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“It’s the truth.”
“But you could get it for me.”
“I couldn’t. He doesn’t share it with me. I don’t see him. I have no contact with him—”
“Those are excuses. I’m not interested in excuses. None of us are. What you need to do is think out of the box. Get creative. Invite him to your wedding. I am sure he’d be delighted by a trip to Italy if you asked him nicely.”
Jillian’s stomach rose, acid filled her throat. Marco knew too much. He was far too connected. Which made her wonder how he’d traced her here. “My father and I haven’t talked in years.”
“That’s a shame, because you have so much at stake. Your baby…your husband.your new family.”
She bent over, nauseated. “Don’t threaten me.”
“Then don’t be stupid. You know what happened to Katie.”
Briefly she closed her eyes, remembering Katie’s violent death, remembering her own grief. Jill couldn’t lose
anyone else. Her heart couldn’t bear the pain. “I would need time,” she said, her voice low and broken.
“You don’t have time. And you’re not to involve your husband. He’s not part of this. He’s not to know about this. And should he find out, trust me, there will be devastating consequences.”
Then he hung up.
Jillian slowly, numbly set the phone down and sat frozen on the edge of the couch.
For the past twenty months she’d been afraid of Vitt, terrified of his mafia connections, but Vitt wasn’t a threat. He’d never been a threat. The threat was her family. The threat was her father’s past. His choices. His actions. Her father was the danger. And as long as her father was alive, he’d always put the rest of them in danger.
But Jillian knew she could never turn on her father. Could never sell him out.
Something else would have to happen.
Something else would have to change to keep Vittorio and her baby safe.
Jillian returned to the breakfast room, but Vittorio was gone, just Theresa and Joe remained.
“Where’s Vitt?” Jillian asked, scooping Joe up from his high chair.
“I don’t know. He left the breakfast room not long after you did.”
Jillian kissed Joe. “We’ll go find him then,” she said, struggling to keep her voice natural, to make everything seem normal. “See what he has planned for the day.”
Theresa tipped her head back to look at Jillian. “This friend who called…he’s not an old boyfriend, is he?”
“No.” Again Jillian’s stomach rose in protest. “Absolutely not.”
“Who was he, then?”
“An acquaintance of my sister’s. Just calling to check in.”
“On our house phone?”
“He’d heard about the wedding.”
“So he was calling to congratulate you?”
Jillian felt swamped by grief. “Yes.”
“How good of him.”
