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

Milo stopped what he was doing and for the first time since Rafaele had entered their lives, ran to him and gave him a kiss when Rafaele bent down to hug him.

‘Bye, Daddy.’

Milo’s easy and rapid acceptance of this whole situation made Sam’s chest ache, and that emotion threatened to bubble over. She’d never in a million years envisaged that it could be this easy...or this cataclysmic.

Rafaele left and a long, shuddering breath emerged from her mouth. In truth, she’d not known what to expect if she’d ever plucked up the courage to tell Rafaele about Milo, but it had ranged from complete uninterest to his storming into their lives to take over, demand to take control.

It had definitely veered towards the latter end of the scale, but also not. For one thing she hadn’t expected Rafaele still to want her. Or to admit that he had thought about her—that he’d never stopped wanting her.

Questions made her head hurt... So why had he let her go, then? If he’d wanted her...? She knew instinctively that she’d got too close. Was that why he’d pushed her away?

‘Mummy, play with me!’ came the imperious demand that sounded suspiciously like someone else.

Sam looked at her son and smiled. She got down on the floor beside him and devoted herself to the fantastical world of a bright, inquisitive three-year-old and welcomed the distraction.

* * *

That evening Bridie was still brimming over after her trip to St Peter’s and the Vatican. ‘I was the only one looking at the Sistine Chapel—the only one! And I think I saw the Pope walking in a private garden, but I couldn’t be sure... A lovely priest said Mass in Latin. Oh, Sam, it was gorgeous.’

Sam smiled indulgently as she went to pick up her bag. Rafaele had called to say he was sending a car to pick her up and he’d meet her directly at the restaurant.

Suddenly Bridie broke off from her raptures and said in a shocked voice, ‘You’re not going out like that?’

Sam looked down at her outfit of jeans and a plaid shirt. Trainers. Suddenly she felt gauche. Of course Rafaele would have probably booked somewhere extremely fancy and expensive. She should have realised.

Bridie was bustling off. ‘I know you packed that black dress, Sam. You have to change.’

Sam followed Bridie, knowing that she couldn’t leave without changing now. Bridie seemed determined to throw her and Rafaele together, clearly believing that a fairytale ending was in the making.

When Sam walked into the bedroom Bridie was shaking out the plain black dress that Sam had packed just in case.

‘Now, put this on and do your make-up. I’ll let you know when the car gets here.’

Milo came barrelling down the hallway. Bridie caught him and said, ‘Right, dinnertime for you, young man, and then an early night. We have to go home tomorrow so you need to be fresh.’

Sam quickly changed clothes and grimaced at her reflection, finally putting on some foundation to take away the pallor of her cheeks and then some mascara.

Home tomorrow. No wonder Rafaele wanted to talk now. He would have strong ideas about how they would proceed from here, she didn’t doubt it, and she felt a shiver of trepidation that he would want to change their routine utterly.

This was all an exciting holiday to Milo now, but it couldn’t continue like this. He needed routine and stability, and his life—their lives—were in England.

Sam heard Bridie call out, ‘Sam, the car is here!’

Taking a deep breath and slipping on the one pair of low-heeled shoes she’d brought, Sam went to meet her fate.

* * *

The restaurant was nothing like Sam had expected. The car had taken her across the river to the very hip and bustling Trastevere area and the building looked small and rustic, with tables outside despite the cool early February air. Golden light spilled onto the pavement and the smells coming out of the door were mouth-watering.

Sam went in and immediately her eye was drawn to the tall man who’d stood up. Her heart kicked betrayingly, as if she hadn’t seen him just hours ago. She felt ridiculously shy all of a sudden too—which was crazy, considering what had taken place in Rafaele’s bedroom last night.

By the time a solicitous waiter had taken her coat and she’d made her way through the small tables to Rafaele her face was burning.

He held a chair out for her and Sam felt self-conscious in her dress, hoping that Rafaele wouldn’t think she’d gone to any extra-special effort.

In a bid to deflect his attention she said quickly, ‘Bridie thought I should dress up a bit...’ She looked around the restaurant. ‘But I don’t think I needed to. I thought you might choose somewhere more upmarket.’

‘Disappointed?’ Rafaele’s voice sounded tight.