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He tensed. “My father announced he’d no longer be part of any criminal activity. He made it clear he would no longer extort money or provide kickbacks.” Vittorio paused, stared up at the ceiling, deep lines etched next to his mouth. “We were all at dinner one night in Catania. My father and mother, my grandparents, my uncles, their wives, a few cousins and me. They called all the men out of the restaurant. My father knew what would happen. After all, he’d been a member for years, just as my grandfather had been. He told everyone to stay put, that he alone would go out. My grandfather and uncle refused to let him go alone.
“They shot them all,” Vitt said bluntly. “My father threw himself over Giovanni, his younger brother, to shield him but it didn’t matter. One of the bullets that struck my father, passed through him and killed Giovanni instantly. My father alone survived. It’s a miracle he did.”
“And then your family was finally free?” she asked, her voice husky with emotion.
“There was a huge public outcry. Everyone knew us in Catania. Everyone knew what had been done. People were livid. Even members of the association were uncomfortable with what happened. I think the taking of two lives, and the maiming of my father, satisfied the clan’s need to make a statement. Enough blood had been shed. We were left alone.”
She pushed up on her elbow to look down on Vittorio.
“Your father saved you.”
He swallowed roughly. “He did.”
His face was etched in such hard lines of pain that it made her heart ache. Gently she kissed his jaw, and his chin, and then his mouth. “I wish your father was my father. He’s such a brave man.”
Vitt reached for her, drew her up onto his chest and kissed her back. “But he is your father now, and you are part of this family now. We are one. You must believe that.”
They kissed and then made love slowly, leisurely before falling back asleep for another hour. But finally they rose and showered together before collecting Joe from the nursery to take him to have breakfast with them.
They were in the middle of having breakfast when Theresa appeared, dressed in tailored cream slacks and a gold knit tank with a rope of crystals, pearls and small gold beads around her neck. She looked polished, wealthy and very angry.
“You had a phone call, Jillian,” Theresa said shortly, “on the house phone. I wasn’t about to chase you down so I took the number. You’re to call him back. He said soon.”
She handed Jillian a piece of paper. “It’s not anyone working on the wedding. I know, because I asked him. Who else did you give our number to?”
Jillian shook her head. “No one.”
“Must have been someone, because he called.” Theresa smiled but even that was chilly. “Oh, and he’s American. Apparently a friend with an urgent problem. Do call him back, but in the future, I’d prefer it if your friends used your wireless number.”
Jillian felt Vitt’s gaze and she turned to him. “I can’t imagine who’d call.”
“Go find out,” he said, unconcerned. “Joe and I will be here waiting.”
Jillian was troubled as she dialed the number Theresa had written down. She couldn’t imagine who would call her at the d’Severano’s Paterno castle. No one knew she was here. No one could possibly have the d’Severanos’ number.
The phone rang three times before a man answered. “Hello?” he said.
“This is Jillian d’Severano returning your call. Whom am I speaking with?”
“A friend.”
Her skin suddenly crawled. “My friends have names. What is yours?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, it does.”
“In that case you can call me Mark, or Marco, whichever you prefer.”
Jillian’s legs nearly went out beneath her. Marco was the name of Katie’s boyfriend. “Marco, you say?”
“That’s what your sister called me.”
She sank down on the white slipcovered couch in the sitting room. Her head spun. She felt close to fainting. “How…how…did you find me?”
“I have friends in high places. Police. CIA. FBI.” He laughed a little. “Heck, I might even be a friend in a high place. I guess you never know, which is why it’s important to know who your friends are.”
“What do you want?”
