Condemned to Love: 

by Davis, Siobhan

  37

  SIERRA

  “This is the east wing of the house,” Ben explains as we step behind tall double mahogany doors into an enclosed section of his property. He just gave us a fifty-cent tour of the main living spaces including the large kitchen and breakfast room, homey living room, family dining room, expansive sunroom, indoor pool and gym, movie theater, game room, and bar. He also has a formal ballroom, but it’s never been used since he doesn’t invite guests here. There are two offices, both on this side of the house, and he told me I’m welcome to use Angelo’s office as he doesn’t use it anymore.

  My eyes almost bugged out of my head when he showed me the large library. It’s like something you see in the movies with tall shelving and row upon row of neatly stacked books. Several desks are dotted around the large room, but I favor the seated area in front of the roaring open fire, and I can already picture myself sprawled across the fabric couch with a blanket covering me as I savor my latest romance book. I will definitely make good use of the space.

  Ben explained he is renovating the west wing, and it is off-limits for now.

  “My master suite is on this level, and I had the adjoining bedroom prepared for Rowan. Angelo’s quarters are on this side of the house too but at the opposite end of the hallway,” he adds, keeping his hand on my lower back as he steers me through a bright living room. “This is our own living room,” he explains as Rowan races ahead of us into the hallway. Ben pushes a door open on my right. “You have a small kitchen if you need it for drinks or snacks. My staff caters all meals though you are welcome to cook yourself if you want.”

  “What about upstairs?” I ask, as we haven’t been up there yet and I assumed that is where our bedrooms would be. This place is ginormous and about twice the size of my parents’ palatial home.

  “I rarely use the upstairs space,” he says, shrugging. “There are more bedrooms and bathrooms up there and staff quarters for those who live in.”

  We step out into the hallway, and he points at an elevator on the right. “You can go exploring any time you like. The elevator also goes to the roof garden.”

  “Your home is really impressive.”

  “I hired one of the best New York architects to design this place, and it took years to build. I wanted to ensure it met all my current and future needs.” His eyes drill into mine. “And it’s not my home. It’s ours.” My heart speeds up at his words and the intensity in his gaze.

  “Mommy!” Rowan’s screams almost burst my eardrums.

  Ben chuckles. “I think he discovered the playroom.”

  I walk quickly beside Ben, almost keeling over when I step foot in the large rectangular room filled to the brim with toys and games. Rowan is currently jumping up and down in the ball pit, and I have never seen him so excited. The entire area on that side of the room has Velcro walls, and the ball pit is a corner pool surrounded by floor trampolines that are full of foam blocks. Ropes hang overhead to flip from above, and one of the Velcro walls is a rock climbing wall.

  I am already imagining having to drag him kicking and screaming from this room most nights.

  “This is awesome!” he shouts, throwing a few balls around the room.

  Three bicycles are propped against the far wall, and I walk toward them, running the tips of my fingers along the shiny metal. “Wow. You really thought of everything.” I beam at Ben.

  He shrugs, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. “I tried. There are some nice cycling paths around the property and a couple of decent walking trails through the woods at the back. I don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck indoors.”

  If snow hits next month, we might have little choice. Winters here can be as brutal as Chicago, so I’m not hedging my bets. “I appreciate the effort you have put in,” I say, touching his arm. “Thank you. It will make the transition easier.”

  “You haven’t seen the best room yet,” he adds, lacing his fingers in mine.

  “Rowan,” he calls out, jerking his head to the side. “I’ve got another surprise. Come on.”

  Rowan doesn’t need any encouragement, tumbling out of the ball pit and racing toward us like a tornado.

  Ben chuckles again. “I love how excited he is.”

  “You might not be saying that later when we can’t get him to bed,” I tease.

  “I don’t mind.” He tugs me out of the room after Rowan. Our son is sprinting along the hallway toward the next door. “This is all new to me, and I’m loving every second of it.”

  “You were always good with kids,” I admit, remembering how he was with me.

  “Now you’re making me feel old and a little creeped out, Firefly,” he teases, waggling his brows.

  “It should probably feel weird, but I barely even remember there’s an age gap between us,” I truthfully reply.

  “I agree.” He leans down and kisses me. “Though I try to forget you were barely out of diapers when I was losing my virginity.” He flashes me a grin, and I whack him in the chest.

  “Don’t be gross unless you’re telling me you lost it when you were like eleven,” I say, quickly doing the math in my head.

  “Mommy!” Rowan comes barreling out of a door just up ahead, his cheeks flushed red and his eyes out on stalks. He grabs my hand. “Mommy! You have to see this.”

  I let him drag me into the room, and all the air leaves my lungs in a rush. Tears stab my eyes as I glance around the large, airy, bright, well-equipped art studio. Canvases of all sizes are propped on easels and against the walls. Shelves groan with paints, pencils, and all types of art supplies. He even has a pottery wheel and clay oven installed.

  “That door leads to a dark room,” Ben says, pointing at a door at the far end of the room. “And the box outside holds some cameras and equipment. I know you probably have your own, but—”

  I cut him off with my lips as I throw myself at him. My arms wind around his neck as I press a succession of kisses to his mouth. I’m half-laughing, half-crying, when I pull back, and my smile is so wide it threatens to split my face in two. “How did you do all this?” I cry. “When? How? It’s too much. I—” I slap a hand over my chest, and I’m feeling too much. My heart is fit to burst.

  “Don’t get mad,” he says. “But I started remodeling a week after I found out about Rowan.”

  I place my hands on his chest, stretching up to kiss him again. “I’m not mad. Not in the slightest. Ben, this is incredible. No one has ever done so much for me and Rowan. I just…I don’t have words to describe how I’m feeling. How grateful I am.”

  His arms slide around my waist, and he reels me in close. “I want you to be happy here, Firefly.” He rubs his nose against mine. “I want you to be happy with me.”

  “I am, Ben.” It’s overwhelming and a lot to take in, but I’m not lying. To have Rowan squealing with joy and me feeling every wonderful emotion under the sun after the day we had yesterday is all due to Ben.

  The last of my reservations flitter away.

  Everything is going to work out.

  I feel it in my bones.

  “Good.” His mouth lands on mine, soft and adoring, and I melt against him as he kisses me with more tenderness than I thought him capable of.

  “Ugh. That’s gross, Daddy.”

  We break apart and look down at our son. Rowan’s nose is scrunched in disgust, and a giggle bursts from my lips. Ben grins, crouching down so he’s at Rowan’s level. “Trust me, buddy. Kissing your mom is far from gross.”

  “I’m never kissing girls.” He crosses his arms over his chest, still looking disgusted.

  Ben scoops him up, tickling him. “Famous last words, Firecracker.”

  * * *

  Ben takes Rowan outside to the playground after the doc injects his tracking device. He was supposed to come to the apartment this morning, but there was some emergency that delayed him. Rowan hates needles, and he cried a little, so Ben took him up to the tree house afterward to distract him. Next on the agenda
is a rooftop trip to show Rowan the telescope.

  I stayed behind to unpack our things. Ben automatically assumed I’d be sharing his master suite, and I didn’t correct him. Butterflies scatter in my tummy at the thought of sharing a bed with him on a permanent basis. I know he’ll be spending his weeks in the city, but he has already promised to come home on nights when he doesn’t have to work late.

  Ben had to practically drag Rowan from his superhero-themed room, and I’m hoping his love of his new bedroom might mean he’s happy to go to bed at his usual time tonight. Routine is important, and I intend to stick to ours here even if I have no work to go to and Rowan won’t have school until we have hired a private tutor.

  I wander in the direction Ben told me, rapping a few times on the door to the room at the very end of the hallway.

  “Come in,” a female voice calls out, and I step into Angelo’s bedroom as the nurse is fixing pillows behind his head. Ben’s father is sitting up in an elevated hospital bed with a few wires hooked up to machines. The room is spacious, and it has a seated living area at the far end with a lit open fire, some messy bookshelves, and a massive widescreen TV.

  “Bella signora. Come.” Angelo points at the chair by his bed, smiling at me.

  “You can stay for an hour, but Mr. Mazzone needs to sleep after that,” the nurse says, stepping aside for me. She thrusts out her hand. “I’m Ruthie, by the way.”

  I shake her hand. “Sierra. Nice to meet you.”

  “There are refreshments in the refrigerator if you like,” she says, “or help yourself to coffee.” She gestures toward a counter with a coffee station, a kettle, a small refrigerator, and a sink. “Press this button if you need me,” she adds, pointing at a large blue button affixed to the side of Angelo’s bed. “I’ll just be in my room next door.”

  “I’m good, but thank you.” I take a seat as Ruthie slips out of the room.

  “It’s no wonder that woman never married,” Angelo says, his chest wheezing. “She would nag any man into the grave.”

  I smile even though I probably shouldn’t. “She’s just doing her job, and from the looks of it, you are making it difficult for her.”

  “Everyone loves a challenge.” He winks, and I shake my head. He’s incorrigible.

  “Something tells me you were a tyrant in your day,” I tease, folding my hands in my lap.

  “I was,” he freely admits with no hint of shame. He eyeballs me with a steeliness I missed earlier. “I was a cold-blooded killer, but I needed to be. Things were different in my day.” I nod because I’m not sure how else to respond to that. “So much has changed. Some for the good. Some for the bad. But my Bennett has done good. I know he didn’t want this life, but he didn’t shirk his responsibilities, and he is making his mark in a way Mateo never could have.”

  “Mateo?” I inquire because I don’t know who that is.

  “My eldest son. My firstborn. He was my legitimate heir until he was gunned down by those bastard Bratva fourteen years ago.”

  It can’t be a coincidence it’s around the time Ben disappeared from Chicago, but I don’t press Angelo on it. I’d prefer to hear that part of the story from Ben. It’s no wonder the Italians hate the Russians. It seems they have a lot to answer for, but it could be retaliation for equally heinous acts initiated by the Italians.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” I say.

  He reaches out for my hand. “I lost my Mateo only six months after I lost my wife, Rosa. Those were dark times.”

  His cold palm trembles against mine. “And Rosa was Natalia’s mother too?” He nods. I probably shouldn’t ask this, but he seems open and much easier to talk to than I imagined. “So you were married to Rosa when you conceived Ben with Jillian Carver?”

  His lips tug up in a smile. “If you had asked me that question twenty years ago, I probably would’ve had you killed for your audacity.”

  Okay. I take my previous sentiment back. I don’t know if he’s joking, but something tells me he’s not. A chill whistles up my spine.

  He chuckles before breaking into a coughing fit. I move to press the button, but he shakes his head, pointing a bony finger at the jug of water by his bed. I pour him a glass, sticking one of the oversized straws in it before holding it to his lips and helping him to drink. When he is done, he pushes my hand away, and I set the glass back on the table.

  “You should have seen your face.” He engages in another little chuckle before a more solemn expression plays on his face. “I loved my Rosa, but her role was to be my wife and to sire me an heir. I was away a lot on business, and a man has needs. I enjoyed several dalliances, and I kept permanent whores from time to time.” He shrugs like it’s no biggie. “All the bosses did.”

  Wow. Like that makes it okay. I can’t even begin to process that or all the ways it is unfair and morally wrong. How can you claim to love your wife while constantly cheating on her? Rosa probably knew about it and had to ignore it. It was the way things were done then.

  I make a mental note to add it to my list of questions for Ben.

  He told me previously he would be faithful to me, and I need to ensure he knows it’s a nonnegotiable condition before we let our relationship progress any further. Infidelity is a deal-breaker for me. I won’t tolerate cheating. Heck, I won’t tolerate him even looking sideways at another woman. I’ve spent years lusting after Ben, and now I’ve got him, I intend to keep him. He is mine, as I am his, and I won’t entertain any more gold-diggers like Chantel LaCroix. Ugh, even thinking of that woman makes my blood boil.

  I don’t know how those poor mafia women put up with it. If I was Rosa, I would have cut his dick off while he was sleeping.

  “Do you have other children?” I ask, genuinely curious.

  “Not that I’m aware of, and I spent time looking. Natalia and Ben are my only surviving children.”

  I’m connecting the dots in my head. “You went looking because you needed to find someone to run the business after Mateo was killed.”

  “I knew about Ben from the start,” he says, surprising me. “His mother came to me when she was pregnant. I gave her some money and told her to go away, but I had someone watching over him from the shadows.”

  Shock splays across my face. I know how Ben grew up, and I’m indignant on his behalf. I rip my hand back and scowl at the sick man on the bed.

  “You think I’m an evil prick for ignoring my own flesh and blood.”

  “That’s a polite way of putting it,” I hiss.

  “I did it to protect him.”

  “Bullshit,” I blurt.

  He smiles, and I’m beginning to think he’s legit crazy. “If my enemies knew I had a bastard, they would’ve targeted him too. I kept away to protect him.”

  “Until you needed him.” I sit up straighter. “Do you know the kind of things he had to endure growing up?” Even I’m not privy to all the facts, but I know enough to understand he had it rough.

  “His childhood made him the man he is today.”

  I’m growing madder by the minute. “There are so many things wrong with that. He suffered so much, and he didn’t need to!”

  “You are right, but I cannot change time, nor would it have mattered. Back then, things were different.”

  “I don’t know how Ben can even stand to look at you.” I don’t conceal my disgust. How could you knowingly turn your back on your own flesh and blood? There is nothing he could say that will ever make me understand how he neglected Ben.

  “Bella, bella.” His blue eyes drill into mine. “I like that you are angry for my Bennett. I like that you speak your mind and you stand up for what you believe is right. I don’t disagree with you. I did not do right by my son, and he spent years hating me. He probably still does, and I would not resent him for his feelings or expect him to love me.”

  “Yet he takes care of you. He took control of your business and has made it even more successful.”

  “Because he is a good man. A better man than me,
and he respects responsibility and la famiglia.”

  “Answer me one thing.” I sit up straighter in my chair. “Do you regret it? Wish you had treated him better?”

  “I do.” Sincerity bleeds from his tone, and the edge slices off my anger. “He deserved better.”

  “Have you changed that much, or are you telling me what I want to hear?”

  He shifts in the bed, and a grimace spreads across his mouth. The rattling wheezy sound in his chest deepens, and I grab the glass of water again, helping him to take small sips from the straw.

  He pats my hand when he is finished, and the spluttering quiets down. “I am old, Bella. I am dying. That forces a man to reevaluate the things he has done. The things he wishes he hadn’t done. It changes a man, but above everything, Bennett has altered my views. He had a vision of a different future. One he has nurtured into existence, and he has shown me there is a better way. I can die in peace knowing my family is in safe hands.” His eyelids flutter as he fights sleep, but he pushes on.

  Clasping my hand in his weak one, he stares me directly in the eye. “Knowing my son has found a woman worthy of his love also gives me peace of mind. Bennett needs you. He will claim otherwise, but you are the missing piece he didn’t even know he was searching for.”

  38

  SIERRA

  “How did your talk with Angelo go?” Ben asks me later that night, as we walk side by side along one of the trails in the woods on the grounds of his estate. Rowan is fast asleep, not even lasting through one page of his book. I think Ben was disappointed he didn’t get to read to him, but there will be plenty of nights for that. Rowan was exhausted from an action-packed day, and he got to stay up later tonight to watch Skywatch Weekly. We watched it from the roof, via Ben’s laptop, and Rowan’s clear delight at watching it with his daddy almost induced a fresh wave of tears. My hormonal outbursts are getting embarrassing at this stage.