Brunetti's Secret Son

by Maya Blake

  ‘Really? I thought you were a high-powered lawyer.’

  She frowned. Had she told him that in Palermo? Back then she’d been newly qualified and working on exciting cases. Back then her parents had finally, grudgingly, accepted her career choice. She would even go as far as to consider that for the first time in her life she’d achieved something they were proud of, even if they hadn’t quite been able to show it in the warm, loving way she’d seen her friends’ parents exhibit.

  Of course, they hadn’t been thrilled that she’d announced soon after that she was taking a whole month off to travel Europe.

  Despite her having the full support of her bosses to take the time off, her parents had advised her against the trip. Their utter conviction that stepping off the career ladder, even briefly, would ruin her life had finally confirmed how much they rued bringing a child, bringing her, into their lives.

  And once she’d returned and told them she was pregnant...

  Her heart caught at their bitter disappointment when she’d finally revealed her news. Roberta O’Connell hadn’t needed to spell out that she thought Maisie had ruined her life for ever. It’d been clear to see. And knowing that by definition they thought having her had been a mistake had been an ache she hadn’t been able to dispel.

  Maisie shook her head to dispel the memory. ‘No, not any longer. I gave up practising four years ago,’ she answered Romeo.

  He frowned. ‘Why would you give up the job you trained so hard for?’

  So she had told him more than she thought. Because how else would he know? And why was he questioning her like this, probing her for answers he already knew? Was he trying to trip her up somehow?

  She swallowed. ‘My priorities changed,’ she replied crisply and stepped back. ‘Now if you were just passing through and stopped to catch up, I really must get on. My first customers will be here shortly and I need to make sure the kitchen’s ready to start the day.’

  ‘You think I came all this way simply to catch up?’ He looked around again, as if searching for something. Or someone.

  Apprehension flowed like excess adrenaline through her blood, making her dizzy for a moment.

  Romeo couldn’t know about Gianlucca. Because she’d searched for him to no avail. No one else knew who the father of her child was. The only people who she would’ve confessed Romeo’s identity to—her parents—hadn’t wanted to know after she’d confessed to the one-night stand. Which was just as well because Maisie wouldn’t have liked to confess that she hadn’t known the surname of the man who’d impregnated her.

  Maisie had a hard time accepting the fact that the only time her mother had initiated a heart-to-heart conversation had been to tell her to abandon her child’s welfare to childminders and nannies. That her son, once he was born, should be left to others to raise, so Maisie could focus fully and solely on her career. There’d even been an offer of a fully paid boarding school once he was a toddler! Despite her knowing her parents’ views on hands-on parenting, it’d still been harrowing to hear her mother’s words, to know that had her parents had the choice when she was born, they’d have abandoned her to the same fate.

  ‘I really don’t know what you’re doing here. But like I said, I need to be getting on—’

  She gasped when he caught her upper arms in a firm, implacable hold.

  ‘Where is he, Maisie? Where is my son?’ he demanded, his voice a cold, deadly blade.

  Several things happened at once. The door to the kitchen burst open and Lacey rushed through, just as the front door swung inward and a party of four walked in. The scene stopped in almost comical freeze-frame. No one moved except for Romeo, whose eyes narrowed as they went from the door to Lacey and then to Maisie’s face.

  When shock continued to hold her tongue prisoner, Romeo’s lips compressed. Glancing at Lacey’s name badge, he jerked his head imperiously. ‘Lacey, you’re in charge of reservations, yes?’

  Lacey nodded, her wide-eyed look returning full force.

  ‘Then see to the customers, per favore. Your boss and I will be in her office.’

  Romeo marched her into the small room and shut the door behind him with a precise movement that suggested he was suppressing the need to slam it. Maisie was conquering equally intense emotions.

  She put the width of her desk between them, then glared at him.

  ‘I don’t know who you think you are, but you can’t walk in here and start bossing my employees about—’

  ‘Deflecting won’t help this situation. You know why I’m here. So let’s dispense with trivialities. Tell me where he is.’ That last remark was said with icy brevity that hammered a warning straight to her blood.

  ‘Why?’ she fired back, potent fear beginning to crawl up her spine.

  Astonishment lit through his golden eyes. ‘Why? Are you completely insane? Because I want to see him.’

  ‘Again, why?’ A cloud descended on his face and Maisie held up her hand when he opened his mouth, no doubt to once again question her sanity. ‘Let’s stop for a moment and think about this rationally. We had a one-night stand.’ She couldn’t help the high colour that rushed into her face at the so very telling term. ‘After which you walked away without so much as a thank-you-ma’am note. You used me, then disappeared into the night. A month later, I found out I was pregnant. Fast-forward five years later, you walk in the door and demand to see my son.’ Maisie raised her hand and ticked off her fingers. ‘I don’t know your background. I don’t know whether that aura of danger about you is just for show or the real thing. Hell, I don’t even know your last name. And you think I should just expose you to my child?’

  Several emotions flitted across his face—astonishment, anger, a touch of vulnerability that set her nape tingling, then grudging respect before settling into implacable determination.

  He stared at her for a time, before he exhaled sharply. ‘If the child is mine—’

  She laughed in disbelief. ‘Let me get this straight. You came here without even being sure that the child you’re so desperate to see is yours?’

  He folded his arms across his massive chest, the movement bunching his shoulders into even wider relief. Maisie became acutely aware of the room shrinking, and the very air being sucked up by his overwhelming presence. ‘Since I’ve never met him, I cannot be one hundred per cent sure that he’s mine, hence the request to see him. A man in my position has to verify allegations of fatherhood.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Allegations? Plural? Are you saying this isn’t the first time you’ve left a woman in a hotel room and found out there have been consequences to your actions?’ Maisie wasn’t sure why that stung so much. Had she imagined herself somehow unique? That a man who looked like him, kissed and made love as he had, would have limited the experience to her and only her? ‘And what do you mean, a man in your position?’

  Her barrage of questions caused his eyes to narrow further. ‘You don’t know who I am?’

  ‘Would I be asking if I did?’ she threw back. ‘If you want any semblance of cooperation from me, I demand to know your full name.’

  His jaw flexed. ‘My name is Romeo Brunetti.’ The way he said it, the way he waited, as if the pronouncement should be accompanied by a round of trumpets and the clash of cymbals, set her spine tingling. When she didn’t speak, a curious light entered his eyes. ‘That means nothing to you?’

  She shrugged. ‘Should it?’

  He continued to stare at her for another minute, before he shook his head and started to pace the small space in front of her desk. ‘Not at all. So now we have our long-overdue introductions out of the way.’

  Maisie cleared her throat. ‘Mr Brunetti, I—’ She froze as he let out a stunned breath.

  Her gaze flew to his face to find his gaze transfixed on the photo on her desk. ‘Is this... Is this him?’ he asked in a tight,
ragged whisper.

  When she nodded, he reached forward in a jerky movement, then stopped. Apprehension slid over his face. He fisted and then flexed his hand, before he slowly plucked up the frame. In another person, she would’ve been certain he was borderline terrified of a mere picture.

  Terrified or dreading?

  The reminder of the cold indifference her parents had felt about their grandson, about her, made her itch to snatch the photo from him, protect her son’s image the way she fought every day to keep him from the rejection she’d been forced to live with her whole life.

  She glanced at the picture clutched in Romeo’s large hand.

  It had been taken at Ranelagh Gardens on the first day of spring. Dressed in a smart shirt, jeans and bright blue woollen jumper, Gianlucca had looked a perfect picture of health and happiness, and Maisie hadn’t been able to resist capturing his image.

  She watched now as Romeo brought the picture up close to his face, his features drawn tight, his breathing slow and controlled. After almost a minute of staring at the photo without a hint of emotion, he raised his hand and brushed his fingers over Gianlucca’s cheek, almost in direct imitation of what Maisie herself had done a mere half hour ago.

  ‘Mio figlio,’ he murmured.

  ‘I don’t know what that means,’ Maisie replied in a matching whisper.

  He blinked and sucked in a deep, chest-filling breath. ‘My son. It means my son.’ He looked up, his gaze deeply accusing. ‘He’s my son. And you kept him from me,’ he snarled, his voice still not quite as steady as it’d been moments ago.

  Maisie stumbled backwards, bumping into the chair behind her. ‘I did nothing of the kind. And if you stopped to think about it for a moment, you’d realise how ridiculous that allegation is.’

  He shoved a hand through his thick dark hair, dislodging any semblance of order it’d been in. He began to pace again, the photo clutched in his large hand. ‘How old is he?’ he demanded when he paused for a moment.

  ‘He’s four in three weeks.’

  He resumed pacing in tight circles. ‘Four years... Dio mio, four years I’ve been in the dark,’ he muttered to himself, slashing his hand through his hair again.

  ‘How exactly were you enlightened?’ It was a question he hadn’t yet addressed.

  He froze, as if her question had thrown him. ‘We’ll get to that in a moment. First, please tell me his name and where he is.’

  The urgency in his voice bled through to Maisie. She wanted to refuse. Wanted to rewind time and have this meeting not happen. Not because being given the chance to reveal her son’s existence to his father wasn’t what she wanted.

  From the moment she’d found out she was pregnant, she’d known she would give her child every opportunity to know his father. She’d gone to Palermo during her first trimester with that exact reason in mind and had given up after two weeks with no success in tracing Romeo.

  No, the reason Maisie wanted to rewind time and take a different course was because she knew, deep in her bones, that Romeo’s presence wasn’t just about wanting to get to know his son. There was a quiet hint of danger about him that set her fear radar alight. And he hadn’t yet shown her that the prospect of a son filled him with joy. All he’d done so far was put an alpha claim on a child he didn’t know.

  A child she would lay her life down to protect.

  ‘Why are you really here?’

  His brows clamped together. ‘I believe we’ve tackled that particular question.’

  She shook her head. Something was seriously, desperately wrong. Something to do with her precious son.

  ‘No, we haven’t. And I absolutely refuse to tell you anything about him until you tell me what’s going on.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  ROMEO STARED DOWN at the picture one more time, his heart turning over as eyes the exact shade as his own stared back at him. The child...his son...was laughing, pure joy radiating from his face as he posed, chubby arms outstretched, for the camera. A deep shudder rattled up from his toes, engulfing him in a sense of peculiar bewilderment. And fear. Bone-deep fear.

  He couldn’t be a father. Not him, with the upbringing he’d had, the twisted, harrowing paths his life had taken before he’d wrestled control of it. He wasn’t equipped to care for a dog, never mind a child. And with the blood flowing through his veins...the blood of a thug and a vicious criminal...

  Dio mio.

  Lorenzo hadn’t been lying after all. A single wave of impotent rage blanketed him to know that the two men he despised most had known of the existence of the boy before he did. And while a part of him knew levelling accusations of subterfuge on the woman standing before him was unfair, Romeo couldn’t help but feel bitter resentment for being kept in the dark, even while he continued to flounder at the reality stabbing him in the chest.

  He pushed the emotion aside and concentrated on the reality he could deal with—her continued denial of access. Because whether he was equipped to handle the prospect of fatherhood or not, she was at this moment behaving like an irrational person...a mother bear—a concept acutely alien to him.

  Inhaling deep to keep his emotions under control, he rubbed his thumb over the face of his son. ‘I have only just discovered I have a child.’ He stopped when she raised her eyebrow again to remind him of her unanswered question. ‘Through...business associates who wished to get my attention—’

  She shook her head, her long ponytail swinging. ‘What on earth does that mean? Why would business associates want to use your child to get your attention?’ High colour had flown into her cheeks, reminding him of another time, another place when her emotions had run equally passionate. ‘What type of business are you involved in?’ she voiced suspiciously.

  So she didn’t know who he was. Something vaguely resembling relief speared through him. When his business partnership with Zaccheo Giordano had become public knowledge five years ago, his world had exploded with fawning acolytes and women falling over themselves to get his attention. That attention had increased a hundredfold when he’d opened his first super-luxury resort off the coast of Tahiti, a feat he’d repeated soon after with five more, seeing him skyrocket onto the World’s Richest list.

  It was curiously refreshing not to have to deal with the instant personality change that accompanied recognition of his name. But not refreshing enough to know his response had triggered suspicion that could keep him from his reason for being here. Even though her instinct might yet prove correct.

  He needed to frame his words carefully.

  ‘You have nothing to fear from me.’ He’d managed to lock down his control after that gut punch he’d received on seeing her again. From here on in, he would be operating from a place of cold, hard intelligence.

  She shook her head again. ‘Sorry, that’s not good enough. You’ll have to do better than that.’ Her gaze went to the picture frame he held on to, a fierce light of protection and possession burning in her striking blue eyes. ‘Tell me the exact nature of your business or this conversation ends now.’

  Romeo almost laughed. She was seriously deluded if she thought her heated threats would in any way dissuade him from seeing his son, from verifying for himself that the child truly belonged to him.

  ‘I’m the CEO and owner of Brunetti International,’ he replied.

  She frowned for a moment, then her features morphed into astonishment. ‘Brunetti...those resorts you need to sell an organ or a limb before you can afford a night there?’

  He made a dismissive gesture. ‘We cater to people from all walks of life.’

  She snorted. ‘As long as they’ve sold their grandmothers to be able to afford your billionaire rates.’

  Romeo pursed his lips. His wealth wasn’t the subject under discussion here.

  The fact that she seemed to be a rare species, a mother who
stood like a lioness in protection of her child, a child whom he’d yet to be certain without a shadow of a doubt shared his DNA, should take precedence.

  ‘You know who I am now. You’ll also know from your previous career that information can be discovered if one digs deep enough. My business associates dug deep enough and they found you and my son.’

  ‘My son.’

  The sudden urge to snarl our child took him by surprise. He stared down at the picture, clutching at the fraying edges of his control when he began to feel off balance again. ‘Per favore. Please. Tell me his name.’

  Her gaze went to the picture and her features softened immediately.

  The look was one he’d witnessed before, in that hotel room five years ago. It was a look that had set so many alarm bells ringing inside his head that he’d withdrawn swiftly and decisively from it. He looked away because just as he’d had no room to accommodate feelings then, he had no room for them now.

  ‘His name is Gianlucca. Gianlucca O’Connell.’

  An irrational surge of displeasure threatened to floor him. ‘O’Connell?’

  Again that challenging arch of her eyebrow. Back in Palermo he’d seen her passion, her fire, but that had been directed to the bedroom, and what they’d done to each other in bed. Seeing it in a different light didn’t make it any less sexy. Yet the punch of heat to his libido took him by surprise. He’d grown so jaded by the overabundance of willing women that lately he’d lost interest in the chase. For the past three months, work had become his mistress, the only thing that fired his blood in any meaningful way.

  ‘That is my name. Or did you expect me to call him Gianlucca Romeo?’

  He gritted his teeth. ‘Did you even make an effort to find me when you knew you carried my child?’

  A look crossed her face, a mixture of pride and anger, and she raised her chin. ‘Did you want to be found?’ she fired back.

  Knowing how well he’d covered his tracks, a wave of heat crawled up his neck. He’d succeeded more than in his wildest dreams. He’d walked away, having effectively smashed down any residual feelings of rejection, or the idea that he could be worthy of something more than the brain and brawn that had seen him through his harrowing childhood into the man he was today.