The Sicilian's Secret Son

The morning continued to warm up as they walked, the early spring weather milder here than at home where some days still had a wintry nip. The maze of narrow streets teemed with restaurants and al fresco bars and a delightful assortment of artisan boutiques selling everything from hand-crafted leather goods and jewellery to handmade chocolates.

It wasn’t all beautiful. The

old town was full of baroque palazzi—centuries-old palaces built and owned by the Italian aristocracy—some of which stood crumbling and neglected, abandoned and left to ruin or turned into scruffy, overcrowded tenements. But many others retained their original grandeur and were still lived in by their wealthy owners.

The poignant contrast between decadence and decay gave the city a sensual, edgy vibe that seemed to infiltrate Annah’s blood, so that when they came upon a boisterous street market and Luca hoisted Ethan onto his shoulders and then clasped her hand, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she returned his grip and allowed herself to enjoy the contact and the resulting shimmer of heat through her body.

Some of the market’s stallholders were winding down, but others still hawked their wares, shouting over the heads of the crowd. She glanced up at Ethan, worried he might find the noise and the pungent smells of seafood and meats and exotic spices overwhelming. But a wide grin split his face. He was king of the castle, riding high on his father’s shoulders. He looked as happy as she’d ever seen him, and a pang of something she couldn’t quite identify pierced her chest.

As they neared a fruit and vegetable stall, a short, balding man came out from beneath his awning, beaming at Luca, who released her hand to shake the man’s. Annah couldn’t understand the exchange that followed, but she saw how the man’s eyes lit with interest on Ethan, and then her.

Luca reclaimed her hand and said, ‘This is Guido. He doesn’t speak English, but he is very happy to meet you.’

‘Oh.’ Annah sent the man a friendly smile, and he doffed his coppola and grinned back, then said something to Luca.

Luca released a deep baritone laugh before responding.

‘What did he say?’ Annah asked as they waved goodbye and moved off.

His dark eyes gleamed with humour and something else that defied interpretation. ‘He said you are very beautiful.’

‘Oh!’ Annah’s face heated.

‘And...’ Luca leaned close and dropped his voice so Ethan wouldn’t hear ‘...that if I do not plan to make an honest woman of you, he has many strapping sons he can introduce you to.’

Annah’s blush intensified. She covered her embarrassment with a little laugh, wishing she had the courage to ask Luca how he’d responded. Instead, she said, ‘Was that Sicilian you were speaking?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is it quite different from Italian?’

He nodded. ‘My mother is from Naples and speaks only Italian and cannot understand Sicilian.’

‘She never learned?’

He shrugged. ‘There was no need.’

‘But you learned both,’ she observed.

‘Yes. My father insisted. Both Enzo and I were fluent in both languages from a young age.’

Annah discerned a hint of tension in his voice at the mention of his brother, and she stifled the urge to pepper him with more questions. The last thing she wanted was to shatter this good mood of his. She focused instead on the bustling market around them, soaking up its lively, colourful atmosphere.

By the time they stepped inside a quaint trattoria for lunch, her feet cried out for a rest. But she’d loved every minute of exploring the old city on foot. Better than being ferried from place to place in the SUV.

The trattoria was run by an older couple who greeted them effusively and seemed especially happy to see Luca. During the introductions, Annah learnt the couple was Mario’s in-laws. Mario himself had disappeared, she realised. Moments later, he emerged from the rear of the restaurant with a pretty dark-haired woman and an adorable little girl about Ethan’s age. Liliana, Annah guessed, even before her proud papà introduced her.

‘And this is my wife, Mia,’ said Mario.

Mia was warm and friendly, her English better than her parents’, who, like Guido at the market, were fluent only in Sicilian. She led Luca, Ethan, and Annah to a table in a lovely open courtyard and then served them refreshing lemon granita and mouth-watering pizza.

When they’d finished eating, Luca reached for her hand over the table. ‘I need to talk with Mario and his father-in-law.’ His thumb stroked lightly across her knuckles. ‘I won’t be long. Are you happy here for a bit?’

Sensation tingled in her hand from where his thumb stroked, but she met his eyes and told herself for the umpteenth time she was reading too much into his touch. Seeing a depth of intimacy in his dark eyes that wasn’t really there. She smiled. ‘Of course.’

A short while later, from where she sat, Annah could just see the three men, plus a fourth she hadn’t met, huddled at a corner table inside the trattoria. ‘They look serious,’ she said to Mia, who’d come out to join her after Luca left. Ethan and Liliana sat at a separate table, playing with crayons and colouring books and chatting adorably.

Mia sipped her melon granita and nodded. ‘The man next to Mario,’ she said. ‘He is my father’s cousin, Pietro. He runs a dry-cleaning shop.’ She put down her glass. ‘It was firebombed six weeks ago.’