‘Wh-what?You can’t just do that. You don’t even know our account number…’ I cried.
Then my objection was drowned out by Evie’s squeal. ‘Oh. My. God. Mia, I just got an email from a bank in Geneva… We’re rich!’
She sounded so ecstatic, it only crucified me more.
‘No we’re not. We’re not taking the…’ I began again, but then Vito whipped the tablet he had given me to call Evie out of my hands, dumped me off his lap and stood up.
‘Hey…give it back,’ I cried, jumping up and dancing around trying to grab the tablet, which he simply lifted out of my reach while he talked to my sister.
‘Enjoy the money,’ he said to Evie, who had pound signs floating in her eyes now. ‘I will arrange a visit for you here before the baby is born. And I will send men to keep watch on your apartment. You will not see them, but they will be there to keep you safe,’ he added. ‘If you need anything, contact me on the number I will send you, and use the code Sorella.’
‘Wow, seriously? How cool,’ Evie said, having gone to the dark side for a million euros.
Vito switched off the connection and dropped the tablet on the coffee table in front of me.
‘I… I can’t believe you just did that. What gives you the right to…’
‘Stop. You know what gives me the right,’ he said, dragging me towards him. Until my belly was pressed against his growing erection.
Seriously?He was hard again. How was that possible? And how come I was already melting at the thought of feeling him pounding me to orgasm again?
I slapped my hands against his chest.
‘Just because I’m having your baby, you can’t just…’
‘She is my sister now too,’ he broke in. The passion in his eyes disturbed me almost as much as the conviction. ‘If she is not safe, you are not safe.’
‘But you didn’t have to give her all that money right now…’ I tried.
‘When did your mother abandon you…?’ he asked, the abrupt change of subject and his sober expression confusing me even more.
Was that curiosity or pity? Or something much scarier… Tenderness. Compassion. Concern. The emotions I’d wanted to believe I had glimpsed before but knew I couldn’t cope with now—when I felt so powerless and insecure about my growing feelings for him.
‘How do you know that?’ I asked, trying to delay this conversation until I had some sense of perspective again. Everything was moving too fast. I felt as if my whole life were being transformed in ways I had no control over. My common sense and my sense of right and wrong most of all.
He didn’t even dignify that with a response, because we both knew Evie had let it slip.
I huffed out a breath.Damn it, why shouldn’t I tell him? There was so much I wanted to know about him too. Maybe this was the opening I’d been waiting for. ‘A long time ago… We were teenagers.’
‘How old?’ he asked.
I shrugged. ‘I was fifteen, Evie nearly thirteen. But to be honest, Mum had clocked out of looking after us long before that. She wasn’t what you’d call a natural at motherhood. And she was very young when she had us.’
‘Puttana.’His brows lowered, the cold expression making me realise exactly what Vito’s enemies would see if they dared to cross him. ‘And your father, he wasneverthere?’
‘We never knew our fathers. They didn’t stick around.’
‘They?’ he murmured, the frosty expression becoming turbulent.
I nodded, strangely embarrassed. Could our childhoods be any more pathetic, if even a mafia boss felt sorry for us? ‘Strictly speaking, Evie and I are half sisters. My mum went through a phase of getting pregnant to try and attract a breadwinner. It backfired.Twice.’
He pressed his palm to my cheek. ‘Your mamma sounds very selfish,’ he murmured, the stormy expression softening with sympathy. ‘I am sorry for this. My mother was selfish too, but she paid a heavy price.’
‘How did she?’ I asked, surprised and moved by his outraged reaction to what I’d confided about my childhood, but also eager to learn more about his. I had once assumed he’d led a charmed life, been spoilt and indulged as the son of a mafia boss. I knew now he hadn’t been… But I wanted to know so much more about what had made him choose this life so I could begin to understand it.
He frowned, and I knew I’d crossed a line I was not meant to cross. But when he just looked at me blankly, I made myself push.
‘Why did she run away from your father?’
