“It’s my pleasure.”

And it was, she thought. It made him happy to bring joy to his children.

But once dinner was over, and Marco prepared to return to the hospital, Payton immediately felt loss. Even after all they’d been through, she still enjoyed Marco’s company, still liked the way he made her feel on the inside.

“I must get back to Marilena,” he said, heading toward the door. “Do you need anything before I go?”

“No.” Then suddenly Payton realized she was denying the truth again. Not need anything? She almost laughed at the irony of it. No, she didn’t need anything. She needed everything.

CHAPTER FOUR

IT WAS beginning to get complicated, Marco thought early the next morning, as he returned to the exclusive hospital for the third time in less than twenty-four hours.

For the past two years he’d blamed Payton for the failure of their marriage and the demise of the family. He’d told himself she’d destroyed their family; she’d selfishly torn it apart by moving back to California with the girls. But he knew deep down it wasn’t all on her. He was just as responsible for the broken relationship as she. Yes, she’d moved back to San Francisco but he had let her.

Now the girls were back and he loved having them in the house again. But Payton was another matter. He knew she had to be under his roof—but under his skin?

She shouldn’t still have the power to upset him. She shouldn’t have any impact on him whatsoever. But she did.

He still felt such strong emotions around her. He felt intensely. He felt out of control.

Just like always.

The night he rescued Payton from Carlo Verri’s clutches he lost his way for a while. He fell hard for Payton and he wasn’t even available. At least, his heart wasn’t supposed to be available. He and the Princess Borgiano had a long-standing agreement. They were to marry eventually—everyone knew—and yet when Marco asked the young American redhead with curls spilling halfway down her back to dance, everything changed.

And life had never been quite the same since.

Marco checked Marilena out of the hospital and drove her home. Marilena had a maid to help her with her elegant town house and today Marco gave the maid instructions to keep a close eye on the princess.

Assured that his fiancée was comfortably settled, he returned to the office and was met by the hustle and bustle of the BBC film crew shuffling furniture and setting up lights and microphones.

Marco had thought they were interviewing him in the afternoon but apparently the fashion historian that was scheduled to come that morning never arrived so the journalist asked Marco if he’d mind getting started early.

Actually he didn’t mind a bit. It would free up his afternoon and give him a chance to drop in on the perfume advertisement being shot today across town.

He sat down for the interview and the hour passed quickly. He enjoyed talking about his father. He and his father had worked well together and even now his late father’s original vision continued to inspire him.

The cameraman stopped filming and literally seconds later two little heads popped around the door, dark curls dancing. “Ciao, Papa!” It was Livia who spoke, and she sounded so shy and yet excited. “Sono io! It’s me, Liv.”

Grinning he unfastened the microphone from his shirt, handed it back to a technician and crossed the room to scoop her up in his arms. “Si, I know.” He kissed her, and turned to Gia who was giving her father a critical once-over. “Buongiorno, Gia.”

Gia’s hands went to her hips. “Buongiorno, Papa.