A Dark Sicilian Secret

He released her and she took a step away, and then another, walking blindly in the downpour in the opposite direction of her house because she’d never lead Vitt there. Never in a million years.

“Where are you going?” he called after her.

“Continuing with my walk. Need the exercise.”

“I’ll join you.”

“Please don’t.”

But he followed her anyway, although at a more leisurely pace.

Gut churning, mind whirling, Jillian splashed through puddles as she walked, trying to figure out how to lose Vitt, how to keep him from discovering Joe’s whereabouts.

She hadn’t brought her cell phone with her, so she couldn’t call Hannah and warn her. She hadn’t brought money, either, so it wasn’t as if she could catch a cab from town.

And so she just kept walking, and the rain kept coming, and Vitt continued following.

“How far are you planning on going, Jill?” he asked her, as they approached an intersection and the pathway turned into a sidewalk with a four-way stoplight.

“Until I’m tired,” she answered, worried that the light remained red while his limousine purred just feet away.

The limousine continued to the corner and made a partial turn, blocking the intersection. Blocking her access to the crosswalk. Suddenly the doors of the black limousine opened and two of Vitt’s bodyguards emerged.

In any other situation she might have laughed. Who but Vitt would have bodyguards that dressed like Italian fashion models? His men wore elegant suits, exquisite leather shoes and belts, and shaded their eyes with the latest in designer stylish sunglasses. They were sophisticated and well groomed and didn’t blend in. They had never blended in. But Vittorio had to know that. Vittorio Marcello d’Severano left nothing to chance.

The bodyguards watched her with professional interest. They were clearly waiting for a signal from Vitt, a signal he had yet to give.

“Tell them to move,” Jillian said, turning to look at Vitt.

“But I just told them to stop there.”

“Yes, but I can’t cross the street with them blocking the way.”

“I know. But we can’t just walk all day. We have things we have to discuss. Decisions that must be made.”

“Such as?”

“How we’re going to manage joint custody of our son—”

“We’re not. He’s mine.”

“And which country he’ll attend school in.”

“The States. He’s American.”

“As well as Sicilian,” Vitt countered softly. “As well as half mine. You can not legally keep him from me.”

“Nor can you legally take him from me.”

“Which I wouldn’t do.” He patted his chest. “Fortunately, I have excellent legal counsel, and have spent the past few months working with the best American and Sicilian attorneys. Everything’s been handled. I’ve taken care of the paperwork. The documentation is here. You’ve had him the first eleven months of his life. I’m entitled to the next.”

“What?”

He nodded. “We’re to share him equally, or, cara, darling, you risk losing him completely.”

“Never!”

“You’ll be found an unfit mother should you try to run off with him again. And you don’t want to be found in contempt of the court. It would seriously damage your chances of ever getting custody back.”

Jillian stared at Vitt in horror. “You’re making that up.”

“I’d never lie to you. And I never have. If we step into the car, I’ll show you the paperwork where it’s dry.”

He made it sound so simple. Just step into his car…just look at the papers.

He must think she’d forgotten just how powerful he was. He must think she didn’t remember how seductive and attractive she’d found him.

If she took that one small step, climbed into his car, she feared she’d never be safe—or sane—again.

Jillian swallowed hard, her senses already overloaded. Tall and broad-shouldered, Vitt was undeniably attractive, but twenty months ago she’d fallen for more than his body. She’d loved his mind. He was brilliant. Probably the most intelligent man she’d ever met and she’d enjoyed talking to him more than she’d enjoyed talking to anyone.

Vitt could discuss politics and economics, history and culture, arts and sciences. He’d traveled extensively and obviously had loads of money, but he’d played no games. He’d been warm, sensual—and except for the odd strange phone call, and the sudden secret meetings—he’d been totally available.

And like a love-starved puppy, she’d lapped it all up, soaking it in.

Seeing him again reminded her of just how much she’d liked him and wanted him.

Seeing him again made her realize she’d never be immune to him. “I don’t trust you,” she said, her voice husky with emotion.

“The problem in a nutshell.”

“Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not. But your lack of trust has created terrible problems for both of us.”

She looked away, bit her lip hard, so hard it drew blood. “I want to see the paperwork, but I won’t get into your car,” she said steeling herself, suppressing all emotion. “Don’t try to make me.”

Vittorio was still walking toward her and he slid his hands into his black coat’s pockets. “I didn’t want it this way, cara. I didn’t want it hard on you.” He was just a foot away now and she scrambled to the side. He moved past her, heading to the open limousine door. “But if you insist,” he added with an eloquent shrug, “then so be it. We’ll do it this way.”

Vittorio ducked his head and slid into the backseat of the car with its tinted windows. Jillian watched as one of the bodyguards climbed into the car and then the other. Vitt’s men weren’t coming for her after all. They were going to leave her alone.

She should have felt relief. Instead she felt fear and dread claw at her throat.

Something was wrong, very, very wrong, because Vittorio would never give up, which meant, if he was leaving her here, and letting her go, he’d already won.

He had Joe. He’d found her son.

Stomach heaving, she rushed toward the car, throwing herself at the door to prevent it from closing. “What have you done?”

Vitt looked at her from the interior of the car. The car’s yellow-white light cast hard shadows on his face, making his eyes look almost black and his expression fierce. “It’s what you wanted.”

“What I want is for my son, my baby, to be with me. That’s what I want—”

“No, you had that opportunity and you turned it down. You said you wanted to be left alone. I am leaving you…alone.”

Jillian didn’t remember moving or launching herself at him, but suddenly she was in the car and the limousine was moving and she was sitting on the black leather seat, next to Vittorio with his two thugs on the seat across from theirs.

“Calm yourself,” Vittorio repeated. “Joseph is fine. He’s in my safekeeping and with the court’s permission, will be flying to Paterno with me tonight.”

Jillian’s stomach rose and fell and panicked, she searched Vitt’s eyes for the truth. “You’re bluffing.”

“No, cara, I’m not bluffing. We had an early lunch together, Joseph and I. He’s a delightful little boy, full of charm and intelligence, although I wouldn’t put him in yellow again. It doesn’t suit him.”

For a moment she couldn’t breathe. Nor could she think. Everything within her froze, and died a little bit.

She’d dressed Joe in a golden-yellow T-shirt this morning and tiny adorable blue jeans. She’d thought he looked like sunshine and it’d made her smile and kiss his neck where he smelled so sweet. “What have you done with him?”

“Besides treat him to a healthy lunch and ask that he be put down for a nap? Nothing. Should I have?”

“Vittorio.” Her voice was hoarse, anguished. “This isn’t a game.”

“You’ve made it one, Jillian. You’ve only yourself to blame.”

“What about Hannah?” she asked, referring to her wonderful new sitter, a sitter she’d found two months ago just after she’d rented the house. “Is she with him?”

“She is, but you don’t need her anymore. We’ll get a proper nanny in Sicily, someone who will help teach Joseph his native language.”

“But I like Hannah—”

“As do I. She’s been a very good employee. Has done everything I’ve asked of her.”

A cold, sick sensation rushed through her, making her want to throw up. With a trembling hand Jillian wiped the rain from her eyes. “What do you mean, you’ve asked of her?”

Vittorio’s mouth curved, which only made his handsome face look harder, fiercer. “She worked for me. But of course you weren’t to know that.”

CHAPTER TWO

SHE was sitting as far from him as she could on the limousine’s black leather seat. Vitt had expected that. She was upset. As well she should be.

He’d just turned her world upside down. As they’d both known he would.

Nothing so far today had surprised him. Jill was the one in shock. Water dripped from her thick sweater and the ends of her hair, and her teeth chattered despite the fact the heater blasted hot air all over them. He found the temperature stifling, but left the heater on high for her, thinking it was the least he could do considering the circumstances.

His limousine had done a U-turn and was approaching the private road off the scenic coastal Highway 1 that led to her cul-de-sac.

Jill’s rental house was small, brown, with very 1950s architecture, which meant nondescript. It was a house surrounded by soaring evergreens. A house with a plain asphalt driveway. A house that would draw no attention. Jill was smart, far smarter than he’d given her credit for, but once he understood her, once he understood how her mind worked, it was easy to lead her right into the palm of his hand.

The house.

The nanny.

The job opportunity.

He’d known she was in Monterey County for the past four months, but he didn’t want to frighten her away until all his plans were in place. And to help her feel safe, secure, he’d wooed her into complacency by posting the rental house information on a coffee shop bulletin board where she went every day to get her latte. Thirty people called on the house before she finally did. He’d turned thirty people down before Jill made the call, and asked to see the house.

She toured the house with one of his company employees, a lovely woman named Susan who worked for him in his San Francisco commercial real estate office. It was Susan who casually mentioned the job opportunity at the Highlands Inn, an opportunity created for her as he owned the hotel, along with another thirty others spread over the globe.

Jillian had interviewed for the job, and while chatting with the hotel’s resource manager, the manager dropped into the conversation that she was just about to let her nanny go as her children were now all of school age, and did Jillian know of anyone looking for excellent, but inexpensive, child care?

Jillian pounced.

The trap had been set.

Jillian was his.

In hindsight, it sounded easy. In truth, it’d been excruciating. He’d wanted to rush in and seize his child, know his child, help raise his son. But he didn’t. He waited, fighting his own impatience, knowing that everything he did was watched.

The d’Severano name was a double-edged sword. People knew and feared his family. His grandfather had once been the don of one of the most powerful, influential crime families in the world. His family had been intimately involved with the Mafioso for generations. But that was the past. Vittorio’s business ventures were all completely legal, and they’d remain legal.

“Shall we go to your house so you can change?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

“But aren’t we close?”

“No.”

“You don’t live near here?”

“No,” she repeated, staring out the tinted window toward the street.

He gazed out to the street, too. It was a blur outside the window. Rain drummed down, dancing onto the asphalt. It’d been raining the day he’d met her in Turkey, too. Absolutely pouring outside.

And so instead of taking the car to his next meeting, he lingered in the lobby waiting for the rain to let up. It was while he was waiting Jill crossed the lobby, high heels clicking on the polished marble floor.

He’d known from the moment he saw her across the lobby of the Ciragan Palace Hotel in Istanbul she was beautiful, and she’d shown remarkable intelligence during their first dinner date in the Caviar Bar Russian Restaurant, but he had no idea she could be so resourceful. This woman sitting next to him was street-smart. Savvy. Far savvier than many of the businessmen he regularly dealt with.

“I know your house is close, but if you don’t want to go and collect anything…” He allowed his voice to drift off, giving her the opportunity to speak up.

Instead she lifted her chin and her fine, pale jaw tightened. “No.”

“Then we can go straight to the airport, and I’ll have your house emptied and your possessions packed and stored.”

He’d gotten her attention now. Her head snapped around, her eyes blazed at him. “My house is none of your business!” she snapped furiously.

“But it is. Who else would have reduced the rent on an ocean-view home from fifty-six hundred a month to fourteen hundred for a single, unwed mother, with no references or credit, and her young son? I own the house. And you, cara, are my tenant.”

He saw the moment his words registered, saw it in the widening of her eyes and then the clenching of her jaw.

“Your house?” she choked.

He shrugged. “My house. My nanny. My hotel.”

“What do you mean, your hotel? I’ve never stayed at an expensive hotel—”

“But you’ve been employed by one the past sixty days, haven’t you?” He smiled faintly. “The Highlands Inn is part of my International Prestige Collection. Or did you not check that on Google?”

Her lips parted. And her brown eyes practically shot daggers. Brown eyes. So very interesting. Her eyes had been a dark sapphire-blue some twenty months ago.

“You set me up,” she whispered.

“What did you expect? That I’d let you get away with abducting my son?”

“I didn’t abduct him. I carried him, gave birth to him, loved him—”

“Good. And now you can love him from the comfort and security of my home in Sicily.”

“I will not live in Sicily.”

“Fine. You can come and go, and visit us whenever you’d like, but the courts have agreed that based on your erratic behavior, and your inability to provide financially for the child, Joseph will make his permanent home in Paterno with me.”

“But I have provided for him! I’ve always managed—”

“With my help, yes. You forget, cara, that the courts are fully aware that I provided you with a home, a job and child care. They understand you couldn’t have survived without me.”

Her hands balled into fists. “That’s not true. I was fine. We were both doing fine!” “So you say.”

She fell back against the seat. “You tricked me.”

“I did what I had to do to be with my son.”

“And now that you have him?”

“He’ll live in Paterno at my family home.”

“What about me?”

“You will live with us until he’s eighteen and then when he leaves for university, you can go, too. You’ll be free to travel, buy a new home, start a new life, but until then, you will live with us in my home.”

Jillian dug her nails into her palms. “I’m a prisoner?”

His gaze settled on her pale face, studying the high cheekbones, straight nose, full lips and strong chin. “Absolutely not. You’re free to come and go, but Joseph will remain with me, to be raised by me.”

“So he’s the prisoner?”

“He’s an infant, and my son. He needs guidance, and protection.”

“From your enemies?”

He regarded her steadily. “I have no enemies.”

“Except for me,” she said beneath her breath.

“You didn’t used to be.” He spoke the words just as softly, and her color stormed her face, staining her cheeks a hot pink, a clear indication that she also remembered how responsive she’d been in his bed.

A translucent bead of water fell from a tendril at her brow to her temple. With an impatient swipe of her fingers she knocked the water from her face but not before he noticed how her hand trembled.

She was flustered. Good. She should be. He was furious. Beyond furious. Jillian had hidden her pregnancy, until she had accidentally bumped into one of his employees while taking the baby for a walk. On hearing the news, he’d worked out the dates and rung her immediately. Jillian had the gall to first deny the baby was his, and then when he demanded a DNA test, she ran from him, keeping his son from him for nearly the entire first year of Joseph’s life.

Jill should be punished. And there would be consequences.

“In fact, I can still see you at the wheel of my new Ferrari in Bellagio,” he added. “You loved driving it, didn’t you? But then you loved everything about our time together at the villa in Lake Como. Including spending my money.”

“You make it sound like I had a thing for your money.”

“Didn’t you?” he countered, signaling his driver to move on.

“No!” she answered fiercely, as fresh pink color darkened her cheekbones, highlighting the shape of her delicate face. “Your money meant nothing to me. It still doesn’t.”

“So you didn’t enjoy the private jet, the villa, the servants, the car?”

“Things don’t impress me,” she threw at him, averting her head once more, giving him a glimpse of her neck and nape.

Her skin was pale, creamy, flawless, and his gaze traveled slowly over her, studying her elegant features and the mass of blond hair that hung in damp loose waves over her shoulders. The blond hair color was something new as well.

“I see. You were there for me.” He studied her lazily, as though trying to decide if he liked her better as a glossy chestnut brunette or this California beach-girl blonde, but his lazy, relaxed demeanor was a façade, because on the inside he was wound hard, and tight.

Never in his life had he been played the way she played him. Never. It still astonished him. Jill Smith had seemed so innocent. Sweet. Pure. God, he’d misjudged her. But now he knew, and he’d never be foolish enough to make that mistake again. “You cared for me.”

She met his gaze directly, her chin lifting. “I did care for you.”

“Past tense.”

Her eyes looked enormous but she didn’t back down. “Past tense.”

He glanced briefly out the window at the twisted, gnarled limbs of a cypress tree before focusing on her. “So what changed, Jill Smith?” he asked, emphasizing her name because her name, like the rest of her life, was invented. Jillian Smith didn’t exist. Jillian Smith was a fabrication. A very good one, but a fabrication nonetheless.

Her lies had made it difficult to track her down, but he was persistent, and he’d succeeded.

Now all that was left was bending her to his will to ensure his son’s health, wealth and happiness.

“Nothing happened.”

“No? Nothing happened?” One black eyebrow lifted quizzically.

“No.”

“No one whispered in your ear? No one told you something that sent you packing?”

Her jaw dropped a little before she snapped it closed, and yet even then she looked sick. Scared. He wondered if that’s what she felt that day in Bellagio when his young housemaid told Jill he was part of the mafia. Silly housemaid to talk of things she knew little about. Silly girl to think he wouldn’t find out. His staff had to know there were security cameras everywhere.

“What did you do to her?” Jill whispered hoarsely.

“Fired her.” And then he rolled his eyes at Jill’s expression. “You think I’d hurt an eighteen-year-old girl for saying the word Mafioso? Ridiculous. That just proves how little you know of me. I am not a cruel man. I do not hurt people, or give orders to have people hurt. That’s barbaric.”

And still she looked at him warily, her emotions volatile as fear, anxiety and uncertainty flitted across her face one after the other. “So you really do mean to take me to Sicily with you?”

“Yes,” he answered decisively.

“And you won’t keep me from Joe?”

“Not as long as you cooperate.”

A tiny pulse jumped at the base of her throat. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’ll cooperate. You’ll do what I ask you to do cheerfully, pleasantly and immediately.”

Apparently she didn’t like the sound of that as her brown eyes shot daggers at him. “And if I don’t?”

“You will be sent packing.”

“You can’t do that.”

“No?” His dark gaze met hers and held for long, tense seconds. “You will be living in my home, in my country, among my family and my people. Who will stop me? Hmm?”

She inhaled sharply. “You can’t use Joe as a weapon against me,” she whispered, her voice failing her.

“But isn’t that what you did to me?”

“I was trying to protect him—”

“From me, yes, I figured that out. But Jill, what a serious, terrible, tactical error.”

Her gaze searched his, a deep line of worry between her eyebrows. “And if I cooperate for seventeen years?”

“You’ll remain with us, enjoy my protection, wealth and all the privileges of being part of the d’Severano family.”

“And yet if I stand by and cooperate, you’ll succeed at turning him into one of you.”

“You make us sound like a horde of vampires.”

“You’re not much different, are you?”

“According to today’s popular culture, vampires are in.”

“Not with me.”

“You’re anti vampire?”

“I’m anti bullies, thugs and thieves. I’m anti predators. Anti organized crime. Anti anyone who forces other people to their knees.”

“È gran pazzia lu cuntrastari cu du nun pô vinciri nè appattari,” he quoted, then translated the Sicilian proverb for her benefit, “It’s insane to oppose when you can neither win nor compromise.” The corner of his mouth quirked. “You’re either shockingly brave or stupid, Jill, considering you have so much at stake.”

“A great deal is at stake. We’re talking about the life of a little boy. What we do now will impact him forever.”

“Exactly so.”

“Which is why I can’t just roll over, Vittorio, and pretend that who you are, and what you do, is good. Your values and morals aren’t mine—”

He’d heard enough, more than enough, actually, and tuning out the rest of her speech, he gestured to one of his men, who then tapped the glass partition, getting the chauffeur’s attention. The driver immediately slowed and pulled off the highway onto the rain-lashed shoulder.

“It’s a shame that we couldn’t come to an understanding, but I suppose it’s better now than later,” he said calmly, knowing he was just about to destroy what was left of her world. “I did want this to work out. I think we could have made it work. Unfortunately, I can see it’s not going to happen. So let’s make the break now and be done with it. No point in dragging the pain out.” He leaned to the side, opened the back door. “Goodbye, Jill.”

Her lips parted with surprise. “What?”

“Your house is just a half mile back. Not far, but certainly not comfortable in the rain. Do be careful. The pavement is undoubtedly slippery.”

She crumpled into the seat, her expression one of horror. “Vittorio,” she protested, her voice strangled.

She looked hurt and bewildered. Shattered. But of course she’d be dramatic. Everything she said and did was extreme. But he’d had enough of her dishonesty and distortions. He despised lies and he’d worked too damn hard to restore respectability to his family to allow anyone, much less Jill Smith with her questionable morals and secretive past, to dishonor the d’Severano family.

“Jillian, come. Let’s be honest. How can we possibly hope to raise our son together when you dislike me so very much? I want him to be safe and loved, not torn between us. But you would hurt him. You’ve turned me into a monster and you’d try to turn him against me—”