One Night: Sizzling Attraction: Married for Amari's Heir / Damaso Claims His Heir / Her Secret, His Duty

“How soon can you get a paternity test done?”

She clenched her hands into fists, starting to feel light-headed. “Not for a few weeks. And from what I’ve heard there’s a miscarriage risk.”

“Your choice. Discuss it with your physician at your appointment, and I will leave that decision to you. But, if you do take assistance from me during the pregnancy and upon delivery of the child the test is done and I discover it is not mine, you will owe me for the care you received.”

She gritted her teeth. “I will probably take option two, as I’m completely confident in what the results will be. I’m not worried about owing you a damn thing.”

“Excellent,” he said, as though they had just solved a particularly tricky business issue. “I will arrange for an account to be set up for your medical needs. After the delivery of the baby, after we have legally established paternity, we can work out some sort of child support agreement.”

This was it. She had won. He was agreeing to child support. It was going to get her what she needed, give her and her child the best life possible. And he wasn’t going to be involved.

For some reason, the victory was so much more hollow than she had imagined it might be. For some reason, she didn’t feel victorious at all. She just felt dizzy, dazed.

Maybe because she was in shock. She very likely had been from the moment she’d first taken the pregnancy tests. The first one, at home, and the follow-up blood work at the free clinic. She had probably been in shock the whole time she was formulating this plan. A way to make sure everything was taken care of, without having Rocco in her life.

It was difficult to feel victorious when everything about this just felt frightening. Strange.

“I suppose you know how to contact me,” she said.

“And you know how to contact me. Clearly.”

“Is that everything?”

He shrugged and went to sit behind his desk. “Unless you have any further concerns. Or, have any information on the whereabouts of your father.”

She shook her head, feeling numb. “No.”

“That is a shame. Do let me know when the results of the paternity test are in.”

“You mean when your child is born.”

“I imagine the timing will coincide,” he said, looking away from her now completely. As though she was already gone.

“I’ll call you. Someone. Your secretary,” she said, turning away from him and walking out the door.

She managed to hold it together until she was halfway through the lobby. But then, just as she was passing the receptionist’s desk, a sob worked its way through her frame, catching her breath, making her pause. Her chest burned, her whole body shaking. She didn’t know why this hurt so much. Didn’t know why it mattered whether or not he cared about the child. She didn’t want him to, dammit. Why was she feeling guilty now?

Because you know how much it hurts. You know it hurts forever.

Yes, she did know. Knew that the pain of abandonment, of complete disinterest, didn’t ease.

She hated that her child would be starting out life the way she had started hers. And it was a strange and terrifying thing to know that, already, the needs of her child felt so much more important than her own.

She pressed on through the lobby, sucking in a gasp of fresh air as soon as she was outside. She blinked against the harsh light of the sun, staring up at the cloudless blue sky that seemed to mock the state of her life with its beautiful perfection.

But somehow, while part of her felt angry about the beauty of the day, another part of her took comfort in it. Things were changing in her life, faster than she could process them. But everything around her was the same.

It wasn’t the end of the world. It was just the start of a strange, new one. And no, her child wouldn’t have a father. But she knew from experience that a father who sucked was probably worse than no father at all.

And her child would have a mother. There was no question about that.

It was scary. Terrifying. She was a twenty-two-year-old waitress who didn’t feel as if she’d started her life yet. She didn’t know how to be normal. Her moral compass skewed from childhood. But she would have to change the way she saw things now, change the way she did things. Because she didn’t want to carry on the legacy that her father had tried to instill in her. A legacy she had been taking part in because she hadn’t known what else to do.

She still didn’t know what to do. But with the financial support coming from Rocco, she wouldn’t even be tempted to engage in cons anymore. Maybe she would get a house in the country. Maybe she would make friends with other mothers. Maybe she would make up a story about where she was from, and what happened to her baby’s father.

Maybe that could be her last con. One that she lived in. One that she stayed in. Something normal, something happy.

The thought of it made her smile.

Things were going to change. But she needed that. Desperately. She needed to change. Maybe this was her chance to finally have real connections. To love someone the way she wanted to. Without reserve. With love in return.

A love neither she nor her child would ever have to earn.

No just one more con looming overhead. A mythical destination that would supposedly fix all, but would never arrive.

She closed her eyes and wiped away the tears that had fallen down her cheeks. She didn’t need Rocco Amari to be happy. Neither did her child.

This whole thing with her dad had started out as one of the biggest mistakes of her life. But maybe out of it something amazing would happen.

Either way, it was a new chapter. She was done with her father. She was done with the life they’d led. Done with cheating people.

And she was done with Rocco, except when it came to the financial support he would offer. It was a new life, a new beginning.

And now that she had taken care of the hard part, she was ready to start.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ue77fbab4-6d04-5b9e-b503-4af7f9d06650)

THE ROOM WAS EMPTY. Everything was gone. Nothing to identify who might live in this tiny little house in Rome. No toys to show that a child played here. No pots or pans in the kitchen to prove that there was a mother who lived here. A mother who had cooked dinner every night, regardless if the meal was comprised of the most modest portions.

Even the blankets that were usually fashioned into a nest in the corner of the living area were gone.

And there were strangers standing there. Strangers who were smiling although there was nothing to smile about.

His toys were gone.

But worst of all, his mother was gone.

No matter how many times he asked where she was, no one would answer. He asked until he was hoarse, until his voice was gone, and still there was no answer. Only smiling, and strange assurances that everything would be fine, when he knew nothing would ever be fine again.

The room was empty, and he couldn’t find anything that he needed.

* * *

Rocco woke up, his body drenched in sweat, his heart hammering so hard he feared it might burst through his chest. His bedroom was, of course, not empty. He was sleeping on a king-size bed with lush blankets and pillows covering every square inch. In the corner, he could see his dresser, and mounted to the wall the flat-screen TV. Everything was here, just as it should be.

Most importantly, he was not a small crying child. He was a man. And he was not helpless.

Yet for some reason, in spite of the realization that he had been having his usual dream, the unease didn’t let up. His chest still felt as though it was being squeezed tight, a large hand wrapped around his throat.