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“You know why.”
“The Mafioso thing again?” he asked, sounding bored.
“Yes, that. It’s never gone away. It will never go away—”
“Which is a dilemma, isn’t it? Because now you’re my wife. Married to the mob. What will you do?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, throwing her head back, temper blazing even as tears shimmered in her eyes. “None of this was supposed to happen. It’s the worst thing that could have happened.”
“Why?”
“Because it’d kill me, Vitt, it would if my son grew up and became someone like you.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT’D kill me if my son grew up and became someone like you.
It’d been two hours since Jillian had said the words but they still echoed in Vitt’s head.
It would kill her if her son were like him…it would kill her…
Unbelievably hurtful words, especially considering they came from the mother of his child.
The worst of it was that she didn’t know him. She couldn’t seem to see who he really was. But he wasn’t used to explaining himself, or opening his family or life to scrutiny.
Frankly, he didn’t care what people thought of him. And he answered to no one.
Because no one could touch him, although in the beginning everyone had tried. Prime ministers, presidents, parliaments, governments. Police in every country.
But what could they do to him? To the d’Severano family? What crime had he committed? What crime could they pin on his father? None.
Yet Vittorio was still feared, hated, loved and loathed. He didn’t even try to justify his behavior, or contradict the rumors or lies anymore. It was a waste of time, a waste of energy. Life was short. He would love it.
And yet Jill’s words had struck a nerve. A very sensitive nerve. Because he was not a bad man, or an evil man, or a violent man. He, like his father, had spent his life righting past wrongs, as well as building new relationships with people, businesses, world leaders.
He did have family members who were connected to the mafia, but he wasn’t one of them. Nor was his father. Nor would his son be.
Because you didn’t have to be crooked to be powerful. And you didn’t have to resort to pressure or violence to be influential. His success stemmed directly from his work ethic, his focus and his value system.
So let Jill Smith, the twenty-six year old American he’d just made his wife, say what she wanted. He knew the truth. He knew who he was. He knew what he was.
But in his heart, her words did hurt.
Jillian held Joe’s hand as they walked in the rose garden after his afternoon nap. He toddled happily from bush to bush, savoring the sunshine and colorful petals and sweet scent of the antique roses.
Jillian talked to him and crouched down to help him smell different blossoms but her insides churned, her heart felt heavy.
She’d said something awful to Vitt earlier and she couldn’t forget what she’d said, or Vitt’s expression as she’d said it.
It’d kill me if he were to grow up and become like you….
Such cruel, hurtful words.
But she hadn’t meant to hurt him. She was just being honest. Just sharing her fear.
Her father’s crimes still horrified her, and she believed more than ever that the world needed good people. The world needed men who were strong. Courageous.
Compassionate.
