The Italian's Unexpected Heir Read online

  She gasped.

  “Sylvie, what’s the matter?” Enzo’s voice came from behind her. “Is it the baby?”

  The next thing she knew Enzo was standing next to her. She pressed the tablet to her chest as she shook her head. What was the point of hiding it from him? He was bound to find out soon enough. With great reluctance, she handed him her tablet with the write-up about them as a couple.

  Between news of the wildfire and then the sensationalized headline, her stomach churned. She moved to the couch and sat before her legs gave out. Things were spinning out of control faster than she could deal with them.

  When Enzo turned to her, she couldn’t read the emotions in his tired, bloodshot eyes. She swallowed hard, insisting her stomach calm itself. Not that it would listen to her.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “I... I had no idea they were in this to make sensationalized headlines. If I’d known, I never would have agreed to the visit.” Her gaze fell to her hands. “I thought I was helping.”

  Enzo sat beside her. “This isn’t your fault. This is totally on that reporter’s shoulders.”

  “You’re not mad at me?”

  “About the interview and this write-up? No.”

  She noticed how he singled out the article, but he hadn’t said anything about the baby. She couldn’t stand the unknown. She needed to know where they stood. “And the baby? Are you mad at me?”

  “Did you intentionally get pregnant?” His gaze searched hers, as though seeking out the truth.

  “No. I wouldn’t do such a thing.”

  “Then there’s no reason to be mad at you. But I am mad at myself for letting things get out of control and putting us both in this difficult position.”

  She reached out to him, touching his arm. “You can’t take on all of the blame. I started everything by kissing you.”

  Pain and regret were evident in his eyes as he pulled away from her touch. “But I shouldn’t have acted on it. This is all my fault—”

  “Stop.” Her voice was firm. “We aren’t going to play the blame game. What’s done is done. We just have to figure out how to move forward.”

  Enzo sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re right. Why don’t we start with breakfast?”

  “Not yet. We haven’t finished talking.”

  “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

  “I don’t expect anything from you.”

  “Except not to sell the estate.” Enzo frowned. “What I don’t get is why you care so much if I keep this place or not.”

  “Because there’s something about this estate...an ease...a hominess...that draws me in. It’s so easy to imagine all the happy memories within the walls of the main house. It’s something a lot of people strive for all of their lives. But you have it all, right here.”

  “What I have is a house of lies. Looking back, I can’t tell what was true and what was just a well-crafted lie by my parents. This house is where I let down my sisters. It is my biggest failure.”

  She paused, considering her next words. “After my mother died, I lost our house. I was so far behind in the payments that it was only the bank’s goodwill that let my mother stay there until the end. But after that I was out the door. I was homeless. I never knew where I was going to sleep. But thanks to some amazing friends, I only spent a night or two without a roof over my head.”

  “You never told me that before.”

  She glanced down at her clasped hands. “I’ve never told anyone. It’s not something I’m proud of.”

  That made him stop short. His gaze met hers. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, everything you did for your mother took incredible strength and love. It didn’t end the way you wanted but you did a remarkable thing.”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. He made it sound like she did something other people in her position wouldn’t have done. She didn’t think that was the case.

  “Thank you but I just did what I had to do.”

  * * *

  The wedding was over.

  The guests were gone.

  And the villa had been put back to rights.

  Late Saturday afternoon, Sylvie was exhausted. Even though it had been an intimate morning wedding with just family and close friends, there had still been an abundance of details to see to. It was a bittersweet moment for her as the wedding had been a smashing success, but it was also the last wedding she’d ever hold on the Bartolini estate.

  With this mix of emotions churning within her, she felt restless. She needed some fresh air. A stroll would give her a chance to sort out all she needed to do once she moved to Florence. Because come the morning, whether she wanted to or not, it was time to move on—without Enzo.

  He’d be there for the baby, of that she didn’t doubt, but he wouldn’t be there for her, not like the close friend he’d come to be over this past year. And maybe that was for the best. Because if she truly let a man into her life, she needed him to be there out of love, not obligation.

  With her trusty bag slung over her shoulder, Sylvie made her way to the stable. The earthy scents of the hay and horses, which may be a turnoff to some, grounded her. She craved that sense of peace today.

  One of her passions she’d gained since moving to the estate was horseback riding. As a child she’d always dreamed of having her own horse, but living in the city made owning a horse an expensive challenge—money her mother didn’t have.

  She moved to Duchess’s stall. Immediately, the horse moved to greet her. If a horse could smile, Duchess would be doing so now as she nuzzled Sylvie’s hand, urging her to fuss over the horse.

  Whenever Sylvie went riding, it was always Duchess she selected. The mare was gentle and patient. In fact, this was the horse Sylvie had learned to ride on when she’d first arrived in Tuscany. But sadly, they wouldn’t be able to take one last ride together.

  “I’m sorry, girl.” Sylvie ran her hand down over the mare’s neck. “We can’t go riding because I’m having a baby.”

  Duchess was the second to hear her news. The words felt so strange as they crossed her lips. She was still getting used to this new reality.

  The horse studied her with those big golden-brown eyes. And then Duchess whinnied as though to say she understood.

  “I’m going to miss you.”

  With a heavy heart, Sylvie walked away. Duchess put up a fuss, banging on her stall. She didn’t want to be left behind. The horse’s displeasure tugged on Sylvie’s heart.

  Today the stables didn’t give her the comfort she’d been craving. Still feeling restless, Sylvie continued walking. With no particular destination in mind, she kept putting one foot in front of the other.

  The sun was sinking toward the horizon when Sylvie came to a stop at her favorite spot on the estate. The small stream snaked its way along the edge of the estate. And in the background was a beautiful view of the rolling hills.

  With autumn not far off, evenings arrived earlier and earlier. Sylvie wasn’t ready to let go of this summer—this magical and amazing season. Who’d have thought she’d have an opportunity to visit Paris? The City of Love had been on her bucket list as well as visiting the Eiffel Tower and now she’d done both—and not alone.

  She’d swear that city cast a spell over its visitors—she was convinced of it. Otherwise, how else could she explain her being so bold with Enzo—starting something that spun totally and deliciously out of control?

  Now that they were back in Tuscany, she could see things clearer. It was abundantly obvious to her that they didn’t belong together. Where he wanted to wipe away the past—pretend it didn’t exist, she wanted to cling to it so as not to make the same mistakes. Where he acted hastily, such as deciding to sell the estate, she liked to mull things over and make a plan. Whereas he was stubborn and refused to admit when he’d made a mistake, she accep
ted her mistakes while trying to do better.

  She grabbed the blanket from her bag and smoothed it out in front of a large rock. It was there that she sank down and leaned back. For a moment she took in the beauty of the scenery from the slow-moving stream to the lingering sunshine peeking through the branches of trees on the other side of the stream to the blue sky with the puffy white clouds. She wished she could draw landscapes because this was a sight that should be replicated and shared.

  She withdrew her sketch pad from her bag along with her set of drawing pencils. She flipped open her sketch pad and stared down at the wedding dress she was designing. Drawing was something she’d started to do as a child. She’d loved to draw and color princess dresses, big and puffy. Some had fairy wings. And others were more sci-fi.

  But as she grew older, her drawings grew more refined and a lot more realistic. Still favoring a fairy-tale dress over the more everyday dresses, she morphed to wedding dresses. In her mind it seemed to be a natural move for her. At first, her drawings had been of dresses that already existed. The detail work of a wedding dress took a lot of studying and a lot of discarded pages. But eventually she started working on dresses of her own design. At first, they had basic lines and decorative traits. But eventually, she learned to trust her imagination and her skills.

  Once she had some original drawings, she used the skills her mother gave to her. Her mother was a seamstress—one of the best in all of Patazonia. Her mother would even give her some helpful hints, but while her mother realized her daughter’s real talent, she tried to talk her into more traditional work such as being a seamstress. Her mother didn’t believe a nobody like Sylvie would ever make it designing her own fashions, no matter how pretty they were.

  She knew her mother had the best of intentions. Sylvie agreed with her. Who would want to buy her fashions? But that didn’t keep Sylvie from spending her free time doing the one thing she’d been doing since she was a little girl—back in the days when she thought anything was possible—designing wedding dresses. Though these days it was rare when she had time to devote to her hobby. Today was one of those rare days.

  And knowing there wasn’t much time before the shadows would grow long and she’d need to head back, she started moving her pencil over the heavy white paper. In no time she was caught up in what she was doing.

  A line here. A button there. A plunging neckline. Erase. Erase. A not so plunging neckline. A layer of lace over the bodice. A fitted waistline with a sash of satin. This was definitely one of her favorite dresses by far. And maybe that was why it was taking her the longest to complete. She wanted everything to be perfect—

  “Sylvie?”

  Her heart lurched straight into her throat. She jumped. Her pencil skidded across the page. As her heart pounded, she turned to find Enzo alighting from his black stallion, Emperor.

  “Sylvie, is everything all right?” Enzo approached her. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  It took her a moment to regain the use of her voice. “I’m fine. I was just so caught up in...” She hesitated. She hadn’t shared this part of her life with him. “In thought.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He sent her a guilty smile.

  It was so hard to stay upset with him when he looked at her that way. “It’s okay. What did you need?”

  “I heard you were at the stables and then you just disappeared. I... I wanted to check on you. And I knew Emperor would enjoy a ride. But I can leave if you want me to.”

  “No.” The word was out of her mouth before she had a chance to decide if their spending alone time was a good idea or not.

  After all, there wasn’t another soul around. It was once again just the two of them. Why did that conjure up all the wrong thoughts?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  NOTHING ROMANTIC WAS going to happen.

  Enzo already made it quite clear he wasn’t interested.

  Sylvie moved to the side of the blanket. Enzo joined her. He glanced over at her sketch pad. She’d forgotten all about its still being open. Her initial instinct was to close it, but it would seem rude and she wouldn’t do that to Enzo.

  As Enzo studied her sketch, she studied him. She wondered if their baby would be a boy or girl. She liked the idea of having a little boy—the spitting image of his father. Her heart filled with love.

  And Enzo’s dark brown eyes were unforgettable. Would the baby inherit his father’s penetrating gaze? Or would they inherit her nothing-special lighter brown eyes? Would their son or daughter be tall like their father? Short like her? Or fall somewhere in between? She had so many questions.

  Sylvie wondered if Enzo was curious about their child. They might not have worked as a couple but that didn’t mean she didn’t want him in their child’s life.

  In fact, after not knowing her father at all, Sylvie was quite anxious for Enzo to be an active part of their child’s life, which was another reason she wished he’d change his mind about selling the estate. She’d heard him say in the past that if he didn’t live here that he’d probably move back to France. And that was so far away that he’d only see their child once in a while. Not nearly enough for a close relationship.

  “Sylvie?” Enzo waved his hand in front of her face. When she blinked and focused on him, he asked, “Did you hear anything I just said?”

  “Umm...” Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Sorry. I guess I zoned out. That wedding this morning might have had a small guest list but there were a lot of little details and I’m more tired than I thought.”

  “Then we should get you back to the house. The doctor said you should take it easy for a few days.”

  “It has been a few days and I’m fine.” When he frowned at her, she said, “Besides, these are the last lingering days of summer and I want to enjoy them before they’re gone.”

  “There’s always next year.”

  “But things will be so different then.”

  “You mean the baby?”

  “Partly.” She glanced away. “It’s complicated.”

  He glanced back at her sketch pad. “I didn’t know you were artistic.”

  “I... I’m not. This is just a sketch. It’s no big deal.”

  “It’s a huge deal. Call it what you want but that’s a definite piece of art. Wow! You’re talented.”

  Heat rushed back to her cheeks. She wasn’t used to people complimenting her sketches. “Thank you.”

  “May I have a closer look?”

  She handed over her sketchbook. She wasn’t sure why he was making such a big deal of it. She didn’t think her sketches were that good and maybe that was why she couldn’t finish this dress. In her mind the dress was magnificent, but when she attempted to transfer that image to paper it didn’t come out quite the way she imagined.

  Enzo held up her sketch and really studied it for a moment. “Do you have more of these?”

  She nodded.

  “May I look at those, too?”

  She nodded once more. She never knew just how exposed she would feel by sharing her sketches with someone. It was like they were looking at a piece of her soul. It was all bare and open for their inspection. And if they didn’t like it—if Enzo didn’t like what he saw—it would hurt. It would hurt a lot.

  He turned page after page. Some were close-ups of the bodice with all the lacework or beading. Others were full dress sketches. She drew what she thought she’d need in order to take the drawing and turn it into a full-fledged dress.

  “This is so impressive.”

  “It’s not that good.”

  His gaze momentarily lifted, meeting hers. “Yes, it is.” Then he glanced back at the sketch pad. “Why do you plan weddings instead of designing dresses?”

  She shook her head, dismissing such a ridiculous notion. In her mind she heard the echo of her mother’s voice: No matter how good you are, you’re s
till a nobody.

  “It’s just a hobby.”

  He was quiet for a moment as he turned the page. He lifted the sketch pad closer to his face, inspecting each minute line and swirl. “Wait. Is this why you have a wedding dress in your living room?”

  “It is. But it’s not finished.”

  “Is it the first one you’ve sewn?” When she shook her head, he asked, “May I see the other one?”

  “I no longer have them.”

  “Them?” He sounded surprised. “You made more than one?”

  “I did.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “I sold them.” She lowered her gaze to the striped pattern on the blanket. She could feel him staring at her expectantly.

  This part of herself she didn’t share with others. Part of the reason she didn’t talk about it was the associated pain with that trying time in her life, and the other was the sadness with having to part with her very first wedding dress.

  “I get the feeling you didn’t do it voluntarily.”

  She shook her head. What would it hurt to tell him? After all, she’d been privy to much of the drama after his parents’ sudden deaths. “I had to sell them in order to pay my mother’s medical bills.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry to push.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t talk about it much but it’s not a secret.” She said this much; she might as well tell him the rest. “When my mother was sick, I worked at a wedding boutique. They sold dresses and accessories as well as planned the weddings.” She paused as the painful memories came flooding back.

  “And that’s how you got the job of working with Bianca?”

  “Yes. I worked my way up in the business, but I never learned who recommended me to the royal palace.”

  “I can see why they did. You’re very organized and great with people.”