A Ring for Vincenzo's Heir

“Kidnapped!”

“What else would you call it?” He looked at her. “How do I know our baby will be safe with you? The criminally minded daughter of a felon?”

“Felon!” Fury filled her green eyes. “My father never should have gone to prison. If his accomplice hadn’t betrayed him—”

“Spare me the excuses,” Vin said, sounding bored. “He was a bank robber.”

“He returned all the money. Can you say the same?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you and Blaise Falkner and every other billionaire—you are the real ones who should be...”

She abruptly cut herself off.

“Go on,” Vin said evenly. “You were about to accuse me of something?”

Scarlett looked him straight in the eye. “Every rich man I’ve ever known was heartless. My dad in his worst year was less a thief than all the corporate embezzlers and Wall Street gamblers with their Ponzi schemes, wiping out people’s pension funds, their savings, their hope!”

“You’re comparing me to them?”

“You wouldn’t sacrifice one of your platinum cuff links—” she glanced contemptuously at his wrist “—let alone risk your life or happiness, to save someone else.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?” She lifted her chin. Through the car window he could see the gray-and-blue shimmer of Lake Geneva behind her. “You told me yourself. You don’t think twice about causing emotional pain. I bet you’ve never loved anyone in your life. And you asked me to marry you!”

“Love isn’t necessary.”

“That’s a screwed-up way of looking at things. That’s like saying there’s no point in eating things that taste good. Marriage without love, isn’t that like eating gruel for the rest of your life? Why eat gruel when you can eat cake?”

“Cake is an illusion. It all turns out to be gruel in the end.”

“That’s the saddest thing I ever heard.” She shook her head. “I feel bad for you. A billionaire who’s content to eat gruel for the rest of his life.”

Vin could hardly believe this penniless girl who had nothing and had once stolen his wallet actually felt sorry for him. “Better a hard truth than the sweet comfort of lies.”

“No, it’s worse than that. You’re a cynic who claims not to believe in the existence of love.” She looked up at him through dark eyelashes. “Some woman must have hurt you pretty badly.”

Yes. One woman had. But it wasn’t what Scarlett thought. “Then she did me a favor. Taught me the truth about life.”

“Taught you wrong.” She rubbed her belly, looking out the window as they drove closer to Geneva.

“Right or wrong, once the paternity test proves I’m your baby’s father, we will be celebrating our marriage.”

She tossed him a glance. “No, thanks. I’m no fan of gruel.”

Vin ground his teeth. “Are you trying to tell me your childish, foolish dreams of love are more important than our child’s welfare? A baby deserves two parents. A stable home.”

Her expression changed. “Don’t you think I know that? All I ever wanted my whole childhood was to have a real home. I don’t even know what it feels like to make roots, have friends, be part of a community.” Her voice cracked. “But you know what? We were still happy, even on the run. Because my parents loved each other. And they loved me.”

He didn’t know what that felt like, Vin thought unwillingly. He’d grown up in a derelict villa in Rome, neglected and ignored by a mother who was only interested in her love affairs. Her son was valuable for one reason only: to extort money from his father.

His so-called father.

Vin’s shoulders tightened.

Anyone he loved, he lost. His mother had coldly used him as a bargaining chip to finance her lifestyle, before she violently died. Paid nannies left or were fired. His kindly grandfather had had a stroke when Vin was eight. He’d become estranged from his loving father and stepmother at fifteen. Sometimes he felt like he’d been alone his whole life. As alone as that Christmas Eve, when he was only eight and was left utterly alone in the villa, forgotten in the dark—