And if part of him was incredulous he was making this choice, even mocking him for it, he pushed that aside. "I'm staying." He looked back at the baby. "What shall we call him?"
She looked at him with barely concealed relief, then smiled. "A name that has meaning in your family. If not Giuseppe, what about Vincenzo?"
"After me?" Vin shuddered, then shook his head. "Our baby deserves better. He must have a name of his own." He thought for a moment, then said haltingly, "My nonno-my mother's father-was very kind to me. He died when I was eight, but I never forgot him. He made Christmas special." His lips quirked at the edges. "He said it was his job, because of his name. Nicolò."
She considered. "Nicolas?"
Vin looked at his baby son's face and nodded. "Nico," he said softly. "I like it."
For long moments, they held hands without speaking, Scarlett propped against pillows in the hospital bed and Vin cradling their baby in the chair beside her. He thought he'd maybe never been happier, or so at peace.
But it ended too soon as Ernest, his executive assistant, burst into the hospital room. "Sir, did you turn off your phone? I have been calling."
"Obviously," Vin said tightly, "I did not wish to be disturbed. Whatever the problem, you can handle it."
"The deal just fell apart and the other CEO stormed out when you didn't appear this morning. Everything is a shambles in the Rome office..."
As he spoke, a nurse bustled in and wanted to check over Scarlett and the baby. Nico himself began to complain that he was hungry and wanted his mother.
As Scarlett eagerly took her baby into her arms, the chaos increased as Vin heard an argument in the hallway. Ernest went to check it out, closing the room's door behind him. But the arguments only got louder through the door.
"Handle your guests, please," the nurse told Vin crisply in Italian. "This is a hospital, not a nightclub."
Vin ground his teeth, then turned to his wife with a bright smile. Kissing her forehead, he excused himself and went out into the hall.
One of his bodyguards was physically blocking a slender man in glasses who was yelling and trying to push into the private room. Ernest was trying to mollify him in a low voice.
"What is going on?" Vin demanded.
"Ah. Signor Borgia." The slight man immediately relaxed and turned to him politely. "Salvatore Calabrese sent me. He wished to convey his displeasure at your disrespect today."
"No disrespect to Signor Calabrese was meant. As you can see, I was unable to personally meet him this morning to close the deal with Mediterranean Airlines because I was called away on urgent family business."
"Signor Calabrese found your lack of commitment to the business deal very disappointing. He wished me to inform you that he is father to four children and was not present at a single one of their births."
Vin wondered that any man would brag about something like that, but he said merely, "I would be pleased to reschedule-"
"That is sadly now impossible." The man pushed up his wire-rimmed glasses. "Signor Calabrese will be exploring options with your Japanese and German competitors, many of whom have larger, more established airlines than yours. He hopes you enjoy family time," the man continued politely, "as you'll soon have much more of it. Without the expansion your airline needs, you'll soon be ripe for takeover yourself." The man gave a little bow. "Good day."
As he departed, Vin stared after him in shock.
The Japanese and German airlines who also hoped to take over Mediterranean Airlines were indeed formidable and powerful. It hadn't been easy to convince Salvatore Calabrese that SkyWorld Airways was the right choice. Vin had been forced to personally meet with him in New York and London.
"All right. I'll take a gamble with you, kid," Salvatore Calabrese had told him finally. "You remind me of myself when I was young. A shark who'll win at any cost." He'd given Vin a hard smile. "Just meet me in Rome to sign the papers. I need that mark of respect. Plus, I need to know I'm selling my baby to a man who'll always put his company first."
Now Vin clawed his hand through his dark hair, thinking of the hours, money and effort that he and his team had spent, costing millions of dollars and thousands of hours, to put the deal together. This on top of the public debacle in New York of losing the Air Transatlantique deal. The snotty little assistant had been right. Vin's rivals would start to smell blood in the water.
A stab went through him as he felt the cost of making his family the priority today. Twice now, his relationship with Scarlett had wrecked badly needed business deals. And now, just when he most needed his airline to succeed, for the sake of his family, for the sake of his son's future legacy, he was facing another failure.
"It'll be all right, boss." Ernest looked at him nervously. "Plenty of other fish in the sea. Lots of ways to expand our airline. Right, Mr. Borgia?"
His executive assistant clearly expected reassurance, but Vin stared at him blankly.
For the first time ever, he didn't know his next move.
Maybe this was what happened, Vin thought numbly. When you started choosing with your heart, instead of your head.
CHAPTER NINE
"CAN'T YOU GO SLOWER?" Scarlett pleaded.
"No." Her husband sounded annoyed.
"Just a little-"
"Scarlett, this is Rome. If we go any slower, we'll be run over."
Sitting in the backseat of their brand-new Bentley SUV, she looked anxiously at their three-day-old baby quietly tucked in his baby seat beside her, looking up at her so trustingly, with those big dark eyes like Vin's.
At least, she comforted herself, he hadn't insisted on using the sports car. The two-seater had been professionally cleaned, and Vin had donated it to the highway police. "A little gift to say thanks," he told her.
Scarlett was glad it had gone to a good home, and grateful to the kindhearted policeman who'd helped them get to the hospital so quickly.
She still remembered how terrified she'd been that day, and how awful labor had been. Her body had felt ripped apart. But already, that memory of pain was starting to fade every time she looked at her baby.
Scarlett was happy to be leaving the hospital. The hospital staff had been lovely, but she was ready to go home. Ready but also terrified. Because that meant there would no longer be medical professionals hovering to give quick advice if Nico couldn't sleep at night or didn't seem to be eating enough.
But at least Scarlett knew she had one person she could rely on. One person she could trust. The person who'd never left her side, not once, even though that choice had cost him dearly. And she loved him for it.
She loved Vin for that, and so much more.
She was totally, completely in love with him. There could no longer be any question. She'd known it when, after holding her hand uncomplainingly through long hours of labor, he'd tenderly placed their newborn baby in her arms.
"Look what you've created, Mrs. Borgia," he'd said, looking down at her with a suspicious gleam in his black eyes. "You should be proud."
"We created," she'd corrected, looking up at him.
"We," he'd whispered tenderly.
And that was that.
She loved Vin.
Another thing that thrilled her-and terrified her.
Heart in her throat, she looked at him, in the front seat beside their driver. Bodyguards were following in the black SUV. Vin had told her he wished to remain in Rome for the foreseeable future, in hopes of patching up the deal with Mediterranean Airlines. Scarlett had been delighted. She already adored this country, this city. How could she not?
But at the moment, her husband was looking back at her, his handsome face the picture of disbelief. "Are you sure you really want to do this?"
His tone implied she was crazy. He'd asked her the same question at least six times since their driver had picked them up from the hospital.
"I'm sure," Scarlett said calmly.
"I have reservations at the best hotel in Rome. The royal suite. We'd have an entire floor to ourselves, in total luxury with an amazing view. Room service," he added almost desperately.
Smiling, she shook her head. "That's not what I want."
Vin folded his arms, his expression disgruntled. "It's a mistake."
"It's not a mistake to want our baby to have a real home, instead of living in some hotel. I don't care how fancy it is."
"You'll care tonight, when there's no hot water and the beds are lumpy. The roof probably leaks."
"You'd really rather stay at a hotel than your own childhood home?"
"It wasn't particularly great then, and I'm sure it's worse now." He turned away as the driver drove them deeper into the city. "I've rented it out for the last twenty years, and from what my staff has told me, the tenant didn't exactly improve the situation."