“And you take him to see her every day?” Luca stubbed his toe on the marble tiles with obvious disbelief.
“No.” Fiero rejected the idea instantly. “Emilia does, most of the time. I don’t wish to see her more than I need to.” His gut tightened forcibly at the very idea.
“I can’t say I blame you. I hope I never have to meet the woman.”
Fiero angled his face towards Max. “She is my son’s mother.” The words were wrenched from him. “I’d say it’s inevitable.”
“You can’t seriously mean to bring her here? To keep her in your life?”
“No.” Fiero rejected that from deep within his gut. “Of course not. How can I? She bore me a child – a son – and kept him from me.” He swallowed past the sharp edge of betrayal. In the three weeks since bringing Jack home, since bringing Elodie to Italy, he had grappled with this again and again, and nothing had erased the sharp sense of disbelief. He’d already missed so much.
He’d tried to imagine any circumstance that could justify this – any reason Elodie could have had for keeping Jack a secret. But what could there be? What reason on earth could excuse a woman for keeping a father out of his child’s life? They’d had one night together, three years ago, but that night had been… there were no words. Perhaps it had been the emotional mine-field he was navigating – the imminent death of Gianfelice and his own disastrous personal life – but Elodie had been like a beacon in the midst of all of that. He’d known it couldn’t be more than one night and yet that night had meant something to him. She had meant something to him. He’d thought their connection was mutual. He’d thought… hell. It didn’t matter what he’d thought. He’d been wrong. If she’d felt for him how he’d felt for her then it would have been impossible to keep their child away from him.
His son had lived a small lifetime and he’d missed everything. His birth, his first steps, foods, laughs, all of his baby-life had been stolen and Fiero would never get to re-live those experiences. His family had missed everything. They’d all been robbed, and he would never fathom her reasons for that.
“Has she told you why?” Luca’s question was quiet – it was just like Luca to hone in on this point, pushing past the more emotional considerations.
It sobered Fiero. “No.” He stood up, restless suddenly, moving to a patch of sunshine a few feet away. “Does it matter?” The question landed with a thud. The brothers looked from one to the other, an answering expression of hard determination on their faces.
Max spoke first. “So what next?”
That Fiero could answer with certainty. “She gets better.”
“That could take a long time,” Max pointed out.
“True. But until she is well, I cannot act as I would wish.” Fiero’s eyes, a dark brown, glittered with the force of his resentment. “She is hurt and weak. It wouldn’t be a fair fight.”
Luca lifted his brows. “What do you plan to do?”
“What do you think?” He spun away from his brothers, giving the full force of his attention to the little boy who was swimming, blissfully unaware of the emotional undercurrents surrounding him. Fiero’s eyes glittered with the ruthless determination the Montebellos were renowned for. “I’m going to take my son back.”
In the middle of that summer’s afternoon, a dark cloud drifted out of nowhere and covered the sun, casting them in shadow. Fiero didn’t notice. All of his mind was occupied by what was to come – and the necessity of doing this once, and doing it right.
Chapter 3
“WHERE’S JACK?”
She ignored the way her pulse was hammering through her blood, and the way her eyes seemed determined to chase every detail of his body, to consume him from where she sat across the hospital room. No longer bed-ridden, she was grateful for this beautiful facility, the stretches of garden that were enchanting and fragrant, and the little sitting room that formed part of her accommodation.
It was beautiful, but she was finally well, her body healed, her bruises completely faded, her skin now a caramel tan from afternoons spent reading outside.
She ached to go home, to be back with Jack. She ached for life to return to normal, as though this had never happened.
Except it would never be normal again. Fiero knew about his son, and that would change everything.
“He is at home.”
“Oh.” Her crestfallen expression gave way to hope. “Can I go to him?”
“Not now.”
She couldn’t say why but something like ice trickled down her spine. “Then you should have brought him here.” The words were a little uneasy. “I want to see him. Besides, I need to start preparing for the trip home.”
“There is nothing to prepare,” Fiero moved deeper into the room, propping his hips against the small kitchen bench, crossing his long, tapered legs at the ankles. “The doctor will likely discharge you today. My jet can take you to England.”
She stared at him, disbelief filling her. “And that’s it?”
“What do you mean?”