A Facade to Shatter

Chapter FIVE

LIA DIDN’T SLEEP WELL. She’d returned to her hotel, ordered room service—soup and crackers—and then taken a hot bath and climbed into bed with the television remote. She’d fallen asleep almost instantly, but then she’d awakened when it was still dark out. She lay there and stared at the ceiling.

Her entire life was crashing around her ears, and there was nothing she could do about it. Zach had rejected her. She had no choice but to return to Sicily. No choice but to tell her grandmother everything that had happened. She could only pray that Alessandro was a better man than her grandfather had been, and that he wouldn’t force her to marry someone she didn’t love simply for the sake of protecting the family reputation

She didn’t hold out much hope, actually.

She put her hand over her still-flat belly. What was she going to do? Where was she going to go? If she tried to keep running, the Correttis would find her. She couldn’t melt away and become anonymous. She couldn’t find a job and raise her child alone. She had no idea how to begin. She had no skills, no advanced education. She’d never worked a day in her life.

But she would. She would, damn it, if that’s what it took. She wasn’t half-bad with plants. Maybe she could get a job in a nursery, or in someone’s garden. She could prune plants, coax forth blooms, mulch and pot and plan seasonal beds.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Tears filled her eyes and she dashed them away angrily. Eventually, she fell asleep again. When she woke this time, it was full daylight. She got up and dressed. She thought about ordering room service again, but she needed to be careful with her expenses. She would go and find a diner somewhere, a place she could eat cheaply.

And then she would figure out what to do.

Lia swept her long hair into a ponytail and grabbed her purse. She was just about to open the door when someone knocked on it. The housekeeper, no doubt. She pulled open the door.

Except it wasn’t the housekeeper.

Lia’s heart dipped into her toes at the sight of Zach on the threshold. But then it rose hotly as anger beat a pulse through her veins. He’d been so cruel to her last night.

“What do you want?” she asked, holding the door tight with one hand. Ready to slam it on him.

“To talk to you.”

He was so handsome he made her ache. And that only made her madder. Was she really such a pushover for a pretty face? Was that how she’d found herself in this predicament? The first man to ever pay any real attention to her had the body of a god and the face of an angel—was it any wonder she’d fallen beneath his spell?

This time she would be strong. She gripped the door hard, her knuckles whitening. “I understood you the first time. What more can you have to say?”

He blew out a breath, focused on the wall of windows behind her head. “I called Taylor.”

Her heart throbbed with a new emotion. Jealousy. “And this concerns me how?”

“You know how, Lia. Let me in so we can talk.”

She wanted to say no, wanted to slam the door in his face—but she couldn’t do it. Wordlessly, she pulled the door open. Then she turned her back on him and went over to the couch to sit and wait. He came inside and stood a few feet away, his hands shoved into his jeans pockets.

“You went to see Taylor,” he said. “To find out where I lived.”

She lifted her chin. “I knew you lived in Washington, D.C. You told me so.”

“Yes, but it’s a big city. And you needed an address.”

She toyed with the edge of her sleeve. “I’d have found you. You did tell me about your father, if you recall.”

But it would have been much harder, which was why she’d gone to see Taylor. And how embarrassing that had been. She’d had to explain to a complete stranger that she needed to find Zach because she had something to tell him.

Taylor hadn’t accepted that excuse. She’d demanded to know more. Lia hadn’t blamed her, since she was Zach’s friend, but it was still a humiliating experience. Taylor hadn’t actually believed her—until she’d produced the medal. Lia still wasn’t certain that Taylor believed everything, but she’d relented at that point because she’d believed enough.

“You’ve gone to a lot of trouble,” he said.

Lia swallowed. What could she say? I had no choice? My family will be furious? I’m afraid?

“A baby needs two parents,” she said. “And a man should know if he’s going to be a father.”

“And just what did you expect me to do about it, sugar?”

Irritation zipped through her like a lash. Sugar wasn’t an endearment, spoken like this; it was a way of keeping her at a distance. Of objectifying her. “You know my name. I’d prefer you use it.”

His eyes flashed. “Lia, then. Answer the question.”

She folded her arms and looked toward the windows. She could see the white dome of the Capitol building sitting on the hill. Why had she chosen this hotel? It was far too expensive. If her grandmother cut off her credit cards, she’d be doing dishes in the hotel kitchen for the next ten years just to pay for one night.

“I thought you would want to know.”

“You could have called.”

She swung back to look at him. “Are you serious? Would you want this kind of news over the phone?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled something from his rear pocket and tapped it on his palm. “How much money do you want, Lia?”

Her heart turned to stone in her chest as she realized he was holding a checkbook. And though she needed money—desperately—it hurt that he thought all he needed to do was buy her off.

And it hurt that he didn’t want this child growing inside her. That he could so easily shove aside that connection and have nothing to do with a person who was one half of him.

My God, she’d really chosen well, hadn’t she?

“You think I came here for money?” It would solve her most immediate problem, but it wouldn’t really solve anything. She’d still be single and pregnant, and her family would still be furious—and the Correttis had a long arm.

“Didn’t you?”

Lia stood. She had to fold her arms over her middle to hide their trembling. “Get out,” she said, fighting the wave of hysteria bubbling up inside her.

He took a step toward her and then stopped. The checkbook disappeared in his jeans again. He looked dark and broody and so full of secrets he frightened her. And yet a part of her wanted, desperately, to slide into his arms and experience that same exhilaration she had back in Sicily.

“You expect marriage,” he said, almost to himself. “That’s why you came.”

It seemed so silly when spoken aloud like that, but she couldn’t deny the truth of it. She had thought she would race to D.C., tell Zach she was pregnant and he would be so happy he’d want to take care of her and the baby forever.

Lia closed her eyes. What was wrong with her? Why was she always looking for acceptance and affection where there was none? Why did she think she needed a man, any man, in her life anyway?

“This is your baby in here,” she said, spreading her hand over her abdomen. “How can you not want it?”

He raked a hand through his hair and turned away from her. Once more, she was studying his beautiful, angry profile.

“Assuming what you say is true, I’m not good father material.” He said it quietly, with conviction, and her heart twisted in her chest.

Still, she couldn’t allow sympathy for the pain in his voice to deflect her from the other part of what he’d said. “If you don’t believe me, why are you here? Do you usually offer to pay women to get them to go away?”

He turned back to her, his expression cool. “I’ve encountered this situation before, yes. It has never been true, by the way.” He spread his hands wide. “But my family name encourages the deception.”

Lia stiffened. “I really don’t care who your family is,” she said tightly. “I did not come here for them.”

“Then what do you want, Lia?”

She swallowed. She’d thought—naively, of course—there had been something between them in Palermo. Something more than just simple animal attraction. She’d thought he might be glad to see her. God, she was such a fool.

The only thing she had was the truth.

“My family will be very angry when they find out,” she said softly. “And Alessandro will likely marry me off to one of his business associates to prevent a scandal.” She dropped her gaze and smoothed her hand over her belly again. “I suppose I could deal with that if it were only me. But I’m afraid for my baby. A Sicilian man won’t appreciate a wife who is pregnant with another man’s child.”

She could feel his gaze on her and she lifted her head, met the tortured darkness of his eyes. And the heat. It surprised her to find heat there, but it was indisputable. The heat of anger, no doubt.

“You know this to be true,” she said. “You are part Sicilian yourself.”

“A small part, but yes, I know what you mean.”

She could have breathed a sigh of relief—except she didn’t think he’d changed his mind about anything. “Then you will not want your child raised by another man. A man who will not love him or her, and who will resent the baby’s presence in his household.”

Zach was still. “You should have chosen better,” he said.

She blinked. It was not at all the response she’d anticipated. “I beg your pardon?”

“That night. You should have chosen to leave instead of stay.”

She’d bared her fears to him and this was what he had to say. Anger spiked in her belly. “It takes two, Zach. You were there, too.”

He took a step toward her, stopped. His hands flexed at his sides. “Yes, and I tried to send you away, if you will recall. Considering how we first met, you should have run far and fast.”

Her skin was hot—with shame, with anger, with self-recrimination. “It’s not all my fault. Perhaps you should have tried harder.”

As if anything would have induced her to leave after the way he’d looked at her: as if he wanted to devour her. It had been such a novel experience that she’d only wanted more.

“I should have,” he said. “But I was weak.”

“This baby is yours,” she said, a thread of desperation weaving through her. If he walked out now, if he sent her back to Sicily, what would become of her and the baby? She couldn’t face her cousin’s wrath. Her grandmother would do what she could, but even Teresa Corretti would do what the head of the family dictated in the end. And he would dictate that she not have a child out of wedlock. Or he would throw her out and cut her off without a cent.

For a moment, she contemplated that option. It would be … heavenly, in a way. She would be free of the Correttis, free of the pain and anger that went along with being the outsider in her family.

Except she knew it wouldn’t happen that way. Salvatore Corretti had ruled his family with an iron fist. And no wayward granddaughter would have ever brought shame on the family name in such a way. A Corretti grandson could father illegitimate children all day long, and he would not have cared. Let one of his granddaughters get pregnant, with no man in sight, and he most certainly would have come unglued.

Alessandro was a Corretti male and would be no different. He’d learned at their grandfather’s knee how to run this family and she could not take the risk he was somehow more enlightened. He’d never been enlightened enough to pay attention to her in all these years, which told her a lot about how he already felt about her. Add in the humiliation of his aborted wedding, and she was certain he was in no mood to be sympathetic.

“How can you be sure, Lia?”

She had to give herself a mental shake to retrieve the thread of the conversation. He wanted to know how she could be sure the baby was his, as if she was the kind of woman who had a different sexual partner every night.

“Because I am. Because I’ve been with no one else.”

He swore softly.

Her cheeks heated. Hot emotion whipped through her. She was tired of feeling guilty, tired of feeling as if she was the one who’d done something wrong. She felt snappish.

“This isn’t ideal for me, either, you know. I didn’t ask to get pregnant, especially not my first time ever having sex—”

She broke off as she realized what she’d said. His face grew thunderous. He closed the distance between them, stopped just short of grabbing her. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. “What did you say?”

Lia’s heart pounded. Adrenaline roared through her veins. She felt light-headed. “Nothing,” she whispered as his eyes darkened. “It was nothing.”

“You told me that night it had been a long time… .” His voice was diamond-edged.

“I thought if I told you the truth, you’d send me away.”

He swallowed, hard. “I would have. I should have anyway.” His gaze dropped, his dark lashes dipping to cover his beautiful eyes. “I thought something was … different with you. But it had been so long since I’d been with anyone that I dismissed my intuition. You didn’t act like a virgin, but you felt like one when I …”

He swore again, his eyes meeting hers once more. “I’d have done things differently if I’d known. Been more gentle. You should have told me.”

Lia couldn’t stop herself from lifting a hand and sliding it along the bare skin of his arm. It was the first time she’d touched him, really touched him, in a month. And the electric sizzle ricocheting through her body told her just how little had changed for her.

“I should have. I know it. But everything was so surreal, and I was afraid it would end. You were the first person to make me feel wanted in a very long time. I liked that feeling.”

He moved away from her, went over and sank down on a chair. Then he sat forward and put his head in his hands. Lia didn’t say anything. She didn’t move, though her heart throbbed at the sight of him looking so overwhelmed.

“This is not what I expected to happen at this point in my life,” he said to the floor.

“I don’t think either of us did,” she replied, swallowing. “And though I could make it all go away with a visit to a doctor, as you intimated earlier, I can’t do that. It’s not who I am or what I want.”

He lifted his head. “No, I know that.” He blew out a breath, swore. And then he stood again, his presence nearly overwhelming her as his eyes flashed fire. “The press will have a field day with this.”

Lia bit the inside of her lip. In all the drama, she’d never considered the press. It was true the paparazzi flocked around her family like piranha. But she’d never been their target, probably because she was so humdrum and uninteresting in her family of brilliant swans.

But this baby was a game changer, especially considering who Zach was. His family was even more famous than hers. American royalty, if there was such a thing. A family with incredible wealth and power. She’d read all about the Scotts on her way across the Atlantic.

And she’d read about their heroic son, a man who’d returned from the war after a dramatic plane crash behind enemy lines. Her gaze drifted to where she’d set her purse. Inside, in a little zippered pocket, she still had Zach’s medal. A medal he hadn’t cared about.

She thought of him flat against the ballroom wall in the Corretti Hotel, his eyes tightly closed as he fought against something, and knew there was more to the story than had been reported.

“We’re the only ones who know,” she said. “And I have no plans to inform them. I think the secret is safe for now.”

His gaze was steady, cool, and she realized he didn’t entirely trust her. It stung.

“There are always leaks.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “There’s only one way to deal with this. One way to keep everything from exploding into an even bigger problem than it already is.”

Her heart thundered in her chest. And it hurt, too. Hurt because he’d called her—and their baby—a problem.

“Congratulations, Lia,” he said, his voice chilling her. “You’ve won the jackpot, after all. You’re about to become a Scott.”

“This is not how I wanted this to happen,” she said on a throat-aching whisper. Tears pressed the backs of her eyes. She couldn’t let them fall.

“You came here,” he said, his voice hard. “What did you expect? Did you think I would be happy?”

She dropped her gaze. A single tear spilled free and she dashed it away, determined not to cry in front of him. Not to be weak.

“I had hoped you might be, yes.” She lifted her chin and sucked back her tears. “Clearly, I was mistaken.”

“We’ll marry,” he said. “Because we must. But it’s an arrangement, do you understand? We’ll do it for as long as necessary to protect our families, and then we’ll end it when the time comes.”

Anger started to burn in her, scouring her insides. He was no better than her father had been. He didn’t care about his child any more than Benito Corretti had cared about her. He was making a deal, nothing more. It made her sick. And furious.

“Fine,” she said tightly. “I accept. But if we are having an arrangement, as you so nicely put it, then I want it understood that this arrangement is in name only.”

She didn’t know what made her say that, but once she said it she knew it was right. Because this situation was so out of her power that she needed something she could control. Something she could have a say about.

He stared at her for a long moment. And then his sexy lips curled up in a smile, surprising her after he’d been so hard and cold. “I can’t guarantee that, sugar. But we’ll try it your way to start. Just know that when you do surrender to me, I won’t be saying no.”

Lia pulled herself erect and looked at him with all the haughtiness she could muster. Which wasn’t much, she was sure. But damn if he hadn’t infuriated her. “There will be no surrender, Zach. Not ever again.”

“We’ll see,” he said with all the arrogant surety of a man who was accustomed to getting his way. And then he headed toward the door. “I’ll let you know when the arrangements are made.”

“How long will this take?” she asked as he opened the door.

He turned back to her. “Eager, Lia?”

She sucked in a breath. No, she was just worried about her ability to stay in this hotel. And about her family sending someone to fetch her if they figured out where she was. “No, but I have no idea how long these things take in America. I can’t stay in this hotel for weeks, Zach.”

His eyes slipped over her. “No, you can’t. The media will descend soon enough. You’ll move in with me. I’ll send someone for you later.”

He closed the door before she could say another word. She stood there for a long time, uncertain whether she’d found salvation by coming to D.C.

Or whether she’d damned herself instead.