Modern Romance September 2018 Books 5-8. Heidi Rice
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looked at the baby. “And this is the little one?”
“Er...hello.” Still holding Esme tight, Tess turned to Stefano with a bewildered frown. “Why do we need a nanny? Unless—” She brightened. “Are you offering me a job as a designer? Oh, Stefano!” Joy lit up her face. “You don’t know what this means to me. I don’t need any special treatment. I’ll be happy to be assistant to an assistant—”
Stefano cut her off with a scowl. “You don’t need to work, Tess. I can more than provide for you.”
Her face fell. “Then why a nanny?”
He could hardly explain that he wanted to give her more time for sex and sleep, not with his employees listening to every word. So he stuck to half the truth. “As my wife, you’ll often have PR events to attend. Runway shows. Parties. Charity balls.” He grinned. “Art Basel. Weekends on the French Riviera or yachting on the Costa Smeralda.”
“Me?” Tess looked flabbergasted. “I’ll be doing those things?”
“You’re joining my life, and that’s how I live. Starting with a party tonight. You remember the woman who attended our wedding, Fenella Montfort?”
Tess’s face was blank. “Um. Maybe?”
“It’s fine. You were distracted.” He smiled. “She’s the primary shareholder of Zacco. Our lawyers have already started negotiations, but the company is hosting a party at her town house tonight, and I hoped...”
“You hoped to use your charm to jump-start the negotiations?”
“Exactly.”
Tess looked at him and sighed. “Then of course we must go.”
Taking her hand in his own, he kissed it. “Thank you, cara. I knew you would understand.”
“Don’t worry, Your Highness,” Ann Carter said, holding out her arms for Esme.
With some visible reluctance, Tess handed her the baby as the nanny continued talking.
“I’ve been caring for babies my whole life.” She smiled down at Esme. “We’ll get along very well, won’t we? Shall we go read stories in the nursery?”
The baby gurgled with delight, waving her pudgy arms.
Tess watched them, biting her lip. Stefano could see she was nervous at the thought of leaving their daughter with anyone besides family or friends.
“It’ll be all right,” Stefano said, touching her shoulder. “The party isn’t far. We don’t have to be out late.”
She took a deep breath. “All right.” She gave him a wan smile. “This party is important, right?”
“It is.” Drawing her close, he kissed her on the forehead. “Thank you.”
Thirty minutes later, he and Tess left the hotel in a luxury limousine. The burly bodyguard he kept on staff in Europe, Leon Rossi, sat in front beside the driver.
Leaning close to Stefano in the back seat, Tess whispered, “Why a bodyguard?”
“Don’t worry.” Stefano looked down at her. “He’ll wait in the car. There’s no threat. It’s simply best practice.”
“You mean, all the other billionaires had a bodyguard, so you wanted one, too.”
“Well...yes.” A smile lifted the corners of his lips. “And I wanted the best. I stole Leon away from his previous employer. Who was that again, Leon?”
“Cristiano Moretti, boss.”
Folding her arms, Tess shook her head, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “You’re incorrigible.”
“See? You do know me.”
Stefano couldn’t stop looking at her. Tess was wearing a new dress, chosen from a selection sent up by the hotel’s luxury boutique. He’d offered to arrange a stylist, but Tess had refused. She’d done her own hair and makeup in twenty minutes. And she was the most impossibly beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
Her bright red hair tumbled down her shoulders, and her ruby lips were full and ripe. Her bright green eyes stood out like emeralds, lined with black against her fair skin. Her hourglass figure was lush and enticing in the strapless sapphire-blue dress. A faux fur stole was draped around her bare shoulders to keep out the cool, slightly drizzly air of an autumn night in London.
Stefano felt intoxicated with pride. Lowering his head, he kissed her, relishing the sweet taste of her soft lips.
He drew back with a sigh. “I almost wish we didn’t have to go tonight.”
“This Montfort woman, what’s she like?”
He smiled down at her, running his hands through her silky hair. “Even more ruthless than her father. He was the one who bought Zacco. She took over after he retired.”
“Is she married?”
“Why?” His smile broadened. “Are you jealous?”
“Just wondering,” she said evasively. The lights of the city passed over her lovely face as the limo drove through the London night.
“As far as I can tell, she’s a workaholic. It’s a pity.” He sighed. “Zacco has done exceptionally well with her as CEO.”
“Why is that a pity?”
“Business is booming, which is reflected in Zacco’s stock price, and will make it harder to convince her to sell. But I assure you,” he whispered, cradling her cheek, “you have nothing to worry about, cara. All I want from her is Zacco. Believe me.”
She bit her plump, pink lower lip. “And what do you want from me?”
“From you?” he said huskily. “Everything.”
He kissed her again, deeply. It was far easier to take her in his arms with no baby seat between them in the back seat. When the limo stopped, it took him a moment to notice. The back door opened, but he didn’t feel the cold air.
The driver politely cleared his throat. “We’re here, Your Highness.”
Reluctantly Stefano pulled away from the embrace and tenderly rubbed away a smear of lipstick from Tess’s cheek. At the same moment she reached up and wiped it off his lips. Looking at each other, they gave an awkward laugh. Then, after getting out of the car, he held out his arm. “Come,” he said in a low voice. “I can hardly wait to introduce you.”
STEFANO THOUGHT HE knew luxury, but this was truly over the top.
The Zacco party was in full swing at Fenella Montfort’s luxurious, five-story town house near Kensington Palace. Everything was lavish, from the flowers to the champagne to the army of uniformed servants. He himself certainly had his share of household employees, but Fenella’s party was staffed at levels that made Downton Abbey look chintzy.
Everywhere he looked, he saw the Zacco brand. Everything from pillows to brocade curtains was festooned with the famous curlicue Zs.
Stefano’s stomach clenched. He thought of how his lawyers’ negotiations had already stalled. Fenella’s lawyers were stonewalling, claiming she had no desire to sell. Zacco, always glamorous, had become wildly fashionable since Fenella had become CEO.
The offbeat, colorful, ridiculously expensive clothes were now splashed all over magazine covers, trendy with Hollywood, old-money and social-media celebrities alike. The stock price had increased 20 percent in the last year.
In that same time, Stefano’s own new fashion brand, Mercurio, had tanked. Their previous creative director’s lackluster designs had done poorly in every market. It took a special sort of skill, he thought