Brunetti's Secret Son

Hurt indignation slid across her face. ‘If you knew me at all, you’d know leaving my son with some faceless stranger is the last thing I’d do! Bronagh isn’t a stranger. She’s my friend as well as my assistant. And how dare you tell me how to raise my son?’

He caught her shoulders and tugged her close so they wouldn’t be overheard. ‘He is our son,’ he rasped into her ear. ‘His safety and well-being have now become my concern as much as yours, gattina.’ The endearment slipped out again, but he deemed it appropriate, so he didn’t allow the tingle that accompanied the term to disturb him too much. ‘Put your claws away and let’s take him back to your flat. You’ll feed him and put him to bed and then we’ll talk, sì?’

He pulled back and looked down at her, noting her hectic colour and experiencing that same punch to his libido that had occurred earlier.

Dio, he needed this added complication like a bullet in the head.

He dropped his hand once she gave a grudging nod.

‘Lucca, it’s time to go,’ she called out.

‘One more minute!’ came his son’s belligerent reply.

A tight, reluctant smile curved Maisie’s lips, drawing Romeo’s attention to their pink plumpness. ‘He has zero concept of time and yet that’s his stock answer every time you try to get him away from something he loves doing.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ he answered.

He glanced at his son and that sucker-punch feeling slammed into him again. It’d first happened when Gianlucca had slid his hand into his. Romeo had no term for it. But it was alive within him, and swelling by the minute.

Unthinking questions crowded his mind. Like when had Gianlucca taken his first step? What had been his first word?

What was his favourite thing to do besides feeding greedy ducks?

He stood, stock-still, as a plan began to formulate at the back of his mind. A plan that was uncharacteristically outlandish.

But wasn’t this whole situation outlandish in the extreme?

And hadn’t he learned that sometimes it was better to fight fire with fire?

The idea took firmer root, embedding itself as the only viable course available to him if he was to thwart the schemes of Lorenzo Carmine and Agostino Fattore.

The more Romeo thought about the plans the old men, in their bid to hang on to their fast-crumbling empire, had dared to lay out for him, the more rage threatened to overcome him. He’d tempered that rage with caution, not forgetting that a wounded animal was a dangerous animal. Fattore’s lieutenant might be old, and his power weakened, but Romeo knew that some power was better than no power to people like Lorenzo. And they would hang on to it by every ruthless means available.

Romeo didn’t intend to lower his guard where Lorenzo’s wily nature was concerned. His newly discovered son’s safety was paramount. But even if Lorenzo and the shadows of Romeo’s past hadn’t been hanging over him, he would still proceed with the plan now fully formed in his mind.

He followed Maisie as she approached and caught up Gianlucca’s hand. ‘Time to go, precious.’ The moment he started to protest, she continued, ‘Which do you prefer for your tea, fish fingers or spaghetti and meatballs?’

‘Spaghetti balls,’ the boy responded immediately, his mind adeptly steered in the direction of food, just as his mother had intended. He danced between them until they reached the gate.

Romeo noticed his men had slipped into the security SUV parked behind his limo and nodded at the driver who held the door open. He turned to help his son into the car and saw Maisie’s frown.

‘Do you happen to have a car seat in there?’ she asked.

Romeo cursed silently. ‘No.’

‘In that case, we’ll meet you back at the restaurant.’ She turned and started walking down the street.

He shut the door and fell into step beside her. ‘I’ll walk back with you.’

She opened her mouth to protest but stopped when he took his son’s hand. The feel of the small palm against his tilted Romeo’s world.

He hadn’t known or expected this reality-changing situation when he’d walked into that mansion in Palermo yesterday. But Romeo was nothing if not a quick study. His ability to harness a situation to his advantage had saved his life more times on the street than he could recount. He wasn’t in a fight-to-the-death match right now, but he still intended to emerge a winner.

* * *

Maisie’s first priority when she’d decorated her flat was homey comfort, with soft furnishings and pleasant colours to make the place a safe and snug home for her son. But as she opened the door and walked through the short hallway that connected to the living room she couldn’t help but see it through Romeo’s eyes. The carpet was a little worn, one cushion stained with Lucca’s hand paint. And suddenly, the yellow polka-dot curtains seemed a little too bright, like something a girlie girl would choose, instead of the sophisticated women Romeo Brunetti probably dated.