Stefano’s expression hardened. “Tess, it was for the best.”
Wordlessly shaking her head, she backed away. For so long, she’d held out hope, imagining one perfect love brought by destiny, by fate. She’d remained faithful to Stefano’s memory, dreaming of the day her handsome prince would return on a white horse to whisk her and the baby to his castle.
But Stefano was no prince.
Her friends and family had been right.
Tess gripped the stroller for support as anguish and exhaustion punched through her.
They’d been right.
“Come now. Don’t act like your heart’s broken,” he said sharply. “How long did it take you to get over me? A few days?”
“How can you say that?” she whispered.
He looked pointedly at the baby in the stroller. “She’s yours, isn’t she?”
Yes. And yours. The words rose inside her, but got caught in her throat.
“And what about her father?” he demanded. “How would he feel if he knew you were here now, talking to me?”
“You tell me.”
“How would I know?” Reaching out, he cupped her cheek. For a moment, in spite of everything, she closed her eyes, shivering at his touch as a flash of heat pulsed through her.
Stefano dropped his hand. “Let’s not try to make more of our night than it was.” He glanced at the baby. “Obviously, you quickly moved on. So did I. Our night was enjoyable enough. But it was meaningless.”
Enjoyable enough?
Meaningless?
It was the final straw. She felt a flash of despair, the destructive kind that froze to the bone.
“Our night didn’t mean anything to you?” Heart in her throat, she whispered, “You changed my life.”
“Sorry,” he said coldly.
She felt the word like a bullet.
“Fine.” She closed her eyes briefly, shuddering. “We’ll survive alone.”
Knees shaking, she turned and walked away from him as fast as she could, away from her broken heart, from her shame that she’d so foolishly believed in the fairy tale. She fled the glittering lights of the Campania toward a shadowy side street, desperate to reach the far-off subway entrance, where she could sob in peace.
*
Prince Stefano Zacco di Gioreale stared after Tess, shocked by the jolt of her words, by the raw emotion he’d seen on her face and, most of all, by his body’s reaction to seeing her again.
Tess Foster was even more beautiful than he remembered. He’d lied when he’d said he’d quickly moved on. The truth was that he’d spent the last year trying not to recall her hauntingly lovely heart-shaped face, her red hair, her bright emerald eyes, her sweet pink lips. He’d tried to forget her lush body and the way she’d felt naked in his arms.
Most of all, he’d tried to erase the memory of her intense, heartfelt whisper the next morning. I’m already falling in love with you.
For the last year, he’d done his best to forget. He’d told himself he had. Still, when he’d returned to New York in July to preside over the launch of Mercurio’s flagship store, there was a reason he’d chosen to stay at the Campania Hotel rather than return to the Leighton, which had all those sweet, savage memories of their night together.
From the moment he’d first seen her carrying a tray of champagne at Rodrigo Cabrera’s cocktail party, he’d known he wanted her. He’d felt drawn to Tess in a way he’d never experienced before. Or since.
He’d made it his mission to seduce her. As beautiful and vivacious as Tess was, it had never occurred to him she might be a virgin. Not until it was too late, not until he’d already pushed himself into her, both of them gasping with ecstasy. His body shivered at the memory.
He’d felt guilty afterward, though. There was a reason he didn’t seduce virgins. They fell in love too easily and cloyingly imagined a future that bored Stefano to tears. He avoided them at all costs. Virgins didn’t know how to play the game. Play it? They often didn’t even know there was a game.