“I see no reason for us to delay the test.”
“Good, thank you.” She rose and tucked her purse beneath her arm. “And I apologize for barging in on you like this. I should have realized you might have a guest.”
“It’s fine. This was important.” He couldn’t imagine anything being more important, nor could he imagine any woman more beautiful than Charlotte Parks. He’d wanted her from the very first meeting. She’d been the elusive one, but he hadn’t given up...not until she’d returned to Los Angeles and ghosted him.
He walked her to the front door now. “Where are you staying?”
She gave him the name of her hotel, a five-star property overlooking the river. It’s where she had stayed before. There were smaller hotels, more affordable hotels, but this one took such excellent care of her the last time she was in Florence, it’s where she wanted to be this time.
“Let me call a taxi for you,” he said.
“I think I’ll walk.” She forced a faint smile. “The fresh air will do me good and maybe then I can get some work done.”
“You’re still working?”
“But of course.” She flashed a smile. “It’s what I do best.”
“It’s not too much at this stage of your pregnancy? It won’t hurt the baby?”
“No. Everything is good.”
The baby, Charlotte silently repeated as she walked back to her hotel. He’d referenced the baby in such a way that emotion fluttered in her, little wings of pain and heartache.
It was strange talking about her pregnancy. She’d kept the news to herself all this time, carrying the secret within her, just as she carried the baby, close to her heart, protective of the world’s reaction. And yet in a matter of minutes she’d shared her news, and Brando had knocked away the walls of secrecy and made the news...matter-of-fact.
She paused at the curb, checked for traffic and dashed across, grateful for the brisk walk, needing the quick pace to help her process everything she was thinking and feeling.
All this time she’d thought she was most concerned about the pregnancy, about becoming a single mother, but seeing Brando had stripped away the pretense.
Seeing him made her feel naked and nervous and incredibly vulnerable.
She didn’t have feelings for him, and yet...
Charlotte exhaled hard, and blinked even harder, and wondered why she felt so terribly discombobulated. Seeing Brando made her feel...strange.
Raw.
Hurt.
Which didn’t make sense as he’d been nothing but polite, and respectful considering how shocking her announcement had to have been. She was grateful there had been no drama and he’d been quite cordial about taking the paternity test. The lack of drama made her suspect, though, striking her as too good to be true.
Maybe Brando was in shock. Maybe he wasn’t as sanguine as he appeared, and underneath his veneer of calm, he was secretly rattled.
Or maybe he didn’t believe her and was just waiting for the test results before challenging her...
Or maybe he wasn’t even thinking about her news anymore and maybe he was back in bed with Louisa.
She blanched, and her stomach rose.
Oh, why, oh, why did Louisa have to be there today? And why, oh, why did Charlotte have to know about her?
Brando left the clinic across the street from Maria Beatrice Hospital and called Charlotte. It took her a few rings to answer the phone.
“It’s Brando,” he said when she answered. “Am I interrupting anything?”
“No. Just trying to write a press release but can’t focus. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“You should try to nap.”
“Maybe,” she said.
“What are you doing later?” he asked. “Do you have plans for dinner tonight?”
“No. Just more work.”
“Have dinner with me.”
“Did you have the test done?”
“I did, and we should have results in the morning. There is a lab here in Florence that will expedite testing for us.”
“How? I heard three days was the fastest—”
“Unless you pay enormous sums of money to get something done.”
“Ah.”
He heard the wary note enter in her voice. “So, dinner?”
“What about Louisa?”
“She’s not invited.”
“Brando.”
“Can we just focus on you for the time being? You’re here, six months pregnant. Isn’t it time we finally started communicating?”
CHAPTER TWO
BRANDO WATCHED CHARLOTTE emerge from the hotel’s elevators and cross the marble lobby. Unlike this morning’s form-fitting dress that had outlined her shape, she had chosen narrow black trousers and a stylish white tunic that skimmed her stomach, the tunic’s natural fullness making the bump harder to detect.
Suddenly he flashed back to a different pregnancy with a different woman. It was years ago and when confronted by the news of her pregnancy, he’d been horrified. They’d had a brief relationship, and it had ended when he discovered she was not at all what she seemed, her vivacious, sparkling beauty a cover for an insecure, unkind, manipulative personality. It filled him with dread to think of her raising any child of his, and yet he’d promised her he’d support her and the baby...if the baby truly was his.
Thank God, the blood test came back negative. The child wasn’t his. Adele had cried and protested, claiming the DNA blood test flawed.
It was only much later that he’d learned she’d manipulated some other wealthy man to marry her.
The pregnancy scare had been a wake-up call, and for a while Brando didn’t date, choosing to be celibate over risking paternity claims. But after an eight-month celibacy period, he began dating again, and now here he was, waiting for the results of another DNA test.
He didn’t like comparing Adele to Charlotte, though. They were nothing alike, and to be honest, Brando didn’t need a paternity test to prove he was the father of Charlotte’s baby. She wouldn’t have come here, to him, if she hadn’t been certain. Charlotte had money of her own, as well as a successful career. She’d even said earlier that she wanted nothing from him, and was planning on raising the baby in California, apart from him.
Which would be fine if it was someone else’s child, but if the baby was his, since the baby was his, Brando was not going to be forced to the sidelines.
He’d taken the paternity test this afternoon to fight for his rights. He was going to be part of his child’s life, and not as a distant figure on the periphery, but as a hands-on parent who was present from birth.
He moved toward Charlotte now, meeting her near the reception desk. “You look lovely,” he said, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek.
She stiffened at the kiss, shooting him a suspicious look. “No need for compliments. This isn’t a date.”
“Would you prefer I had said something along the lines that you’re very punctual?” he replied mockingly.
“Yes.”
“Charlotte, good to see you. You’re very punctual tonight.”
She shot him another disapproving glance. “It’s discourteous making people wait.”
“You must have hated it when Marcello showed up an hour late for our first meeting.”
“I wasn’t impressed, no.” And then her expression softened a fraction. “But you were on time. You’re always on time.”
“Speaking of time, we have a reservation in ten minutes. We can drive there, or walk, if you’re feeling up to it. The restaurant isn’t far.” He glanced down at her feet. She was wearing pumps with a stylish kitten heel. “Would you prefer to drive, or walk?”
“I’d love to walk.”
“Good. I was hoping you’d say that.” Brando placed his hand lightly on her lower back and steered he
r out the front door, where he handed the keys of his car to the hotel valet.
Charlotte was exquisitely aware of Brando’s hand on the small of her back as they left the hotel. He’d smelled heavenly when he’d kissed her in the lobby. It had been just a brief kiss on the cheek, and yet the warm brush of his lips and the light spicy scent he wore made her stomach curl and breath catch. He was sin on two legs, and her undoing.
“Where are we going for dinner?” she asked, trying to distract herself.
He named a restaurant she wasn’t familiar with and for a few minutes they made small talk about Florence’s cuisine. It was an inane conversation, she thought, as superficial as it could be, but also better than talking about what was really at stake.
The baby, and the future.