A Dark Sicilian Secret

Twenty months ago she’d been anxious to see this historic property. Now it was the last place she wanted to visit.

“My family is old-fashioned,” Vitt said, breaking the silence. “And my mother is extremely devout. At first she might seem cold, and unapproachable, but given time, she will grow to accept you. But you must give her time. She is slow to embrace change.”

This sounded far from encouraging, Jillian thought, turning from the view of the deep blue Pacific Ocean to look at him. “Is she upset with you for having a child out of wedlock?”

“She doesn’t know.”

Jillian’s eyes widened. “What?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t told her. Or anyone else in my family.” He saw her expression and shrugged. “There was no reason to share such news. You were hiding from me. I didn’t have legal access to him yet. But it’s a different situation now.”

“And now?”

“Now it is a joyful occasion. My wife and son return home with me. Everything is good. Everything is as it should be.”

His wife and son…

His wife and son…

His wife.

Her heart hammered relentlessly and her hand shook as she clutched the flute. Is this why he’d ordered the champagne? “So that is the story we’re to tell them.”

“It won’t be a story.”

She exhaled in a painful rush. It was both a protest and a prayer. “Vittorio.”

“My captain has the authority to marry us in-flight, allowing us to land in Sicily in the morning as husband and wife.”

“That’s crazy,” she whispered, her fingers clenched so tightly around the flute’s fragile stem that the tips had begun to go numb.

“Why is it crazy? We arrive married, stepping off the plane as a family. Joseph is no longer illegitimate. You are my wife. Problem solved.”

Problem solved? Problem multiplied.

Her head spun. She was dizzy with the shock of it. Marriage was so serious, so binding, and even more so among the Mafioso. Once you were part of the family, there was no way out. At least not alive. “Your family has never heard of me, and then to produce me from thin air, introducing me as your wife, and Joe as your son—?”

“It would be the truth.”

“They’ll never accept us this way, Vittorio, surely you can see that. Especially your mother. She’ll be hurt that you’ve kept her in the dark, and suspicious as to why you’re only introducing us now. She’ll have so many questions—why was there no proper courtship or wedding? Why didn’t you tell her about the pregnancy or Joe’s birth? You’re bringing him to Sicily at nearly a year old. You know that won’t go over well.”

His eyes never strayed from her face, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. “And what would you rather me tell her? The truth? That you ran away when my eighteen-year-old maid told you I was a member of the mafia? That you then hid your pregnancy from me, and then kept my son from me after his birth? Would that be better, Jill?”

She stared into his dark eyes with the flecks of amber around the black pupil. He might be smiling but his expression was one of utter resolve. He was not going to relent. “No,” she said after a moment.

“So we have to come up with a suitable story, one that compromises our integrity as little as possible, because I don’t like lying to family. I don’t believe in lying, much less deceiving my father and mother. But I have a son to think of and I would sacrifice everything to ensure his well-being.”

And looking at him, at the steely determination in those dark eyes fringed by the thickest, blackest of lashes, she believed him. But she also believed that there was always more than one way to accomplish something. Life was full of possibilities. There were always options, and those needed to be considered. “You don’t need to marry me to introduce Joe as your son. He is your son. He will always be your son—”

“Your point being?”

“That it would be easier for both you, and Joe, if you didn’t marry me. Introduce me as Joe’s mother. Let your mother think the worst…that I’m a floozy, or a gold digger, or whatever. But at least this way she’ll be mad at me, rather than at you.”

One of his dark eyebrows lifted. “How good of you to martyr yourself on our behalf. It’s gratifying to know you do still have feelings for me.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“What did you mean?”