The Sicilian's Secret Son

Annah gasped. ‘By vandals?’

‘By the people Pietro refuses to pay protection money to.’

Shock felt like an electric jolt in her chest. ‘That’s terrible,’ she whispered.

Mia shrugged. ‘It happens,’ she said, but her chin went up and something like pride or defiance glowed in her brown eyes. ‘But things are slowly changing here. People are standing up—taking back our city.’ She flashed Annah a smile. ‘Luca has been amazing. When his father died and he came back, people held their breaths, not knowing what to expect. But he is a good man. He paid for Pietro’s shop renovation. And he subsidises a private security service so local businesses can afford to have their premises monitored.’ She gestured with her chin to the men indoors. ‘My Mario—he would protect Luca with his life the same as he would protect Liliana and me.’

Annah’s heart thudded as she tried to absorb it all. ‘Doesn’t it frighten you? That Mario could end up in harm’s way?’

Mia shook her head. ‘I do not worry. The whole world is dangerous, yes? Too many terrorists and people who are loco.’ She circled her fingertip at her temple. ‘But there are good men like ours fighting to make our world a safer, better place. That makes me proud, not afraid.’ She reached over suddenly and squeezed Annah’s hand. ‘Look at our men.’

Annah’s gaze fell on Luca. Even sitting down he looked solid and powerful, his chiselled features stamped with intelligence and authority.

‘They are strong,’ Mia said. ‘Powerful. And they are Sicilian—family is everything.’ Her hand squeezed again. ‘With Luca, you and your son will always be safe.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

ANNAH LEANED OVER the bed, pulled the sheet up to Ethan’s chin and gently kissed his forehead. He didn’t stir, having fallen asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow.

Straightening, she stared down at him and pressed her hand to her throat, her emotions tumbling and swirling like fallen leaves caught on a gust of wind.

Her son’s father was a good man. Annah couldn’t deny that simple truth. Not after today. After hearing the things Mia had told her. After watching Luca spend time with their son. He was so determined to be a father to Ethan—a real, hands-on father, not just a wealthy man doling out child support from afar.

It filled her with a cautious sense of joy, yet tore her to bits at the same time. Luca had missed four years of his son’s life while Ethan had been deprived of his father. It was so unfair. She almost wished Franco Cavallari were alive so she could demand to know why he had done what he had.

With a deep breath to steady her emotions, she crept out of the bedroom, slipped her feet into high-heeled sandals, and smoothed her hands down the front of her black trousers. Her first night here she’d teamed the trousers with a black top and worn her hair in a severe style. Tonight, her top was a shimmer of turquoise silk and her hair fell in shining waves to her shoulders

.

She stopped in front of the antique gold-framed wall mirror and studied her face. Did she look different? She felt different. Restless and achy in a way that wasn’t anything to do with tired muscles.

So much about today had deeply moved her. The city, its history, its people. Luca. Even now her heart pounded as she thought of her conversation with Mia. Of the pride and respect in the young woman’s voice as she’d spoken of the men and their stand against corruption. Her fearlessness and utter faith in Mario to keep her and Liliana safe—and her stout belief that Luca would do the same for Annah and Ethan.

A belief Annah realised she shared. Not once today had she worried for her and Ethan’s safety. Luca’s solid, indomitable presence, the gentle strength of his hand around hers, had not only warmed her soul but engendered a sense of comfort and security she’d never experienced before, even as a child.

Especially as a child.

She touched her fingers to her mouth, her skin tingling at the memory of last night’s heated kiss and their urgent, explosive coupling.

Suddenly she understood this restless, achy feeling. Her body was in a state of craving. Crying out to be touched, aching to be filled by the only man she had ever desired.

Abruptly, she pulled her hand down and turned away from the mirror. She needed to focus on Ethan, on what was best for him, not on herself and her own selfish desires.

Downstairs, in the elegant sitting room where she’d sat with Eva last night, Luca and a glass of brandy awaited her.

‘Thank you,’ she said, accepting the crystal tumbler from him, the glint of appreciation in his dark eyes as he surveyed her appearance not escaping her notice. Neither did the fact that he’d shaved or that his hair was damp from a shower—or that he looked stunningly handsome in a pale blue open-necked shirt and charcoal trousers.

Deliberately, she turned her gaze to the open French doors, ignoring the dip and sway of her belly.

‘The night is cool,’ he said, following the direction of her gaze. ‘But it’s pleasant on the terrace with the gas heaters on if you’d like to sit outside?’

She nodded and moved towards the doors, hoping the heaters weren’t too warm. A little crisp air to cool her libido might be a good thing. She settled against the cushions of a wicker chair while Luca lowered his large frame into the one adjacent.

His gaze settled on her. ‘Did Ethan go to sleep all right?’

‘Yes. Out like a light.’

After lunch, Ethan had finally got his wish to visit the beach. Luca’s driver had taken them to Mondello, a small seaside resort close to the city. The beach itself was a long, curving strip of soft white sand sloping gently into clear aquamarine waters.