Brunetti's Secret Son

‘I put myself in my child’s shoes and knew that I needed to give him a chance to know his father. But I guess a part of me was terrified that I couldn’t do this on my own and was in some way looking for support.’ She shrugged. ‘The moment I got back to Dublin, I accepted that I was in this alone. Then Lucca was born, and with each day that passed the fear receded. I was no longer alone. I had him.’

His stare returned, stayed longer this time. ‘You’re no longer alone where his care is concerned.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘But you don’t agree that I should be consulted on all things?’

A steely look entered his eyes. ‘I’ll grant you a healthy debate about the major issues that concern him. And you can attempt to tear me to pieces on the minor ones.’

‘So in other words, we’ll argue about everything?’

The corner of his mouth lifted. ‘Only because you seem to thrive on arguments.’

Her mouth curved in answer. ‘Be warned, I never stop until I get my way.’

His eyes dropped to her mouth, and a heated channel forged between them. Her breath shallowed, her heart racing as she read the look loud and clear.

Desire thickened in her veins, her core throbbing until she yearned to squeeze her thighs together to alleviate the ache.

‘Perhaps I will let you win on occasion,’ he murmured, his voice husky and deep. When his gaze dropped to linger on her breasts, a light tremble went through her.

She was thinking it was wise to move away before she did something foolish, like rise on tiptoe and taste his mouth, when a knock sounded on the door.

‘Yes?’ he answered, his eyes still on her.

Emily entered with Lucca, who smiled broadly when he saw her. ‘Lucca wants to go for a swim. I wanted to check with you that it was all right to take him,’ Emily said.

Romeo eyed Maisie with one brow quirked.

She lifted her chin. ‘I’ll take him,’ she answered. When his eyes narrowed, she sighed. ‘We’ll both take him?’ she amended.

The corner of his mouth twitched. ‘Grazie,’ he murmured.

Maisie nodded. ‘Okay. I’ll go and change.’

Romeo strode forward and caught Lucca up in his arms. ‘We’ll meet you by the pool.’

In her room, Maisie fingered her sensible one-piece suit, replaying the conversation with Romeo in her mind. He’d been surprised that she’d returned to look for him, more than surprised, in fact. Stunned. That she would want to do the right thing.

Again she found herself wondering just how damaging his relationship with his mother had been. He’d called her a whore in the car. Had he meant that literally? She shuddered. Why else would a child call his mother by such a derogatory term?

It was clear that Romeo Brunetti had huge skeletons in his closet. And she was treading on dangerous ground in being so interested in uncovering them. That he’d taken such drastic steps to disconnect himself from her after their single night together should warn her that he didn’t want any entanglements that didn’t involve his son. She would do well to remember that. Along with remembering that theirs would in no way be a physical merger. No matter how heatedly he looked at her. No matter how much her blood thrilled to insane sexual possibilities each time he was within touching distance.

There would come a time when she’d have to walk away with her son after all this was done.

She would be better off if she made sure to walk away with her heart intact.

* * *

Romeo noticed her cooler demeanour the moment she came down the terrace steps and walked through the leafy archway dividing the extensive barbecue and entertainment area from the pool. And it had nothing to do with the military-issue swimming suit she wore, or the tight knot she’d pulled her hair into at the top of her head.

Her gaze, when it skated over him, was wary. As if between the time they’d spoken in his study and her changing, she’d withdrawn into herself.

Had she somehow guessed at his true intention towards his son when this problem with Lorenzo was over?

No, there was no way she could know. He quashed the voice in his head that prompted him to recall Maisie’s uncanny intuitiveness. She’d known just how to delve beneath his skin and burrow to the heart of his need that night five years ago.

She’d given him passion and compassion in abundance, two emotions that had been seriously lacking in his life up till then. She’d made him believe and hope, for a few blissful hours, until dawn and reality had come crashing in. For a while he’d resented her for those feelings. Until he’d realised the fault wasn’t hers. It was him, daring to believe in mirages and miracles.