Expecting the Prince's Baby

Little did Abby know how right she was. In public his wife had made no secret of her affection for him and he’d tried to return it to keep up the myth of a love match. But in private Vincenzo had cared for her the way he did a friend. She’d pushed so hard at the end to try surrogacy in order to save their marriage, he’d finally agreed to consider it.

Needing to change the subject, he said, “Why don’t you sit down while we talk?”

“Thank you.” She did as he asked.

He subsided into another of the chairs by her desk. “How are you really feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Rest assured that during my trip I insisted on being given a daily report on your progress. It always came back ‘fine.’”

“It doesn’t surprise me you checked. Something tells me you’re a helicopter father already,” she quipped.

“If you mean I’m interested to the point of driving you crazy with questions, I’m afraid I’m guilty. Since you and I have known each other from the time you were twelve, it helps me to know I can have the inside track on the guardian of my baby. Dr. DeLuca said your blood pressure went up at the time of the funeral, but it’s back to normal and he promises me you’re in excellent health.”

Abby had a teasing look in her eye. “They say only your doctor knows for sure, but never forget he’s a man and has no clue.”

Laughter broke from Vincenzo’s lips. It felt good to laugh. He couldn’t remember the last time it had happened. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

“So what does the crown prince’s personal physician have to say about the state of the expectant father?”

He smiled. “I was disgustingly healthy at my last checkup.”

“That’s good news for your baby, who hopes to enjoy a long, rich life with his or her daddy.”

Daddy was what he’d heard Abby call her father from the beginning. The two of them had the sort of close relationship any parent would envy. Vincenzo intended to be the kind of wonderful father his own had been.

“You’re veering off the subject. I told you I want the unvarnished truth about your condition,” he persisted.

“Unvarnished?” she said with a sudden hint of a smile that broke through to light up his insides. “Well. Let me see. I’m a lot sleepier lately, feel bloated and have finally been hit with the mal di mare.”

The Italian expression for sea sickness. Trust Abby to come up with something clever. They both chuckled.

“Dr. DeLuca has given me medicine for that and says it will all pass. Then in the seventh month I’ll get tired again.”

“Has he been hovering as you feared?”

“Actually no. I check in at the clinic once a week before going to work. He says everything looks good and I’m right on schedule. Can you believe your baby is only one-fifth of an inch long?”

“That big?” he teased. Though it really was incredible, he found it astounding she was pregnant with a part of him. He wished he could shut off his awareness of her. Michelina’s death had changed their world.

Vincenzo suspected Abby was also having to deal with the fact that the two of them were now forced to get through this pregnancy without his wife. No doubt she felt some guilt, too, because they were treading new ground neither of them could have imagined when they’d had the procedure done.

A laugh escaped her lips. “It’s in the developmental stage. He gave me two identical booklets. This one is for you. Anatomy 101 for beginner fathers.”

Abby...

She reached in the desk drawer and handed it to him. The title said The Ten Stages of Pregnancy at a Glance.

“Why ten, not nine?”

“A woman wrote it and knows these things.”

He appreciated her little jokes more than she could imagine. Her normally lighthearted disposition was a balm to his soul. Vincenzo thumbed through the booklet before putting it in his pocket. When he went to bed tonight, he’d digest it.

“Thank you. Now tell me about your law cases.” A safe subject that intrigued him. “Which one keeps you awake at night?”

“The Giordano case. I have a hunch someone’s trying to block his initiative for political reasons.”

“Run it by me.”

Her arched brows lifted. “You’d be bored to tears.”

“Try me.” Nothing about Abby bored him.

She reached in one of the folders on her desk and handed him a printout on the case, which he perused.

As has been stated, major constraint to import into Arancia is nothing more than bureaucracy. Import certificates can take up to eight months to be released, and in some cases are not released at all. However, if the procedure is simplified, an increase of imports could particularly benefit Arancia, providing high-value high-season products.

That made even more sense to Vincenzo since talking to important exporters on his trip.

At present, the hyper/supermarket chains do not operate directly on the import market, but use the main wholesalers of oranges and lemons as intermediaries. Signor Giordano, representing the retailers, has entered the import market, thus changing some long-established import partnerships. He’s following a different strategy, based on higher competition, initial entry fees and spot purchases, thus bringing more revenue to Arancia.

Vincenzo knew instinctively that Signor Giordano was really on to something.

Signor Masala, representing the importers, is trying to block this new initiative. He has favored cooperative producers and established medium-to long-term contracts, without requiring any entry fee. The figures included in this brief show a clear difference in revenue, favoring Signor Giordano’s plan.

I’m filing this brief to the court to demonstrate that these high-quality products for fast-track approval would benefit the economy and unfortunately are not unavailable in the country at the present time.

Vincenzo handed her back the paper. Her knowledge and grasp of their country’s economic problems impressed him no end. He cocked his head. “Giuseppe Masala has a following and is known as a hard hitter on the trade commission.”

Abby’s brows met in a delicate frown. “Obviously he’s from the old school. Signor Giordano’s ideas are new and innovative. He’s worked up statistics that show Arancia could increase its imports of fuel, motor vehicles, raw materials, chemicals, electronic devices and food by a big margin. His chart with historical data proves his ideas will work.

“I’d like to see him get his fast-track idea passed, but the lobby against it is powerful. Signor Masala’s attorney is stalling to get back to me with an answer.”

She had him fascinated. “So what’s your next strategy?”

Abby put the paper back in the folder. “I’m taking him to court to show cause. But the docket is full and it could be awhile.”

“Who’s the judge?”

“Mascotti.”

The judge was a good friend of Vincenzo’s father. Keeping that in mind, he said, “Go on fighting the good fight, Abby. I have faith in you and know you’ll get there.”

“Your optimism means a lot to me.”

She was friendly, yet kept their relationship at a professional distance the way she’d always done. To his dismay he discovered he wanted more, in different surroundings where they could be casual and spend time talking together like they used to. Her suite wasn’t the right place.