Modern Romance September 2018 Books 5-8. Heidi RiceЧитать онлайн книгу.
laughed, looking down at her. His expression changed. It became almost...tender. Watching them, Tess felt her heart twist in her chest.
Clearing his throat, he returned to the sofa and placed the baby in Tess’s arms. Esme immediately nuzzled toward her.
“Do you want anything else?” he asked.
With a lump in her throat, Tess shook her head. She couldn’t tell him the truth.
There was something she wanted, almost more than she could bear. Watching Stefano hold her baby, she’d wanted him to be the man she’d once believed him to be.
* * *
Two hours later, as Stefano shut the door behind the departing doctor, he looked back across the shadows of the royal suite. Tess and the baby had fallen asleep on the white sofa with the wide view of sparkling city lights. Beside her, there was an empty tray, with only crumbs left of her sandwich and soup. She’d gulped down three glasses of water, too.
Slowly he came closer, looking down at her. Even now, as Tess slept, he could see the dark smudges beneath her eyes. Her beautiful face looked exhausted. She’d fallen asleep in the few minutes he’d spoken privately with the doctor.
“She needs rest,” the doctor had told him at the door. “She’s been working too hard. She has nothing left in reserve. Take care of her.”
Tess had such power over him. Stefano could still feel their kiss and remember how it had felt to hold her soft body in his arms, to plunder the sweet softness of her lips. He wanted her. And she was here. In his suite.
His gaze shifted to the bedroom door at the end of the hall.
Shaking his head hard, he pushed the thought away. Only one thing mattered now. It had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with honor.
Stefano’s gaze slid to the baby still cuddled in Tess’s arms. Esme had fallen asleep hours ago, as soon as she’d been changed and fed. That seemed appropriate given that it was past midnight. He didn’t know much about children, but even in his own disastrous childhood, Stefano had always been tucked safely in his bed every night by a nanny. For all his parents’ selfishness, they’d managed at least that much for their only child.
Which was more than Stefano himself could say if the paternity test proved Esme was his daughter. Had he unknowingly abandoned Tess, pregnant with his baby, without any money or any means to contact him?
His hands tightened.
He’d never wanted to hurt her. He’d tried his best to protect her, by leaving her. Before her love for him could get any worse.
Stefano still wasn’t sure what love was, exactly. Was love real, and was he deficient in some way since he’d never felt it? Or was it an illusion, and were other people deluding themselves?
He preferred to think the latter.
But he’d never known a woman like Tess. The women he dated were usually exactly like him—selfish and ruthless, looking out only for themselves and determined to win at any cost.
Was Tess truly so innocent that she’d given him her heart and virginity, then raised his baby with faith he would return, loving him with such unimaginable loyalty?
He’d never known anyone that unselfish. Ever. Including—and especially—his own parents.
Stefano’s father, Prince Umberto, had only cared about sordid extravagances, and thrilling affairs with women he swore he loved, then quickly discarded. He hadn’t just cheated on his wife, he’d cheated on his mistresses. He’d ruined the family’s famous company, the luxury Zacco brand, through his neglect, then sold it outright during the divorce.
After that, Stefano’s mother, Antonella, had gone on to marry five more times, to progressively younger men, each living off her money during marriage and demanding a fat payout at the end of it. Stefano’s parents had been too self-involved to bother personally with the care of their son, choosing to leave him at their castle in Sicily to be raised by paid servants. At twelve, they’d sent him off to an American boarding school, and left him there, even during the summers.
The Zacco legacy, the legendary hundred-year-old company—even the corporate rights to their very name—had been lost to his parents’ selfishness. After his father’s death when Stefano was finishing college at twenty-two, he’d inherited almost nothing: a falling-down castle in Sicily, some heavily mortgaged real estate, and the nearly bankrupt leather goods company that eventually became Mercurio.
In life, it was every man—and every woman—for themselves. Stefano had learned the lesson well. And life was a game he intended to win.
Over the last sixteen years, Stefano had laboriously rebuilt everything his parents had lost. His international conglomerate, Gioreale S.p.A., was now worth billions, containing luxury brands that sold everything from sports cars to champagne to jewels. And he was building the exclusive fashion line, Mercurio.
It was true, Mercurio’s launch last year hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped, but he’d just hired a hot new designer, the eccentric, trendy Caspar von Schreck. His first clothing collection would be shown next month at Paris Fashion Week.
And soon, if everything went as planned, Stefano would finally acquire what he wanted most—he’d buy back the Zacco brand. Everything was coming together.
He should have been happy, or at least pleased.
But the truth was, at thirty-eight, Stefano was feeling strangely tired of all of it. It was why he’d left tonight’s party early, even arranging for his driver to give teenage model Kebe Kedane a ride back to her anxiously waiting mother on the Upper West Side.
Once, Stefano had loved the thrill of New York Fashion Week, the parties, the clubs, the gorgeous women. Lately, everything he’d given his life to conquer...left him numb. He found himself wanting something else. Something more.
Taking back the Zacco brand would change everything, he told himself firmly. Next week he’d start negotiations with Fenella Montfort to buy back his family’s legacy. Once it was his, he’d finally feel satisfied. He’d finally feel at peace.
He’d finally have won.
“Oh,” Tess murmured, yawning as she stirred on the sofa. She blinked, cradling her baby gently as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. “I must have fallen asleep.”
“You’re tired.” He looked down at her. “I’d like you to stay here tonight.”
Her cheeks went pink. She looked down shyly, her dark eyelashes fluttering against her skin. “That’s very kind of you, but—”
“It’s not kind. I want this settled, one way or the other, before I leave for London tomorrow.”
“London?”
“For Fashion Week.”
She blinked in surprise. “Are you attending all of them?”
“Yes, back to back. New York, London, Milan, Paris.” He gave her a humorless smile. “I do own a fashion brand.”
“But it’s not Zacco?” She said, looking bewildered.
“Mercurio.” His smile dropped. “My father sold Zacco almost twenty years ago. I intend to buy it back. I’ll start the negotiations in London.”
“Good for you.” The deal that meant so much to him obviously meant nothing to her. She stretched her shoulders back, drawing her shoulder blades together, which pushed her breasts forward, stretching the fabric of her modest vintage shirt. Unwillingly, his eyes traced over the shape of her breasts. Catching himself, he forced his attention back to her face.
But her eyes were even more dangerous than her body. They were deep emerald pools, like oceans for an unwary man to drown in.
“When will you be back from Europe?”
“I don’t know.”
Careful