Brunetti's Secret Son

The next second, he was swimming away, hauling himself out of the water like an arrogant god. He didn’t look her way again as he towelled off and entered the villa.

Maisie stayed put, fighting the need to surrender with every last atom in her body, fiercely resisting the knowledge that the uphill battle with herself where Romeo was concerned was only just starting. And that this time, she risked losing more than just her dignity.

* * *

As Romeo had instructed all week, they dined outside, between sunset and when the stars came out. She kept the conversation on safe topics, determined to stay away from the bombshell he’d placed between them at the pool.

We’re husband and wife.

The yearning those words triggered in her was something she didn’t want to dwell on.

‘The builders assure me the work will be done by the weekend. Which is just as well because I think our son has reached the point where we’ll wake up one morning and find him down there finishing the pond with his own two hands.’ The words were delivered with a bracing amount of amused dread.

Maisie laughed. ‘I think poor Emily’s at her wits’ end, too, with reassuring him the pond will be ready by his birthday. If he decides to finish it on his own, I think she might help him, just for the sake of achieving some peace.’

Romeo smiled, and his face was transformed from brooding sexiness to heart-stopping so fast her heart took a dizzy dive. ‘I suppose it’s a blessing then he’s managed to twist her around his fingers so soon. I can foresee a time when she adores him as much as we do.’

He froze suddenly and his breath caught. The eyes that met hers held stunned shock and when he reached for his red wine, she saw how his hand trembled.

She laid her hand over his as a lump rose in her throat. ‘It’s okay to admit you love your son, Romeo,’ she said gently. ‘In fact, I think it’s time you told him as much, and that you’re his father.’

The shock dissipated, replaced by the customary brooding. He eyed her with a mildly disparaging look. ‘So was this some sort of test?’

She jerked her hand away. ‘Excuse me?’

‘To see how I fared in the fatherhood stakes before offering your permission to let him know I’m his father?’ he tagged on.

‘Of course not,’ she replied, the barb stinging deep and painfully. ‘You really think so little of me? Or of yourself?’ she added, because she sensed some of that pointed remark was directed at himself.

A fleeting expression flashed across his face, almost like regret. Then his features tightened. ‘Why would you think any more of me or my fathering skills? You know enough about my background to know I have no experience in this. That my own childhood has left scars I’ll never be able to erase. Scars that could manifest in unpredictable ways somewhere down the line.’

She frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

His mouth pursed for so long she thought he wouldn’t answer. ‘You know I lived on the streets. What you don’t know is that I joined a gang a few years after that. One that even the authorities feared to tackle.’

Unease climbed into her throat. ‘Why?’

‘Because I wanted to fit in, somewhere.’

The raw vulnerability caught at her heart. ‘And did you?’

He exhaled harshly. ‘Not after I refused to perform the initiation rites.’

‘Which were?’

Her heart froze as he enunciated what he’d been asked to do. Silence settled over their table, until he raised his head.

‘You see why fatherhood isn’t a job I’m to be trusted to settle into easily.’

Maisie’s heart squeezed at the pain in his voice. ‘But you walked away. You chose to walk away instead of hurting another human being.’

‘That doesn’t mean I’m equipped to handle this!’

‘You’re fighting Lorenzo instead of giving in to threats and extortion. You swore to protect Lucca within hours of meeting him. You’ve done nothing but care for him since we got here. Doesn’t that tell you something? Love makes you vulnerable sometimes, but it doesn’t make you weak.’

His mouth twisted, but the pain in his eyes dissipated a little. ‘I wouldn’t know. Lucca’s young now, adorable and easy to handle. Who’s to say what will come later, and how well we’ll handle it?’ His voice was thin and a touch bleak, holding echoes of his past.

Her hands clenched on the pristine white tablecloth. ‘Stop borrowing trouble, Romeo. You’ve done well so far. Let’s just take it one day at a time. And if you’re not ready to tell Lucca that you’re his father, then we’ll wait.’