CHAPTER SIX

      EMMA JUMPED WHEN her phone rang.

      All afternoon, since she’d left Cesare in the park, she’d been pacing the halls of Alain’s seventeenth-century hôtel particulier in the seventh arrondissement. She’d been on edge, looking out the windows, past the courtyard gate onto the Avenue Rapp. Waiting for Cesare to strike. Waiting for a lawyer to call. Or the police. Or... She didn’t know what, but she’d been torturing herself trying to imagine.

      When her cell phone finally rang, she saw his private number and braced herself.

      “I won’t let you bully me,” she whispered aloud to the empty air. Then she answered the phone with, “What do you want?”

      “I want to see you.” It shocked her how calm Cesare’s voice was. How pleasant. “I’d like to discuss our baby.”

      “I’m busy.” Standing in the mansion’s lavish salon with its fifteen-foot-high ceilings, she looked from the broom she hadn’t touched in twenty minutes to Sam, lying nearby on a cushioned blanket on the floor, happily batting at soft toys dangling above him in a baby play gym. She set her jaw. “I’m working.”

      “As mother of my heir, you don’t need to work, you know.” He sounded almost amused. “You won’t worry about money ever again.”

      He was trying to lull her into letting down her guard, she thought.

      “I don’t worry about money now,” she retorted. As a single mother, she’d been even more careful, tucking nearly all her paycheck into the bank against a rainy day. “I have a good salary, we live rent-free in Alain’s house and I have a nice nest egg thanks to you. I sold your watch to a collector, by the way. I couldn’t believe how much I got for it. What kind of idiot would spend so much on a— Oh. Sorry. But seriously. How could you spend so much on a watch?”

      But Cesare didn’t sound insulted. “How much did you get for it?”

      “A hundred thousand euros,” she said, still a little horrified. But also pleased.

      He snorted. “The collector got a good deal.”

      “That’s what Alain said. He was irritated I didn’t offer the watch to him first. He said he would have paid me three times that....” She stopped uneasily.

      “Bouchard takes good care of you.”

      Cesare’s good humor had fled. She gritted her teeth. What was the deal between those two? She wished they’d leave her out of it. “Of course Alain takes care of me. He’s an excellent employer.”

      “You can’t raise Sam in his house, Emma. I won’t allow it.”

      “You won’t allow it?” She exhaled with a flare of nostril. “Look, I told you that Sam’s your child because it was the right thing to do...”

      “You mean because I gave you no choice.”

      “...but you can’t give orders anymore. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re no longer my boss.”

      His voice took on an edge. “I’m Sam’s father.”

      “Oh, you’re suddenly sure about that now, are you?”

      “Emma—”

      “I can’t believe you asked me for a paternity test! When you know perfectly well you’re the only man I’ve ever slept with in my whole life!”

      “Even now?”

      His voice was a little tense. Cesare was worried she’d slept with other men over the past year? She was astonished. “You think I was madly dating while I was pregnant as a whale? Or maybe—” she gave a low laugh “—right after Sam was born, I rushed to invite men to my bed, hoping they’d ignore the dark hollows under my eyes and baby spit-up on my shoulder.” She snorted. “I’m touched, really, that you think I’m so irresistible. But if I have a spare evening I collapse into bed. For sleeping, not orgies, in case that was your next question.”

      For a moment, there was silence. When next he spoke, his tone was definitely warmer. “Leave Sam at home with a babysitter. Come out with me tonight.”

      “Why?” She scowled. “What do you have planned—the guillotine? Pistols at dawn? Or let me guess. Some lawyer is going to serve me a subpoena?”

      “I just want to talk.”

      “Talk,” she said doubtfully.

      “Perhaps I was a little rough with you in the park....”

      “You think?”

      He gave a low laugh. “I don’t blame you for believing the worst of me. But I’m sure you’ll forgive my bad manners, when you think of what a shock it was for me to learn I have a son, and that you’d hidden that fact from me for quite some time.”

      He sounded reasonable. Damn him.

      “What’s your angle?” she asked suspiciously.

      “I just want us to share dinner,” he said, “and discuss our child’s future. Surely there is nothing so strange in that.”

      Uh-oh. When Cesare sounded innocent, she knew he was up to something. “I’m not giving up custody. So if that’s what you want to discuss, we should let our lawyers handle it.” She tried to sound confident, like she even had a lawyer.

      “Oh, lawyers.” He gave a mournful sigh. “They make things so messy. Let’s just meet, you and me. Like civilized people.”

      She gripped the phone tighter, pacing across the gleaming hardwood floors. “If you’re thinking of luring me out of the house so your bodyguards can try to kidnap Sam, Alain’s house is like a fortress....”

      “If you’re going to jump to the worst possible conclusion of everything I say, this conversation is going to take a long time. And I wouldn’t mind a glass of wine,” he said pointedly.

      She watched her baby gurgle with triumph when he caught the end of his sock. Falconeri men were such determined creatures. “You’re not going to try to pull anything?”

      “Like what?” When she didn’t answer, he gave an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll even take you someplace crowded, with plenty of strangers to chaperone us. How about the restaurant at the top of the Eiffel Tower?”

      She pictured the long circling queues of tourists. Surely even Cesare couldn’t be up to much, amid such a crowd. “Well...”

      “You left London without a word. You kept your pregnancy secret and went to work for Bouchard behind my back. I don’t think a single dinner to work out Sam’s custody is too much to ask.”

      Emma was about to agree when her whole body went on alert at the word custody. “What do you mean, custody?”

      “I’m willing to accept your pregnancy was an accident. You didn’t intentionally lie. You’re not a gold digger.”

      “Gee, thanks.”

      “But now I know I have a son, I can’t just walk away. We’re going to have to come to an arrangement.”