Chapter ELEVEN
THEY’D made love again during the night and Jillian woke early the next morning still wrapped in Vittorio’s arms.
It was the most amazing feeling in the world to wake in his arms. The most amazing thing to feel so safe. So loved. Because in his arms, against his warm chest, she felt loved. She felt perfect.
This was perfect. He was perfect. They could make this work, they could.
Turning in Vitt’s arms, she pressed her cheek to his firm chest, her thighs brushing his. Closing her eyes she listened to the steady beat of his heart. She loved listening to his heart. It made everything simple and real. He was a man. She was a woman. And they fit together.
“What are you thinking about, cara?” Vitt’s deep voice asked, rumbling through her.
“You. Me. Us. Everything.”
“All without coffee?” he teased, lifting a hand to stroke her hair.
“Mmm.” She smiled, snuggled closer, sliding one of her bare legs between his. “I loved last night. Thank you.”
“My family was delighted to meet you too.”
She giggled against him. “You know that’s not what I mean. I was referring to us. Making love. It felt really good. It felt like it used to.”
Vittorio continued to slowly, lazily stroke her hair, his hand running from the top of her head all the way down to her back. “It was good.”
She felt like a cat beneath his caress and she arched a little with the pleasure. “I did like meeting your family though. And I adored your grandmother, as well as your father. You look so much like your father. Do you hear that often?”
“I do,” Vitt agreed.
She pictured his father and the wheelchair with the ventilator tucked beneath. “Where was he shot?”
“He took a bullet in the back. Well, five actually, but the one that severed his spinal column was the one that nearly killed him.” He paused. “Thank God it didn’t. But he was in and out of hospitals for the next two years. Sometimes he still gets very sick.”
She struggled to process what he’d told her. “But who actually shot him?”
“A member of the cosca,” he said, using the Italian word for a Mafia clan or association. “As I told you last night, he wanted out. I was seventeen, the age many men join the brotherhood, but he made it clear that I wouldn’t, nor would any of my children.”
“I didn’t think you could just walk away.”
“You can’t.”
She heard the pain in his voice and moved closer. “What happened?”
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?”
“I’m sure you know what I want. It’s what I—we—have always wanted. It’s not very much. A few numbers. One little street address. And you’re done.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”
“I want your father’s address.”
“I don’t know it.”
He snorted. “You expect me to believe that?”
“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.”
“Yes.”
“Well, as long as that’s the truth. Because you know Vittorio. He can’t abide dishonesty.” Then Theresa pushed back her chair, rose from the table and patted Joe’s back before walking out.
For a moment after Theresa left Jillian couldn’t move. She stood in the middle of the breakfast room, absolutely shell-shocked. Although sunshine still poured through the tall windows, splashing light across the tiled floor, Jillian couldn’t focus. Couldn’t see.
In less than five minutes Marco had turned her world inside out. In less than five minutes Marco had stripped away her security, and her hope.
Jillian wasn’t sure her legs would hold her as she carried Joe up the stairs from the breakfast room to the nursery on the third floor.
Her heart thudded. Her teeth chattered. Her mind raced, thoughts spinning wildly in every direction.
What would she do now?
What could she do?
She had no idea how Marco had found her. But he had. And now that he had, she put everyone here in danger.
Like Katie before her, Marco’s people would use her, make her a tool for destruction.
But she couldn’t risk Vittorio’s family’s safety. And there was no way she’d ever hurt Vitt.
Not when she loved him. Not when he was the one person who’d reached out to her, helped her, loved her.
Because in her heart, she did feel loved. In her heart, she knew he’d do anything for her.
But she needed Vitt alive and strong for Joe. Because Joe, as a d’Severano, would need guidance. Joe would need the wisdom and courage of his father.
Drawing Joe closer against her breast, she breathed him in, smelling his sweetness, aware of his softness. She would never put her baby in danger. She would never compromise his safety in any way.
There was only one thing she could do.
Only one decision to be made.
She had to go. It was the only way.
Tears filmed her eyes and she blinked to clear her vision as she reached the top step. Joe stared into her face with concern and patted her cheek. “Mama,” he said, his baby hand against her face, “Mama.”
“It’s okay,” she soothed him, kissing his small palm. “Daddy loves you. Momma loves you. Everyone loves you.”
Entering the nursery, Jillian found Maria folding Joe’s clothes. At first glance, Jillian thought Maria must have done his laundry, but then she realized Maria was putting everything of Joe’s into a suitcase.
Had Vittorio found out about Marco’s call?
Was Vittorio sending them away?
“What are you doing?” Jillian asked Maria.
“Signor told me to pack the baby’s things.”
Jillian’s legs shook. “Why?”
“He said that you were going on a trip.”
“Me?”
Maria nodded, and Joe impatiently kicked, wanting to be put down. Numbly Jillian set him on his feet and just like the first day he was here, he raced toward his toys, pulling out a stuffed floppy dog off the bookshelf to squeeze to his chest.
Jillian drew a shallow breath. “When did he say that?”
“Five minutes ago. Maybe ten. He came into the nursery and told me to pack because the three of you were going away on holiday for a few days. Going to Capri, I think he said.”
Relief coursed through her veins. “Capri?” Jillian repeated.
Maria folded another one of Joe’s little T-shirts and added it to the stack in the suitcase. “He wants you to relax before the wedding. It’s a pre-honeymoon honeymoon.”
A pre-honeymoon honeymoon, to Capri no less. Vitt’s thoughtfulness staggered her, aware that he knew it was one of the places she’d always wanted to go but had not yet been.
Shaking her head, Jillian looked off, across the bright nursery with its cheerful colors and fanciful fish. She loved this nursery almost as much as Joe did. It was such a perfect room for a little boy to call his own. “Maria, can I leave Joe here with you while I go talk to Signor?”
Maria smiled. “Of course.”
Jillian left the nursery and headed down the hall for the bedroom she shared with Vitt.
The room was dimly lit as the curtains had been drawn against the morning sun. In the darkened room the large canopy bed looked massive and the antique wardrobe in the corner appeared to almost topple over. A suitcase lay open on the bed and Vitt’s clothes were stacked in a neat pile in half of it.
Inside the bedroom she heard the sound of running water coming from the ensuite bathroom. Vitt was showering. Humming.
He sounded so happy.
It was such a small thing, but somehow it stole her breath, and practically brought her to her knees.
She couldn’t hurt him. She couldn’t do it. But just being here with him put everyone at risk.
And then the sound of running water stopped. Vitt had finished his shower.
Jillian put a hand to her middle. For a moment she felt so physically sick she thought she’d lose her breakfast right there on the elegant green-and-cream rug. But she couldn’t afford to get sick. She had to keep herself together, had to talk to Vitt.
Gritting her teeth against the acid rising up in her throat, she opened the door and entered the bathroom.
Vitt was standing at the far end of the white marble room, naked, hard muscles glistening, with just a white towel wrapped neatly around his lean hips.
The long mirror over the double sinks was cloudy with steam and steam still wafted from the large white marble shower.
Vitt reached for another towel and began drying his thick hair. “How’s your friend?” he asked, rubbing the towel over his wet hair.
“Good.”
“Everything okay?”
She looked at him, knew she loved him, knew she’d do anything for him, just as she’d do anything for Joe. They were her family. They were hers to cherish. “Yes.”
Vitt grinned as he dragged the towel over the back of his head. “Mother was worrying he was an old boyfriend.”
Vitt’s boyish grin nearly broke her heart. Jillian forced a smile. “She was wrong.”
“I told her that.”
Jillian exhaled hard. “It was an old friend of Katie’s actually. He’d heard about the wedding. Wanted to offer his congratulations.”
“Did you invite him?”
“No.”
“Why not? He’s welcome to attend.”
Jillian turned away, close to throwing up. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t pretend everything was fine when her heart was breaking. “He’s not someone I’m close to.” She ran a shaky hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face. “Maria’s packing Joe’s things. She said you’re taking us to Capri for a few days.”
Vitt draped the damp towel he’d used on his hair on a towel bar. “You weren’t supposed to know,” he said.
She stared at his broad, muscular back, his skin lightly golden, loving him more now, in this moment, than she’d ever loved him. “I’m still surprised. And delighted. We’re really going to Capri?”
“Yes.” He turned, glanced at her in the mirror, his dark eyes locking with hers. “You said you’d never been.”
“You remembered.”
“I remember everything.”
Hot tears pricked her eyes but she wouldn’t cry. Not now. Not when she had to be strong. “Thank you.”
“The trip sounds all right?”
“Heavenly,” she said, meaning it, because all she wanted was to be with Vittorio. All she wanted was time with him. To make love with him. To have a life with him. “When do we leave?”
“Soon. I’ve a quick meeting in Catania, and then my driver will bring you and Joe to meet me at the airport. We’ll fly out at noon. Can you manage that?”
“Easily. What should I pack for the trip?”
“Nothing. I’m buying you a new wardrobe there.”
“You’re serious?”
“Your clothes are horrendous. And you are absolutely gorgeous and I can’t have my beautiful bride running around in mom-wear…even if she is the mother of my son.”
Her heart ached, and she swallowed around the lump filling her throat. “I don’t need that much. A few pretty dresses, yes, maybe a wrap to cover a new swimsuit, but I don’t need more than that, not when I have you.”
His dark gaze met hers in the mirror again. “You really are happy with me?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t feel as if I’ve forced you into this?”
“No.” She felt like she was dying on the inside. Her heart seemed to be coming apart, twisting, writhing, bursting into little bits of nothing. “So I’ll pack a few things and then see you at the airport.”
“In ninety minutes. My driver will be waiting downstairs for you. As soon as you’re ready, jump in the car.” He walked toward her, dropped a kiss on her lips, stroked her cheek and then again, smiling into her eyes. “Green eyes,” he murmured. “I love them.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re going to love Capri.”
She rose up on tiptoe to brush her mouth against his. His warm mouth sent a tingle down her back. “I know I will if you’re there.”
“See you soon,” he said.
“See you soon,” she answered, grateful she had the acting skills to hide the fact that her heart was breaking.
After Vittorio dressed and left, Jillian packed the few things she had into the battered green suitcase, an old suitcase that reminded her of a bruised avocado. As she packed, she tried not to think about what she was doing, or what was happening, or where she’d be going. Because she wasn’t going to Capri and she wouldn’t be meeting Vittorio.
Instead she was using the opportunity to leave Vittorio.
And she’d be leaving Joe here with Vitt.
Her insides writhed with pain at the idea of it, so she jammed her emotions down, suppressing them with all her strength.
She wasn’t going to think right now. She wasn’t going to feel. She was just going to put one foot in front of the other and do what she had to.
Suitcase packed, she carried it to the top of the stairs, knowing that Maria and Joe were waiting for her by the front door. But before she headed down, she went to the nursery, peeked inside for one last time.
This is it, she thought, glancing around, trying to remember all the details. The color blue. The painted fish. The crisp white bookshelves.
This is where Joe would sleep at night, safe, secure, protected.
This is where he’d grow up, adored, loved.
It was good that she was leaving him here. It was good he’d be raised by such a strong, moral, compassionate father.
Now all she had to do was go. Her bag was packed. The car was waiting. The only thing remaining was to walk out the door, and close it, and leave her husband and baby behind.
Imagining walking away from Joe made her knees buckle. She put out a hand, touched the wall, took a deep shuddering breath.
You can do this, she told herself. You have to.
Joe was too innocent and beautiful for the life she’d lived these past fourteen years. Joe was too innocent to be caught up in her family’s darkness and turmoil.
With a last glance around the bright cheerful nursery, she saw how the warm sunlight shone through the windows and fell onto the crib. The light was good. The warmth even better. Leaving Joe here was the right thing to do.
Jillian went down the stairs to the front door where Maria was waiting with Joe and the luggage. The lump in her throat was beyond horrendous. It was murder to swallow and her eyes felt scalded but she would not let the tears fall.
Vittorio would be angry. He’d be so furious that she’d left them. But she hoped one day he’d understand. She hoped one day he’d realize she was doing this to protect them, not hurt them.
“I’ve one last thing to do,” Jillian told Maria, her voice cracking. “Can you take the baby for a quick walk around the terrace? Let him touch the roses. He loves the flowers. And then he and I will go.”
Jill didn’t kiss Joe, or make a sound, as Maria carried Joe out, because God knew, she couldn’t leave if Joe started crying. But Joe didn’t cry. He was happy to go outside, loved the pretty roses, and as Maria carried him, he looked over Maria’s shoulder and smiled at his mother, waving, bye-bye.
Bye-bye.
Bye-bye, my love. Bye-bye, my baby. For a split second Jillian nearly screamed with the pain. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t. There was no way…
And then she lifted her hand and smiled and waved back to her boy. Bye-bye, my heart.
And as the door to the terrace closed behind Maria, Jillian picked up her own suitcase, leaving Joe’s two small bags on the gleaming floor, and headed out the front door to climb into the car.
Vittorio wrapped up his meeting early and headed straight for the executive airport, anxious to see Jillian and Joe and be on their way for their three-day holiday. But on reaching the airport in Catania, he discovered his driver hadn’t arrived yet.
He waited ten minutes then called his driver. His driver immediately answered. “How far away are you?” Vitt asked, glancing at his watch.
“I’ve just returned to Paterno,” his driver said. “I dropped Signore off at the airport.”
“But I’m at the airport. I’ve been here. The jet’s fueled and waiting.”
“Signore said I was to take her to the public airport.”
“What?”
“She said there had been a change of plans.”
A change of plans? Why would there be a change of plans? Vittorio reeled from shock and struggled to speak. “Where is my son?”
“Here in Paterno, at home.”
Thank God. Vittorio exhaled. “But the Signore?”
“She is gone.”
Vittorio immediately jumped into his car and drove home, unable to believe that Jillian had really gone.
As he drove through the gates of his estate, he played his last conversation with Jillian over and over in his head. She’d said she was looking forward to Capri. Said she was happy with him.
So why would she leave?
In the house, he dropped keys on the ornate sideboard in the hall next to the vase of fresh flowers and stood frozen in place.
How could everything have changed so quickly? Just hours ago everything had seemed so perfect he’d planned an impromptu getaway to his favorite five-star hotel in Capri. But just hours later, Jillian was gone and she’d abandoned him, abandoned their son.
Why?
How?
Something must have happened. Something must have driven her away. But what? Or more accurately, who?
He replayed the morning’s events over in his head one more time, picturing waking up with her, making love, showering, breakfast, his mother’s appearance.
The phone call.
The phone call.
Someone had said something to her. Scared her. Threatened her. Chased her off.
He’d find out who called the house. There were ways to trace numbers. Even unlisted numbers.
He climbed the stairs to the library, determined to find out everything he could when he heard the sound of his father’s wheelchair down the hall.
Vitt paused at the top of the stairs and spotted his father waiting for him at the door of the library. But his father wasn’t the only one in the wheelchair. Eleven-month-old Joseph lay on his grandfather’s chest, his thumb in his mouth, sound asleep.
“Where has she gone?” Salvatore asked Vittorio.
“I don’t know.”
“Why would she leave her son?”
“I don’t know that, either.”
His father stared at him hard. “Has she done this before?”
“Never.”
“Then why now?” his father demanded.
“I don’t know. But trust me, I’m going to find out.”
Jillian had purchased a last-minute seat on an Air Italia flight from Catania to Heathrow. From Heathrow she’d catch the cheapest flight she could to the States. Where in the States she didn’t know. She’d figure that part out later. It was hard enough just leaving Vittorio and Joe behind in Sicily without thinking of the vast Atlantic Ocean separating them.
The flight attendant on Air Italia offered Jillian snacks and drinks but Jillian shook her head, unable to speak, almost catatonic with despair.
What had she done? How could she have left them both? Why hadn’t she gone straight to Vittorio and told him everything?
Because you’re scared, a little voice whispered. You’re scared that if you make a mistake, you could lose the people you love.
And she did love Vitt, just as she loved Joe. She loved them so much she wanted to be brave and strong and do what Salvatore had done—sacrifice herself for the good of his family, but how it hurt. It hurt so bad she wasn’t sure she could survive it.
Arriving in Heathrow, Jillian purchased the cheapest ticket she could on a U.S. airline, which ended up being to Houston, Texas.
She didn’t want to go to Houston. But she didn’t know where else to go. The problem was, she didn’t want to go to the States. She wanted to jump back on a plane for Catania. She wanted to tell Vittorio she couldn’t live without him and yet she was so afraid of him being hurt. For the two hours before her flight, Jillian wandered around the international terminal in a fog.
Nothing about leaving Paterno felt right.
Nothing about leaving Joe and Vittorio felt right.
But what else could she do?
What else should she have done?
She should have talked to Vitt. She should have trusted him, because somewhere inside of her she knew he could handle the very real things she was afraid of. Look at his father. Look at what he’d gone through in his own life. He wasn’t a man who crumbled in the face of adversity. He was a man who met it head on. Fierce. Tough. Unflinching.
Instead she’d tried to handle everything on her own, the way she had for the past fourteen years.
But her way didn’t work. Her way meant she was lonely. Her way meant leaving everyone she loved behind.
There had to be a better way. Because this way was hell. It was madness.
It was breaking her heart.
She’d had enough of heartbreak and madness. She’d suffered through far too much pain.
If only she could reach Vitt. If only she could call him before it was too late. He might be angry but she thought perhaps he’d understand. Perhaps he’d realize she was trying to do the right thing, trying to be strong, trying to be independent, which in this case, seemed to be absolutely wrong.
If only she knew how to trust better. If only she could trust him.
And then it hit her. She did.
Jillian raced to find a bank of phones, but there weren’t many in the airport, not with so many people carrying their own phones now. Finally she found a cluster of phones, but as she picked up the receiver she realized she didn’t even know Vittorio’s number, nor did she have a number for his family.
What about his office in Catania? Surely that would be listed. She called information and gave him the d’Severano name, asking if they had any businesses by that listing. They did not. And then she ran out of ideas, because she didn’t know the name of his company.
Just as she hadn’t taken the time to really know Vitt.
There was so much she’d do differently given the chance. So much she wanted to know, so many things she wanted to do with him.
Travel, explore, talk, make love.
Have more kids.
An announcement sounded through the terminal that Continental Airlines was now boarding their afternoon flight to Houston.
Heart in her mouth, she watched the other passengers line up at the gate. She watched all two hundred passengers board, but her legs wouldn’t move. She couldn’t line up. Couldn’t do it.
The gate personnel were finished boarding but they didn’t close the door. Instead the gate agent paged her. “Jillian Smith, this is your final call. Jillian Smith, your final call for Continental Airlines Flight 52.”
Jillian glanced down at the boarding pass crumpled in her damp hand, and then at the gate agent, and realized that even though her initial reaction was to leave her family to protect them, she knew it was the wrong one.
Family didn’t leave family.
Family didn’t betray family.
Family protected family.
And Jillian needed hers.
It struck her that she didn’t have to run anymore. She didn’t have to be afraid. She had Vittorio. He was smart. He was strong. And he could be trusted.
Eyes burning, throat aching, she picked up her small carry-on bag and turned her back on fear, and walked through the terminal, past security, out the airport terminal to the curb.
It was twilight and the sky was lavender and gray. Jillian stood on the curb trying to figure out how she’d get back to Catania and what she’d say to Vitt once she got there when a deep voice spoke behind her.
“Thinking of going somewhere?”
Vittorio.
Usually deep and calm, his voice sounded rough and as if he was in pain.
She turned to face the man who’d turned her life upside down in the best way possible. He looked tall and handsome and worried. He looked so very dear. It didn’t hurt that he had a small boy in his arms that meant everything to her.
“Yes,” she said, tears filling her eyes as she looked at the two people she loved most in the world. “I want to go home.”
For fourteen years she’d had to take care of herself. For fourteen years she’d had to pretend she didn’t need anything from anyone, when in truth, she needed everything.
Love, comfort, tenderness, support.
“I want to go home with you. Please take me back to Paterno,” she choked.
The haunted expression lifted from Vittorio’s dark eyes and then he slowly smiled. “I hoped you’d say that.”
“Oh, Vitt, I don’t know what I’m doing. I just know that I got scared, but I’m so tired of being scared, Vitt. I’m so tired of running and looking over my shoulder and worrying the bad guys will find me.”
“I guess one found you this morning,” Vitt said, wrapping his free arm around her, bringing her close to him.
“Yes.” She pressed her cheek to his chest, feeling the warmth of her husband and son. “But I should have come to you, Vitt. I should have told you. You wouldn’t have panicked. You would have known what to do.”
“Marco can’t hurt you,” Vitt answered, brushing his lips across her brow as his arm squeezed tighter around her waist. “The FBI were able to trace his call. It came from near a cell tower in downtown Detroit and the Detroit police arrested him an hour ago. The police have been looking for him since your sister’s death, and now they have him. He’s going away for a long time. He won’t ever be able to threaten you again.”
Jillian’s lips curved in a watery smile. “So you did know what to do.”
“I’m a d’Severano, cara. I know how to take care of my family.”
His deep voice rumbled through her, his tone fierce, proud. “Am I still your family?”
“Forever.”
Tears filled her eyes. Her chest grew tight and she struggled to take a breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry I didn’t come to you right away. I was just so scared he’d hurt you or Joe or someone else in your family—”
Vitt reached up to wipe her tears away. “I understand. Just as I understand you’ve had no one to be there for you since you were a little girl. But we’ll work on trust, and we’ll learn to be a strong family together, yes?”
“Yes.” She blinked to clear her vision. “So you’re not mad at me?”
“Of course not.”
Joe wiggled in Vittorio’s arms, and reached out with both arms to Jillian. “Mama.”
Jillian looked up, over Joe’s head, to Vitt. “Can I hold him?”
“You better. Your little boy cried for you endlessly on the plane. Fortunately it was my own plane so no one complained.”
Jillian didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. And then she laughed because Vittorio had the most amazing way of making her feel good. With him, life was the way she’d always dreamed it should be.
“Can we go home now?” she asked.
“Most definitely.”
EPILOGUE
eleven-and-a-half-month-old Joseph was supposed to be the ring boy, but he refused to walk down the aisle in his miniature black suit to the front of the d’Severano chapel where Vitt waited in his elegant black tuxedo. Instead Joseph walked down the aisle swinging his pillow in circles before stopping at his grandfather’s wheelchair at the outside of the wooden pews.
“Up,” he said to Salvatore, dropping his pillow. “Up, Papa,” he repeated, wanting to be put on his grandfather’s lap, because in his nine days in Paterno he’d learned to love many things and many people but his grandfather Salvatore was probably his favorite.
His grandmother Theresa put a hand on Joseph’s shoulder and tried to steer her grandson toward the front of the chapel, but Joseph squawked in protest.
Checking his smile, Vitt stepped down from the stone steps before the altar and placed his son on his father’s lap.
“Vittorio,” his mother said softly, reprovingly, slim and chic as ever in a pale silvery-gray fitted gown.
Vitt shrugged. “It’s his day, too. He should sit where he wants, and if he wants his grandfather, who am I to say no?”
Salvatore smiled at Vitt and then down at Joseph as the little boy squirmed to get closer to Salvatore’s chest.
Vittorio clapped his father on the shoulder and then returned to the front of the church as the string quartet played the first bright notes by Vivaldi.
Jillian appeared in the arched doors at the back of the chapel. The ends of the pews were decorated with flowers. The old stone chapel glowed with candlelight. Guests crowded the pews but Jillian only had eyes for Vittorio who looked impossibly handsome in his black tux and white dress shirt with the white tie.
Hers, she thought, on a quick breath. He was hers. And she knew he’d always be hers.
Her lover. Her partner. Her husband.
She walked down the aisle on her own, her ivory gown rustling, her legs shaking with every step, yet knowing that once she reached the front of the chapel she’d never be alone again. She’d have Vittorio. She’d have his family. They’d be a family.
Reaching the front of the chapel, Vitt stepped forward to take her hand. His beautiful face looked somber in the candlelight but then he smiled and love raced through her, love, desire and joy.
The ceremony passed in a blur, with Jillian seeing nothing but Vittorio’s beautiful face and dark eyes. They said their vows, exchanged rings, kissed as her heart turned over.
She was home.
She finally belonged somewhere.
And then the ceremony was over and she was walking with Vittorio down the aisle. The chapel smelled of gardenias and orange blossoms and the soft candlelight reflected off the arched ceiling and the high stone walls. Faces smiled at them as they passed the crowded pews, but then they were alone in the small antechamber. It was dark and blissfully cool.
Vittorio dropped his head, kissed her and kissed her again.
“I love you,” he said as the chapel bells pealed high overhead.
“Even though your family was shocked when you told them who I was yesterday?”
“They’re fine. They’re used to drama,” he answered with a grin. “I don’t know what we’d do without some excitement.”
Jillian tried to smile but tears filled her eyes. “You’re too good to me.”
“Impossible. You deserve so much happiness.”
“You’ve made me happier than I ever dreamed I could be.”
“Good. I’m glad.” He tipped her chin up so he could look into her eyes. “I have loved you since you walked through the lobby of the Ciragan Palace in your black management suit with your midheight heels. You were the picture of efficiency and yet somehow you stole my heart. I’d never thought about settling down and then suddenly all I wanted was to marry you and take care of you forever, and I mean that Jill Anne Carol Lee, I do.”
She sniffed and laughed, her fragrant bouquet crushed between them. “You can just call me Jill. It’s shorter.”
“Not Alessia?”
Jillian shuddered. “Never Alessia. She’s gone. Dead. But oh, I do like being your Jill. I like it more than anything.”
He smoothed her crisp white veil back from her face and then caressed one of her dark red curls that rested on her bare collarbone. “And I love your green eyes and your red hair and your infamous family history,” he said, before glancing over his shoulder, aware that any moment the doors would open and family and friends would pour out. “I love everything about you.”
Jillian laughed and lifted her lips for him to kiss her, and then kiss her again. “Good,” she murmured against his lips, “because you’ve got me now.”
“Finally.” He gazed down at her, his dark eyes holding hers for an endless moment before he whispered in Sicilian. “T’amu bidduzza.” I love you, beautiful.
Eyes stinging, heart overflowing, she reached up, touched Vitt’s lean bronzed cheek, dazzled by joy. “I can’t believe it.”
“Believe what?”
“I’ve come home.” Her voice broke, her expression one of wonder. “I’ve finally come home, haven’t I?”
“You have,” he answered, dropping his head to kiss her deeply, even as the chapel doors burst open and their family and friends surged out to celebrate their love.
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
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