Postcards From Rome: The Italian's Pregnant Virgin / A Proposal from the Italian Count / A Ring for Vincenzo's Heir

“Excellent,” his father said. “I do find that it’s much better for a man such as yourself to attend with a date.”

“Why is that?”

“So you aren’t on the prowl for women when you should be on the prowl for business connections.”

That shot from his father surprised him. Especially in front of Esther. His father was typically the more restrained of his two parents. Still, he was hardly going to let the old man see that it had surprised him. “You live in the Dark Ages, Father,” he said. “Sometimes, women are in high-powered positions of business, in which case, my being single helps quite a bit. However, Esther will not be an impediment, on that you are correct.”

“Certainly not,” his father said. “If anything, she will be something of an attraction to those jaded big fish you intend to catch.”

“Are you going to be there, Father?”

“No. When I said I hoped to see you there, I meant only that I hope to see your photograph in the newspaper.”

Renzo couldn’t help but laugh at that. And after that, conversation went smoothly through dessert. At least, until they were getting ready to go. A staff member waylaid Esther, a maneuver that Renzo fully took notice of only when his father cornered him near the front door.

“I do hope this isn’t some sort of elaborate joke like your last relationship seems to have been,” his father said.

“Why would it be?”

“She is a lovely girl. She’s a far cry from the usual vacuous model types you choose to associate yourself with. I had to cut ties with one of my grandchildren already, Renzo, lest you forget.”

“You didn’t have to. You felt it was necessary at the time and you convinced me the same was true. Don’t pretend that you have regrets now, old man,” Renzo said, his tone hard. “Not when you were so emphatic about the need for it all those years ago.”

“What I’m saying is that you best marry this girl. And that marriage best stick. A divorce, Renzo. You had a divorce. And a child outside of wedlock that none of us can ever acknowledge.”

“What will you do if I disappoint you again, Father? Find the secret to immortality and deny me my inheritance?”

“Your brother-in-law is more than able to take over the remainder of the business that is not yet under your control. If you don’t want to lose dominion over the Valenti Empire upon the event of my death, I suggest you don’t disappoint me.”

His father moved away from him swiftly then, and Esther came to join him standing by the door. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights, blindsided completely by the entire evening.

And he knew he now had no choice in the matter. This farce would not be enough. It had to be more. His father was threatening his future, and not just his, that of his child.

Esther Abbott was going to have to become his wife, whether she wanted to or not.

And he knew exactly how to accomplish it. He had seen the way she had reacted to his touch back at his villa. He knew that she wasn’t immune to him. And a woman like her, naive, vulnerable, would not be immune to the emotions that would come with the physical seduction.

It was ruthless, even for him. He preferred honesty. Preferred to let the women he got involved with know exactly what they were in for. Preferred to let them know that emotion was never going to be on the table. That love was never going to be a factor.

But he would offer her marriage, and she could hardly ask for more than that. In this instance, what would the harm be?

There was no other option. He was going to have to make Esther Abbott fall in love with him. And the only way to accomplish that would be seduction.

“Come on, Esther,” he said, holding out his arm, “it is time for us to go home.”

CHAPTER SEVEN (#u633deefd-4c0e-5d93-98af-310e7f0fd309)

ESTHER WAS USED to the breakneck pace of working in the bar. Going out every night and working until closing time was demanding. But the routine of getting ready, polishing herself from head to toe, so that she could go out with Renzo for a dinner in Rome, was something else entirely. And it was almost no less exhausting.

Being on show was such a strange thing. She was used to being ignored. Invisible.

But two nights ago they had gone to his parents’ house, and the scrutiny she had been put under there had been unlike anything she’d experienced since she’d lived at home and it had always seemed as though her father was trying to look beneath her skin for evidence of defiance, sin or vice.

Then, last night they had gone out again to a very nice restaurant, and Renzo had explained to her exactly what the charity event in New York was, and how she would be accompanying him.

Tonight, they were going to another dinner, though Renzo had not explained the purpose of this one. And it made her slightly nervous. He had also made her a doctor’s appointment at a private clinic, not the one that Ashley had used. But one that he had chosen himself. Based on, he claimed, the doctor’s reputation for discretion.

It seemed ridiculous to have to get dressed up for a doctor’s appointment, but Renzo had explained that they would be going out afterward, so she would have to dress appropriately for dinner beforehand.

So, here she was now, sitting in the back of a limousine, being driven out to her appointment where Renzo was supposed to meet her. She was wearing lipstick.

The limo came to a stop, and she was deposited in front of a building that seemed far too polished to be a simple medical clinic. But then, Ashley had been aiming for a different kind of discretion when they had gone to the surrogacy clinic.

The driver opened the door for her, and she realized that she had to get out. Even though she just wanted to keep sitting there. For one horrifying second she wondered if she was going to go into the clinic, lie down on the doctor’s table, and he was going to tell her the baby was gone.

For some reason, in that moment, the thought made her feel bereft. She wasn’t sure why it should. Maybe for Renzo? Because he was rearranging his life for this child?

Or maybe, it’s because you aren’t ready to let go of the baby?

No, that was unthinkable. She wasn’t attached to this. She just felt natural protectiveness. It was a hormone thing. She was sure of that. But she couldn’t remember feeling sick for the last couple of days, not even a little bit of nausea, and she wondered if that was indicative of something bad. She wondered that even while she spoke to the woman at the front desk and was ushered into a private waiting room.

She wrung her hands, jiggling her leg, barely able to enjoy the opulence of the surroundings. She tried. She really did. Because she had purposed to be on this journey. To enjoy this little window into something that would always and forever be outside her daily experiences.

She didn’t know when she had started to care. At least not in a way that extended beyond the philosophical. That extended past her feeling like she had to preserve the life inside her out of a sense of duty. She only knew that it had.

Thankfully, she didn’t have a whole lot of time to ruminate on that, because just then, Renzo entered the room. There was something wild and stormy in his gaze that she couldn’t guess at. But then, that was nothing new. She didn’t feel like she could ever guess what he was thinking.

“Where is the doctor?” He didn’t waste any time assessing the situation and deciding it was lacking.

“I don’t know. But I imagine it won’t be much longer.”

“It is a crime that you have been kept waiting at all,” he said, his tone terse.

She hugged herself just a little bit more tightly, anxiety winding itself around her stomach. “You weren’t here anyway. It didn’t matter particularly whether or not the doctor materialized before you, did it?”

“You could have been preparing for the exam.”

Esther didn’t say anything. She could only wonder if Renzo was experiencing similar feelings to hers. It seemed strange to think that he would, but then, also not so strange. It was his baby. It actually made more sense than her being nervous.

“Ms. Abbott,” a woman said, sticking her head through the door. “The doctor is ready to see you now.”

Esther took a deep breath, pushing herself into a standing position. She was aware of walking toward the door on unsteady legs, and then hyperaware of Renzo reaching out and cupping her elbow, steadying her. “I’m fine,” she said.

“You look like a very light breeze could knock you over.”

“I’m fine,” she reiterated. Even though she wasn’t certain if she was.

Renzo let the line of conversation go, but he did not let go of her arm. Instead, he held on to her all the way down the private hallway and into the exam room.