watched the models wearing her designs. To her surprise and delight, with each new outfit, the audience’s applause grew louder. Finally Kebe came out on the catwalk, gliding serenely in the wedding gown. The music built, and holding the blue tulips triumphantly over her head, she turned back to where Tess shyly hesitated.
“Come on, Princess!” she called. “Come up here!”
With a deep breath, Tess went out to face her public.
There was thunderous applause. She gave an awkward wave, then stopped as the tears in her eyes spilled over, as full as her grateful heart.
Perhaps she couldn’t have what she’d wanted most. But at least there was this—this one moment—
She saw a flash of red as someone handed her a huge bouquet of red roses. Hallie must have arranged flowers. She looked past the long-stemmed red roses to smile at the person hidden behind them.
Then her breath left her.
It was Stefano.
Suddenly everything else fell away. The applause, the lights, the music, the audience. There was only now. This. Him.
“Stefano?” she whispered uncertainly, trembling.
Coming closer, he looked at her, and she saw that his dark eyes were luminous with tears. He said in a low voice, “You’re a star. As you always deserved to be.”
“What are you doing here?”
Dropping the roses, he took her hands in his own. His touch burned through her, and so did his dark eyes. “I’m here for you.”
She looked up at him in shock.
Reaching out, he cupped her cheek. “You were right, Tess. I was afraid. I couldn’t let myself love you because I couldn’t bear the pain of losing you. Then I lost you anyway.” Pulling her into his arms, he said softly, “Now I realize that there’s only one thing in life that’s worth any price.”
The audience in the tearoom had fallen utterly silent. Even the models were staring at them. Tess held her breath.
“I’m in love with you, Tess,” he whispered.
Now she knew she really was dreaming.
“You,” she said, faltering and licking her lips. “You love me?”
“I’ve never felt this way about anyone. And I never will again. Just you. I love you.” Stefano blinked fast. “You’re all I care about.”
Her heart was pounding in her throat. “What about Zacco?”
“I don’t need it. Don’t want it.”
“What?” she croaked, nearly staggering back in shock.
“I just need you. You were right,” he said huskily. “My legacy isn’t a company. It’s not wealth or power.” He glanced at their baby, sitting with her aunt and uncle in the front row. He turned back to Tess, and this time there could be no doubt that there were tears in his eyes. “My legacy is you. You and Esme. And I’m yours.”
“Stefano—”
“Give me the chance to show you,” he whispered, and lowered his head to hers. His lips seared hers, hot and persuasive, gentle as silk. He kissed her tenderly, and when he finally pulled away, Tess blinked, lost in a dream.
“Can you ever love me again?” he said wistfully, running his hand down he
r cheek. “Can you?”
“I never stopped loving you,” she choked out.
Joy lit up his eyes. Lifting her in his arms, Stefano whirled her around, making her colorful skirt fly out. She heard the audience’s applause and sighs of delight. But, for Tess, it was just the two of them, laughing together with pure joy.
When Stefano finally set her down, his handsome face was bright. He kissed her again, and a moment later, Kebe and the other models came to congratulate them, and Hallie, too. Joyful music played as confetti rained down from the high ceiling amid the audience’s thunderous applause.
“See?” Hallie whispered smugly in Tess’s ear. “I told you the show would be a success.”
Tess felt like her heart could burst. She waved at her family to join them onstage with Esme, then looked around for Lola, wanting her to join them, too. But she saw the blonde leaving with her baby, departing through the door on the other side of the room. She wondered what could be so important that would make Lola leave.
Then she forgot all about it as her husband pulled her in his arms, tilting her back with a fierce kiss.
“Is this really real?” Tess said in a daze, looking up at his handsome face as colorful confetti fell around them like flower petals. “Or is it a dream?”
“It’s both,” he said.
She smiled through her tears. “What will I dream about now that all my dreams have come true?”
Stefano took their baby from her uncle. Turning to Tess, he wrapped them both in the security of his powerful arms. His dark eyes were luminous with love and hope. “We’ll find new dreams together.”
With an unsteady laugh, Tess reached up and ran her hand over his rough, unshaven cheek. “I think that’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“I love you, wife,” he said huskily, instantly proving her statement wrong. Then he kissed her with all the sweetness and power of a dream that would last forever.
*
“Look, Esme!” Tess beamed as she pointed out the window toward the parade on Central Park West. “Santa!”
“She’s just seven months old. I think she might be a little young to care about Christmas,” Stefano said, smiling at them tenderly. Tess grinned back.
“It’s never too soon to start family traditions.”
They’d just bought their new co-op, and most of their furniture still hadn’t arrived, but Tess had desperately wanted them to move in before the New York Thanksgiving Day parade in late November.
“So we can start our first holiday season right,” she’d said. “Just think of all the memories we’ll make!”
Of course, Stefano had agreed. He couldn’t wait to make memories with Tess. In their bedroom. Tonight.
Coming forward now, he wrapped his wife and baby in his arms as they looked out the huge window at the view of the parade and Central Park beyond. The festive season had just begun.
Later today, friends and family would arrive for the traditional American feast of turkey and mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie. As their dishes and pots hadn’t arrived yet—they were lucky to even have a big table and chairs—the meal would be catered from one of the city’s finest restaurants.
Except for the desserts and rolls, of course. Those would be provided by Tess’s family.
No longer Foster Bros. Bakery, it was changing to the Foster Sisters, as her two young cousins were eager to take over. They’d been bored by college, and had instead taken a loan from Tess and Stefano—at exceedingly generous terms—to buy the bakery from their father and mother, who’d just left to sail the world. The older couple, who’d always secretly yearned for adventure, were finally seizing the day.
It was never too late to change your life. Or to change yourself. Hadn’t Stefano learned that better than anyone?
After his obsessive attention the previous month, his company, Gioreale, was running better than ever and had just hit its highest stock valuation in its history. Mercurio had received amazing press after hiring the respected, beloved designer, Aiko Sakurai. Mercurio’s stock price had gone up. Zacco’s had gone down.
But the Zacco brand now mattered as little to him as the Palazzo Zacco in Ragusa. Neither had anything to do with him, in spite of the name.
The name wasn’t important, Stefano had realized. Only the people.
Every time he remembered his years—decades—of unspeakable loneliness, of hollow wealth and cheap pleasures as he tried to pursue a useless goal, he shuddered a little, and thanked fate for sending his wife to save his soul.
Otherwise, who knew? He might be married now to Fenella Montfort. Ice went down at his spine at the thought.
The woman had quickly recovered from Stefano’s rejection and immediately started dating her company’s new designer, Caspar von Schreck. It had only been a few weeks, but already there’d been public clashes, fights and rumors of infidelity on both sides. Another shudder went through Stefano.
He was so happy to be out of that world. And so thankful to be in this one.
He looked down at his wife, so soft and loving. The gold signet ring glinted on her left hand. It had been resized to fit her slender ring finger. “I don’t want a diamond,” she’d told him. “I just want this. Because it’s part of you.” Remembering, Stefano’s arms tightened around Tess as their baby suddenly giggled, waving her stuffed giraffe.
“Mama,” Esme blurted out happily, causing Tess to squeal with delight, as she always did. Esme beamed proudly. It was a new trick she’d just learned a few days ago. Her first word.
“Dada,” Stefano said coaxingly now. “Dada.”
Perplexed, Esme stared at him, her fingers in her mouth. Then she pulled her hand away.
“Mama,” she repeated proudly.
“Good job, sweet girl,” Tess praised, covering her baby’s fat cheeks with kisses. Still giggling, his wife looked back at him. “I see you haven’t lost your competitive streak.”
“Never have. Never will. And since you don’t want me to invest in your company—”
“Hallie and I are doing very well, thank you.”
“Then I need some other goal. Something spectacular. Something that will impress you.”
“Impress me?” she said teasingly, “Most men would think it was enough to run a multibillion-dollar company.”
“It’s practically running itself, thankfully, so I can spend more time with you and Esme. But a man needs more than money,” he informed her loftily. “He needs a challenge.”
Tess considered. “You could decorate the apartment. Hire the household staff you keep claiming that we need. Start that venture capital fund you keep talking about.”
Stefano tilted his head, considering. Then he smiled. “Maybe later. For tonight, I’ve got something else in mind.” He leaned forward. “This is what I have planned for you after the baby’s asleep and everyone’s gone home tonight...”
He whispered some very provocative things in her ear.
“Why, Your Highness,” Tess said, pulling back with a blush. “I can’t believe you’d say such things.”
Stefano gave her a wicked grin. “Not just once,” he informed her. “Twice.”
Her eyes became round as saucers. “Are you serious?”
“Maybe three times, if I’m really on my game,” he whispered, and lowered his head to kiss her.
Then the doorbell rang, and he reluctantly let her go. They went to answer the door, to welcome their friends and family for their first dinner in their new home—even Cristiano Moretti, who’d somehow become a friend.
“After all,” Moretti had told him last week, shaking his head, “with wives like these, we men have to stick together, or we’ll be totally bowled over.” Stefano had nodded solemnly in agreement.
For the first time in his life, Stefano knew who he was meant to be. Tess had been right. A man wasn’t measured by wealth or power or the quality of his enemies. A man was defined by his love for family and friends. By the strength of his heart.
Tess w
as right about all kinds of things, Stefano thought, his lips tracing a smile. He looked down at her tenderly. He must be very competitive. Because, as they opened the door to the welcoming cheer of friends, Stefano suddenly knew his spectacular goal: For the rest of his life, he’d love his family more than any family had ever been loved before.
*
Coming next month
CONSEQUENCE OF THE GREEK’S REVENGE
Trish Morey
‘Going somewhere, Athena?’
Breath hitched in her lungs as every nerve receptor in her body screeched in alarm. Alexios!
How did he know she was here?
She wouldn’t turn around. She wouldn’t look back, forcing herself to keep moving forwards, her hand reaching for the door handle and escape, when his hand locked on her arm, a five fingered manacle, and once again she tasted bile in her throat, reminding her of the day she’d thrown up outside his offices. The bitter taste of it incensed her, spinning her around.
‘Let me go!’ She tried to stay calm, to keep the rising panic from her voice. Because if he knew she was here, he must surely know why, and she was suddenly, terribly, afraid. His jaw was set, his eyes were unrepentant, and they scanned her now, as if looking for evidence, taking inventory of any changes. There weren’t any, not that anyone else might notice, though she’d felt her jeans grow more snug just lately, the beginnings of a baby bump.
‘We need to talk.’
‘No!’ She twisted her arm, breaking free. ‘I’ve got nothing to say to you,’ she said, rubbing the place where his hand had been, still scorchingly hot like he had used a searing brand against her skin, rather than just his fingers.
‘No?’ His eyes flicked up to the brass plate on near the door, to the name of the doctor in obstetrics. ‘You didn’t think I might be interested to hear that you’re pregnant with my child?’
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CONSEQUENCE OF THE GREEK’S REVENGE