A Ring For Vincenzo's Heir

Scarlett’s brief hope faded. What could she do? She couldn’t let Wilhelmina be hurt for her loyalty and kindness.

The clinic in Geneva. That could be her escape route. Clinics had back doors. She could sneak out before her blood was even drawn.

Scarlett let her shoulders sag, scuffling her feet in the gravel, hoping she looked suitably downhearted. Her heart was beating fast. “You win.”

“I always do.” He gave a quick motion to the bodyguards waiting outside the black SUV with dark tinted windows, then turned back, his voice brisk. “The trip to Geneva will take two hours by car, and in your state of advanced pregnancy I am concerned this will be uncomfortable for you. I can have a helicopter here in ten minutes—”

“No!” she said a little too quickly. At his frown, she said in a calmer voice, trying to smile, “The drive will give us a chance to talk. It’s so beautiful around Lake Geneva this time of year.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged. “As you wish.”

Five minutes later, as a bodyguard went upstairs to pack up her meager possessions, she went to the kitchen to say farewell to Wilhelmina. The older woman seemed bewildered by the sudden turn in events.

“You’re quitting your job, Scarlett? Just like that?”

“I’m sorry, Wilhelmina. You came through for me, and I’m leaving you in the lurch. I’m so sorry—”

“For me it’s fine. Honestly, your fried chicken still is something awful. Mr. Black would have thought I lost my mind, hiring you. You’re the one I’m worried about.” She looked doubtfully at Vin. “So this man is the father of your baby, but do you really want to go with him?” Her eyes narrowed in her plump face. “Or is he forcing you?”

* * *

The suspicion in the older woman’s face was less than flattering to Vin, but as she was a housekeeper to Kassius Black, a man whose reputation for ferocity was even worse than his own, he could understand her lack of automatic admiration for the average billionaire. The housekeeper, like Scarlett, had obviously had enough experience with the wealthy to know the ugliness that could lie behind the glamorous lifestyle.

“I will take good care of Scarlett and her baby,” he told her gravely. “I promise you.”

The housekeeper stared at him, then her scowl slowly disappeared. “I believe you.”

“Good.” Vin gave her his most charming smile. “We intend to marry soon.”

She looked accusingly at Scarlett. “You’re engaged?”

Scarlett looked a little dazed. “We haven’t decided anything for sure...”

“Mrs. Stone,” Vin interrupted, “I appreciate your loyalty and kindness to Scarlett. Should you ever want to switch jobs, please let us know.”

Handing her a card, he took Scarlett by the hand and led her out of the chalet as the bodyguards followed with her shockingly small amount of luggage: a purse and a single duffel bag. He watched as they packed it into the back of the glossy SUV. An unwelcome image floated through Vin’s mind of his own meager belongings when he’d left Italy at fifteen, after his mother’s devastating revelation and death, to go live in New York with an uncle he barely knew. He’d felt so alone. So hollow.

He pushed the memory away angrily. He wasn’t that boy anymore. He would never feel so vulnerable again—and neither would any child of his.

Vin opened the passenger door of the red sports car, then turned to Scarlett coldly. “Get in.”

“You’re driving us? Yourself?”

“The bodyguards will follow in the SUV. Like you said—” he gave a hard smile “—it’s a beautiful day for a drive.”

Once they were buckled in, he stepped on the gas, driving swiftly out of the gate and down the mountain, to the paved road that led through the expensive village of Gstaad, with its charming Alpine architecture, exclusive designer boutiques and chalets with shutters and flower boxes. The midmorning sun glowed in the blue sky above craggy forested mountains as they looped onto the Gstaadstrasse, heading west.

Vin glanced at Scarlett out of the corner of his eye. She was dressed very casually, an unbuttoned jacket over an oversize shirt, loose khaki pants and fur-lined booties. But for all that, his eyes hungrily drank in the sight of her. Her flame-red hair fell in thick curls down her shoulders. Her lustrous eyes were green as an Alpine forest. He could remember how it had felt to have those full, pink lips move against his skin, gasping in ecstasy...

He shuddered.

Why did Scarlett have such power over him?

For the last two weeks, since she’d left him standing on Madison Avenue with a stunned look on his face, he’d thought of nothing else. All of his considerable resources had been dedicated to one task: finding her.

She was in his blood. He hadn’t been able to forget her. Not from the first moment he’d seen her in that bar. From the moment he’d first taken her in his arms. From the moment she’d disappeared from his bed after the best sex of his life.

From the moment she’d violently crashed his wedding and told him she was pregnant with his baby.

Scarlett Ravenwood was half angel, half demon. There was a reason he hadn’t seduced any other woman for over eight months—an eternity for a man like Vin. He’d been haunted by Scarlett, haunted body and soul, driven half mad by memories of her naked in his arms.

Scarlett was the woman for him. The one he wanted. And he intended to have her.

“How did you find me in Switzerland?” she asked him quietly now.

Lifting his eyebrow, Vin focused on the road ahead. “It was a mistake for you to mail my wallet from a small Italian village. I still have connections in that country. It was easy to track down the postino who’d helped you. He remembered seeing your car with Swiss plates.”

“He noticed my car?”

He smiled grimly. “There are surprisingly few Swiss registrations of a 1970 Plymouth Hemi Cuda convertible in pale green. The postino kissed his lips when he described it. ‘Bella macchina.’ He remembered you, too, a pregnant redheaded woman, very beautiful but a tragic driver. He thought the car deserved better.”

“I chose that car from the chalet’s garage because I thought it was the oldest,” she said, sounding dazed, “so figured it was the cheapest.”

“They’re rare and often sell for two or three million dollars.”

“Oh,” she said faintly. “So if I’d taken the brand-new sedan...”

“I wouldn’t have found you.” Gripping the steering wheel, he looked at her. “You keep wondering if I’m trustworthy. I could wonder the same about you, except I’ve seen the answer. You’ve lied to my face, stolen my wallet. Kidnapped my child—”

“Kidnapped!”

“What else would you call it?” He looked at her. “How do I know our baby will be safe with you? The criminally minded daughter of a felon?”

“Felon!” Fury filled her green eyes. “My father never should have gone to prison. If his accomplice hadn’t betrayed him—”

“Spare me the excuses,” Vin said, sounding bored. “He was a bank robber.”

“He returned all the money. Can you say the same?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you and Blaise Falkner and every other billionaire—you are the real ones who should be...”

She abruptly cut herself off.

“Go on,” Vin said evenly. “You were about to accuse me of something?”

Scarlett looked him straight in the eye. “Every rich man I’ve ever known was heartless. My dad in his worst year was less a thief than all the corporate embezzlers and Wall Street gamblers with their Ponzi schemes, wiping out people’s pension funds, their savings, their hope!”