A Ring for Vincenzo's Heir

He shook the memory away. His own child’s life would be very different. And he’d make sure his child’s mother was either a loving, stable, nurturing influence—or no influence at all.

“Why did you run away from New York?” he demanded. “Because you decided to believe everything you’d read about me?”

“Are you kidding?” Scarlett looked at him in amazement. “That pre-nup.”

Gripping the steering wheel, he glanced at her in surprise. “You wanted to avoid the pre-nup?”

“Did you really think I would sign papers to give you total power over not just me, but our child? Did you think I’d be so happy to become your trophy wife, I’d trade away my freedom for the rest of my life?”

“The pre-nup has been vetted by my lawyers to be completely fair...”

“Completely fair.” For the first time since he’d known her, he heard a cynical note in her voice. “When you would get to make every decision about our lives? And if we ever decided to divorce for any reason, you would automatically get full custody of our baby?”

“Divorce is not my plan,” he said sharply. “But I know I could not prevent you from leaving, if you wished it. Whatever you might think, there are no dungeons in my penthouse. The prenuptial agreement is merely a tool to minimize the impact of all your potentially bad decisions on our innocent children.”

“My bad decisions?” She shook her head almost sadly. “And that’s just the stuff in the pre-nup you told me about. Who knows what would have been buried in the fine print, a requirement that I give you five blow jobs a week?”

It was a crude comment, said matter-of-factly. There was nothing sensual or suggestive about her tone. If anything, she meant to insult him, to drive him away.

But his body’s reaction was instantaneous. He turned from coldly furious to burning hot in a second, blood rushing to his groin as images went through his mind of that full rose-red mouth, hot and wet, around his hardened length... He tried to clear his head of the erotic image as he shifted uncomfortably in the leather seat of the car.

“That was not my intention.” Although it sure as hell was now. Vin wondered what his lawyer’s expression would be if he told him to add a blow job requirement.

Scarlett continued stubbornly, “You accuse me of being childish and foolish. But in refusing to marry you, I’m protecting our baby.”

“How can you say that?” As they drove through the outskirts of Geneva, he stopped at a red light. “I can offer both you and the baby a lifestyle you could never dream of. Six houses around the world, private schools, jewels, cars. Private jets...”

She shuddered at his mention of the jets. It seemed strange to him.

“I’m protecting our baby from a man who would only want to control us,” she said softly. “Not love us.”

That brought Vin up short.

As they arrived at the clinic, a modern building with clean lines on the edge of the lake, he pushed his thoughts aside. Parking the car, with the dark SUV parking nearby, he got out and opened Scarlett’s door. He extended his hand to assist his very pregnant future bride.

With visible reluctance, she placed her hand in his.

Vin felt an electric jolt from the contact. As they walked together toward the front door of the clinic, he wouldn’t—couldn’t—let her hand go. He stopped, lifting it to his lips, and gently kissed the back of her hand. Her skin was soft. He felt her tremble.

“You could never love anyone.” Her voice trembled. “Because you’ll never trust anyone. Just the fact you’re making me take this test...”

“I believe you, Scarlett,” he said softly. “I’m only insisting on a paternity test because I’ve been lied to about it before.”

“What?”

“A woman once claimed I was the father of her nonexistent baby, trying to get me to marry her. But this time, in my heart, I already know the truth. You’re carrying my baby.”

“Vin...”

Reaching out, he tucked a tendril of her red hair behind her ear. Her green eyes were wide.

“I like it when you look at me like that,” he murmured. “You are so beautiful, cara. Your eyes are such a deep emerald. Like a forest.” He gently stroked the side of her face. “Your lips,” he whispered, “are red and plump and ripe as fruit. I’ll never forget—” he ran the tip of his finger along the full length of her bottom lip “—how it felt to taste them...”