"This can't be right." Tess stared down at the tiny stick on her white, porcelain sink stand and then down at her fluffy orange cat and back again.

"It could be the brand, right?" She glanced at Arnaldo, but he was too busy licking his paw to bother with her.

"It could be. It's possible." She closed the toilet seat and then plopped on top of it. She'd taken both of the tests in the kit. The first she'd chucked directly in the trash, thinking it must have been defective.

After all, what were the odds of a virgin getting pregnant on the first time? She'd taken health classes and knew it was possible of course, but it had to be unlikely. Weren't there all those diagrams about the miracles of life and the unlikelihood of conception in the first place?

Besides, they'd been safe. She'd seen him put on the condom. He'd even done it the way they teach you in health classes with the whole pinching-the-tip thing.

They'd followed every precaution.

But there it was, the result of her one night of letting go. Like everything else, it had backfired. Epically.

Arnaldo jumped onto the sink and knocked the test onto the ground, and Tess simply sat there and stared at it, allowing her reality to seep in one piece at a time. First, what her mother would say...

Mother.

She was going to be a mother. She was pregnant. Pregnant.

And she didn't even know the name of her baby's father.

She scooped Arnaldo into her arms, then stepped into the bathtub and sank into the basin. She lay her head back on the cool ceramic tile, stroked his plush fur, and closed her eyes.

What was she going to do about him?

What if he didn't want to keep the baby? Even in such a short span, she knew that wouldn't be an option for her. Come hell or high water, she was having this baby. And she was going to give this baby the childhood she'd been denied--one with milk and cookies and overalls instead of scratchy dresses and state dinners.

This baby was going to have a normal life, even if she had to raise him or her on her own.

It might be better, really, if the baby's father never knew. He lived in that circle her parents traveled in. If this baby were going to stay out of the spotlight, it would probably be best if she did this all on her own.

But then...what if he did want the baby? After all, she was only one half of the equation. Could she deny him the right to be a father simply because he wasn't the one carrying their child inside of him?

She cracked open one eyelid to stare down at Arnaldo, stretched lazily across her stomach, and said, "What should I do, man?"

He mewled something, which sounded like the cat equivalent of an eye roll.

"You're right." She sank deeper into the basin; already hating herself for the step she knew she had to take next.

For the next twenty minutes, she paced her living room so many times that she was shocked she hadn't worn down the fake wood floor. Each time she passed her cell phone on her tiny, refurbished coffee table, she reached for it, then pulled back, shaking her head.

When, on her millionth lap, she nearly tumbled over Arnaldo, and she decided to take the plunge. With one sharp inhale, she dialed Lydia's number and waited while the line buzzed against her ear.

It was like the tone sounded forever, goading her to hang up, move to Canada, and forget the whole thing. She was on the brink of doing just that when the line finally clicked to life and her sister's cheery, professional tone sounded on the end of the line. "Tess, I'm so happy you called."

"I'm glad to hear it." Her words came out in a jumble, and she tried to take another deep breath to steady herself.

"I wanted to talk about what happened at the party a couple weeks back. Look, I know I'm late making this call--"

"Actually, I called you," Tess shot back, then, catching herself, took another deep breath and added, "but that doesn't matter, and neither does what happened at that party."

"I'm thrilled to hear you say that. Now, why did you call?"

"Um, it was actually about the party, but it wasn't about what you meant. I was wondering, well, more like hoping..." she could practically hear Lydia moving on with her day as Tess stumbled over the words, so she just blurted it out. "So, I met this guy. At the party, I mean. He said he was staying in room 235. Do you have a list of who stayed where or anything like that?"

"Well, no," Lydia said, and Tess' heart plummeted so deep in her stomach that she was shocked it didn't fall out.

"But," Lydia's bright voice went on, "I do know who was staying in 235, and I'd suggest you give up." There was a strange note of something like laughter behind her sister's voice.

Tess' eyebrows pulled together. "What do you mean? Who was it?"

"Well, the whole party was for him. Room 235 belongs to Prince Antone Salvatore."

"P-p-p..." She stammered, and then hung up before the whole story came gurgling out. She had slept with--and gotten pregnant by--none other than a royal prince? A prince, if she recalled correctly, she'd made fun of directly to his face.

She took two slow steps toward the sofa, wondering vaguely why the world suddenly seemed so fuzzy. Why her breathing came so short. Why her ears were buzzing. And then?

A whoosh of air and total blackness as she fell back onto the cushions below.

When she found herself on the couch an hour later with her cell phone on the ground at her feet and Arnaldo curled into a ball on her stomach, she still could hardly believe what had just happened.

Still, there was no time to adjust. If she did that, she might have to come to grips with the fact that she was having a baby, too. A real live person that'd call her "mom".

She shook her head.

First things first.

After a quick call to the hotel ensuring that the prince--no, she couldn't deal with thinking of him that way--that Antone was still staying there in the same room, she called for a car and then spent the longest half hour of her life trying to figure out what she'd say to a man she hadn't seen or heard from since he'd slept with her two weeks before.

Somehow, she didn't think, "Hi there, I'm carrying your offspring, and by the way, my name is Tess." was going to cut it. If only she'd had more time--maybe a month or two--to prepare.

Even the drive seemed so much shorter than it had before, and when she pulled up in front of those wide marble steps for the second time, it was with the same feeling of all-consuming impending doom.

* * *

"Luca," Antone yelled for his head of security over his shoulder, but when he heard no sign of movement outside the door, he went on packing, gritting his teeth as he shoved one shirt after another into his case.

Glad as he was to head back to Napoline, he saw no reason to pack his things just yet. The jet fuel inspector hadn't gotten on site as far as he'd heard, and the pilot was still checking the airways for safe passage.

There was no reason he couldn't sit back with a nice glass of whiskey and reflect on his trip. Or, more specifically, the night he'd spent with that sultry American woman two weeks before.

Thank god for foreign travel. If she'd been from Napoline, he might have broken his streak of one-night stands and given her another go.

He smiled wryly, thinking of exactly what he'd do on that second visit while zipping his suitcase closed.

"Luca," he called again, but then there was a loud, insistent pounding on the walnut hotel room door, and he crossed the suite in a few bounds to swing it open.

"What is the--" He stopped short, finding the same huge green eyes he'd just been thinking of staring back at him.

For a moment, he was transfixed, but then Luca was beside her, gripping her firmly by the shoulder. "I'm sorry, your highness. She slipped past the first guys, and then she sort of--well--she--"

"I pulled a feint," she said. "But it was only because he said I couldn't see you and we really have to talk."

He held his breath, surveying her for a long moment. He wished this were the first time this had happened--women trying to sneak past his security, making pleas for more time with him. It was a trademark of two kinds of women: Either the kind that couldn't separate love from sex or the kind who had been hoping their one night together was a window to something more lucrative.

He wasn't sure which she was, but either way he couldn't help himself from being disappointed.

"I am very sorry," he said at last. "Our departure is any moment now, and I must insist you leave."

She blinked at him, her eyes thoughtful as ever, but then, like a flash, she jumped into the room and slammed the door behind her, bracing her whole body against it. "Look, I know you have important stuff to do," she huffed, "But you're really going to want to hear this."

"I am sure you are a very sweet girl, but you must understand, you have to go. If you do not, these men may hurt you, and I would not want to see that happen."

"I'm pregnant."

He wasn't sure he heard her right. In fact, if she hadn't practically shouted it, he might have asked her to repeat herself. But there was no doubting it.

The door bumped hard behind her, and he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her toward the bed.

When it sprang open and Luca burst in, taser in tow, Antone held up his hand. "I must speak with her. My bag is on the table. I will alert you when I am ready."

"But Your Highness--"

"Go." He turned cold eyes on his friend, and the other man nodded before dragging Antone's overstuffed suitcase from the room. When the door clicked closed behind him, Antone leaned against the wall opposite the bed and raised his eyebrows.

He had to confess, he hadn't expected that she was a gold digger. She'd seemed so honest, so demure when they'd been together. In fact, she'd even felt like a virgin that night.

But then, that went to show what fame and fortune turned people into, he supposed. He, of all people, should not have been surprised.

"I must commend you on your acting," he said, his veins turning icy as he met her gaze again. Even now, she seemed so earnest. So concerned. "You must have really done a number on all sorts of men."

"I-I don't know what..."

"I suppose you saw my picture in the paper and all the pieces lined up for you? You must have felt like you hit the jackpot. I have to say, I suspected you were a virgin that night, but clearly..." He gestured toward her, and then a bitter smile touched his lips. "That is, if you're even pregnant. How much were you hoping to get from me?"

"Antone--"

"Your Highness," he corrected.

"Your Highness." Then, suddenly, that nervous air was gone and her full lips became a hard, straight line. "I am pregnant with your child. I was a virgin that night."

"We used protection," he countered.

"It's not always a hundred percent. Or it could have been expired. Do you keep them in your wallet?"

"It was not expired," he ground out.

"Either way, no matter how it happened, it happened." She took a deep breath, then met his gaze.

"I want a paternity test."

"I told you, I was a virgin," she said, the slightest edge to her voice.

"And I should take your word?" What kind of idiot did she think he was?

"Fine, you know what? I'll take it. That doesn't matter. And whatever you think, I didn't come here for your money."

"A waitress from Brooklyn didn't come here for my money? Now I have truly seen everything in the world."

For a moment, she looked as if he'd slapped her, then she straightened, and spoke again, each of her words slow and measured. "I did not plan on this any more than you did, and I will give you whatever you ask for. I don't want anything from you. I only came here because I felt you had a right to know that you will have a child in this world."

She heaved another deep breath, and then said, "I don't want to be tied to you any more than you want to be tied to me. You are a stranger, and I am perfectly fine with continuing our lives as separately as they were before or they might have been if we'd never met."

"You think I am the sort of man who would leave behind my son and heir?"

"That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying this baby deserves a normal life, and I intend to give him--or her--one. With or without you. Now, if you do want to see the baby, I am open to as much or as little visitation as you'd like."

"Visitation? This is your idea of giving our child--if he is mine--a normal life?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"Considering the fact that it's not 1950 anymore? Yes. Lots of parents share custody of their children."

"Not from separate countries."

"Sure they do. Anything is possible. We can web chat--"

"Enough." The word came out harsher than he'd intended, but it still had the desired effect. Her mouth snapped shut almost instantly, and though she narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, he knew he had her attention.

"No matter how you feel, this child would be heir to my country. A child cannot rule if they do not live in their country. I simply will not allow it."

"Thank god you're not my king, then," she shot back.

"I do not think you understand what has happened here."

"I understand perfectly well. You're some kind of control freak who wants--"

"I am some kind of father who will not have his son called a bastard and mocked for the rest of his life. I will not allow my child to be brought up in some hovel by a stranger," he spat.

"By his mother."

"Who cannot give him even a tenth of what I can." He cut across her words easily, and she opened her mouth, then closed it. Good. No matter how thick-skulled she apparently was, she could not deny the benefits of raising a child with the best of everything.

"I'm glad you finally see things my way," he said.

"I said nothing of the kind. I'm just--I can't--" Her cheeks flooded bright red, and she huffed out a breath. "I'm so mad I could spit."

"You are--"

"I won't raise my child to be some privileged spoiled brat just because I made the mistake of giving my virginity to a man who doesn't understand the benefits of being a normal person."

"Then I am afraid you will not raise the child at all."

"You can't--" she spluttered, but he cut her off.

"But I can. You do not have a choice in this matter. You are carrying my son, whether or not either of us likes it. I will not leave him in the care of a stranger, and once it is proven that the child is, in fact, mine, you will come with me to Napoline so that I can ensure his care, safety, and education."

"Then I guess you'll have to live with the mystery, won't you?" She hitched her tiny bohemian bag higher on her shoulder, then stormed toward the door.

He sprinted after her, and she burst into a run as soon as she heard his step.

"Luca!" he yelled, but when he rounded the door of the hotel room, it was to find the other man thoroughly distracted with swearing into a radio communicator.

Not that it mattered. Now that he knew there was a chance he might have a child in this world, he wasn't going anywhere until he knew for sure.

And if the child was his?

Then Tess the mother would have to be his as well--whether she liked it or not.