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“No.”
“Because, I promise you, Aimee, I will demand blood tests.”
“What you’d want is a DNA test,” she said coldly. “They’re a much more reliable proof of paternity, according to a law class I took in college.” She smiled thinly. “But bothering with the test would be a waste of time.”
His lips drew back from his teeth in what might have been an attempt at a smile.
“That decision will be mine. It will not be yours.”
His accent was growing more and more pronounced. She’d already figured out that was a sure sign he was having trouble controlling his temper.
Too bad.
She had a temper, too. And there was a limit to how many insults a woman, even an imprudent one, had to take.
“Believe me, Prince Barbieri. I’ve only done a few foolish things in my life.” Aimee jerked free of his hands. “And going to bed with you rates as number one.”
His face darkened. “Insulting me at a time like this is not wise.”
“Then don’t insult me by calling me a liar! You asked the question. I answered it. Unfortunately you don’t like the answer, but that doesn’t change that fact that it was you who made me pregnant.”
“I made you pregnant.” His words were filled with soft malice. “Such an interesting way to phrase what happened that night, cara.”
She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “What happened was that I’d had too much to drink.”
“I don’t recall you having anything to drink.”
His assessment was closer to the mark than hers. She’d had one drink. Actually, a couple of sips of one drink, but she wasn’t going to be sidetracked into a discussion of why she’d had sex with him when she didn’t understand it herself.
“The point is, you impregnated me.”
“Now you describe a laboratory experiment.” He moved toward her slowly, gaze locked to hers, and though she hated herself for it, she took a step back. “But that was not what happened in that bathroom or in my bed.”
“There is no reason to have this conversation.”
“Ah, but there is.” He was a breath away now, his eyes glittering with heat as her shoulders hit the wall. “I think you need reminding of what we did that night.”
“I have all the reminding I need.”
“Si. So it would seem. My child in your womb.” His gaze flattened. “Was this part of the great plan?”
Aimee blinked. “What?”
“Such an innocent face, cara.” His mouth twisted with derision. “And such a devious scheme. The clever meeting on the street. The coincidental meeting at the club. The seduction.” He cupped her face, raised it to his until the midnight-blue of his eyes filled her vision. “And now, this. An heir to your grandfather’s kingdom. A child of my blood from the womb of a Stafford-Coleridge-Black descendant.” His gaze darkened. “Such an amazing set of coincidences.”
“You are,” Aimee whispered shakily, “an evil man.”
“I am a logical man. One who assumed you were using protection.”
“I was. It failed.”
“How convenient it failed when failure was most necessary.”
Her eyes filled with angry tears. “I despise you!”
“That really breaks my heart, cara.”
“When I think that—that I let you touch me—”
