The Heir The Prince Secures. Jennie LucasЧитать онлайн книгу.
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 ecstasy 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?”
The last thing she saw was the worried gleam of his dark eyes as the night folded in around her.
* * *
Tess was swaying, cradled in someone’s arms.
Her eyelids fluttered open, then went wide with shock. Stefano was carrying her in his arms, against his hard chest. They’d already reached the end of the block and were almost at the hotel.
“Esme,” Tess gasped, twisting in his arms.
“She’s safe, behind us.” Stefano’s voice was surprisingly gentle. Peeking over his broad shoulders, she saw a doorman she recognized from the Campania pushing the stroller. She’d met Dalton several times when she’d visited Hallie at the hotel. He gave her an encouraging smile.
“It’s all right, Miss Foster.” He glanced down at the baby. “She’s right here.”
“Thank you, Dalton,” she whispered. Then she glared at the powerful man carrying her. “Put me down.”
“No.” Stefano kept walking. His handsome face was implacable. “You fainted on the street.”
“I’m better now,” she said, struggling in his arms. “Put me down.”
His arms tightened around her. “When is the last time you ate?”
Tess struggled to remember. “This morning?”
“Aren’t you sure?”
She shook her head weakly. “I started work at four. The bakery opens at six, and my uncle doesn’t approve of eating in front of customers. On breaks I’m busy with Esme.” She looked away. “I meant to eat something tonight, but I had to feed Esme. So I just had a glass of champagne.” She put her hand on her forehead, still feeling dizzy. “She’s been teething, so I didn’t sleep much last night...”
Stefano shook his head as they approached the hotel’s gilded revolving door. “I’m taking you upstairs until a doctor looks you over.”
“It’s not necessary,” she said desperately. The last thing she wanted was to be vulnerable—in his arms or his hotel suite.
“A doctor,” he repeated, his glare fierce. “He’ll make sure you’re all right. Then we’ll get a paternity test.”
She stiffened in his arms even as he carried her through the door. How could he ask for a test? Her word should be enough!
The grand lobby of the Campania was huge and luxurious, with midcentury decor and turn-of-the-century architecture. Molded plaster ceilings with crystal chandeliers soared high above the marble floor and paneled walls. Glamorous hotel guests and patrons crowded around the gleaming oak bar at the center.
Tess felt conspicuous as they walked past. They made a strange parade, with Stefano carrying her in his arms and the doorman pushing the stroller behind them. People turned to stare.
A group of gorgeous, very tall, very thin young women gaped at them openly from their table at the lobby bar. Models, Tess thought. They were their own tribe in this city, and you could always tell.
“Good evening, Your Highness,” a man said as he passed, his eyes wide.
“Your Highness,” a woman greeted him, looking as if she were dying to ask all kinds of questions.
Stefano responded only with a nod and kept walking.
“Your Highness?” Tess looked up at him. “That other girl called you that earlier. I thought it was a joke.”
“I’m technically a prince,” he said tersely.
“Technically?”
“Italy is a republic. Aristocratic titles are now merely honorary,” he said flatly. “But my ancestors have been princes of Gioreale for hundreds of years.”
“Gioreale is a place?”
“In Sicily. Once it was an important market village. Now it’s a ghost of its former self. That is what I am.” His lips curved. “Prince of ghosts.”
Prince of ghosts. She thought she saw something haunted in his eyes. What was it? Emptiness? Pain? Despair?
“Miss Foster.” Mr. Loggia, the hotel’s general manager, came forward with an anxious frown. “What has happened? Are you injured?”
“She fainted, sir,” the doorman said from behind them. “Prince Stefano alerted me from down the street, and I rushed to help.”
“I see.” The manager, who’d never been anything but kind to Tess, turned to Stefano with a scowl. “What did you do?”
Stefano replied coldly in Italian, and the manager responded in the same language, lifting his chin.
Mr. Loggia whirled to face her. “Is he taking you against your will?”
Stefano bit out something in Italian that sounded very rude.
“Miss Foster?” the manager demanded.
Tess felt Stefano’s strong arms tighten around her, pressing her body against his powerful chest. As she looked at him, her lips tingled from his savage kiss by Times Square.