The Heir the Prince Secures

“Miss Foster?” the manager demanded.

Tess felt Stefano’s strong arms tighten around her, pressing her body against his powerful chest. As she looked at him, her lips tingled from his savage kiss by Times Square.

“No,” she admitted, her heart in her throat. “He’s right. I fainted.”

Stefano turned icily to the manager. “I’m taking her to my suite, Loggia. Send up the doctor. And room service. What would you like?” he asked Tess.

Food. He was talking about food? She shook her head dimly. “I don’t care.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call Mrs. Moretti?” the manager asked her with a frown.

For a moment, Tess was tempted to take the offered escape. Then she glanced back at her whining, hungry baby in the stroller. She knew what it was like to grow up without a father. If there was even a chance that Stefano wanted to be part of their baby’s life, didn’t she have to find out?

Even if that meant she had to take a paternity test to make him finally believe her.

“It’s all right, Mr. Loggia,” she said, quietly resigned. “I want to go with him.”

She felt Stefano’s arms relax slightly.

“If you’re sure,” the manager said, looking between them in disbelief. “I’ll have room service send up your usual at once. And the hotel doctor, as well.”

“Grazie,” Stefano bit out sardonically, and turned away, carrying her to the elevator. The doorman pushed the stroller behind them.

“Mr. Loggia doesn’t seem to like you much,” Tess said.

“No,” he agreed, not seeming perturbed about it. “In spite of the fact I’m their highest-paying guest. But his bastard boss despises me.”

“Cristiano hates you?” Tess blinked in surprise. “Why would he?”

“You know Moretti?”

“His wife Hallie is one of my best friends.”

“Ah.” He shrugged. “He and I were drivers in a charity car race last year. We were fighting for the win. His car was in my way, so I—very gently—bumped him over.”

“You hit his car?”

“He was blocking me. Cheating. He left me no choice. After I won, he tried to punch me in the face.”

Tess couldn’t imagine Cristiano losing his temper. He seemed so nice, especially tonight, when he’d declared his love for Hallie. “He punched you?”

“I said he tried to.” Stefano hid a smug smile. “His friends held him back. I felt no need to return his attack. He simply couldn’t accept that his attempts to sabotage me in the race had failed and I’d still managed to win.”

“Winning isn’t everything.”

He looked at her in disbelief. “Of course it is.”

The elevator door opened, and he carried her inside, with the doorman and the stroller behind them.

“If you dislike Cristiano Moretti so much, why do you stay at his hotel?”

“Because it amuses me to force him and his manager to serve me.”

“They might spit in your food.”

“They would not dare. Would they, Dalton?”

“Certainly not,” the doorman replied indignantly. He added with a grin, “You tip far too well for that, Your Highness.”