The Italian’s Doorstep Surprise by Jennie Lucas

CHAPTER THREE

NICOSTAREDATHER in the enormous living room, as the warm fire flickered over her lovely face. Outside, he could still dimly hear the wind and rain and the crashing surf. But in his heart, something tight...loosened, and he could breathe again.

“I wish I could remember.” His voice was quiet. “As you can.”

Honora gave a smile that seemed sad. “And I wish I could forget. Like you.”

He looked at her sitting at the other end of the sleek new sofa, wrapped in the white robe. Her dark hair was still damp, tumbling over her shoulders in a way that was much too sexy for comfort. And if she leaned forward, the robe fell open a little, revealing the neckline of the silk nightgown. Modest as it was, her full, pregnancy breasts strained against the silk. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to look only at her eyes. “If it was the best night of your life, why do you want to forget?”

She looked away. “Because...because it hurts to remember what a fool I was. Imagining I was in love with you. Imagining I even knew you.”

Nico had sudden disjointed flashes of memory, the feeling of holding her in his arms in the penthouse, kissing her passionately against the window with all of Manhattan’s skyscrapers sparkling behind her. Taking off her clothes piece by piece, pulling her down on the soft rug beneath the Christmas tree... Later, he’d thought it was a hallucination, a dream of a sexy dark-haired woman whose exact features he could not recall.

I love you, Nico. I wasn’t brave enough to say it before. I love you.

Abruptly, he stood up and went to the wet bar. Pulling a crystal lowball glass from the shelf, he dumped in two cubes of ice. He opened a new bottle of Scotch and poured a generous amount over the ice. He swallowed the first sweet sip, trying to control the pounding of his heart.

Lifting her gaze, Honora said quietly, “You were drunk the night we slept together, weren’t you? That’s why you don’t remember. You were drunk.”

A thousand excuses poured into his mind. Evade, deny, don’t say anything that could be used against him, either in a court of law or in the much rougher court of public opinion.

But as Nico looked into her face, he thought how easy it would have been for her to lie and say that their night together had been awful, a tragedy, that she regretted it and hated him. She’d certainly proven that she had no problems insulting him to his face. But she hadn’t.

She’d been brave enough to tell the truth. He could at least tell her something that wasn’t a lie. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Tell me.”

“I had...some problems. I hadn’t been sleeping, and I took pills for a...bad headache. Janet—” that was the penthouse’s housekeeper “—found me collapsed on the hallway floor the next morning and called an ambulance,” he said bluntly. “You didn’t know?”

She shook her head, wide-eyed.

“Good.” He was relieved his housekeeper was discreet and not spreading rumors. He felt foolish enough to imagine himself insensate and drooling on the floor when she’d discovered him. It was horrible to imagine he’d made a fool of himself in front of Honora, slurring his words or stumbling around. “I didn’t seem...off to you on Christmas Day?”

“You did seem a little...different. You had some bruises, but you laughed it off and said it was just from boxing in the gym.”

So he’d told her that much. “It was.”

“I knew you’d broken up with your fiancée the day before.” She looked at her hands. “I thought I was so lucky, like you’d suddenly realized I was the one you’d wanted all that time.” She looked up. “But I was just a booty call, wasn’t I? No, worse, I was a booty delivery—I just happened to be there.”

It hadn’t been breaking up with Lana that had crushed him, but losing the dream of revenge that had poured rocket fuel on his whole life. But he could hardly explain, since only one other living person even knew that Prince Arnaldo Caracciola was his biological father. “I’m sorry.”

It was the second time he’d said that to her. It was starting to become a habit.

“Me too.” Her eyes met his. “I was so sure I loved you. Then, when you disappeared and never even bothered to contact me again, I realized I’d loved a dream.”

Nico hated imagining that he’d caused her pain. He didn’t know her very well, but the more he knew, the more he thought that she was like her name: honorable. And also loving and kind. Perhaps too much of those things—because how could she ever have looked at Nico, with his tattered soul and empty heart, and imagined in her innocence that she saw something worthy of love?

“Honora,” he said in a low voice, “you must know I never meant to—”

He stopped as the butler came in with a mug on a tray.

“Your tea with milk, madam.” He sounded faintly disapproving. “We had to send out for organic milk.”

Honora’s cheeks turned rosy. “I never asked for—” But when the butler continued to hold out the tray, she took the mug with a sigh. “Thank you. I’m sorry I was so much trouble.”

“My pleasure, madam.” The butler turned toward Nico. “Anything else, sir?”

“No, nothing,” he said coolly, not even looking at him.

After the butler left, she took a small exploratory sip. She looked very cozy on the sofa in the flickering shadows of firelight. Still holding his barely tasted Scotch, he went to sit beside her, a little closer than he’d been before.

After another sip of tea, she looked at him. “It’s not bad.” She tilted her head. “You aren’t very worried about your employees’ feelings though, are you?”

“What?” Frowning, he said, “They should be worried about mine. It seems ridiculous that we’d be out of milk and chocolate, even if I arrived with no warning.”

“Do you usually require organic milk and cocoa powder?”

“No, I never touch the stuff.” Her lips lifted on the edges, and he realized her point. So he changed the subject. “I didn’t like Sebastian’s tone with you.”

“Since your bodyguards didn’t shoot Granddad, I’m happy for your staff to talk in any tone they want.” She tilted her head. “Two bodyguards? Is that really necessary? Is there so much crime in the Hamptons?”

“Any self-made man makes enemies,” he said shortly. He didn’t want to talk about his employees. He moved toward her on the sofa. “So is that why you don’t want to marry me? Because I hurt you when I ignored your messages in Rome? I told you, I had no idea—”

“It’s not just that,” she said in a small voice. Looking down at the mug in her hands, she bit her full, tender pink lower lip. “You’re very rich, Nico,” she said finally. “Incredibly powerful. And as handsome as the devil himself.”

He knew she didn’t mean it as a compliment. “But?”

She looked up. “A relationship has to be more. There has to be respect on both sides. Trust.”

“And you think you can’t trust me.”

Honora shook her head. “We have nothing in common.”

He looked at her baby bump.

“Obviously that’s not true,” he said quietly.

She looked sad. “It’s not enough.”

What she meant was that Nico wasn’t enough. And how could he argue with that? He had secrets he would never share. Not with anyone. Especially not her.

Because he suddenly realized he cared about her opinion. The thought shocked him. For the first time since Christmas, he wanted to make an effort. He wanted someone to think better of him.

Looking up, she threw him a tentative smile. “I’m curious. Why do you believe me now about the baby? What changed your mind enough to make you suddenly propose to me?” She shook her head. “I thought you were just trying to placate Granddad. But you actually meant it.”

“Yes.”

“Without so much as a DNA test?”

How could he explain what he himself did not really understand? Had he decided to believe her out of pure instinct, based on his perception of her honor and honesty? Or was it because, after months of working sixteen-hour days on projects he could not remember and barely cared about, he grasped at one final chance to prove to his dead father, and himself, that he was a better man than Arnaldo ever was?

And what do you know about being a father?a voice said mockingly inside him. He squelched it coldly. He’d show up, for a start. That would be more than Arnaldo had ever done. “I suppose I could ask for a paternity test...”

“After the baby is born, I guess.” She seemed doubtful. “But I’m not going to risk my baby’s health on an intrusive test just to convince you.”

“After,” he agreed. He wasn’t worried about it. He already knew this baby was his, in the same way he knew when an undeveloped plot of land would pay off. In the same way he’d known since he was twelve years old that someday he’d be somebody, that he’d put his boot against the throat of the world to prove his worth.

Honora tilted her head. In an uncertain voice, she said, “You really want to be a father?”

“How much clearer can I make it?”

“You’ve never shown the slightest interest in children.”

“I’ve never had one.”

“Or commitment. Except for Lana Lee. And even with her, you were only together a few months...”

He gave a crooked half smile. “You were paying attention?”

Her cheeks burned. She set down her empty mug on the end table. “You always changed the color of roses you wished grown in the greenhouse based on the woman you were giving them to.”

She must have helped her grandfather with the gardening more than he’d realized. It was strange to realize that Honora knew him so well, when he knew so little about her. Strange and disconcerting.

Her tender pink lips twisted. “Are you still in love with Lana?”

Nico wondered what it had cost her pride to ask. With anyone else, he might have refused to answer. But he didn’t want to do that. Not when the stakes were so high. And anyway, in this case honesty cost him nothing. “No.”

“You can tell me the truth. You must have been heartbroken on Christmas Day, otherwise you wouldn’t have been drinking so much.”

“I told you, it wasn’t my drinking that was the problem. At least—” he flinched a little “—not the only problem.”

“Right. You also said you hadn’t slept in days and took pills for a horrible headache.” She tilted her head. “Sure sounds like a broken heart to me.”

“The headache was a concussion from picking a fight with a world heavyweight champ at my gym.”

Her pretty face was tranquil. “And that level of pure stupidity could only come from a broken heart.”

He shook his head with a snort. “I told you, I don’t do love. So my heart can never be broken, as you so romantically describe.” He took a deep breath, then said, “I’d just found out my father died.”

It was the first time he’d said those words to anyone.

Honora’s eyes went wide. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry.” Reaching out, she put her hand on his, seeking to offer comfort. “I didn’t know...”

“We were...estranged.” That was the understatement of the century. “But I’d expected my father and his wife to come here the day after Christmas.”

“So that’s why you had my room ready for guests.” Her eyes glistened with sympathetic tears. “How awful. I’m so sorry. I... I know what it feels like to lose your parents. I know how badly it hurts.”

“Yes,” he said, feeling like a fraud. Honora had clearly loved her own parents. If she knew the real reason he was upset...

Honora glanced at his half-empty glass of Scotch. “But you have to learn other ways to deal with your grief. Or it will eat you alive.”

Her hand felt soft and warm on his own. She was so close on the sofa, almost touching him, that he could feel the warmth of her, the heat of her body. She was so beautiful, with those haunting green eyes, and the massive amounts of damp, dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, leaving traces of wet on the white silk robe that barely contained her lush body. As he looked down at her, he felt an unbearable surge of desire. His gaze fell to her mouth.

Her lips parted as he heard her intake of breath.

Nico didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate.

Cupping her face with both his hands, he lowered his head and kissed her.

Honora’s lips parted in a gasp as his mouth seared hers.

His kiss was sweet, so sweet. For a moment, in her surprise, she was lost in a sensual haze. Her hands moved to his hair.

His embrace, which had started out so exploratory, so tender, turned hungry. He reached inside her silk robe—

Wrenching away, she stood up from the sofa. “No.”

Nico looked up at her. His hair was tousled, his dark eyes hazy with desire. His forehead furrowed as he stared up at her, as if he didn’t understand.

But Honora still remembered how lonely and cheap she’d felt after their night together, when she’d discovered Nico had left for Italy without a word. When she’d discovered she was pregnant. When he ignored her messages.

She had changed her life forever in that one night, just by loving the wrong man. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“Maybe you’re accustomed to women falling at your feet,” she said coldly, wrapping the robe around her pregnant belly more firmly, “but I won’t be one of them. So if you were trying to lure me into bed by pretending to have a heart, don’t bother.”

She started to turn to go, but as she did, he said in a low voice, “Don’t make it seem like I’m using you. I felt how you just kissed me. You want me, too.”

Honora could hardly deny it. She ground her teeth. “Even if that’s true, I’m not going to do anything about it. You’re not the right man for me.”

He didn’t move from the sofa. “How do you know?” He lifted his chin. “From the moment I learned you were pregnant, I’ve tried to take responsibility. I proposed marriage. I made you tea.”

“And am I supposed to be grateful?”

“I even told you about my father, something I’ve shared with no one else on earth.” His dark eyes glittered in the flickering firelight of the salon. “What more do you want?”

What more did Honora want?

So many things.

She wanted to be the naive twenty-four-year-old she’d been, with her whole life ahead of her and no need to rush to make plans or decisions. She wanted her grandfather to be happy, and to know that she wasn’t a burden to him. She wanted to have a college degree and a lucrative career so she could get her own apartment and provide for her baby and pay her bills without worry.

She wanted to fall in love, really in love, with a man who would love her back with his whole heart. She wanted him to propose because he loved her—not out of sense of duty, which was the unromantic reason her own parents had married, and her grandparents, too.

She wanted a joyous wedding attended by their friends and family, who were all ecstatic because they thought the two of them so perfect together. She wanted a happy family for her daughter in a real home, where she’d never feel like Honora had, like a burden no one truly wanted.

With an intake of breath, she whispered, “I want more than you can ever give me.”

Never taking his eyes from her, Nico rose to his feet. He towered over her, making her feel delicate and petite, even at six months pregnant. He stood close, without touching her, and as their eyes met in the flickering red shadows, he made her feel so alive. He said in a low voice, “You don’t know that.”

“Wrong. I do.” Her teeth were chattering with the effort it took not to lean forward, to be closer to him, to be embraced in the circle of his warmth and power.

“Let me tell you what I know, cara,” he said softly. His hand tucked back a long tendril of her hair and she nearly shuddered, just from that small touch. “I know that I’ve felt half dead for the last six months, and getting the news you’ve given me today has brought me back to life.”

“It’s just an emotion. Like you said.” She tried to smile. “Don’t let a fleeting emotion make you do something you’ll regret...”

Nico pulled her into his arms, his dark eyes piercing her soul.

“I want to be your husband. And I am our baby’s father. That is not emotion. That is fact.” He nuzzled her as he whispered, “And I want to be your lover...”

With his arms around her, it was so hard to resist. Her body was already galloping ahead, coming up with a million excuses that would lead to another spectacular night upstairs, and the promise of a lifetime more.

And yet... That was the mistake she’d made at Christmas. Letting her body and heart do the thinking, instead of her brain. And that one simple choice had ended so many of her dreams.

Honora had to be smart now. She wasn’t an innocent, careless girl anymore. In less than three months, she’d be a mother. At twenty-four, she didn’t feel remotely ready for such an enormous responsibility. But it was hers regardless.

She pulled away from him.

“We both know you’re not the type to commit to forever,” she said quietly. At his startled look, she shook her head ruefully. “I don’t mean any insult. But whatever you might be thinking now, we both know who you are. You’re a player, Nico. You’ll never settle down—especially with a woman you don’t love.”

“Perhaps this is my moment,” Nico said. “Finding out I’m going to be a father has changed me. That could change anyone.”

“But it won’t.”

His expression hardened. “Why else would I marry you, except out of duty?”

“For love.” She felt an ache in her throat. How different it would have been if he’d loved her! If they’d already been married. How happy they might have been together, expecting their first baby!

“Then marry me for love,” he said. “You said you loved me the night we conceived our baby.”

How could he throw that in her face? Swallowing hard, she shook her head. “Those were the romantic dreams of a girl. Growing up, I watched you from a distance and you seemed so handsome and powerful, building skyscrapers and traveling the world. But that wasn’t love.”

“What was it, then?”

“Illusion.”

“Fine.” He set his jaw. “How about our child? Doesn’t he or she need a father?”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“They keep saying it because it’s true,” he said coldly. “Hate me if you must, for not being the man you wish I could be. But don’t punish our child for it.”

Honora sucked in her breath. Was that what she’d been doing? Punishing him? She hated the thought.

She bit her lip. “If you really want to be part of her life—”

“Her?”Nico’s eyes lit up. “We’re having a girl?”

She nodded. It might have made her happy, seeing the delight on his face, if it hadn’t made her so sad. “Due in mid-September.”

“A daughter,” he whispered. “A child of my own.”

“You don’t have any other children? You’re sure?”

He shook his head. “I’ve always been careful. I’ve always made utterly certain... I must have been careless that night.” He gave a crooked smile. “Obviously.”

Careless. That was one way of putting it. The lump in her throat became a razor blade. “Me too,” she said in a low voice. “I blamed you...but I made my own choices. I could have insisted you use a condom. I could have chosen not to sleep with you at all.” She lifted her gaze. “I took the risk. My choice. And I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life. But I won’t let our baby pay the price.”

“Does that mean you’ll marry me?”

Honora held desperately to the last shreds of her dignity, and her hope for a family created out of love, not cold obligation. She shook her head. “But if you can really be a good father, then I’ll let you share custody.”

“Let me?” The satisfaction in his handsome face faded to anger. “If I can be a good father?”

She felt his coldness and raised her chin. “If you can cut back on the Scotch and come back to the world of the living. If you can actually be good to her.”

“I already gave your grandfather my word I’d marry you.”

She shrugged. “You should have asked me first. I have something else in mind.”

“My chauffeur?”

Was he jealous? No, surely not. Nico Ferraro dated women by the score and tired of them quickly. If even a world-famous beauty like Lana Lee couldn’t keep him, what chance did an ordinary girl like Honora have? She knew, to her core, that if she married him, he’d only break her heart.

“If you truly want to be a father, I will do everything I can to support that.” She turned toward the beachfront mansion’s windows. The storm had abated, and she could see silvery moonlight frosting the clouds scattered across the ocean’s horizon. She said in a small voice, “But I can’t marry you. I want to be loved.”

Nico stared at her for a long moment.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said suddenly.

She blinked. “What?”

“It’s clear nothing I say tonight will convince you.”

Honora had been about to list more reasons why she could never, ever marry him. She felt strangely off-kilter by his sudden surrender. She told herself she was relieved. Wasn’t she? “Oh. Good. How will we explain it to Granddad?”

“I’ll talk to him. I owe him that much.”

“Right now?”

“It’s almost midnight.” Nico went to the wet bar. For a moment, she thought he was going to pour more Scotch into his half-empty glass. Instead, he dumped it all down the sink and turned to her with a charming smile. “I’ll take you back home in the morning. Until then, I bid you good night.”

“Good night,” she said faintly, her lips slightly parted as he turned and left the room without a word.

As she followed him up the sweeping staircase of the beach house, she could hardly believe it. She’d won. She’d actually won. Nico Ferraro had given up his desire to marry her.

So why didn’t she feel more joyful about it?