A Dark Sicilian Secret

by Jane Porter

  Awake, Joe stole her heart. Sleeping, Joe broke it. He looked peaceful and impossibly sweet in his little cot with his arms stretched out above his head. His soft skin was flushed pink and his long eyelashes rested in dark crescents on his round cheeks.

  Hard to believe that just a year ago she was pregnant with him. Hard to believe life could change so much in one year. From birth to boy in just eleven months. Impossible. Magical.

  Although the early weeks of her pregnancy weren’t magical. Those weeks were filled with panic, and denial.

  In the beginning, she didn’t believe she was pregnant. She didn’t feel pregnant. She didn’t feel like anything, certainly not as though she was carrying a child, much less Vittorio’s child.

  There were times she nearly convinced herself that it wasn’t so. She hadn’t changed her clothes size. She didn’t have any cravings. She didn’t feel queasy or headachy or emotional. But her period never came, and her breasts grew fuller, heavier, and her flat, taut belly took a gently rounded shape. Finally she went to the doctor and he told her everything she needed to know. She was approximately seventeen weeks, the baby had a strong heartbeat, development looked good, and unless the doctor was mistaken, it appeared to be a boy.

  A boy.

  Another male d’Severano.

  In that moment, lying there in the paper gown, with the ultrasound machine at her side, she vowed her son would never become his father. She vowed her baby would not become her father, either. Her baby, this unborn son, would have a normal life. A happy life. A life as far from organized crime as possible.

  For the rest of the pregnancy she felt secure, confident she’d made the right decision.

  She felt so confident, she left Banff when she reached her seventh month, returning to the States so that when Joe was born he’d be American.

  Jillian settled on Bellingham, Washington, a university town just across the border from Canada. She found a reasonably priced apartment close to Fair Haven, Bellingham’s charming historic district filled with coffeehouses, bookstores and antiques shops.

  Joe’s birth was uncomplicated and she returned to her apartment ready for the next phase of her life.

  But then fate intervened.

  Just a month after Joe’s birth, Jillian was pushing him in his stroller, enjoying the May sunshine when she bumped into a woman she’d worked with in Istanbul. The woman had neither been a friend nor foe, just an acquaintance, but they both exclaimed at the amazing coincidence of meeting like this, so far from Turkey, in the most northwest corner of the United States.

  Jillian had initially been alarmed by the meeting but realized the woman knew nothing about her relationship with Vittorio and therefore would have no stories to tell.

  Jillian was wrong.

  Within a week of bumping into her former colleague, Jillian received the first phone call from Vittorio. He’d heard about the baby. He wanted to know if the baby was his.

  She told him no.

  But he persisted, demanded a DNA test.

  She ran.

  He chased.

  And that began the ten months of cat-and-mouse games.

  If she hadn’t bumped into that woman from the Ciragan Palace Hotel, Vittorio might never have found out about their son.

  That had been her hope. That had been her plan.

  The jet’s bedroom door noiselessly opened and Vittorio stood in the doorway, his face shadowy in the dim lighting. “He’s asleep?” Vitt asked quietly.

  “Yes.”

  “Then come. Maria will be here any moment to spend the night with him—”

  “I don’t want to leave him!” she whispered.

  “He’ll be fine.”

  “Vitt, please. I’ve never slept away from him—”

  “You’ll have to sooner or later.”

  She glanced down at her baby in his blue pajamas. Her heart ached. “But not yet.”

  He studied her a moment, his expression inscrutable. “That’s fine. We’ll both sleep here then.”

  She’d thought at first he was joking—Vittorio was a man who loved his creature comforts—but it turned out he was serious, and left to go to his room to change into pajamas.

  While Vittorio was gone, she slipped into the only nightgown she owned, a pink floral-sprigged flannel gown with a ruffled neckline, buttons down the front, and a long hem. It’d been a perfect gown for breast-feeding but it was far from glamorous or sexy.

  Jillian brushed her teeth quickly and was just scooting into bed when Vittorio returned in dark gray pajama pants and a black silk robe. He glanced at her huddled in the bed and smiled briefly before turning out the light.

  Nervously she turned on her side to face Joe’s cot. With her eyes closed, she listened to Vitt approach, her ears straining to catch every sound he made from his heavy footsteps to the tug on the covers to the soft thud of his robe falling to the floor.

  She felt the bed give on his side, felt the covers tug and then the warmth of his powerful body settle next to hers.

  For a moment she couldn’t breathe. She’d dreamed of this, of him, so many times since she’d run away from his villa in Bellagio, wanting so badly what she couldn’t have.

  Because she couldn’t have him. It wasn’t sane. He posed danger to her at every level.

  But what was that expression? The heart wants what the heart wants?

  And her heart had wanted him. Her heart had always wanted him.

  “You can breathe,” he said quietly, his voice pitched so only she could hear.

  “I am.”

  “Barely.”

  She smiled in the dark even as her chest ached with fierce emotion. This was the Vittorio she’d wanted. This was the man who’d made her feel extraordinarily loved. “You don’t need to worry about me,” she whispered.

  “Oh, but I think I do.” His arm slid around her and he pulled her close against him. She felt his lips brush the back of her head. “Now relax. Sleep. Tomorrow will be here before you know it.”

  Miraculously, she did sleep. She must have drifted off right away because the next time she stirred, she was alone in the bed. Frowning, Jillian glanced at the clock on the narrow bedside table. Six hours had passed since she’d closed her eyes. Amazing because she never slept deeply, not anymore.

  A soft knock sounded on the door and then the door opened. Maria entered with a tray. “Signor sent you coffee and juice and a breakfast pastry. He thought you might want something to eat before we land.”

  Jillian sat up, glanced at Joe who was stirring in his cot. “We’re landing soon?”

  Maria nodded and placed the tray next to Jillian on the bed. “In less than an hour.”

  Maria took Joe to the staff room to feed and dress him so that Jillian could have her coffee and dress in privacy.

  Privacy felt like a luxury, Jillian thought as she nibbled on the breakfast roll between sips of coffee. But that was Vittorio’s way—affluence, luxury, comfort. She’d forgotten just how posh his lifestyle was. She’d forgotten how decadent she’d felt in Bellagio in his lakeside villa with the stunning views of the mountains.

  Dressed, she headed for the main cabin where Vittorio waited for her. “Did you sleep okay?” he asked her as she took a seat in one of the honey leather chairs opposite his.

  “I did. Better than I have in months. Thank you.”

  “I didn’t remember you being such a restless sleeper,” he said, his long black eyelashes dropping to conceal his eyes. “You kicked and thrashed half of the night.”

  “Is that why you left so early this morning?”

  “I stayed with you all night, only leaving so that I could have Maria bring you breakfast.”

  She flushed. “I didn’t know.”

  “Yes. Apparently there’s a great deal you don’t know.” He paused, studied her thoughtfully. “Just as there are many things I need to understand about you.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  JILLIAN did not ask what he meant and Maria arrived with Joe j
ust as the seat belt sign flashed on.

  Jillian gratefully took Joe onto her lap and wrapped her arms around him. Blinding sunlight poured through the jet windows as the Boeing 737 dropped lower and lower until the jet’s wheels finally touched ground. Once on the runway, she dropped a kiss on the top of her son’s head, happy they’d landed safely.

  As she kissed him, his cloud of soft black hair tickled her nose and she breathed in his sweet baby scent.

  Feeling Vittorio’s gaze, she glanced up, her eyes locking with his. He was sitting across the aisle from her and yet she could practically feel him. He had such a strong presence, a very physical energy that made her body hum even now.

  “You have shadows under your eyes,” he said.

  “I shouldn’t. I actually slept well last night.”

  “It sounds like you don’t get a lot of sleep.”

  She shifted Joe in her arms. “Babies wake up a lot at night. And then of course, there’s my need to check on him.”

  “You should have had more help with him.”

  Jillian knew what he was really saying—that if she’d come to him, she would have had help, she wouldn’t have had to struggle on her own.

  “It will be easier for you to sleep when Joseph is in his own crib, in his own room,” he added. “And he does have his own room at my house. There’s space for Maria to sleep in the nursery should we need her to—”

  “I like having Joe close at night,” she interrupted. “I can’t imagine not having him there.”

  “And I can’t imagine making love to my wife if my son is present.” His voice was firm, decisive. “Joseph will be fine in his own room. Trust me.”

  “So you’ve had a baby before?” she flashed, angered that he’d again start making decisions not just for Joe, but for her.

  “No. But I can read a how-to-raise-a-baby book just as well as you, and I do have all those nieces and nephews.”

  She bit her lip to keep from replying sharply, and still struggling with her temper, turned her head to look out the window. It was a gorgeous clear morning. The sun was still rising and the sky stretched overhead, a lucid, cloudless blue. “You said I looked tired,” she said. “Should I put some makeup on?”

  “That’s not necessary. You look fine. Just be yourself.”

  Ah, there was the dilemma. After falling into Vittorio’s arms after so many months of running from him and fearing him, Jillian didn’t even know who she was anymore. “As if it were that easy.”

  “It’s not?”

  Her lips twisted wryly. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  She wanted to tell him she’d lived too many different lives in too many places. She wanted to share that more than once she’d sat frozen in a classroom or the cafeteria, terrified to open her mouth in the event she said the wrong thing. In the event she’d forgotten her part.

  Lee. Carol. Anne. Jillian.

  “Why isn’t it?” Vitt asked, repeating his question.

  She turned toward him, seeing his black tailored trousers, the white shirt, the expensive black blazer. But then everything about him oozed money, success. “You’ve always lived in one place, and been raised around the same people. You’ve never had to be anyone but Vittorio d’Severano. It was different for me.”

  “You moved a lot when you were growing up?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your father was in the military?”

  She nearly laughed. Her father in the service? Her father an honorable man? “No.”

  “What did he do?”

  Lied. Cheated. Backstabbed. But she couldn’t say that. “Business. Sales. Things like that.”

  The jet had stopped taxiing to park at a small executive terminal.

  “You never wanted to work with him?” Vitt asked, ignoring his flight crew as they prepared the aircraft for deplaning.

  “No.” She felt Joe wiggle on her lap, his small body warm and compact against hers and she glanced down at him, thinking there was so much she wanted for him, so much she wanted to give him if only she had the chance.

  “What about you?” she asked Vitt as he unbuckled his seat belt and got to his feet. “Did your father expect you to go to work for him?”

  Vitt towered above her, his expression somber. For a long moment he was silent before he gave his head a brief shake. “No. In fact, the opposite was true. He begged me to go somewhere else, do something different, but I wouldn’t.”

  Her forehead furrowed. “Why not?”

  Vitt shrugged as he reached for Joe and swung him into his arms. “I was a d’Severano. And my father needed me.”

  The door opened and sunlight filled the front cabin. Vittorio waited at the head of the stairs for Jillian before descending the staircase. Jillian descended more slowly, cautious in her high heels. She actually felt pulled together this morning in her brown sheath dress and chocolate suede pumps. All she needed was a great pair of sunglasses and she could pretend she was a movie star.

  Vittorio’s hand was on the small of her back as they started across the tarmac. A line of black town cars waited, each with tinted glass. Vittorio almost always traveled with escorts and bodyguards. He was rich. And he was a d’Severano. Therefore he could never be too careful.

  They were nearly to the cars when a door opened on one of the black sedans. A slim blonde woman emerged.

  Vittorio stopped in his tracks, his expression hardening. “She never listens,” he said, shaking his head. “I told her not to come.”

  Jillian shot a swift glance at the sophisticated blonde in the pale blue suit. “Who is she?”

  He sighed. “My mother.”

  Jillian stiffened. “Your mother?”

  “She’s what I like to call an independent thinker.”

  Until this moment, Jillian had been almost excited about arriving in Catania. She enjoyed travel and usually loved the moment she stepped off an airplane, thrilled by the sense of freedom and possibilities that came from being somewhere new. Every place had a different feel and unique energy. But all sense of wonder abruptly disappeared.

  Vittorio’s hand remained on her back. “This might be rough,” he said. “But just remind yourself that you will survive.”

  Her heart fell. His mother sounded awful. “You’re telling me her bark is worse than her bite?”

  “No.” His full sensual mouth twisted, dark eyes narrowed. “I’m telling you that no one yet has died from her bite.”

  “And that is really not very comforting.”

  He smiled suddenly, dark eyes glinting with humor before he dropped a kiss on her lips. “Oh, she also thinks we’re radiantly happy, and completely in love. Can you manage that?”

  She pressed her lips together, mouth tingling from his brief kiss. She wished he’d kiss her again. There was something dangerously addictive about his mouth. “I’ll try.”

  He smiled again. “Good luck.” And then they were walking once more, closing the distance between them and the waiting cars.

  Jillian’s high heels made faint clicking sounds on the tarmac but her gaze was fixed on Vittorio’s mother. She looked youthful, even glamorous in her ice-blue suit trimmed in a blue, aqua and cream braid, and matching high heels the same color. She wore her hair in a loose chignon, a style which highlighted her elegant features.

  Jillian stood back as Vitt embraced her warmly and then introduced her to his son. How could this woman be Vitt’s mother?

  But Vitt was turning to Jillian now, and extending a hand. “Madre, this is my wife, Jill,” he said, drawing Jillian all the way forward. “Jill, my mother, Theresa d’Severano.”

  Up close Jillian could see that Theresa d’Severano wasn’t quite as young as Jillian had first thought, but neither did she look like a woman in her mid-fifties. Jillian didn’t know if it was genetics or technology, but Theresa could have easily passed for Vitt’s sister.

  Suddenly Jillian didn’t feel as pulled together as she had just a few minutes ago and wished she’d taken the time to
put on a little makeup before stepping off the plane. But it was too late for lipstick. All she could do was make the best impression possible. Summoning her confidence as well as a warm smile, Jillian extended her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. d’Severano.”

  Theresa gave her a long, level look, the expression in her blue eyes cool. She ignored Jillian’s hand. “You’re the woman that trapped Vittorio.”

  So that’s what they think happened. Vittorio, the adored oldest son and the apple of his mother’s eye, had been ensnared by a villainous American gold digger. Jillian only wished she was half as sneaky and manipulative as his family imagined.

  She dropped her hand and struggled to keep her smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  His mother’s smile turned positively glacial. “Odd. I never heard a word about you.”

  Vittorio gestured toward the car. “Mother, why don’t we continue our conversation on the drive home?” he suggested pleasantly even though his mouth was set hard.

  His mother patted his arm. “Why don’t you and the baby take one car, and Jill and I will take another? This way she and I can spend a little bit of time getting to know each other.”

  Jillian swallowed, thinking it was one of the worst ideas she’d ever heard but she couldn’t very well say that.

  “Jill?” Vitt said, looking at her. “What do you prefer?”

  It was good of him to give her a choice. It sounded like the right thing to say, but clearly he didn’t understand that Jillian couldn’t refuse his mother’s suggestion without appearing ungracious. She forced a smile. “I’d love to ride with your mother,” she said. “Sounds like fun.”

  “It’s probably a good idea,” he agreed smoothly. “This way you’ll have an ally on your side before you meet the rest of the family.”

  Jillian then had no choice but to follow his mother into her black sedan, even as her gaze strayed to her baby in Vitt’s arms. She should be with Vitt and Joe. She should be traveling with them, not Vitt’s mom.

  “Have you ever been to Sicily?” Theresa asked as they each took position on opposite ends of the leather seat.

  The chauffeur started the car and pulled away from the other sedans. Jillian forced herself to focus on Vitt’s mother. The interior of the car was dark and cool and she needed a moment for her eyes to adjust after the bright morning sunlight. “No. I’m sorry I haven’t.”