The Sicilian's Secret Son

by Angela Bissell

  ‘Because she loved you.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said hoarsely.

  ‘Eva’s a strong woman.’

  ‘And I’m a fool for having ever thought her weak.’

  Annah put her hand to his cheek. ‘You’re not a fool, Luca.’

  He smiled ruefully. ‘Don’t let me off so easily, cara. I am a fool. I believed I could choose not to love—that doing so made me stronger. Less fallible.’ He brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. ‘But I was wrong. I don’t think we get to choose love. I think love chooses us whether we’re ready for it or not.’

  Tears clogged her throat. ‘It broke my heart to think you might never let yourself love our son.’

  ‘Trust me,’ he said, his eyes intent on hers, ‘Ethan will know every single day of his life how much his father loves him.’ He lifted her into his arms then and carried her to the sofa in the living room. The instant she was settled on his lap he kissed her again and she felt the familiar, delicious heat begin to build inside her.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she whispered against his mouth, ‘I love you, too.’

  He pulled back, just far enough to stare in her eyes. ‘I’d started to hope these past twenty-four hours,’ he said, his voice thick with emotion. ‘But I wasn’t certain. That last day...you didn’t say anything.’

  ‘I couldn’t. You were so adamant you would never love me back.’ She grimaced. ‘I grew up watching my mother throw herself at men, desperate to be loved. It made me angry at her for a long time—like you were angry at Eva, I suppose. I was determined to never be weak like that.’ Annah had thought a lot about her mother over the last few weeks. Little by little, her bitterness towards Rachel had ebbed. In its place had come sadness and even compassion for a woman who’d spent her life searching for love when what she probably needed most was to learn to love herself.

  Luca tucked his fingers beneath her chin. ‘You are not weak, cara. You are strong. You raised our son on your own for over four years and did an amazing job.’

  She tried to smile but her lips wobbled. ‘Doing it on my own hasn’t felt very good these last three weeks,’ she confessed. ‘I missed you.’

  He swept a strand of hair from her face, brushed his knuckles down her cheek. ‘You don’t have to do it alone any more.’ Shifting suddenly, he set her down on the sofa and got up. He went to his jacket, which hung on the back of a dining room chair, and returned with his hand closed around something.

  Annah’s heart quickened when he dropped to one knee in front of her and opened his fingers to reveal a black velvet box and, when he lifted the lid, a stunning platinum and diamond engagement ring nestled inside.

  ‘I love you, Annah,’ he said, his gaze fixed on hers. ‘I want to be your husband and I want to be a father to our son. I want to love and protect you both for the rest of my life.’ He paused. ‘Will you marry me?’

  Fresh tears filled her eyes, but this time she didn’t bother fighting them. Didn’t care when they slipped down her cheeks and dripped off her chin. ‘Yes,’ she said, and then watched him slide the gorgeous ring onto her finger. She leaned in to kiss him.

  The cat flap in the kitchen door rattled and a loud meow pierced the air.

  She pulled back, eyes widening. ‘Mister Pickles!’

  Leaving a trail of muddy paw prints in his wake, the cat trotted across the room and leapt onto her lap, nudging his furry body between her and Luca. Annah laughed at the less than impressed look on Luca’s face. She stroked the cat’s head, relieved to see him alive and well. ‘You have terrible timing, Mister Pickles. But a certain little boy is going to be very happy to see you in the morning.’

  With a gentle hand, Luca scooped the ginger tabby off her lap, shooed him away, and then tugged her back into his arms. ‘Where were we?’

  Annah took his face between her hands, her heart swelling with love and irrepressible happiness. They still had things to discuss, details to iron out, but right now all that mattered was they were together—Luca, her, and Ethan. A family.

  ‘I think we were about here,’ she said, and pressed her mouth against his.

  EPILOGUE

  Fourteen years later

  ETHAN CAVALLARI RAN a lazy hand over his dishevelled hair as he sauntered into the breakfast room to join the rest of his family.

  ‘Ethan!’ Letting out a high-pitched squeal, his youngest sister leapt off her chair, ran across the room and launched into his arms.

  He grinned, swung seven-year-old Aria onto his hip, and planted an affectionate kiss on her cheek. ‘Hey, squirt.’

  She grinned back. ‘Mamma said I could stay up till you got here last night, but I fell asleep.’

  ‘I know. I went up to see you and you were snoring.’

  She giggled and slapped her palm against his chest. ‘Was not!’

  Leo, three years Aria’s senior, joined in from the breakfast table. ‘You were. I heard it all the way from my room.’

  ‘It was so loud the windows rattled,’ said twelve-year-old Siena, not to be outdone by her brothers when it came to teasing their little sister.

  Aria poked her tongue out at Siena and Leo, but she was laughing and so were her siblings.

  From opposite ends of the table, Luca and Annah locked eyes with each other and smiled. On mornings like this, when Ethan was home from university and her family was gathered around the breakfast table, Annah felt as if her heart might burst it was so full of happiness.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ Ethan said in a loud stage whisper as he set Aria back on her chair and took the one next to her. ‘Don’t look now, but Mum and Papà are making eyes at each other again.’

  The children giggled and snickered, except for Siena, who slanted her older brother a sly smile. ‘I saw you and Lili making eyes at each other at the New Year’s picnic.’

  Annah watched, amused, as a bright flush crept over her son’s face. He and Liliana had been friends from the day they’d sat together in the courtyard of her grandparents’ restaurant with crayons and colouring books. Now they were older, it wouldn’t surprise Annah if their friendship deepened into something more. Mario and Mia’s daughter had blossomed into a beautiful young woman and, given his blushing reaction, Ethan wasn’t unaware of the fact.

  Reaching for a pitcher of orange juice, he changed the subject. ‘When are Nonna and Alberto arriving?’

  Luca glanced at his watch. ‘Couple of hours.’

  ‘I’ll collect them from the airport if you like,’ Ethan offered, always eager for an excuse to drive now that he was eighteen.

  ‘Thanks, sweetheart.’ Annah smiled. ‘That would be great.’

  Eva and her husband lived in Rome, but they often travelled to Sicily for holidays and special occasions. Today they were arriving to spend Easter at the Cavallari Estate.

  Eva had met Alberto through a mutual friend seven years ago, and the charming widower had courted her for eighteen months and then proposed.

  Annah was thrilled for her mother-in-law. Alberto was a warm, kind-hearted man who loved Eva deeply. Their wedding joined a long list of family highlights that included the births of Siena, Leo, and Aria, and of course Annah and Luca’s own wedding a few months after she and Ethan had moved to Sicily.

  Seeing Luca repair his relationship with Eva in those early years had inspired Annah to reconnect with her own mother. To her surprise, Rachel had tearfully embraced the opportunity to mend her relationship with her daughter. For Annah, moving forward had meant burying old hurts and finding forgiveness in her heart, but letting go of all that baggage had proven incredibly liberating.

  As the children bantered with one another, Annah’s gaze found Luca’s again. He, too, had mastered the art of forgiveness, letting go of the ill feeling he’d harboured towards his mother and, more importantly, himself. While he would always mourn the loss of Enzo, he no longer blamed himself for his broth
er’s death.

  He held her gaze, a slightly wicked smile curving one side of his mouth, and she knew he was thinking about their lovemaking in the shower that morning. Her pulse quickened. Fourteen years married and their chemistry was still electric.

  Twenty minutes later, after the children had finished their breakfast and disappeared to do their own things, Luca moved to a chair close to Annah’s, reached for her hand, and tugged her into his lap.

  Cupping his palm around the back of her head, he drew her lips down for a slow, lingering kiss. ‘I have an idea, dolcezza,’ he said against her mouth.

  Smiling, her arms looped around his neck, she pulled back to look at him. ‘What?’

  ‘Let’s leave the kids with Mamma and Alberto and disappear for the weekend.’

  She laughed and shook her head.

  A look of mock-affront crossed his handsome features. ‘Not even tempted?’

  She arched an eyebrow. ‘By a dirty weekend away with my husband? I’m tempted,’ she assured him. ‘But it’s Easter and everyone’s here. You know how much I love it when the family’s all together.’ She poked a fingertip against his chest. ‘And so do you.’

  His lips quirked up. ‘Have I told you recently how much I love you?’

  ‘Mmm-hmm. Just this morning, in fact.’

  He splayed his hand over her stomach, a teasing light entering his eyes. ‘Perhaps we made a bambino this morning?’

  Annah pretended to scowl. ‘No more babies,’ she declared. ‘I’m too old—and we already have four beautiful children. Besides, I’m enjoying working again.’

  Fourteen years ago Luca had placed the development of the winery restaurant and function venue in Annah’s hands. He’d given support and advice when she’d sought it, but otherwise trusted her and the winery manager to run with the venture and make it a resounding success—which they had. Annah had loved every minute of it and kept her hand in right up until Aria was born, at which point, with four children to keep her on her toes, she’d decided to devote herself to full-time motherhood for a while.

  Now she was enjoying turning her hand to business again. In particular, working more closely with the foundation she and Mia had established. In conjunction with local businesses, they ran programmes to get vulnerable teens off the streets and into legitimate work or vocational training before they were lured into a life of crime they couldn’t escape. Motivated by the tragic story of Luca’s brother and also by the troubled teen who’d held Luca at gunpoint all those years ago, Annah and Mia had wanted to prevent other youths from stumbling down that same dark road.

  Annah leaned in and pressed her mouth against Luca’s, her chest swelling with the force of her emotions. Her feelings for her husband ran so deep they frightened her sometimes. But in those occasional moments when she felt overwhelmed by how much she adored and needed this man, she reminded herself she was stronger with Luca than without him.

  And that wasn’t weakness.

  That was love.

  * * *

  If you enjoyed The Sicilian’s Secret Son by Angela Bissell, you’re sure to enjoy these other Secret Heirs of Billionaires stories!

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  Innocent’s Nine-Month Scandal

  by Dani Collins

  CHAPTER ONE

  “NO ENTRY, MISS.”

  The middle-aged man in a uniform spoke in heavily accented English. He wore an air of boredom, not even looking at Rozalia Toth as he turned her away from the gate of Kastély Karolyi.

  “The best photos are from up the hill.” He pointed.

  She couldn’t blame him for thinking she was one more tourist milling on the sidewalk, eager for shots of the gorgeous architecture here in Budapest. On her way to the gate, she had snapped the front of the Rohan family home, thinking to show it to her family when she got back to New York.

  It was so beautiful, who could resist? Intricate gray brickwork was covered in centuries of vines and framed by lush old maples and oaks. The scrupulously manicured flower beds splashed color around the wide staircase that formed the covered entryway. Tall windows were spaced evenly across both floors with wrought iron balconies jutting out from a few at the top. Adorable round gables and a chimney on top made it storybook perfect.

  She would have been charmed even without the familial connection—of which hers was virtually nonexistent. Even so, she intended to exploit it.

  “I have an appointment with Mara Rohan,” she said in Hungarian.

  “Name?”

  “Rozalia Toth. She’s expecting my cousin, Gisella Drummond. I’ve come in her place.” She had thought about emailing ahead to warn about the change of plan, but had gambled they would be less likely to turn her away if she was here in person.

  She gazed on the house again, listening to the guard radio her name, sorry that Gisella couldn’t be here with her. Through childhood and years of schooling, as they both gained their degrees and apprenticed as goldsmiths, they had longed to see their family’s “old country.”

  Rozalia, in particular, had always been curious about the family history. But rather than walk the narrowest alleys of Budapest to find the walk-up where their grandmother had been born, or drive into the countryside to locate her own grandfather’s birthplace, she had been drawn here to Kastély Karolyi.

  Istvan Karolyi would have been her grandfather if he hadn’t died in the revolution. Instead, he was only Gisella’s grandfather. Their grandmother, Eszti, had met him while they were attending university. When she became pregnant, Istvan asked her to marry him, offering a pair of family earrings in lieu of an engagement ring. He then sent her to America ahead of him, to escape the unrest. He died before he could join her and Eszti later married Rozalia’s grandfather, but still held a small torch for her first love.

  That sort of titanic romance went straight to Rozalia’s soft heart. She needed to know everything about it.

  And, like Gisella, she yearned to get her hands on those earrings, separated just as Eszti and Istvan had been. Rozalia and her cousin had
searched for years for them, wanting to give them back to their grandmother so she could hold again that token from her first love.

  A message came back to the guard that Mara Rohan had left town. The guard asked if someone else would take the meeting.

  Rozalia perked up in anticipation that Mara’s son, Viktor, would admit her. He was gorgeous. And a count, not that Hungary allowed their nobility to use their titles, but it was one more thing that made him ultraintriguing.

  From the moment Rozalia had searched his name, she’d been enthralled with the look of him—all dark and brooding with short black hair, a strong brow line and a squared-off, clean-shaven jaw. His mouth was the most intriguing. His upper lip was narrow, but formed with two well-defined peaks. The bottom was full and bitable—not that she had ever let herself go enough to nibble on a man’s bottom lip, but he certainly put the idea into her head.

  One near-naked shot of him on the beach had jump-started a million fantasies. She was only human, for heaven’s sake. He’d been caught as he emerged with snorkel and fins in his hands, the most impossibly small bathing suit straining to cover his naughty bits. The rest of him was pure muscle, abs flat, dark nipples sharpened by the chill against the swarthy plane of his chest. His expression as he realized he was being photographed was positively filthy, he was so disgusted at whoever had taken the shot.

  Why that made her laugh, she didn’t know, but she had been drawn here as much by the opportunity to meet that man as she was by the chance to acquire her grandmother’s earring.

  The security guard received a response and shook his head, repeating in English the message she had understood in Hungarian as clearly as he had.

  “Your appointment is canceled.”

  So much for showing up in person making it harder to turn her away. Rozalia set her back teeth and found a pleasant smile. “May I reschedule?”

  “No.” He didn’t bother checking with the voice on the radio for that one.

  “May I leave a note?”