Rowan looks up at his aunt for confirmation. Smart kid. I feel the burn from Saskia’s heated stare, but I refuse to look at her.
“My mommy is smart and beautiful and the bestest mommy in the whole entire universe.” He flashes me a toothy grin.
“The entire universe, huh?” I chuckle, not doubting his statement for a second.
He vigorously bobs his head, and I can hardly speak over the messy ball of emotion clogging the back of my throat. “She sounds amazing.”
“She is. I love her this much.” He extends his arms wide, hitting Saskia’s hip in the process.
“For God’s sake, Rowan. Stop hitting,” she snaps, and I watch the exuberant smile slip from his face. I want to lash out at her. Wrap my hands around her throat and squeeze until she turns blue, but I grind my teeth to the molars, caging my rage. For now.
“I didn’t mean it,” Rowan says, his lower lip jutting out.
“Auntie Saskia knows it was an accident,” I say through gritted teeth. If she makes one more snide remark, all bets are off. I will squeeze the life from her pathetic body in broad daylight with zero fucks given.
“We need to go,” she says, her tone clipped as she snatches Rowan’s hand again. Perhaps she has some self-preservation skills after all.
“It was nice meeting you, buddy,” I say, lifting my clenched fist for a knuckle touch.
His skin is soft and warm when his small knuckles brush against mine. “You too, buddy.”
“It was great seeing you again,” Saskia says, as I straighten up, all anger replaced with sultry enthusiasm. “Look me up when you’re next in town.” She slips a business card in the pocket of my suit jacket. Leaning in, she presses her mouth to my ear. “Or call me and we can arrange to meet someplace central for both of us.”
Ignoring her, I grab a twenty from my wallet and hand it to Ben. “Maybe your auntie will let you get candy now.”
His eyes dance with excitement, and he jumps around. “Yay. Thank you!”
Saskia sways a little on her heels, not disguising her frustration, but I couldn’t give two shits about her. “Goodbye, Bennett.” She gives me one last lingering glance before dragging Rowan away.
“Bye, Ben,” he calls out, waggling his fingers at me.
I return his wave as the storm grows to epic proportions inside me. Crumpling the card in my pocket, I remove it and toss it in the nearest trash can. I stare after them, watching Saskia scold Rowan again, and I’m two seconds away from going after her when Leo steps in front of me. “Did that just happen?” His brows climb to his hairline in disbelief.
“You know?”
He nods, still looking shell-shocked, and I can relate. The news hasn’t sunk in yet. “Despite the shit she’s injected in her face, it’s obvious Saskia is Sierra’s sister and then she mentioned Vegas.” Leo drags a hand through his hair, glancing over his shoulder as Saskia and Rowan cross the street. “You don’t need a DNA test to confirm it. Rowan is the fucking image of you. He’s got your dark hair and your eyes. I see little of his mom in him.”
I scrub my hands down my face, blindsided in a way I rarely am.
I have a son.
I’m a father.
And my little Firefly never told me.
Joy, confusion, regret, fear, and anger are a heady mix swirling inside me.
“What are you going to do?” Leo asks.
I exhale heavily. That’s the million-dollar question. And I don’t have the answer yet, except for one overriding conviction. “Protect them.” Shaking the fog from my brain, I stride toward the car, jumping in the back seat. Leo slides in beside me.
“Change of plans,” I supply, looking at Alessandro through the mirror. I point across the street at the sleek silver Mercedes Saskia and Rowan are getting into it. “Follow that car.”
16
SIERRA
I am going to murder Serena with my bare hands for this, I think as I drive up the driveway of Saskia and Felix’s plush home. What the hell was she thinking asking Saskia to pick Rowan up? If there was an emergency and she couldn’t pick up my son, she should’ve called me, and I would have asked Pen or Esme to drop by the school. Ordinarily, Dion could have kept him until I arrived, but he’s finishing work early today because he’s flying to New York with some of his buddies for their friend Abe’s bachelor party.
Rowan doesn’t like Saskia, and it’s not because of anything I have said. I would never do that. No, my son is astute, and he has picked up on the vibes she emits. Or maybe it’s the short, impatient way she speaks to him during the rare occasions we attend Sunday dinner at my parents’ house that has rubbed him the wrong way.
Father ignored me the entire way through my pregnancy—it was bliss—but as soon as I gave birth, his tune changed. I still don’t know why. It’s not like he pays Rowan much attention, and for the most part, when I visit, he ignores me, which suits me fine.
I only make the effort for Mom’s sake and for my son.
My family is the only family Rowan is likely to know, and I won’t deprive him of a loving Grandma, or his cousins. So, I suffer my father and Saskia in small doses to ensure my son doesn’t miss out. It’s a small price to pay, I remind myself as I park and stomp up the steps to Saskia’s front door. I ring the bell, chewing on the inside of my mouth as I wait for the door to open.
“Mommy!” Rowan rushes me the second I step foot in the kitchen, clinging to my legs.
Mrs. Smith, the housekeeper, smiles warmly at him as she packs up his pencil case, stowing it and his books in his backpack.
“Hey, Firecracker.” I kneel, pulling him into a hug. The instant his small arms wrap around me, a deep sense of contentment washes over me. I was excited to be a mom, but I couldn’t have predicted how much I would adore it.
Or maybe it’s all down to Rowan.
Because he is the most amazing child and he has brightened my world in ways I could never have imagined. From the second he was born, I was high on the most intense love drug. My heart swelled to bursting point the first time I looked at him, and it hasn’t deflated any time since.
Rowan is my greatest achievement. The most precious person in my life. The main reason I wake up happy each day. I would go to the ends of the Earth and back to ensure he is safe, happy, and healthy. I truly adore being his mother, and I’m so blessed I get to share my life with him in it. He is my pride and joy. My happy place. My everything.
I dot kisses all over his cute face until the strain eases from his gaze. “Ready to go home?”
He bobs his head. “Can you carry me?” he asks, and my heart aches. Rowan is fiercely independent, and while he is also hugely affectionate, it’s not like him to want to be carried in the middle of the day. That’s how I know he was feeling vulnerable here. I don’t blame him. This house may have been highlighted in celebrity magazines, but it’s a show home. There is nothing warm or inviting about it.
I can’t even get mad at my sister for dumping my son in the kitchen with her staff because at least Mrs. Smith is kind, and she looks like she enjoyed his company.
Saskia and Felix never had kids, and they have given up trying.
The world is a better place for it, if you ask me.
Rowan wraps his legs around my waist, and I hold him close as I stand. Mrs. Smith walks with us to the car, carrying his backpack. Saskia is nowhere to be seen, and I’m glad because I’m not sure I could restrain myself, and I hate losing my temper in front of my son.
“What do you say to Mrs. Smith?” I ask Rowan as I strap him into his car seat.
“Thank you for looking after me,” he sings, giving her a big goofy smile.
“You’re very welcome.” She sets his backpack down on the floor of the back seat. “You take care, Master Rowan.”
He giggles, and I mess up his hair. “Love you, Firecracker,” I say, kissing his brow.
“Love you too, Mommy.”
Offering endearments wasn’t something that happened often in my house growing up as my father
frowned upon my mother when she showered us with affection. He believes love makes you weak, and loving words and displays were pretty much banned in the Lawson household. Mom still told me she loved me when we were alone, but it always felt off. Like it was wrong. I know better now, and I’m determined my son will always know how much he is loved and cherished, so I make a point of telling him at least once a day that I love him.
We wave to Mrs. Smith, and I power up the engine, keen to get the hell out of here.
“Mommy?” he asks when we are halfway down the road.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a blacked-out SUV pulling out onto the road a little farther back. “Yes, Rowan.”
“Auntie Saskia wouldn’t let me get candy.”
Of course, she wouldn’t. I’m strict with sugary treats, but Serena knows Rowan is allowed a visit to the candy store on Fridays after school. I’m much closer to my middle sister now, and I’m positive she would’ve told Saskia this.
“I’ll drop by the store on our way home,” I assure him, eyeing him through the mirror.
“She wouldn’t let me keep the money her friend gave me either.”
Oh my God. If Saskia had one of her airhead bitchy friends near my son, I will string her up. And what kind of heartless monster takes money from a child? Just when I think Saskia really couldn’t sink any lower, she finds new ways to surprise me.
“It’s okay. I will talk to Auntie Saskia and get it back for you. For now, I’m good for it.” I waggle my brows, and he sits back, looking happy and content. I hook my cell up to the sound system in the car, and we sing along to some kids’ songs I keep on my playlist while we drive.
After a detour at the candy store, we head home to our bungalow. I pull into our small driveway and kill the engine, noticing a large black SUV park at the curb a few doors down. I could swear it’s the same one I saw earlier. Apprehension trickles up my spine, and I rub a hand across my chest, hoping to ease the sudden anxious fluttery feeling.
“Mommy.” Rowan thrusts a sugary hand out. “Want some?”
I pop a couple Sour Patch Kids in my mouth, my cheeks puckering automatically as the sour, tangy, fruity candy bursts in my mouth. I don’t know how he can stomach those things.
“Want to bike to the park to look for bugs?” I ask as I unbuckle him from his car seat.
“Yes, yes, yes.” He jumps out, flinging himself on me, and I almost take a tumble.
I laugh, nuzzling my nose into his hair, inhaling the strawberry smell from his shampoo. I look down the road, but I don’t see the black SUV anymore. Air whooshes out of my mouth in grateful relief. I was obviously imagining things. “Let’s get changed out of our uniforms, grab some water, and then we’ll hit the road.” I snatch his backpack and my purse, slinging them over one shoulder as I lock the car with the key fob while Rowan slides his sticky hand into mine.
“How was school?” I inquire as we walk across the gravel toward the front door.
“Great.” He beams up at me. “Mr. Stewart let us paint, and then we watched Dr. Doolittle.”
“That sounds fun.”
“It was,” he agrees, racing into the house while I turn off the alarm. “Be careful,” I shout after him because he’s a little accident prone at times, especially when he’s running around the place at full speed. Rowan is full of boundless energy, which I never want to tame, but I need to strike a balance to ensure his safety.
Depositing his backpack on the floor, I dump my keys and my purse on the hall table, stifling a yawn as I pad through our combination kitchen and dining room and out into the corridor at the back that leads to the three bedrooms. Over on the other side of the house is a large living room, a small sunroom, and an art studio, but my favorite part of the property is the large garden at the rear. I added some swings, a slide, and a climbing frame for Rowan, plus we have a vegetable and flower garden, a sand pit, and a small, covered pond with some colorful fish.
Walking into Rowan’s room, I chuckle as I watch my rambunctious son wrestle with his school shirt. “Here, let me help.” I kneel on the carpet, pulling the tangled shirt back down over his torso. “It’s quicker to unbutton it, Firecracker.” I tweak his nose, smiling, as I quickly flip the buttons. I leave him to strip out of his pants while I remove sweatpants, a T-shirt, and a hoodie from his closet. It’s still relatively warm out, but it can get distinctly chilly in the evenings.
I leave my son to get dressed while I strip out of my black work top and pants.
I managed to graduate from Loyola two years after I had Rowan, and then I took the acupuncture program part-time at night and online. I don’t want to miss a minute with Rowan, so studying when he’s in bed is my only option. I’m working part-time at a local practice in the village, and I’ve put my studies on hold for now. When Rowan starts elementary school next year, I’ll probably sign up for the homeopathy program.
“Ready!” Rowan vaults into my room, announcing himself loudly.
“Well, I’m not,” I say, standing in my underwear. “Why don’t you fill two water bottles while I get dressed.” I hurriedly pull on a pair of yoga pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt of Dion’s before lacing my sneakers tight.
Ten minutes later, we are on our way. This neighborhood is quiet and peaceful, and there isn’t much traffic on this side of town, but I still ensure we stick to the footpaths and the bike lanes until we arrive at the park.
17
SIERRA
We spend an hour at the playground before exploring the small woods where Rowan finds another worm, beetle, and butterfly to add to his ever-growing insect collection. He wants to delve deeper into the woods, but I’m on edge for some reason. I can’t put my finger on it, but all the tiny hairs keep lifting on the nape of my neck when we are alone in the forest, and I can’t shake the feeling of eyes on my back.
I don’t know what’s gotten into me today, but I’m spooked in a way I’m rarely spooked anymore. I haven’t had a bodyguard in years, and I have almost forgotten what it was like when I had Tony trailing me everywhere. My mind wanders to my former bodyguard, as it does from time to time, and I wonder where he is. I never heard from him again, and I hope he’s happy, wherever he is and whatever he’s doing.
When I first brought Rowan home, Father foisted another bodyguard on me, claiming it wasn’t safe for either of us without one. I didn’t fight him on it because I was too preoccupied with my son. After a year, he removed the man out of the blue, stating we didn’t need protection anymore. Honestly, half the time, I wonder if Joseph Lawson is getting early-onset dementia or his OCD is just that whacked. Anyway, I can’t say I’ve missed having a bodyguard until small moments like this, when I wouldn’t mind having someone around for my peace of mind.
I coax Rowan out of the woods, only relaxing when we are back on our bikes and heading home. We stop at the small neighborhood bakery on the way, and I buy a fresh loaf of crusty bread to go with the pasta I am making for dinner.
After my little Firecracker has consumed his body weight in pasta, I bathe him and dress him in clean pajamas. Then I snuggle into bed with him, reading another few pages of James and the Giant Peach. When his eyelids grow heavy and he is struggling to keep his eyes open, I set the book down and press a kiss to his brow. “Good night, sweetheart. I love you. Sleep tight.”
“Night, Mommy,” he whispers in a sleepy tone. “Love you, too.”
I finish cleaning the kitchen, and then I take a nice long hot shower. Emerging from the bathroom, I notice I missed a call from my boyfriend, so I call him back while I pull on sleep shorts and a tank. Nightfall has descended, and I pop my cell on speaker while I walk around the house, pulling down the blinds. Dion answers just as I’m about to hang up. “Give me a sec,” he shouts, loud music blaring in the background.
Wandering into the kitchen, I flick the overhead light on as I pad to the refrigerator, removing a chilled bottle of wine. I set my cell down on the marble countertop while I pour myself a much-needed drink. No
ise mutes on the phone, and my ears give a silent thumbs-up.
“Hey, babe,” Dion says. “Sorry about that. We’re at this sports bar a block from our hotel and it’s freaking crazy. The Yankees are trouncing the Cubs and the whole place is going nuts.”
“It’s cool.” I secure the cap on the wine bottle, popping it back in the refrigerator. “I wouldn’t have disturbed you except I saw your missed call.”
“I called to let you know I landed safely in New York and that I miss you already.”
I laugh softly. “You only saw me last night.”
“And your point is?”
“It’s too soon to miss me.”
“I miss you the second I drop you home after our dates.”
I smile into the empty room. This man is so unbelievably sweet. “You’re crazy.”
“Crazy about you.”
“You’re such a charmer. I have no idea how you reached thirty without some woman tying you down.” The words are out of my mouth before I can reclaim them.
“I just hadn’t met the right woman,” he replies, and my smile fades.
I like Dion.
A lot.
He’s a gentleman, and he treats me with respect. He’s hot, and funny, and smart, and Rowan already worships the ground he walks on. Although, my son isn’t aware that I’m dating his teacher because I won’t introduce any man to him until I know it’s serious.
I made a mistake when Rowan was three and introduced him to the guy I was dating then. When things ended, Rowan was devastated because he had grown close to Julian.
So now, I have strict self-imposed rules.
Rules Dion knows about and has always supported, but lately, he’s asking me when we can make it official with my son, forcing me to confront the reality of our relationship. I tried arguing it’s risky to let Rowan know about us, as Dion could get in trouble with the school for dating a parent, but he said it’s a risk he’s willing to take.
Truth is, Dion is perfect on paper, and I’m enjoying spending time with him, but he doesn’t set my heart racing or ignite a flame with his touch. Not like…
Condemned to Love:  Page 13