AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘No. I will not wait,’ he sliced at her, his voice gruff with emotion.
She bit back a shocked gasp at the dark torment in his eyes when he speared her gaze with his.
‘I’ve been kept in the dark for three years. Whoever is at fault will pay for that, never doubt it, but I will not wait one second longer to meet my son.’
His long legs carried him to the kitchen in six easy strides. By the time Mia joined him, he was already kneeling in front of Gianni.
Once again father and son regarded each other with equal fascination. And once again, Mia’s heart hammered until she was sure it would burst out of her chest.
‘Buongiorno, Gianni. Io sono papà. I am your father.’ The raw words, spoken with a tortured mixture of pride and pain, tore through Mia.
As if he understood the profound words, Gianni nodded. His lower lip pouted, then trembled. Rocco lifted a slightly trembling hand and touched his son’s cheek. Gianni’s pout deepened. Mia held her breath, ready to scoop up her child at the slig
htest sign of distress but, thankfully, no tears arrived. She stayed by the door, her heart in her throat.
Gently, Rocco moved his hand up and stroked Gianni’s curls, all the while drinking in his features as if to imprint them on his brain. He whispered soft, incoherent words to his son, which must have soothed him, because gradually Gianni’s pout retracted, to be replaced by curiosity. When Rocco’s hand returned to his cheek, Gianni reciprocated the gesture by picking up a piece of toast and shoving it in his father’s face.
Warm, hoarse laughter broke from Rocco’s throat as he caught the food between his teeth and munched with relish. Breaking into a grin, Gianni picked up another piece and repeated the gesture.
Turning away from the heart-wrenching scene for fear that her son would witness her tears, she busied herself fetching his small pot of yoghurt from the fridge.
Behind her father and son deepened their instant bonding by murmuring adorable rubbish to each other. With every soft word uttered, every murmur of appreciation for what a clever child he was—it was amazing how quickly her understanding of Italian rushed back when it counted—her heart crumbled further.
A wave of shame washed over her as she admitted that some small part of her had hoped her Gianni would hate his father on sight. But really, would that have made things easier? Rocco was nothing if not a ruthless fighter. After all, weren’t his sharp mind and extreme risk-taking in architecture what had made her seek out a job in his company fresh out of university? If he hadn’t bonded instantly with his son, he wouldn’t have given up. And a determined Rocco was a formidable force to be reckoned with. So perhaps it was easier this way.
She turned from the fridge to find him wiping the excess Marmite from his son’s chin. Sensing her gaze, he glanced up.
Instantly his soft look disappeared. ‘We need to talk.’ He stood to tower over her, his even tone belying the piercing intent in his eyes.
There was no escaping the inevitable. ‘I need to feed him his yoghurt.’
Her stalling tactic failed as he reached out a hand and smoothly relieved her of the small tub. ‘I’ll take care of it. You can use the time to pack a bag—’
She snatched in a shocked breath. ‘Pack a bag? If you think I’m going anywhere with you, you need your head examined.’ Realising her son was studying her with intense fascination, she struggled to smile through clenched teeth. ‘We can talk here.’
When he reached out again, she tensed, afraid of what direct contact with his touch might do to her crumbling state of mind. But he merely reached past her to grab a plastic spoon off the counter. His eyes mocked her as he read her reaction.
‘Easy, cara. You’ve developed a penchant for overreacting at the slightest opportunity—’
‘Can you blame me? I’ve lived in fear of being imprisoned for the last three years!’
A spasm of some unknown emotion raced across his face but was gone too quickly for her to decipher, although the intensity in his face eased. ‘I merely wanted you to pack a bag for Gianni since we’ll be gone most of the day.’
She crossed her arms defensively. ‘And where exactly are we going?’
‘I delivered your file to my lawyers last night. They assure me that this is the first time they’re aware of this document, which confirms my suspicion that the case against you is a fraudulent one.’
The mingled shock and relief that spiked through her lasted for a mere second but nevertheless it caused her to lose what little feeling she had in her legs. She started to sag against the sink.
Rocco’s hands arrived at her waist, easily holding her up. ‘Are you all right?’
She shook her head, wisely extricated herself from his hold, and cleared her throat before attempting to speak. Still her voice emerged as hollow as a discarded seashell. ‘Are you saying that all this time, all the threats, the letters, my living in fear...were all for nothing?’
A grim look crossed Rocco’s face as he returned to his task of spooning yoghurt into his son’s waiting mouth. ‘I have no doubt that whoever sent them meant for you to take them seriously.’
‘But who would do that?’ Sheer disbelief gave way to anger so deep she shook with it. Taking a deep breath, she struggled to hold herself together.
Rocco continued to feed Gianni, although his massive shoulders lifted in a shrug underneath the stretch of expensive black suit. ‘I have a lot of enemies. Unfortunately, it goes with the territory where money and power are involved. Someone must have believed they could get to me through you. Or vice versa.’
