The Price Of A Dangerous Passion

“But I’m right, aren’t I? You like your space because you can breathe, and be free, something you couldn’t do in your family.”

Suddenly parched, she reached for her water glass and took a gulp. “I might need a glass of wine, too, if we’re going to be analyzing me over lunch today.”

His lips lifted faintly. “No one is trying to psychoanalyze you. I’m just slowly starting to understand you. I think it’s important to understand you—”

“Then let me help you understand exactly what I don’t want. I don’t want to become part of another family. And as much as I enjoyed working with your family, I have no desire to become one of them. I mean no disrespect, and I apologize if I’m phrasing this badly, but your family is every bit as overwhelming as mine—and that doesn’t work for me in any way.”

“No need to apologize. I agree we are passionate, but there is no malice in any of them.”

She didn’t immediately reply. Instead she looked away, out across the restaurant’s patio toward the verdant valley filled with orchards and vineyards. A vineyard ran down the hill below them, the afternoon sun shining brightly on the tidy rows of grapes, gilding the green leaves with burnished light.

“There’s a reason I’m happy in Southern California,” she said after a bit. “I’m on my own. I have my own place, my own identity. I don’t have to answer to my mother, my father, or any of my stepparents. I can just be myself. It’s taken me years to break free and I’ve no desire to give up that space, and independence.”

“But isn’t your mother still in Los Angeles?”

Charlotte shook her head. “This isn’t something we discuss, but my mother and Bill have been separated for a couple of years. They may even be divorced by now. I don’t know, and I don’t really want to know. I figure when Mother wants to announce something she will, and until then I’m happy to leave her alone and let her do her thing, and I do my thing.”

“Where is she living?”

“South of France at the moment, but I think that’s a temporary thing.”

“You don’t see your stepfather anymore? I thought you two were once close?”

“I like Bill. He’s a maverick and colorful and he always invites me to Hollywood parties, as well as his big film premieres. Sometimes I show up because he loves a good red carpet photo with his family all around him, but I haven’t since he and Mom went their different ways. But I’m fine with it. I like Los Angeles because I can be no one there. I’m invisible and I like that. I also like the weather, I like being close to the ocean and I like that no one descends on me in Los Angeles. My father hates LA. My brothers and sisters hate LA, too, which delights me to no end. I’m happy with my little house and career. It suits me.”

She felt him study her from across the table and it was all she could do to sit still beneath his scrutiny.

“Marrying me doesn’t mean you’ll lose your identity, cara. You will always be Charlotte Parks, even if you become Mrs. Charlotte Parks Ricci.”

“What if I didn’t want to take your last name? What if I simply wanted to be Charlotte Parks?”

His powerful shoulders shifted easily. “If that is what you preferred, I’d have no objections. You have a career, you have a perfectly lovely name. Marrying you is about giving our baby a home, a family and a family name.” He paused. “Or do you take issue with our baby being named Ricci?”

She couldn’t believe she was even having this conversation. She wasn’t seriously considering marrying him, was she?

She sat silent for a moment, processing everything being said, and realizing she maybe had given an indication that she was open to marrying him... But was she?

Was she even considering this future he suggested?

As if able to read her mind, he added, “It’s not as if I live in my family’s back pocket. There are family business meetings, as well as periodic family dinners, holidays and birthday celebrations, but my brothers and sister are busy with their own lives and families. They certainly wouldn’t be overly involved in our lives, nor would we be expected to be immersed in theirs, not as newlyweds with a young baby.”

“You realize I haven’t agreed to marry you, nor is it likely that I will accept your proposal,” she said.

“Yes, that’s understood,” he answered gravely, and yet she could have sworn his lips twitched, as if amused. “So, let’s just keep moving forward, and discussing options, aware that no commitments are being made, on either side.”

“Fair enough,” she said before looking him in the eyes. “How important is it for the baby to take your last name? Would it upset your family terribly?”

His jaw flexed, and he frowned into his wineglass. “I don’t know if it would bother them. It would bother me. I’d very much like my son or daughter to have my name.”

“I thought you were the rebel.”

“I’ve been a rebel, but I’m older, and wiser, and appreciate my family, and our history here in Tuscany. Riccis have been making wine for one hundred years—”

“But you’re the only one still making wine. The others have all shifted to other industries.”

“All the more reason for me to want a son or daughter to carry on the winemaking tradition.”

She didn’t immediately reply, because there was nothing she could say. She understood him, and if she were in his position, she’d feel the same way. It was only later, as they drove back to his castello, and passed through the huge gates set in the high stone walls that she said quietly, “We don’t have to be married for our child to take your name. You are the father. The birth certificate will reflect your name.”

He glanced at her, lips compressing, but that was his only response as they traveled down the private lane lined with tall cypresses.

Brando parked in front of the castello, turned the ignition off and faced her. “Do you still intend to go to London tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll fly you there. It’ll be easier on you physically. You won’t have to deal with long lines and security.”

His offer caught her off guard, and yet at the same time, it was a little bit tempting. All London airports were unbearable. You couldn’t escape the crowds and lines. But why would he want to fly her back to England? “I’m not sure how flying me to England benefits you.”

“Less stress on you is less stress on the baby.”

Ah, of course. It was about the baby. She didn’t know why she felt a stab of disappointment, but she certainly wasn’t going to analyze the reaction here and now. “And there is no other agenda?” she asked, arching a brow. “You’re not planning on announcing we’re engaged, or something outrageous like that?”

He matched her arched brow with one of his. “How can I do that, when we’re not engaged? Really, Charlotte, you have so little trust.”

His smirk was

galling. But then everything about him was frustrating. He was gorgeous and interesting and he made her feel alive and wistful and confused...

She hated feeling confused. As well as wistful. Both reminded her of being a child, which wasn’t a period in her life she remembered with fondness. Being a child, she was forced to rely on others, and the chief lesson from her childhood seemed to be that people weren’t dependable, that most promises made were never kept. “I don’t trust people very much, no.”

“You ought to begin trying to trust me, especially if we’re to co-parent.”

“I haven’t agreed to that, either.”

“Bella, fortunately for me, that one is out of your jurisdiction. The law gives us both rights as parents. However, if you feel like agreeing to something, you could agree to marry me so when I do meet your family tomorrow, I can be introduced as your fiancé, and the father of your baby.”

“Maybe I should simply take my flight as scheduled. It would be far less complicated.”

“Or, I fly you home and meet your family and you can introduce me as the father of your child. I think it would be reassuring for them to know you haven’t been abandoned and won’t be having to raise the child on your own.”

For a split second she couldn’t breathe, her chest squeezing, her heart suffused with pain. That she hadn’t been abandoned. She blinked hard, clearing the hot sting of tears, trying to suppress the emotions that were threatening to swallow her whole.

“Surely your father would be reassured by the news,” Brando added, brow creasing. “As well as your brothers and sisters.”

“Everyone is quite busy,” she said, forcing a smile. “I don’t think my pregnancy will trouble them one way or another, but you suddenly appearing with me would cause a fuss. And we don’t need the fuss, do we?”

He gave her a long, considering look. “What happens when the gossips discover you’re pregnant with my child? That will get lots of tabloid attention, but if that doesn’t worry you...?”