The Italian's Unexpected Heir

He drew in a deep breath and then let it out. It didn’t matter how long he put this off; it wasn’t going to get easier for either of them. It was best just to get it over with as quickly as possible. “I’ve agreed to sell the estate.”

If it was possible for her face to grow paler, it most definitely had. Even her normally glossy pink lips were devoid of gloss this morning and had lost their color.

“You did what?” Her voice faded with each wor

d.

And then she swayed.

He moved, his arms wrapping around her. Instinctively, he pulled her to him. “I’ve got you.”

She pressed her hands to his chest. “I’m fine. Let me go.”

He guided her over to one of the chairs at a table on the terrace. “Can I get you anything?”

She shook her head. “Stop fussing. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You almost passed out over there. Are you sick?”

Again, she shook her head. “I’m not sick. I keep telling you, I’m fine.”

“People that are fine don’t pass out.”

“I didn’t pass out.”

“Okay, then you almost passed out. I’m not letting this go until you tell me what’s going on. Is it the news?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t eat breakfast this morning and I went for a run.”

“On an empty stomach?” No wonder she’d almost passed out.

She shrugged once more. “When?”

“What?”

“When is the estate being sold?”

“I don’t know. I just made the call this morning. We have to work out the details. Nothing has been fully decided.”

She didn’t say anything to that. She got to her feet and quietly walked away, leaving him feeling worse than he had before.

He thought she would yell at him—blame him for ruining her business. Anything would have been better than the silent treatment. Though he supposed he deserved it because ever since Paris he’d been quiet, too—trying to figure out the right thing to do for his family and for himself.

But was it the right thing for Sylvie?

* * *

His proclamation had stunned her.

The next morning Sylvie sat behind her desk in the guesthouse. She didn’t feel as though she’d accomplished a thing that morning. At least nothing that was on her to-do list.

She’d spent most of yesterday in this little cottage on the estate. And she intended to do the same today. She told herself it was because she had a lot of work to do, but the real reason was that she was avoiding Enzo.

The cottage was quiet and out of the way. It was used in part for wedding services, from choosing a gown, to dress fittings, to choosing decorations and everything else. Princess Bianca—well, she wasn’t officially a princess until Christmas—had invested most of the income from the weddings back into the business, building it up. Now the business was amazing. And Sylvie felt as though she had a dream job, but like with all dreams, it was coming to an end.

Her stomach felt as though it was on the high seas, swaying this way and that. As such, her appetite was nonexistent.

All the while her mind was on Enzo. How could he sell the estate? This was the same place he’d competed with his sisters over in order to claim ownership. And now he just suddenly changed his mind? She didn’t understand.