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

Ridiculous, considering Rocco had seen her naked, but the mention of fluids made Charity’s cheeks heat. “Well, that’s good to know.”

“And, now we’re just going to try and see if we can hear a heartbeat. If we can’t get it on the Doppler, it could just be because it’s so early. So there’s no need to be concerned. But it is nice to try and establish viability this way if we can.”

Rocco was staring at her, hard. Maybe this was what he was here for. The chance to hear the heartbeat. To see if she was telling the truth. Though, she would have thought that he might send a lackey to ascertain this sort of information. She could just picture his secretary sitting here, waiting to report back. She would find that less disconcerting.

The doctor stood and put on a pair of rubber gloves. “Could you lie down please?”

Charity shot a look over to Rocco. “Please come and stand up by my shoulders.”

“You did not conceive the baby on your own,” he said, his tone laconic. “We both know I’ve seen it before.”

Even the doctor blinked at him in shock. “You will have to forgive him,” Charity said. “He was raised by wolves. They did a terrible job.”

Rocco shrugged, a rather wolfish smile crossing his features. “The founder of Rome was also raised by wolves. I consider myself in good company.”

Charity rolled her eyes. “Oh, great Caesar, come and stand up by my shoulders.”

She was surprised when he complied. But maybe he was just tired of the delay. He moved up to the head of the exam table, and she lay down. The doctor retrieved a sheet from beneath the cabinet and laid it over Charity’s lap.

The doctor adjusted the gown, then squirted some warm gel onto Charity’s stomach. She took a small wand and placed it over the gel, sliding it around, a strange, watery sound filling the room. She moved it lower, and lower still. And suddenly a pulsing sound rose up over the baseline noise.

“That’s it,” the doctor said, her tone bright. “That’s the baby’s heartbeat.”

Charity looked up at Rocco, then immediately wished she hadn’t. She didn’t care what his reaction was. At least, she shouldn’t care. But truly, she had imagined he would have no reaction at all, and that was clearly not the case.

His face had turned to stone, as hard and immobile as a statue.

He was truly beautiful, and it was an inconvenient moment to think of it. But he was the father of her baby and that realization made her study his features that much more closely. The golden tone to his skin, the hard, angular lines of his cheekbones, his jaw. The sensual curve of his mouth.

Her child would be half of him. Would he have the same sulky expression? Dark straight hair like his father? Or a riot of black curls like her?

Rocco’s frown deepened. “It does not sound like a heartbeat,” he said, the mocking edge smoothed from his voice. He sounded...strange. Uncertain.

“It does to me,” the doctor said, clearly not at all intimidated by Rocco.

There was an odd light in Rocco’s dark eyes, something she couldn’t put a name to. “It’s very fast,” he said, and if Charity wasn’t so cynical about him, she might have thought she heard concern in his voice.

“Normal,” the doctor said. “Strong, and absolutely nothing to worry about.” She directed her focus to Charity.

“She is pregnant,” Rocco said, not a question.

The doctor’s brows shot up again. “Absolutely.”

A deep groove formed between his dark brows. “I see,” he said, his tone stoic now. “And I hear.”

For a while, no one spoke at all. There was only the sound of the baby’s heartbeat, and on the monitor, a wavy line that moved with each beat. A band that seemed to stretch between Rocco and herself, tightening a bond between them she hadn’t realized was there.

Charity wished it would go away.

“Do you have any questions for me?” the doctor asked, breaking into Charity’s internal monologue.

Charity shook her head, suddenly unable to say anything. Unable to think at all.

“Then I’ll see you in four weeks for your next appointment. Everything seems right on schedule. Nothing to worry about.” Charity could think of about fifty things to worry about without even trying.

The doctor removed the wand from her stomach and wiped away the gel with the sheet that was over her lap. “I’ll leave you to get dressed.”

And then she left, leaving Charity and Rocco alone.

“Would you go please?”

“Why?” Rocco asked, sitting back down in the chair he had been in before. Any softening, any humanity she thought she might have glimpsed a moment ago was gone now.

“I need to get dressed.”

He put his hands behind his head and leaned back. “You’re being so charmingly modest. We both know you possess quite a bit more boldness.”

“Fine. If you’re looking for a show, enjoy.” She stood from the exam table, letting the sheet fall to the floor. The gown covered her until she turned her back on him, and she knew she was revealing everything to him then. She untied the top of the gown and let it fall completely. Then she set about getting dressed.

She was too angry to be embarrassed. She didn’t care if he looked. He was right, he had already seen her. He had touched her. He was the reason things were like this.

Once all of her clothing was on, she turned to face him. He was staring at her, dark eyes glittering. “I should’ve charged admission for that,” she said.

“I found the ingénue much more charming. Perhaps you could revert back?”

“Oh, I think you and I both know that I can’t play the ingénue now. I seem to have lost my innocence somewhere.”

A half smile curved his lips. “And so you have. Though, I’m starting to think that virginity is not necessarily innocence.”

She shrugged. “I won’t argue with you there.”

“Is this an admission of guilt?”

“Certainly not. I’m only saying my innocence is unconnected to whether or not I’ve slept with a man.”

“You really were a virgin, weren’t you?”

She lifted her chin, staring him down. “Is it important?”

He looked back at her, and for a moment she thought she saw something in his dark gaze, something that looked strikingly like guilt. But then it was gone, replaced with the smooth, impenetrable expression she’d come to expect from him. “Not particularly. If I had a conscience, I suppose it might be a little dented by the realization. Happy for both of us I don’t. Though, it might bear weight on how convinced I am that this is my child,” he said, directing his gaze at her stomach.

“It is your child. There was no one else before you, and no one else after you.” She watched his expression carefully for more clues. And was disappointed. So she pushed harder. “Makes it difficult for you to vilify me, doesn’t it?”

“You might find this strange,” he said, his tone hard. “But I’m not here to vilify you.”

“Well, you certainly aren’t here to shower me with flowers and compliments. So why are you here?”

“I’ve changed my mind.”