by Jane Porter
“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 cheerful
ly, 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—”
“I wouldn’t.”
She was grasping at straws and they both knew it.
“You already have. You’ve lied to me. You’ve run from me. You’ve promised to meet me and then you never showed. But then, you never meant to show. It was just a ruse to allow you to escape. With my son.” He drew a slow breath, suppressing the anger and shame he’d felt when she’d tricked him following Joseph’s birth, playing him, manipulating him for months. No one did that and got away with it. No one. Why should she? “Joseph will be one next month and today is the first time I’ve ever held him. And you call me the monster?”
She flinched, visibly shaken, and her eyes looked enormous in her now ashen face. For a moment he almost felt sorry for her. Almost, but not quite, because she’d hurt him, humiliated him, and made his life a living hell.
His child. His. Kept from him. Who did that? What kind of woman did that?
He gestured carelessly, his tone one of boredom. “Do us both a favor, Jill, and step out of the car—”
“Never.”
“I’m going straight to the airport,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “We have a flight plan in place. I don’t have time to waste.”
She sat very tall on the seat, her slim shoulders square. “I won’t get out.”
“Jill.”
She shook her head. “I won’t leave him. I would never leave him.”
“And I won’t play these games.”
“There are no games. I promise.”
“You made promises in the past—”
“I was scared.”
“And you’re not now?” he retorted, mocking her.
Jill’s teeth were chattering again and she bundled her arms over her stomach, holding herself tightly as if afraid she’d disintegrate any moment. “Not scared,” she said from between her teeth. “Terrified. Please. Please. No games. No trouble. I will cooperate. I will make this work. I will do everything you ask. I swear.”
His dark gaze pinned her, held her captive. “I am out of patience, Jill.”
“Yes.”
His voice dropped even lower. “There will be no second chances. One misstep, one mistake, one small fib, and you’re gone. Forever.”
She was nodding, frantically nodding, and tears slid from the corners of her eye.
He refused to care. Refused to feel anything for her. She had it coming. Every little bit of hurt, heartbreak and misery. He’d trusted her. Had cared for her. More than he’d cared for any woman in years.
Twenty months ago he’d actually thought she was the one. The only one. The one he’d marry and cherish for the rest of his life. Which was absurd as he wasn’t the impulsive kind.
He’d never met any woman he could imagine as his wife, but somehow he’d wanted her.
He’d wanted to love her, protect her, forever.
And then she ran, and lied, and cut his heart to pieces.
“Whatever you want,” she choked, “whatever you say.”
She was practically begging now, and he’d thought perhaps it would make him feel better. It didn’t.
He’d never treated a woman harshly in his life.
He’d never reduced a woman to this. Nor should he have had to.
Vittorio could hardly look at her. Her lower lip trembled and tears shimmered on her cheeks. She made him feel like a savage, like the monster she’d portrayed him to be, but he was no monster. He’d spent his entire life healing wounds inflicted by previous generations. He’d battled to build back his father’s company after his father had been tragically injured and the company had been forced to file for bankruptcy. But he battled for his father. He battled for his family. He would prove to the world that the d’Severanos were good people. “I won’t take you out of the country by force.”
“You’re not taking me by force. I’m choosing to go. I’m begging to go. Please, Vitt. Let me travel with my son.”
Something snapped inside of him and he reached for her, one hand wrapping around her wrist, while the other slid behind her neck, his palm against her nape, his fingers and thumb shaping her beautiful jaw. “Our son,” he ground out. “He’s not yours. He’s ours. We both made him. We made him together in an act of love, not violence, and he is to be raised with love, n
ot violence. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Brown or blue, her eyes were mesmerizing, brilliant with raw emotion. He’d thought she was everything he’d ever wanted. He’d thought they’d be able to grow old together. “From now on there is no yours or mine,” he continued roughly. “There is only ours. There is only one family. And that is the d’Severanos.”
She nodded her head jerkily. “Yes.”
And then because there was so much sadness in her eyes, he did the only thing he could think of—he kissed her. But it wasn’t a tender kiss and it wasn’t to comfort. He kissed her fiercely, taking her lips the way he’d now taken control of her life. She’d had her chance. They’d tried it her way. Now it was his.
The hard, punishing kiss didn’t ease his anger. If anything, it made him want more. Her mouth was so soft, and her lips quivered beneath the pressure of his. Angling her head back, he ruthlessly parted her mouth, his tongue taking and tasting the sweetness inside.
Jillian shuddered against him, her fingers splayed against his chest and when he caught her tongue in his mouth, sucking on the tip, she whimpered, her back arching, her resistance melting.
He knew the moment she surrendered, felt the yielding of her mouth, the softness in her body. He could have her then and there if he wanted. If they’d been alone, he would have stripped her clothes off her to prove it. Instead he stroked her breast once, just to make her shiver and dance against him, and then he let her go, watching as she tumbled back against the leather seat.
“Airport,” he drawled, adjusting the cuffs on his dress shirt. “We’re late.”
Approaching Monterey’s executive airport Jillian felt as though she’d swallowed broken glass. Every breath she drew hurt. Every time she swallowed she wanted to cry.
She’d failed Joe.
Failed to protect him. Failed to save him.
His life would never be the same now, and it was her fault. Her stupidity.
She should have never left him with Hannah today. Should have never trusted Hannah in the first place.