Love Islands: Swept Away

Maisie cleared her throat. ‘Mr Brunetti, I—’ She froze as he let out a stunned breath.

Her gaze flew to his face to find his gaze transfixed on the photo on her desk. ‘Is this... Is this him?’ he asked in a tight, ragged whisper.

When she nodded, he reached forward in a jerky movement, then stopped. Apprehension slid over his face. He fisted and then flexed his hand, before he slowly plucked up the frame. In another person, she would’ve been certain he was borderline terrified of a mere picture.

Terrified or dreading?

The reminder of the cold indifference her parents had felt about their grandson, about her, made her itch to snatch the photo from him, protect her son’s image the way she fought every day to keep him from the rejection she’d been forced to live with her whole life.

She glanced at the picture clutched in Romeo’s large hand.

It had been taken at Ranelagh Gardens on the first day of spring. Dressed in a smart shirt, jeans and bright blue woollen jumper, Gianlucca had looked a perfect picture of health and happiness, and Maisie hadn’t been able to resist capturing his image.

She watched now as Romeo brought the picture up close to his face, his features drawn tight, his breathing slow and controlled. After almost a minute of staring at the photo without a hint of emotion, he raised his hand and brushed his fingers over Gianlucca’s cheek, almost in direct imitation of what Maisie herself had done a mere half hour ago.

‘Mio figlio,’ he murmured.

‘I don’t know what that means,’ Maisie replied in a matching whisper.

He blinked and sucked in a deep, chest-filling breath. ‘My son. It means my son.’ He looked up, his gaze deeply accusing. ‘He’s my son. And you kept him from me,’ he snarled, his voice still not quite as steady as it’d been moments ago.

Maisie stumbled backwards, bumping into the chair behind her. ‘I did nothing of the kind. And if you stopped to think about it for a moment, you’d realise how ridiculous that allegation is.’

He shoved a hand through his thick dark hair, dislodging any semblance of order it’d been in. He began to pace again, the photo clutched in his large hand. ‘How old is he?’ he demanded when he paused for a moment.

‘He’s four in three weeks.’

He resumed pacing in tight circles. ‘Four years... Dio mio, four years I’ve been in the dark,’ he muttered to himself, slashing his hand through his hair again.

‘How exactly were you enlightened?’ It was a question he hadn’t yet addressed.

He froze, as if her question had thrown him. ‘We’ll get to that in a moment. First, please tell me his name and where he is.’

The urgency in his voice bled through to Maisie. She wanted to refuse. Wanted to rewind time and have this meeting not happen. Not because being given the chance to reveal her son’s existence to his father wasn’t what she wanted.

From the moment she’d found out she was pregnant, she’d known she would give her child every opportunity to know his father. She’d gone to Palermo during her first trimester with that exact reason in mind and had given up after two weeks with no success in tracing Romeo.

No, the reason Maisie wanted to rewind time and take a different course was because she knew, deep in her bones, that Romeo’s presence wasn’t just about wanting to get to know his son. There was a quiet hint of danger about him that set her fear radar alight. And he hadn’t yet shown her that the prospect of a son filled him with joy. All he’d done so far was put an alpha claim on a child he didn’t know.

A child she would lay her life down to protect.

‘Why are you really here?’

His brows clamped together. ‘I believe we’ve tackled that particular question.’

She shook her head. Something was seriously, desperately wrong. Something to do with her precious son.

‘No, we haven’t. And I absolutely refuse to tell you anything about him until you tell me what’s going on.’

CHAPTER THREE

ROMEO STARED DOWN at the picture one more time, his heart turning over as eyes the exact shade as his own stared back at him. The child...his son...was laughing, pure joy radiating from his face as he posed, chubby arms outstretched, for the camera. A deep shudder rattled up from his toes, engulfing him in a sense of peculiar bewilderment. And fear. Bone-deep fear.

He couldn’t be a father. Not him, with the upbringing he’d had, the twisted, harrowing paths his life had taken before he’d wrestled control of it. He wasn’t equipped to care for a dog, never mind a child. And with the blood flowing through his veins...the blood of a thug and a vicious criminal...

Dio mio.

Lorenzo hadn’t been lying after all. A single wave of impotent rage blanketed him to know that the two men he despised most had known of the existence of the boy before he did. And while a part of him knew levelling accusations of subterfuge on the woman standing before him was unfair, Romeo couldn’t help but feel bitter resentment for being kept in the dark, even while he continued to flounder at the reality stabbing him in the chest.

He pushed the emotion aside and concentrated on the reality he could deal with—her continued denial of access. Because whether he was equipped to handle the prospect of fatherhood or not, she was at this moment behaving like an irrational person...a mother bear—a concept acutely alien to him.

Inhaling deep to keep his emotions under control, he rubbed his thumb over the face of his son. ‘I have only just discovered I have a child.’ He stopped when she raised her eyebrow again to remind him of her unanswered question. ‘Through...business associates who wished to get my attention—’

She shook her head, her long ponytail swinging. ‘What on earth does that mean? Why would business associates want to use your child to get your attention?’ High colour had flown into her cheeks, reminding him of another time, another place when her emotions had run equally passionate. ‘What type of business are you involved in?’ she voiced suspiciously.

So she didn’t know who he was. Something vaguely resembling relief speared through him. When his business partnership with Zaccheo Giordano had become public knowledge five years ago, his world had exploded with fawning acolytes and women falling over themselves to get his attention. That attention had increased a hundredfold when he’d opened his first super-luxury resort off the coast of Tahiti, a feat he’d repeated soon after with five more, seeing him skyrocket onto the World’s Richest list.

It was curiously refreshing not to have to deal with the instant personality change that accompanied recognition of his name. But not refreshing enough to know his response had triggered suspicion that could keep him from his reason for being here. Even though her instinct might yet prove correct.

He needed to frame his words carefully.

‘You have nothing to fear from me.’ He’d managed to lock down his control after that gut punch he’d received on seeing her again. From here on in, he would be operating from a place of cold, hard intelligence.

She shook her head again. ‘Sorry, that’s not good enough. You’ll have to do better than that.’ Her gaze went to the picture frame he held on to, a fierce light of protection and possession burning in her striking blue eyes. ‘Tell me the exact nature of your business or this conversation ends now.’

Romeo almost laughed. She was seriously deluded if she thought her heated threats would in any way dissuade him from seeing his son, from verifying for himself that the child truly belonged to him.

‘I’m the CEO and owner of Brunetti International,’ he replied.

She frowned for a moment, then her features morphed into astonishment. ‘Brunetti...those resorts you need to sell an organ or a limb before you can afford a night there?’

He made a dismissive gesture. ‘We cater to people from all walks of life.’

She snorted. ‘As long as they’ve sold their grandmothers to be able to afford your billionaire rates.’

Romeo pursed his lips. His wealth wasn’t the subject under discussion here.

The fact that she seemed to be a rare species, a mother who stood like a lioness in protection of her child, a child whom he’d yet to be certain without a shadow of a doubt shared his DNA, should take precedence.

‘You know who I am now. You’ll also know from your previous career that information can be discovered if one digs deep enough. My business associates dug deep enough and they found you and my son.’

‘My son.’

The sudden urge to snarl our child took him by surprise. He stared down at the picture, clutching at the fraying edges of his control when he began to feel off balance again. ‘Per favore. Please. Tell me his name.’

Her gaze went to the picture and her features softened immediately.

The look was one he’d witnessed before, in that hotel room five years ago. It was a look that had set so many alarm bells ringing inside his head that he’d withdrawn swiftly and decisively from it. He looked away because just as he’d had no room to accommodate feelings then, he had no room for them now.

‘His name is Gianlucca. Gianlucca O’Connell.’

An irrational surge of displeasure threatened to floor him. ‘O’Connell?’

Again that challenging arch of her eyebrow. Back in Palermo he’d seen her passion, her fire, but that had been directed to the bedroom, and what they’d done to each other in bed. Seeing it in a different light didn’t make it any less sexy. Yet the punch of heat to his libido took him by surprise. He’d grown so jaded by the overabundance of willing women that lately he’d lost interest in the chase. For the past three months, work had become his mistress, the only thing that fired his blood in any meaningful way.

‘That is my name. Or did you expect me to call him Gianlucca Romeo?’

He gritted his teeth. ‘Did you even make an effort to find me when you knew you carried my child?’

A look crossed her face, a mixture of pride and anger, and she raised her chin. ‘Did you want to be found?’ she fired back.

Knowing how well he’d covered his tracks, a wave of heat crawled up his neck. He’d succeeded more than in his wildest dreams. He’d walked away, having effectively smashed down any residual feelings of rejection, or the idea that he could be worthy of something more than the brain and brawn that had seen him through his harrowing childhood into the man he was today.

The hours of imagined softness, of imagined affection, had been an illusion brought on by his mother’s passing. An illusion he’d almost given in to. An emotion he’d vowed then never to entertain even the merest hint of again.

‘We’ll address the subject of his surname at another time. But now we’ve established who I am, I’d like to know more about him. Please,’ he added when her stance remained intransigent.

‘All I know is your surname. I don’t even know how old you are, never mind what sort of man you are.’

Romeo rounded the desk and watched her back away, but looking into her eyes he saw no sign of fear. Only stubbornness. Satisfied that she didn’t fear him, he moved closer, watched her pupils dilate as a different sort of chemistry filled the air. Her sudden erratic breathing told him everything he needed to know.

‘I’m thirty-five. And five years ago, you gave yourself to me without knowing anything more about me besides my first name.’ He watched a blush wash up her throat into her face with more than a little fascination. ‘You were in a foreign place, with a strange man, and yet you trusted your instinct enough to enter my hotel suite and stay for a whole night. And right now, even though your heart is racing, you don’t fear me. Or you would’ve screamed for help by now.’ He reached out and touched the pulse beating at her throat. Her soft, silky skin glided beneath his fingertips and blazing heat lanced his groin again. Curbing the feeling, he dropped his hand and stepped back. ‘I don’t mean you or the boy harm. I just wish to see him. I deal in facts and figures. I need visual evidence that he exists, and as accommodating as I’m willing to be, I won’t be giving you a choice in the matter.’

She swallowed, her eyes boldly meeting and staying on his. ‘Just so you know, I don’t respond well to threats.’

‘It wasn’t a threat, gattina.’ They both froze at the term that had unwittingly dropped from his lips. From the look on her face, Romeo knew she was remembering the first time he’d said it. Her nails had been embedded in his back, her claws transmitting the depth of her arousal as he’d sunk deep inside her. His little wildcat had been as crazy for him as he’d been for her. But that was then, a moment in time never to be repeated. ‘I’m merely stating a fact.’

She opened her mouth to reply, then stopped as voices filled the restaurant. ‘I have to go. This is our busiest afternoon slot. I can’t leave Lacey on her own.’

Romeo told himself to be calm. ‘I need an answer, Maisie.’

She stared at him for a long moment before her gaze dropped to the picture he held. She looked as if she wanted to snatch it from him but he held on tight. She finally looked back up. ‘He goes to playgroup from eleven to three o’clock. I take him to the park afterwards if the weather’s good.’

‘Did you have plans to do that today?’

She slowly nodded. ‘Yes.’

Blood rushed into his ears, nearly deafening him. He forced himself to think, to plot the best way he knew how. Because rushing blood and racing hearts were for fools. Fools who let emotion rule their existence.

‘What park?’ he rasped.

‘Ranelagh Gardens. It’s—’

‘I will find it.’

She paled and her hands flew out in a bracing stance. ‘You can’t... Don’t you think we need to discuss this a little more?’

Romeo carefully set down the picture, then took out his phone and captured an image of it. He stared down at his son’s face on his phone screen, and the decision concreted in his mind. ‘No, Maisie. There’s nothing more to discuss. If he’s mine, truly mine, then I intend to claim him.’

* * *

Maisie slowly sank into the chair after Romeo made a dramatic exit, taking all the oxygen and bristling vitality of the day with him. She raised her hand to her face and realised her fingers were shaking. Whether it was from the shock of seeing him again after convincing herself she would never set eyes on him again, or the indomitability of that last statement, she wasn’t certain.

She sat there, her hand on her clammy forehead, her gaze in the middle distance as she played back every word, every gesture, on a loop in her mind.

The sound of laughter finally broke through her racing thoughts. She really needed to walk the floor, make sure her customers were all right. But she found herself clicking on her laptop, typing in his name on her search engine.

The images that confronted her made her breath catch all over again. Whereas she hadn’t given herself permission to linger on anywhere but Romeo’s face while they’d been in her office, she leaned in close and perused each image. And there were plenty, it seemed. Pictures of him dressed in impeccable handmade suits, posing for a profile piece in some glossy business magazine; pictures of him opening his world-renowned resorts in Dubai and Bali; and many, many pictures of him with different women, all drop-dead gorgeous, all smiling at him as if he was their world, their every dream come true.

But the ones that caught Maisie’s attention, the ones that made her heart lurch wildly, were of Romeo on a yacht with another man—the caption named him as Zaccheo Giordano—and a woman with two children. The children were Gianlucca’s age, possibly a little older, and the pictures were a little grainy, most likely taken with a telephoto lens from a long distance.

He sat apart from the family, his expression as remote as an arctic floe. That lone-wolf look, the one that said approach with caution, froze her heart as she saw it replicated in each rigid, brooding picture that followed. Even when he smiled at the children, there was a distance that spoke of his unease.

Trembling, Maisie sat back from the desk, the large part of her that had been agitated at the thought of agreeing to a meeting between Romeo and her son escalating to alarming proportions.

She might not know how he felt about children generally, but if the pictures could be believed, Romeo Brunetti wasn’t the warm and cuddly type.

Maisie gulped in the breath she hadn’t been able to fully access while Romeo had been in the room and tried to think rationally. She’d tried to find Romeo five years ago to tell him that they’d created a child together. It was true that at the time she’d been reeling from her parents’ further disappointment in her, and in hindsight she’d probably been seeking some sort of connection with her life suddenly in chaotic free fall. But even then, deep down, she’d known she couldn’t keep the news to herself or abandon her baby to the care of strangers as her parents had wanted.

So in a way, this meeting had always been on the cards, albeit to be scheduled at a time of her choosing and without so much...pulse-destroying drama.

Or being confronted with the evidence that made her mothering instincts screech with the possibility that the father of her child might want him for reasons other than to cement a love-at-first-sight bond that would last a lifetime.

She clicked back to the information page and was in the middle of Romeo’s worryingly brief biography when a knock announced Lacey’s entrance.

‘I need you, Maisie! A group of five just walked in. They don’t have a booking but I don’t think they’ll take no for an answer.’

Maisie suppressed a sigh and closed her laptop with a guilty sense of relief that she didn’t have to deal with Romeo’s last words just yet.

‘Okay, let’s go and see what we can do, shall we?’

She pinned a smile on her face that felt a mile from genuine and left her office. For the next three hours, she pushed the fast-approaching father-and-son meeting to the back of her mind and immersed herself in the smooth running of the lunchtime service.

* * *

The walk to Gianlucca’s nursery took less than ten minutes, but with her mind free of work issues, her heart began to race again at the impending meeting.

Every cell in her body urged her to snatch her son and take him far away.

But she’d never been the type to run, or bury her head in the sand.

She’d give Romeo the chance to spell out what he wished for, and if his parting remarks were anything to go by he would be demanding a presence in her son’s life. She would hear him out, but nothing would make her accommodate visitation with her son until she was absolutely sure he would be safe with Romeo.

Her heart lurched at the thought that she’d have to part from him for a few hours maybe once or twice a week. Maybe a full weekend when he grew older. Her breath shuddered out, and she shook her head. She was getting ahead of herself. For all she knew, Romeo would take one look at Lucca, satisfy himself that he was his and ring-fence himself with money-grubbing lawyers to prevent any imagined claims.

But then, if that was what he intended, would he have taken the time to seek them out?

Whatever happened, her priority would remain ensuring her son’s happiness. She stopped before the nursery door, unclenched her agitated fists and blinked eyes prickling with tears.

From the moment he’d been born, it’d been just the two of them. After the search for Romeo had proved futile, she’d settled into the idea that it would always be just the two of them.

The threat to that twosome made her insides quiver.

She brushed her tears away. By the time she was buzzed in, Maisie had composed herself.

‘Mummy!’ Gianlucca raced towards her, an effervescent bundle of energy that pulled a laugh from Maisie.

Enfolding him in her arms, she breathed his warm, toddler scent until he wriggled impatiently.

‘Are we going to the park to see the ducks?’ he asked eagerly, his striking hazel eyes—so like his father’s it was uncanny—widened expectantly.

‘Yes, I even brought some food for them,’ she replied and smiled wider when he whooped and dashed off towards the door.

She spotted the limo the moment they turned into the square. Black and ominous, it sat outside the north entrance in front of an equally ominous SUV, both engines idling. Beside the limo, two men dressed in black and wearing shades stood, their watchful stance evidence that they were bodyguards.

Maisie tried not to let her imagination careen out of control. Romeo Brunetti was a billionaire and she’d dealt with enough unscrupulous characters during her stint as a lawyer to know the rich were often targets for greedy, sometimes dangerous criminals.

All the same, she clutched Gianlucca’s hand tighter as they passed the car and entered the park. Gianlucca darted off for the duck pond, his favourite feature in the park, as soon as she handed him the bread she’d taken from the restaurant.

He was no more than a dozen paces away when a tingle danced on her nape. She glanced over her shoulder and watched Romeo enter the park, his gaze passing cursorily over her before it swung to Gianlucca.

Maisie’s heart lurched, then thundered at the emotions that washed over his face. Wonder. Shock. Anxiety. And a fierce possessiveness that sent a huge dart of alarm through her.

But the most important emotion—love—was missing.

It didn’t matter that it was perhaps irrational for her to demand it of him, but the absence of that powerful emotion terrified her.

Enough to galvanise her into action when he walked forward, reached her and carried on going.

‘Romeo!’ She caught his arm when she sensed his intention.

‘What?’ He paused, but his gaze didn’t waver from Gianlucca’s excited form.

‘Wait. Please,’ she whispered fiercely when he strained against her hold.

He whirled to her, his nostrils flaring as he fought to control himself. ‘Maisie.’ His tone held a note of barely leashed warning.

Swallowing, she stood her ground. ‘I know you want to meet him, but you can’t just barge in looking like...’ She stopped and bit her lip.

‘Looking like what?’

‘Like a charging bull on steroids. You’ll frighten him.’

His face hardened and he breathed deep before spiking a hand through his hair. After another long glance at Gianlucca, he faced her. ‘Bene, what do you suggest?’

Maisie reached into her bag. ‘Here, I brought one of these for you.’

He eyed her offering and his eyebrows shot up. ‘A bag of dried bread?’

‘He’s feeding the ducks. It’s his favourite thing to do. I thought you could...approach him that way.’

Romeo’s eyes darkened to a burnished gold. Slowly, he reached out and took the offering. ‘Grazie,’ he muttered with tight aloofness.

She held on when he started to turn away, silently admonishing herself for experiencing a tiny thrill of pleasure when his arm flexed beneath her fingers. ‘Also, I’d prefer it if you didn’t tell him who you are. We can have a longer discussion about where we go from here before anything happens.’

A dark look gleamed in his eyes, but he nodded. ‘If that is what you wish.’

‘It is.’

He nodded, then tensed as a trio of kids flew by on their way to the pond. ‘I agree, perhaps this isn’t the most appropriate venue for an introduction.’

A tight knot eased in Maisie’s stomach and she realised a part of her had feared Romeo would only want to see his son from afar and decide he didn’t want to know him. She had yet to decipher his true motives, but she would allow this brief meeting.

‘Thank you.’

He merely inclined his head before his gaze swung back to Gianlucca. Knowing she couldn’t postpone the meeting any longer, she fell into step beside Romeo.

Gianlucca threw the last of his bread into the waiting melee of ducks and swans and broke into a delighted laugh as they fought over the scraps. His laughter turned into a pout when the ducks swam off to greet the bread-throwing trio of kids. ‘Mummy, more bread!’ When Maisie remained silent, he turned and raced towards them. ‘Please?’ he added.