When Falcone's World Stops Turning (Blood Brothers 1)

She looked at him and her eyes were huge in the gloom. ‘I don’t know why you would even suggest such a thing.’

Rafaele curbed his irritation. Did she really have to sound so repulsed at the idea?

He dug his hands into his pockets to stop himself from reaching for her—he didn’t know if he wanted to shake her right now or kiss her. Actually, that was a lie. He’d always want to kiss her, no matter what. That thought sent shards of panic into his bloodstream.

‘I happen to think it’s a very good idea. There are far more reasons why you should consider this than not. We have a history. We get on well. We have a child together... And there’s the physical chemistry. You can’t deny that, cara.’

‘The chemistry will burn out.’

That was said with a desperately hopeful edge that resonated within Rafaele.

He had to make her see what he’d realised last night—that marriage was the solution... To this tangled mess of emotions you don’t want to deal with, his conscience sneered. He ignored his conscience. Surely by marrying her he would no longer experience this wildness around her? This need to devour, consume? This loss of all reason? It would negate this completely alien need to possess her... It would publicly brand her as his, and maybe then he’d feel some equanimity again.

‘We have a child. Is that not enough of a reason? I want Milo to have my name. He is heir to a vast industry and fortune.’

‘No, Rafaele,’ she said in a small voice. ‘It’s not enough. I might have thought it would be at one time, but not any more. I want more for me and Milo. He deserves to have two parents who love each other.’

Rafaele responded with a sneering edge to his voice. ‘You and I both know that fairytale doesn’t exist. What we have is better than that, Sam. We can depend on each other. We respect each other.’

She lifted her chin. ‘How do I know you’ve forgiven me for keeping Milo from you? That you won’t use it in the future? That it won’t be a reason for resentment when you think about it?’

Rafaele slashed a hand through the air. ‘Sam, it’s not about that any more. I appreciate that you had your reasons, and I admi

t that I didn’t give you any indication to believe that I would welcome a child into my life. We can’t change the past, but we can make sure we go into the future right.’

For a long moment Sam just looked at him, and then she said, ‘I won’t marry you. Not just to make things nice and tidy. To make things easier for you. I want more...’ She shrugged her shoulder in a gesture of apology.

Rafaele felt the red mist of rage rising when he thought of some other man moving into that cosy house in the quiet suburbs, waking up next to Sam, having lazy early-morning sex...

‘Do you really think someone like your ex-lover can give you a happy-ever-after? When it doesn’t even exist?’

Sam started to back away. ‘I’m not talking about this any more, Rafaele. I don’t want to marry you. It’s plain and simple.’

Rafaele felt his chest tighten and an awful cold feeling seeped into his veins. ‘Well, then...’ He almost didn’t recognise his own voice. ‘It would appear that you’re giving me no option but to take the legal route to establish custody of my son.’

Sam stopped and crossed her arms. She whispered, ‘It doesn’t have to come to that, Rafaele. We can come to an arrangement.’

Rafaele felt as hard inside as granite. ‘I want my son, Sam, and I want him to have my name.’

‘I can’t fight you in a court, Rafaele. I don’t have those kinds of resources.’

Rafaele pushed down his conscience. He was full of darkness—a darkness that had clung to him all his life. He was standing in front of this woman and for one second, when she’d said she didn’t want to marry him, he’d been tempted to go down on one knee to convince her. It had been fleeting, but there. And it had been like a slap in the face. Had he learnt nothing?

Sam would not reduce him to that. No woman would. All that mattered was his son. He would not walk away from him and leave him to fend for himself as his own father had done with him.

Rafaele’s voice was as cold as he felt inside. ‘You’re the one who started this, Samantha.’

Sam’s arms tightened and Rafaele could see her knuckles turn white against the skin of her fingers.

‘You were stringing us along all this time, lulling me into a false sense of security. We’re leaving here tomorrow to go home. Do your worst—see if I care.’

Rafaele felt impervious to anything in that moment. He was numb. He saw Sam spot a taxi driving slowly alongside them. A very rare Rome taxi. She hailed it and jumped in. When she passed him, her profile was stony through the window. Rafaele felt something trying to break through, to pierce this numbness that had settled over him, but he pushed it down ruthlessly and tried to ignore the feeling that something very precious had just shattered into pieces.

CHAPTER TEN

THE FOLLOWING DAY Rafaele saw them off at the airport. They had been booked onto a scheduled flight home, albeit first class.

Milo was confused and kept saying, ‘Why is Daddy not coming too, Mummy?’