Brunetti's Secret Son

by Maya Blake

  Eva grinned. ‘Turns out twins run in both our families. My great-grandmother was a twin, and Zaccheo’s mother told him his grandfather was a twin, too. Something to be thankful for, since he’s determined to not stop knocking me up until he has a full football team. That means I get to do this only half a dozen times.’

  Zaccheo broke off his muffled conversation with Romeo and strolled over to his wife. ‘You know you love carrying my children, dolcezza.’

  ‘Yeah, keep telling yourself that, champ. After these two I’m taking an extended leave of absence from getting pregnant.’

  Zaccheo lifted a brow. ‘As long as it’s merely a leave and not a resignation.’

  Eva rolled her eyes but curled into his side when he sat down next to her.

  The conversation turned to children. Romeo maintained brooding silence throughout, and only offered brusque opinions when Eva forced him into the conversation. Zaccheo seemed perfectly at ease with Romeo’s mood, but Maisie couldn’t help her breath catching whenever Romeo slid her an icy glance.

  The tense atmosphere continued through dinner, the men chatting about business and Eva attempting to engage Maisie in general conversation. She couldn’t remember because she was concentrating on keeping the sob at the back of her throat whenever she looked at Romeo.

  And how pathetic was that? To know she’d been nothing more than a plaything in his bed while he got to know his son, and yet still feel as if her world were caving in on itself every time she remembered that in a handful of days she would walk away from him for ever.

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. Can we sort this thing out once and for all? Can’t you see how distressed this is all making Maisie?’

  Her head jerked up at Eva’s sharp retort to find the other woman glaring at her husband.

  Zaccheo turned to her with one brow tilted. ‘Don’t get yourself worked up, dolcezza. Everything’s under control.’

  Eva snorted. ‘God, you men can be so blind at times! Can’t you see we’re tearing ourselves apart here? Tell them, Maisie.’

  Both sets of male eyes turned towards her, one grimly amused and the other as icily brooding as they’d been all evening.

  Painfully pulling her gaze from Romeo’s, she pursed her lips. ‘Sorry, it seems I no longer have a vote.’ Not that she ever did. Or ever would.

  Eva sighed heavily and pulled her fingers through her wild, curly blonde hair. ‘What do we have to do to get through to you two?’ she demanded, exasperated.

  ‘Eva, mia, I won’t have you this distressed,’ Zaccheo all but growled.

  ‘Then stop this stupid cavemen course of action.’ She threw her napkin down, winced when her babies also made their thoughts known about the effect her distress was having on them. Zaccheo started to rise, but she waved him away. ‘I’m fine. I think Maisie and I will go for a walk, leave you two to ponder the wisdom of your ideas.’

  The excuse to be out of Romeo’s oppressive presence was too great to turn down. Rising, she took the arm Eva held out after kicking off her shoes. Following her, Maisie kicked off her shoes, too, and they headed outside.

  ‘I hear there’s a stunning waterfall here somewhere. I’d love to see it.’

  Maisie stumbled to a halt. ‘Um...do you mind if we don’t?’ she pleaded raggedly, unable to bear the thought of returning to where she and Romeo had made love. She knew she’d given herself away when Eva’s eyes widened.

  ‘Of course,’ she murmured softly. ‘We’ll go down to the beach instead.’

  They walked in silence for a while, taking in the lush vegetation gleaming under strung-out lights, and the view of a night-lit Maui in the distance, before Eva glanced at her. ‘You’ll have to take the bull by the horns at some point, you know. Men are obtusely blind sometimes—even the cleverest, billion-dollar-empire-commanding ones can fail to see what’s right in front of their faces.’

  Maisie shook her head. ‘It’s not like that between Romeo and me,’ she painfully explained.

  ‘Maybe not, but the pain you are feeling right now, I’ve been there. It took weeks before I came to my senses, and I didn’t have a toddler to contend with during that time. You and Romeo—there’s something there.’ She stopped Maisie when she opened her mouth to deny it. ‘You had his child four years ago, and he married you within two days of seeing you again.’

  ‘Because of Lucca.’

  Eva pursed her lips. ‘I married Zaccheo because I thought I didn’t have a choice. But deep down, I knew I did. Things happen for a reason, but it’s the endgame that matters. Fighting for what you want even when you think everything’s hopeless.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s hopeless. I know it is,’ she stressed.

  Eva looked as if she wanted to argue the point, but her lashes swept over her lovely green eyes and she nodded. ‘Okay. I’m sorry for prying. I’ll let the matter drop, except to say I’ve never seen Romeo like this before. Sure, he has that sexy brooding thing going on most of the time, but never like this, not even five years ago, when his mo—’ She stopped, visibly pursing her lips to prevent her indiscretion.

  Maisie’s chest tightened. ‘Something bad happened to bring him to Palermo then, didn’t it?’ It went to show how much she didn’t know about Romeo.

  ‘I can only say a bad chapter of his life came to an end. But he wasn’t as affected as he is now.’

  Maisie shook her head. ‘This is all about Lucca,’ she insisted as they reached the beach.

  Eva nodded, a sage smile curving her lips, before she pulled up the skirt to her elegant gown. ‘Okay. Now I’m probably going to ruin my dress, but since my husband refuses to allow me to swim in the ocean until our sons are born, but he happens to be annoying me a lot right now, I’m damn well going for a quick dip.’

  Maisie gave a smile that barely lifted the corners of her mouth. ‘You know he can see you from the villa, right?’

  Eva gave a stubborn, cheeky smile. ‘I’ll be out before he gets here.’

  Maisie didn’t think it was wise to stand in her way. The waters weren’t especially deep for half a mile or so, but she kept an eye on her, trying not to think about what Eva had said.

  Because it wasn’t a subject worth pursuing. Romeo had made himself more than clear. And if he’d looked shocked, it was because he probably hadn’t thought she would confront him about it.

  After a few minutes, tired of the agony replaying through her soul, Maisie adjusted her clothing and waded into the warm, inviting water.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ROMEO DIDN’T LOOK UP from the fireplace when his friend joined him, but he accepted the glass containing a double shot of whisky Zaccheo held out to him.

  ‘Tell me your wife drives you half as crazy as mine does me,’ Zaccheo growled.

  Romeo downed half the glass’s content and stared into the remaining amber liquid. ‘She’s not my wife,’ he growled.

  ‘That ring on your finger and the misery on your face tell a different story, mio fratello,’ Zaccheo challenged with a grim chuckle.

  Romeo’s chest squeezed at the term. Although he’d only connected with Zaccheo for a brief month when they were children, he’d never forgotten the boy whose life had touched his. Rediscovering that bond of brotherhood as an adult had made Romeo believe he wasn’t truly alone in this world. But lately, he’d discovered there were various forms of loneliness.

  A loneliness of the heart, for instance...

  Zaccheo’s hand of friendship might have conquered a small part of his soul, but he was finding out, much to his emerging horror, that it would never be enough. Not like what he’d been secretly hoping for a few weeks.

  ‘The ring is meaningless. She doesn’t want to be married to me,’ he snapped and downed the rest of the drink. A replacement arrived seconds later, and he took it, his fingers tightening around the
cold glass. The platinum-and-gold wedding ring in question caught the light, winking mockingly, and a deep urge to smash the glass moved through him.

  Before he could give in to it, Zaccheo replied, ‘Before you tear the place to pieces, perhaps you should listen to what your woman has to say.’

  ‘She’s already said her piece. And I heard her loud and clear.’ Although he wished he hadn’t. He wished he hadn’t stopped her on the terrace in the first place, that he’d postponed the moment of complete rejection for a while longer.

  Why? So he could continue to live in this fool’s paradise?

  ‘I’ve learned to my cost that there’s a difference between listening and hearing.’

  Romeo’s mouth twisted. ‘You sound like a damn agony-aunt talk-show host. A very bad one.’

  ‘Mock all you want. You’ll learn the difference soon enough.’

  Used to Zaccheo providing solid, formidable opinions when needed, Romeo wondered whether his friend was going soft in the head. A glance at him as he strolled to the window to look down at the beach where his wife and Maisie had headed proved otherwise. The ruthless man was behind those strong features.

  Zaccheo turned towards him. ‘What are we going to do about Palermo? We need to resolve it soon before my wife decides she doesn’t want to be married to me any more, either.’ The mocking tone belied the brutal intent in his face.

  Romeo shook his head. ‘Fattore’s absurd demands started all of this. Eva’s right. You need to be with her and the boys in New York. I’ll handle Lorenzo and Carmelo.’

  The old man was what had set all this in motion. And while he was grateful for having his son in his life, he couldn’t let the nuisance carry on any longer.

  The need to teach Fattore’s ex-lieutenant a salutary lesson charged through him and he rolled his tense shoulders. ‘I should’ve gone with my instincts and cut Lorenzo off at the knees much sooner, instead of entertaining his foolishness.’

  ‘You needed time to find out what he was capable of.’

  ‘And now I have.’

  His phone buzzed and he looked at the screen. Speak of the devil.

  ‘Lorenzo.’ His blood boiled as he put his phone on speaker. ‘You’ve saved me the trouble of a phone call.’

  ‘Bene. You have good news for me, I hope.’

  ‘I don’t deal in hope, old man. Never have,’ Romeo snarled.

  Zaccheo gave a grim smile and sipped his whisky.

  ‘Whether you like it or not, you have blood ties to this family. Your father left it to you. You can’t just turn your back on it.’

  Romeo exhaled through the need to punch something. He managed to suppress his rage and frustration and glanced at Zaccheo.

  The man he considered his only friend also wore an expression of quiet rage. Romeo knew Zaccheo had learned a thing or two about seeking retribution from his wrongful imprisonment several years ago. Just as he knew the threat against his sons would need to be answered.

  But he also knew getting dragged into a Mafia war wasn’t what either of them wanted. What he wanted was to be done with this in a single, definitive way.

  He hardened his voice so there would be no mistaking his intent.

  ‘You’ve insisted on shoving my parentage down my throat every chance you got to suit your needs. Well, you got your wish. I’ll be in Palermo in seventy-two hours. I promise, you won’t like the news I deliver.’

  He ended the call and threw the phone on the sofa. About to down his drink, he noticed Zaccheo’s rising tension as he stared at the beach far below. In a split second, his friend’s disbelieving expression turned into bewilderment. ‘Madre di Dio, is that...? Are they...?’

  Romeo followed his gaze, and horror swept through him. ‘Yes, they’re swimming in the ocean,’ he supplied grimly. And Maisie was further out, almost at the point where the ocean floor dipped dangerously.

  ‘Porca miseria, only my wife would decide to swim in the Pacific Ocean fully clothed and at five months pregnant with twins.’ He sprinted towards the door with Romeo fast on his heels.

  They reached the beach in minutes, with Zaccheo a few feet ahead of him, just as Eva waded ashore. Romeo didn’t have to guess that she was exhausted, despite the sheer exhilaration on her face.

  Exhilaration that turned into wary apprehension when she spotted her husband’s thunderous look. She put out her hands. ‘Zaccheo—’

  ‘Not a single word, dolcezza, if you know what’s good for you,’ he sliced at her, before scooping her into his arms and striding off the beach.

  Romeo rushed past them, toeing off his socks and shoes. He’d discarded his jacket and shirt as they raced from the villa. He dived into the water, striking out for the lone figure a quarter of a mile away.

  He reached Maisie in minutes. And she had the audacity to look at him with a puzzled expression.

  ‘What are you doing out here? Is Eva all right?’ she asked.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ he snapped.

  ‘I thought it was obvious.’ She searched the beach, her face turning anxious. ‘Is—’

  ‘Sì, Eva is fine,’ he reassured impatiently. ‘Although I’ve no idea what she was thinking, going for a swim in her condition.’

  ‘She’s a strong swimmer, and I was right beside her until she decided to head back. Then I made sure I kept an eye on her.’

  ‘From here, close to where the currents swirl dangerously?’ he accused. He couldn’t see below the water, but he could see the neckline of her gown and knew how long her dress was, and how hopelessly inept she would’ve been at saving herself had she been caught in a rip current.

  Her mouth twisted as she treaded water. ‘Did I not mention I was regional champion swimmer? It was one of the many almost talents my parents tried and failed to turn me into. Sadly, I never made it to nationals. One of my many, many failures, I guess.’ The bitterness in her voice caught him in the raw, threatened to rip open a place he didn’t want touched. Especially not since her declaration this afternoon.

  ‘So you thought you’d add one more tick to this imaginary quota by wearing a dress that adds at least twenty pounds to your body weight when it’s soaking wet?’ he snarled, all the alien feelings that had been bubbling through him since their conversation on the terrace this afternoon rising to the edge.

  She looked away from him, and he could’ve sworn she blushed before her face tightened with deep unhappiness. ‘Not exactly.’

  He caught hold of her shoulders and pointed her towards the beach. ‘Swim back now.’

  Her chin rose mutinously. ‘Or what?’

  Despite the dark emotions swirling through him...the searing agony of knowing that ultimately this woman didn’t want him, the knife-edge of arousal lanced him at the fire in her eyes. ‘You swim back under your own steam or I drag you back. Those are the only two choices available to you.’

  ‘Romeo—’

  ‘Now,’ he interrupted her, unable to believe how like heaven and how very much like hell it felt to hear his name on her lips. ‘You may be in a hurry to end this marriage, but it won’t be through you carelessly drowning yourself.’

  Her mouth dropped open in stunned shock, and he wanted to believe tears filled her eyes, but she turned abruptly and struck out towards shore before he could be certain, her strokes surprisingly swift and strong considering what she wore. He waited until she was a few dozen feet away before he followed.

  She was wading waist deep by the time he passed her a few metres from shore. Heading for the cabana where fresh supplies of towels were stocked, he grabbed two and stalked back.

  ‘You had no right to say that to me!’

  Romeo looked up and stopped dead. ‘What the hell are you wearing? Where’s the rest of your dress? And I had no right to say what?’ he tagged on abstractedly,
unable to tear his eyes away from her body.

  ‘To say that I’d deliberately drown myself.’

  ‘I didn’t say you’d do it deliberately, but I didn’t think you’d be that careless, either. Although from the look of you, I was wrong in my assumption.’

  The bottom part of her dress was missing, leaving her clad in a scrap of wet white lace that brought a growl straining from his chest. And with the top part wet and plastered to her skin, Romeo wondered how long he would last on his own two feet before the strength of need pounding through him buckled his knees.

  Under the lights strung out between the palm trees, he watched heat crawl up her face. Although it was a fraction of the fire lighting through his veins. ‘Care to tell me what happened to the rest of your dress?’ he asked, his voice thick and alien to his own ears.

  She waved at the sand near the steps. ‘The skirt’s over there. The top and bottom are joined by a zip,’ she supplied. ‘See, I wasn’t as stupid as you imagined,’ she added bitterly. ‘Nor did I plan on risking drowning, either accidentally or deliberately. Amongst other things, I love my son too much to do that.’

  Romeo wanted to ask what those other things were, whether it could include him, but for the first time in his life he stepped back from the need to know, his mind clasping on the fact that she hadn’t corrected him on the need to end their marriage. Weariness moved through him, parts of him he didn’t want to acknowledge feeling brutalised, as if he’d gone ten rounds with an unseen opponent and emerged the loser.

  ‘Are you going to stand there all night or will you hand me one of those towels?’ she asked in a low, tense voice.

  He started to hand it to her, then stopped. Moving closer, he stared into her eyes, darker now with whatever emotions swirled through her. ‘You’re not a failure.’

  ‘What?’ she croaked, her face raised to his.

  ‘In the water, you said you’d failed at many things.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her eyes darkened further and tears brimmed her eyes. ‘I have. I failed to get my parents to love me, for instance.’

  Her naked pain slashed him hard, despite thinking he’d steeled himself adequately against further unsettling emotion. ‘That is their fault, not yours. I’ve learned the hard way that, with the best will in the world, you can’t get someone to love you if they’re incapable of it.’