“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—
He shook the memory away. His own child’s life would be very different. And he’d make sure his child’s mother was either a loving, stable, nurturing influence—or no influence at all.
“Why did you run away from New York?” he demanded. “Because you decided to believe everything you’d read about me?”
“Are you kidding?” Scarlett looked at him in amazement. “That pre-nup.”
Gripping the steering wheel, he glanced at her in surprise. “You wanted to avoid the pre-nup?”
“Did you really think I would sign papers to give you total power over not just me, but our child? Did you think I’d be so happy to become your trophy wife, I’d trade away my freedom for the rest of my life?”
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