A Dark Sicilian Secret

“I think so,” Maria answered. “He might even still be upstairs.”

Jillian left Joe with Maria and dashed up the stairs, her high heels tapping against the polished stone floor. She reached their bedroom just as Vittorio was turning off the light.

“Where are you going?” she asked breathlessly.

“To Catania. I have some business to take care of.”

“You’re going to your office?”

“Does it matter?”

She searched his dark eyes yet his expression was so completely shuttered she couldn’t see what he was thinking. “Yes.”

“I will be going to my office, yes, among other places.”

“Do you conduct most of your meetings at the office?”

“Not necessarily.” He gazed down at her, lips curling in a sardonic smile. “Worried that I’ll be conducting illicit business in dark alleys, Jill?”

“No.”

There was a moment of tense silence before Vittorio shook his head. “And you call me a liar.” His smile grew, his dark eyes glittering with anger. “But I don’t have time for this, as interesting as it is. Have a good night. Don’t wait up for me. I’m not sure when I’ll return.”

“You’re not coming back tonight?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t decided.”

“Vitt,” she protested, reaching out to touch his coat sleeve.

He glanced down at her hand resting on his dark coat and then into her face. “Don’t even try to pretend that you’ll miss me, Jill.”

She flushed, her cheeks burning with heat. “It’s only our first night here. I don’t know anyone. I barely know my way around.”

“You have our son. You know Maria. That should be enough.” He paused, considered her. “It has to be enough. Because that’s all you really have.”

She felt as if he’d slapped her. Her eyes watered. Her blush deepened, her skin burning from her chest to her brow. “You don’t need to be cruel.”

“I see. You can say whatever you want, but I have to play nice?”

“I’m sorry about earlier—”

“No you’re not. You’re never sorry. You’re spoiled and selfish and incredibly self-centered. And since you’re so big on the truth, let me tell you the truth. You are the absolute last woman in the world I would have picked to be my wife.”

“You didn’t used to think that—”

“Because I didn’t know you. But I do now.”

She buried her hands behind her back as tears filled her eyes, and then pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling.

“Truth hurts,” he said bitterly, “doesn’t it?”

“I never meant to hurt you,” she said, “but you’re enjoying being cruel.”

“I don’t enjoy being cruel. But I will give it to you straight. This isn’t the kind of marriage I envisioned, just as you aren’t the kind of wife I wanted. But it doesn’t matter now. I deal in reality, not in fantasy or fairy tales. We slept together. You became pregnant. I accept my responsibility.”

How could he be so cold when her heart felt as though it were on fire? “How good of you,” she murmured. “How very mature.”

He shrugged. “There’s no love here between us. There never will be, at least, not now. So we will focus on our son. We’ll sleep together on occasion. Have sex when the mood strikes. Put on a good face in front of my family. But that’s it. Understand? That’s all you’ll get from me, and that’s all I want from you.”