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She waited for him to speak. And still he kept silent. She went hot and cold, hating to now be on the defensive. “You are a bachelor. You can do whatever you please. I apologize if I sounded critical of your lifestyle.”
“Is that why you’ve waited so long to tell me about the baby?”
“No.” She forced herself to meet his silver gaze. “No, I promise. I waited because... I didn’t want to share the news.”
“Share the news, or share our child?”
It felt as if he’d struck her in the chest. She inhaled hard, pain splintering her heart.
“I live in California.”
“And I live here.”
She picked through his words, processing the meaning. “Do you truly desire to be part of our child’s life?”
“Absolutely. Any child of mine will be raised by me.”
Another blow that made her throat thicken and her eyes sting. “By you?”
“My father was a hands-on parent, and I intend to be the same.”
“How can you be so sure you want to do this?”
“I would never walk away from my responsibilities.” He hesitated. “Would it make you feel better if I offered to be the custodial parent? I’d raise our child—”
“No. Not an option.”
“Then why is it an option for you to be the sole custodial parent?”
“Because I’m making this baby. I’m carrying it right now.”
“And you wouldn’t be making a baby if it weren’t for my sperm that found a way to reach your egg.”
“I don’t need the biology lesson, Brando.”
“And I will not permit you to cut me out. I might not be carrying our child, but I am as committed to his or her future as you are.”
Things had escalated quickly, she thought, dazed. She sat back, stunned, and uncertain as to what to say in response.
The waiter appeared with a bottle of sparkling water and after a few words from Brando, cleared away the wineglasses.
Silence stretched and Charlotte’s eyes stung, hot and gritty. Six months ago, she’d had sex with Brando, sex that resulted in three unforgettable orgasms, and one very unplanned pregnancy. “I didn’t want any of this to happen,” she said quietly. “I’ve never mixed business with pleasure, never, ever, until you, and now everything is a mess.”
“Not that much of a mess,” he answered. “We’re two capable adults. We will sort things out and come up with a plan that puts the baby’s needs first, because in the end, that is the important thing.”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement. It crossed her mind that she was seriously in over her head, because she’d had a plan, a good plan, but he’d just tossed it out and now they were starting over, and she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like the new plan at all.
“There’s no reason to rush, though,” she said after a length pause. “We should take time to consider all the different options. The baby won’t be here for three months, and that gives us time to discuss the pros and cons of each option. The last thing we want to do is let our hearts overrule our heads.”
He studied her from across the table, the glittering light captured in his narrowed silver gaze and casting shadows beneath his high, hard cheekbones. Brando was no longer smiling. His jaw was hard, lips pressed firm. “Time will not change what is right. My duty is to my child, and the needs of my child come first now.”
“I just thought you might want more time... You’ve only just learned about the pregnancy today. I worry you’re being impulsive—”
“You didn’t expect me to assume responsibility?”
“I—” She broke off, glanced away, the tip of her tongue moistening her dry lower lip. “I thought you’d be more ambivalent. I thought there might be more resistance.”
“Why, if it’s my son or daughter?”
“It took me weeks to get to the place you’ve reached in hours.”
“Sex is how babies are made. I’ve always been cognizant that sex, as pleasant as it is, leads to procreation.”
The waiter returned and there was no menu to read. The waiter rattled off the house specialties and Brando recommended the bistecca alla Fiorentina, claiming it was the best Florentine steak in the city.
“I won’t be able to eat very much,” she answered, “and I’m craving pasta. I thought I heard crespelle mentioned. Is that the dish that’s similar and stuffed with ricotta cheese and spinach?”
“Yes. It’s good here, too.”
“I’ll just have the crespelle and salad.”
Brando spoke quickly to the waiter, placing their order. The waiter topped off their water glasses and left them alone.
“You didn’t order wine,” she said.
“You’re not drinking so I won’t drink,” he said.
“I don’t mind if you drink. You’re a vintner.”
“I’m not giving up wine forever. I just don’t need any tonight.” He studied her, expression hard. “Did you really think I’d agree to let my child be raised on the other side of the world?”
“I thought you’d react differently, yes.”
“What did you expect?”
“That you’d be noncommittal, ask for a pregnancy test and then make me wait while you came to terms with the fact that I’m truly carrying your baby.”
“Did you ever think it might possibly be someone else’s?”
It was a fair question. It shouldn’t put her on edge. She felt defensive, though. “No. You have been the only man I’ve slept with in the past year.”
There was a subtle shift in his expression, his black lashes dropping ever so slightly over his piercing gaze. “Why?”
“I only sleep with someone I’m profoundly attracted to.” She lifted her chin, smiled wryly. “I was profoundly attracted to you.”
“Surely there are other men who catch your eye.”
“Apparently not often enough.” She pushed back a long pale strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear. “On the plus side, it made the question of parentage easy. You’ve been the only one I’ve slept with this year, so, you’re it.”
“Yet we used birth control.”
“My pill, plus your two condoms.” She felt hot bands form across her cheekbones. “Obviously, my pill wasn’t effective.”
“Nor were the condoms.”
“I blame myself,” she said. “Not you. It’s why I’m on the pill. So there are no oops, no mistakes.”
“And yet we still have an oops baby.”
Her eyes met his and held. “I’d like to raise the baby at my home in Los Angeles. I have a lovely garden and I’m close to the ocean—”
“I don’t live in California, cara.”
She ignored the endearment as she held her breath, silently counting to ten. She needed to remain calm. “Perhaps you could buy a place near me. Perhaps you could make Southern California a second home.”
“But it’s not, nor will it ever be.”
“I’ll be there, and the baby—”
“Or, I kidnap you, keep you locked up at one of my estates.”
She waited for him to smile or laugh. He did neither. “You wouldn’t do that.”
“You don’t think so?”
Her insides did a nervous flip. He was being outrageous and she wasn’t worried he’d kidnap her, but she understood the point he was making. He wasn’t just going to walk away from them. He was asserting his rights. Brando would be a permanent part of their lives, and that was what made her heart race, and her anxiety spike. Brando wasn’t one to be managed. Brando Ricci tended to do the managing. “No, you wouldn’t do something illegal,” she said lightly, feigning calm. “It would be bad for business, and we both know you’re very serious about your family business and protecting your family’s reputation.”
“But even more protective of my c
hild. If I’d go to great lengths to ensure the safety of the business, imagine what I’d do for my son or daughter.”
Her pulse jumped yet again and she felt downright nauseous now. This was not going well. She’d thought she’d been prepared for these conversations, but clearly she’d forgotten Brando’s strength and focus. “The point being that you’d never do anything to risk your reputation, and that includes your child’s.”
“Which is why I should whisk you away to keep you out of the public eye until we’ve figured out what we’re going to do.”
“I wish I could say that being whisked away sounded appealing—and yes, it does have a certain Roman Holiday sound to it—but I’m only here through the weekend. I fly into London Monday early afternoon.”
“So soon?”
“I was actually worried that three days was far too long.” She glanced up at the hard planes of his striking face, her gaze briefly meeting his, the silver-gray irises piercing, before looking away. Just that brief look into his eyes made her feel hot and tingly. If she could go back in time and change the past, she would. She would have never given herself to Brando, never allowed herself to imagine that she’d be able to handle all the complications of a night spent with him. “Why did I need to be here for three days? We’d have a conversation, you’d get a blood test and then we’d talk after the results were in. But it’s not going like that. We’re talking now as if we know the results—”
