"For me it's fine. Honestly, your fried chicken still is something awful. Mr. Black would have thought I lost my mind, hiring you. You're the one I'm worried about." She looked doubtfully at Vin. "So this man is the father of your baby, but do you really want to go with him?" Her eyes narrowed in her plump face. "Or is he forcing you?"
The suspicion in the older woman's face was less than flattering to Vin, but as she was a housekeeper to Kassius Black, a man whose reputation for ferocity was even worse than his own, he could understand her lack of automatic admiration for the average billionaire. The housekeeper, like Scarlett, had obviously had enough experience with the wealthy to know the ugliness that could lie behind the glamorous lifestyle.
"I will take good care of Scarlett and her baby," he told her gravely. "I promise you."
The housekeeper stared at him, then her scowl slowly disappeared. "I believe you."
"Good." Vin gave her his most charming smile. "We intend to marry soon."
She looked accusingly at Scarlett. "You're engaged?"
Scarlett looked a little dazed. "We haven't decided anything for sure..."
"Mrs. Stone," Vin interrupted, "I appreciate your loyalty and kindness to Scarlett. Should you ever want to switch jobs, please let us know."
Handing her a card, he took Scarlett by the hand and led her out of the chalet as the bodyguards followed with her shockingly small amount of luggage: a purse and a single duffel bag. He watched as they packed it into the back of the glossy SUV. An unwelcome image floated through Vin's mind of his own meager belongings when he'd left Italy at fifteen, after his mother's devastating revelation and death, to go live in New York with an uncle he barely knew. He'd felt so alone. So hollow.
He pushed the memory away angrily. He wasn't that boy anymore. He would never feel so vulnerable again-and neither would any child of his.
Vin opened the passenger door of the red sports car, then turned to Scarlett coldly. "Get in."
"You're driving us? Yourself?"
"The bodyguards will follow in the SUV. Like you said-" he gave a hard smile "-it's a beautiful day for a drive."
Once they were buckled in, he stepped on the gas, driving swiftly out of the gate and down the mountain, to the paved road that led through the expensive village of Gstaad, with its charming Alpine architecture, exclusive designer boutiques and chalets with shutters and flower boxes. The midmorning sun glowed in the blue sky above craggy forested mountains as they looped onto the Gstaadstrasse, heading west.
Vin glanced at Scarlett out of the corner of his eye. She was dressed very casually, an unbuttoned jacket over an oversize shirt, loose khaki pants and fur-lined booties. But for all that, his eyes hungrily drank in the sight of her. Her flame-red hair fell in thick curls down her shoulders. Her lustrous eyes were green as an Alpine forest. He could remember how it had felt to have those full, pink lips move against his skin, gasping in ecstasy...
He shuddered.
Why did Scarlett have such power over him?
For the last two weeks, since she'd left him standing on Madison Avenue with a stunned look on his face, he'd thought of nothing else. All of his considerable resources had been dedicated to one task: finding her.
She was in his blood. He hadn't been able to forget her. Not from the first moment he'd seen her in that bar. From the moment he'd first taken her in his arms. From the moment she'd disappeared from his bed after the best sex of his life.
From the moment she'd violently crashed his wedding and told him she was pregnant with his baby.
Scarlett Ravenwood was half angel, half demon. There was a reason he hadn't seduced any other woman for over eight months-an eternity for a man like Vin. He'd been haunted by Scarlett, haunted body and soul, driven half mad by memories of her naked in his arms.
Scarlett was the woman for him. The one he wanted. And he intended to have her.
"How did you find me in Switzerland?" she asked him quietly now.
Lifting his eyebrow, Vin focused on the road ahead. "It was a mistake for you to mail my wallet from a small Italian village. I still have connections in that country. It was easy to track down the postino who'd helped you. He remembered seeing your car with Swiss plates."
"He noticed my car?"
He smiled grimly. "There are surprisingly few Swiss registrations of a 1970 Plymouth Hemi Cuda convertible in pale green. The postino kissed his lips when he described it. Bella macchina.' He remembered you, too, a pregnant redheaded woman, very beautiful but a tragic driver. He thought the car deserved better."
"I chose that car from the chalet's garage because I thought it was the oldest," she said, sounding dazed, "so figured it was the cheapest."
"They're rare and often sell for two or three million dollars."
"Oh," she said faintly. "So if I'd taken the brand-new sedan..."
"I wouldn't have found you." Gripping the steering wheel, he looked at her. "You keep wondering if I'm trustworthy. I could wonder the same about you, except I've seen the answer. You've lied to my face, stolen my wallet. Kidnapped my child-"
"Kidnapped!"
"What else would you call it?" He looked at her. "How do I know our baby will be safe with you? The criminally minded daughter of a felon?"
"Felon!" Fury filled her green eyes. "My father never should have gone to prison. If his accomplice hadn't betrayed him-"
"Spare me the excuses," Vin said, sounding bored. "He was a bank robber."
"He returned all the money. Can you say the same?"
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about you and Blaise Falkner and every other billionaire-you are the real ones who should be..."
She abruptly cut herself off.
"Go on," Vin said evenly. "You were about to accuse me of something?"
Scarlett looked him straight in the eye. "Every rich man I've ever known was heartless. My dad in his worst year was less a thief than all the corporate embezzlers and Wall Street gamblers with their Ponzi schemes, wiping out people's pension funds, their savings, their hope!"
"You're comparing me to them?"
"You wouldn't sacrifice one of your platinum cuff links-" she glanced contemptuously at his wrist "-let alone risk your life or happiness, to save someone else."
"You don't know that."
"Don't I?" She lifted her chin. Through the car window he could see the gray-and-blue shimmer of Lake Geneva behind her. "You told me yourself. You don't think twice about causing emotional pain. I bet you've never loved anyone in your life. And you asked me to marry you!"
"Love isn't necessary."
"That's a screwed-up way of looking at things. That's like saying there's no point in eating things that taste good. Marriage without love, isn't that like eating gruel for the rest of your life? Why eat gruel when you can eat cake?"
"Cake is an illusion. It all turns out to be gruel in the end."
"That's the saddest thing I ever heard." She shook her head. "I feel bad for you. A billionaire who's content to eat gruel for the rest of his life."
Vin could hardly believe this penniless girl who had nothing and had once stolen his wallet actually felt sorry for him. "Better a hard truth than the sweet comfort of lies."
"No, it's worse than that. You're a cynic who claims not to believe in the existence of love." She looked up at him through dark eyelashes. "Some woman must have hurt you pretty badly."
Yes. One woman had. But it wasn't what Scarlett thought. "Then she did me a favor. Taught me the truth about life."
"Taught you wrong." She rubbed her belly, looking out the window as they drove closer to Geneva.
"Right or wrong, once the paternity test proves I'm your baby's father, we will be celebrating our marriage."
She tossed him a glance. "No, thanks. I'm no fan of gruel."
Vin ground his teeth. "Are you trying to tell me your childish, foolish dreams of love are more important than our child's welfare? A baby deserves two parents. A stable home."
Her expression changed. "Don't you think I know that? All I ever wanted my whole childhood was to have a real home. I don't even know what it feels like to make roots, have friends, be part of a community." Her voice cracked. "But you know what? We were still happy, even on the run. Because my parents loved each other. And they loved me."
He didn't know what that felt like, Vin thought unwillingly. He'd grown up in a derelict villa in Rome, neglected and ignored by a mother who was only interested in her love affairs. Her son was valuable for one reason only: to extort money from his father.
His so-called father.
Vin's shoulders tightened.
Anyone he loved, he lost. His mother had coldly used him as a bargaining chip to finance her lifestyle, before she violently died. Paid nannies left or were fired. His kindly grandfather had had a stroke when Vin was eight. He'd become estranged from his loving father and stepmother at fifteen. Sometimes he felt like he'd been alone his whole life. As alone as that Christmas Eve, when he was only eight and was left utterly alone in the villa, forgotten in the dark-