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What if his grandmother had taken another route to mass? What if she hadn’t been paying attention to the electronic billboard on the side of the road?
The thought that he could’ve remained oblivious to his son’s existence, his own flesh and blood, sent a renewed wave of anguish and anger through him. And all because of the selfishness of the woman in front of him.
What had she asked him? Why now?
As if he’d ever been given the chance before. He took a calming breath, stifling the urge to deliver a tiny dose of what he was going through.
As an only child, he had been so desperately lonely, what with his parents’ callous and blatant neglect, and Nonna working all hours to provide for him. At the age of ten, watching his grandmother scrimp and save to make ends meet, he’d vowed first to make enough money to see her in luxury in her old age, a vow he’d made come true hundreds of millions of times over. His second vow had been that no child of his—should he ever have them—would grow up experiencing the deep scars of neglect and cruel indifference. For Nonna’s sake, he’d never ruled out marriage. But to do that he’d also vowed to find a suitable wife who would fulfil his strict parameters of care for his future children.
That particular goal had been elusive, and over the years it’d slowly eroded until he’d eventu
ally given up any hope of ever fulfilling it.
Then he’d met Mia Gallagher. With her, he’d contemplated the rebirth of all his long-cherished but slowly abandoned goals. Or so he’d thought.
She’d led him on with promises of a future he’d all but encouraged Nonna to give up on. Right up to the weeks before he’d placed his wedding ring on her finger. Then he’d had the scales pulled viciously from his eyes.
Her lies he could tolerate, if not forgive. But this! Keeping his own flesh and blood from him?
‘Are you insane to ask me why I want to know the existence of my own child? You think anything will come between me and my flesh and blood?’ The ugly sneer he heard in his own voice made his anger rise. He never lost control like this. Never. But this woman had driven him to the very brink of sanity. Once three years ago. And now.
Her eyes had widened. Clear green eyes he’d once upon a time drowned in; eyes he’d seen fill with tears when he’d gone down on one knee in the presence of his beloved grandmother and proposed to her; eyes he’d watched darken in passion as she’d whispered how much she adored him, how he meant everything to her, how much she couldn’t wait to join her life with his.
Of course, she’d had a different interpretation of just what she’d been hoping for from their union.
Clear, luminous, almond-shaped deceptive eyes. Eyes that held his without a hint of remorse even in the face of her barefaced lies. Add that slight tremble to her plump, kissable lips and any man was destined to believe every insincere word she uttered.
Any man but him. He’d taken her measure when she’d lied through her teeth even in the face of concrete evidence three years ago.
So why was he standing here, trying to reason with her? Could he even believe the child was his? Well, only one way to find out. He whirled away from her and stalked to the stairs. A house this small, it wouldn’t be difficult to find the child.
An affronted gasp sounded behind him as she scrambled after him.
‘Wait! Where do you think you’re going?’
Good, that was the reaction he wanted. Maybe now she’d drop this crazy pretence and take him seriously.
His foot was on the second step when her small hands closed over his bicep. The kick of lust he’d felt earlier returned, sharper, deeper, awakening senses he’d thought long dead. His anger only escalated and he stiffened against the reaction, ready to pull away.
‘Rocco, wait! You can’t go up there!’
He glanced down into her heart-shaped face and read real terror there. Dio! Did she think he intended to harm the child?
Or was she reacting to something else? He stepped down quicker than he’d climbed.
‘Why are you so afraid to let me see him? Is he unwell? Is that why you’ve kept me in the dark about his existence? If so, know that nothing will—’
She jerked back with a frown. ‘No, of course not. Gianni is a perfectly happy and healthy little boy,’ she defended hotly.
Rocco let out the breath locked in his lungs and regained the step. ‘Bene, then nothing should prevent me from seeing him. Do you want to lead the way, or should I just wander from room to room until I find him?’
Stormy eyes snapped with dislike. ‘I’d prefer neither option, quite frankly.’
He shrugged, then felt a mild sense of loss when the movement dislodged her hands. ‘Fine. Stay here.’ One way or the other he intended to see the child—his son. He’d already been denied his existence for over over two years.
Dio, two years! He forced himself to calm down and took the stairs three at a time. She scrambled up after him, but his eyes were glued to the door at the top of the stairs.
Was that where his son slept? A hot rush of air filled his lungs, leaving him faint by the time he reached the last step. Would there be an instant, instinctive bond, or would he, thanks to the actions of the slip of a woman behind him, have to get to know his own flesh and blood?
