The Sicilian's Secret Son

‘Those are wonderful things—’

He cut her off. ‘Then why aren’t they enough?’

She looked away, the glow of hope in her heart fading like a dying ember.

After a moment, Luca leaned in, took her hand in his. His voice softened. ‘Cara, I know last night was frightening. But I will never let anything happen to you or Ethan. If you are worried, I can increase security, assign you extra—’

She shook her head. ‘It’s not about that, Luca. You would protect us with your life—so would Mario. Or any of your men. I know that.’ It wasn’t Luca’s world she feared. Last night’s run-in with the troubled teen was, by the sound of things, an isolated incident. Most days, the risk of falling victim to someone with a vendetta against Luca was probably no greater than the risk of being run over on a pedestrian crossing by a distracted driver in London. No. The thing she feared most right now was Luca crushing her foolish, vulnerable heart. She swallowed. ‘How do you know love will make you weak when you won’t even let yourself try?’

‘Because I do know,’ he said, his voice low and hard. Releasing her hand, he stood suddenly and stalked to the window. Hands thrust in his pockets, he stared out.

Forcing her legs to move, dismayed to find they trembled, she got up and followed. Stopping beside him, she set her hand on his shoulder, felt the tension vibrating in his muscles. ‘How?’ she pressed. ‘Tell me, Luca. Help me understand.’

There was a long silence before he spoke. When he did, he didn’t look at her. ‘Not long before that final falling-out with Franco, a prosecutor secretly approached me. I don’t know how, but he knew my father and I had conflicting values. Different visions for the family business. He wanted me to gather evidence from inside Franco’s illegal operations. The kind of evidence that could have put him away for a long time.’ He paused, his jaw tight. ‘I should have done it, but I didn’t. Somewhere inside me there was still that kid who’d idolised his father. Who’d loved his father.’ He practically spat the word loved. ‘Even after that final confrontation with Franco, I couldn’t betray him—not to that extent. So I chose exile instead. Walked away from the business, the family, and went to New York.’

He turned to face her, the movement so abrupt it dislodged her hand from his shoulder. ‘Love made me soft. Incapable of doing what needed to be done. If I had, Franco would have gone to prison. His hold over Enzo would have ended. My brother would still be alive.’

The torment in Luca’s eyes broke Annah’s heart. What was it he’d said about her mother when Annah had wondered aloud why Rachel hadn’t given her up for adoption? Perhaps she loved you too much to do the right thing. At the time she hadn’t understood the strange remark. Now it made sense. She looked into his eyes. ‘You don’t know that, Luca.’

‘I do know it.’ Lifting his hands, he stroked over her shoulders, down her upper arms. He breathed in deeply, exhaled slowly. ‘I’m sorry, Annah. I can’t be weak like that again. I can’t love and protect at the same time.’

Frustration made the backs of her eyes burn. ‘Oh, Luca.’ Her voice choked. ‘Don’t you see? It’s your emotion and your compassion for people that make you strong.’

He shook his head, not willing to entertain any other perspective.

A sudden, heart-rending sense of loss and finality swept over her.

Luca was capable of love. She didn’t doubt it for a moment. But he would never surrender to it. Never make himself vulnerable. He offered her so much—security, commitment, family, their amazing physical connection. But if he didn’t let himself love, he would always hold a part of himself back from her—and from Ethan.

Sadness overwhelmed her.

For the first time in Annah’s life she experienced a pang of sympathy for her mother—because now she knew how it felt to desperately want a man’s love.

* * *

He was losing her.

Luca could see it in the way her eyes cooled and her expression shuttered.

A cold fist clamped his chest. In his brain, a denial roared. This was not happening. He would not allow it.

Last night, in that split second when she’d drawn the kid’s attention and the gun had swung towards her, he’d realised two things. First, he could not countenance even the idea of losing Annah. Second, it was he who had placed her in harm’s way. He shouldn’t have taken her out of the restaurant before Mario arrived. He sure as hell shouldn’t have stood on the street kissing her like some besotted fool, oblivious to potential dangers.

It reinforced what he already knew—what he had just tried to explain to her.

He couldn’t protect and love at the same time.

‘Annah—’

‘Don’t.’ She shook her head, her eyes sliding away from his. ‘There’s no point. We’re never going to agree. We want different things.’

He set his jaw, everything in him rebelling against that statement. ‘We both want what’s best for Ethan.’

She pulled away from his hold. Reluctantly, he let go.

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘But that doesn’t mean we’ll agree on what is best.’

His brows drew down. ‘You don’t think our son deserves a stable home and family life with both his parents?’