Page 18 of Baby Mine

“Cara, when I first saw you in Venice, so carefree and eager to take in all the wonders that my homeland offered, your beauty stunned me. I admit at first it was raw attraction. That thin yellow dress you wore, how it accentuated your small waist and luscious breasts, even your smooth sweet cocoa skin drew me in. Then you spoke to me, and we had dinner together. I swear by the end of the night, I was in love. I couldn’t let you go.”

“Oh.” Words rattled around in her head, chief of which were, “I love you too,” but she held back and turned away from him. “Renzo, I believe you, but there are so many complications—”

“There are none.” He drew her to face him again with an insistent hand on her chin. Chills raced each other over her skin, up her arms and down her spine. The period where he bided his time seemed to be long over. “I’m here, and I will continue to be here. We will work all things out as they happen.”

She shoved his hand away and stood up. “What about school?”

“School?”

She put her hands on her hips. “Someone told me you were going to send my baby away to some boarding school in Europe when he turns ten or eleven. I’m gonna tell you right now that’s not happening, even if I have to fight you with everything inside me. You’re not going to use your money and connections against me, Renzo. I mean it.”

The amusement in his gaze pissed her off.

“I’m serious.”

“And I believe you.” He stood and pulled her into his arms. The man played dirty. “No boarding school. What else?”

She was thrown for a loop. “Um…no nanny. I’m raising my child.”

“Done, but if you change your mind, or you need a little break now and then, I will get you help without question.”

She nodded and pulled away again to sit down. Having his hands on her waist was too distracting. “Okay, what are your demands?”

“Voglio amare per sempre,” he said without hesitation.

She gasped. “That was the phrase on one of the cards you sent me. What does it mean?”

“I want to love you forever.”

Her heart skipped a few beats.

“I want to cherish you, cara mia. I want to make you mine, my wife, with the rights that come with it.”

Sex, she thought.

“Not just your body but your mind, your smile, your point of view, and even your cutting tongue when you’re angry with me.”

She couldn’t help the smile that parted her lips now.

“I am a businessman. I love my work, and I admit it consumes much of my time, but I spent the last few weeks rearranging things, delegating many of the responsibilities that take me away from home more than I am there. Ettore isn’t so happy with me right now, but the agreement I came to with Uncle Gianni should ensure he will not stand against you ever again. I am free to love you and our baby, Jada. If you will have me.”

She already knew what would happen if she rejected him. He would bury her in gifts for as long as it took to change her mind, a

nd by his own admission, he had freed up a lot of his time. Something told her he would dog her every step and might even get the lawyers and Leena involved. “I won’t say no, but I won’t say yes just yet either. Woo me, Renzo. Show me how much you love me. Not with your money, but with yourself. I’m still hesitant because we come from two different worlds, but… I do love you. More than any man I’ve loved before, and I’ve never been married. This is not just about us but about our child. I need to know we are doing the right thing being together. Can you understand how I feel?”

“I can, my love. I am confident you will be mine in name as you already are in body and soul.”

Jada had no wish to deny his assertion. She did her best to prepare for what was to come.

Chapter Eight

Renzo reminded himself as he scrubbed a particularly stubborn pot that staying in Charlotte at Jada’s small apartment was the right choice. He had removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves to cook for her. The problem was he had never been in the kitchen in that capacity, nor had he ever washed a dish. The spaghetti turned out to be overcooked and rubbery, and the sauce might come out of his shirt but probably not his pants. He’d thought he was being clever when he looked up the recipe on his cell phone. How hard could it be, he’d thought. Jada had almost made herself sick laughing at the disaster.

The pot slipped from his soapy fingers and clanged to the floor for the fourth time. “Mannaggia!” he swore.

Jada’s slender fingers curled around his bicep. “Enough. Let me do it.”

He shook off her hold. “I promised you dinner and that I would clean up afterward. We had to order in. The least I can do is handle the mess I made.”

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