Page 105 of Dominance

Chills run down my arms at the words, the meaning. Daughter of the viper.

But Natalia isn’t angry, or dismissive, looking right at me over the white china of her cup. Waiting.

“He fathered me, yes.”

At this her eyes narrow, almost imperceptibly, and I wonder what it means. If I offended her or betrayed something in the statement. After another moment’s pause, she nods and continues.

“He was like brother to myorso, Alessandro. A leader. Meant to be a king.”

“He is a king, now,” I say more to myself than to her.

She ignores the response completely. “Domenico was a clever boy. Bright. They visit me, when they are young many times. After my Valentina pass away, only one time. Again, many years later.”

“What was he like, back then?”

“He always show respect. Cheerful as boy. Happy. But he change.”

“Change? What do you mean?”

“Like Alessandro. When he lose Catalina, and my daughter, his mother. His father. Pain, he wears like coat. Same with Domenico. Never the same after.”

“After Alessandro’s parents died?”

“No. Before. After he lose child,” Natalia says quietly, her voice mournful.

The morning birds seem to quiet, the whole scene stilling to the words.

His child.

Me?

Gathering my thoughts, trying to decide what to ask first, I take a breath. “My mother, she took me away from him. When I was very young, two or three, maybe. This would have been twenty years ago or so. Was that what you meant?”

Natalia looks up at me, a little surprised, like she’s just noticing me. “Took you from who?”

“Domenico. My father.”

Her eyes flick back and forth for a moment, her stare a little glassy.

“No, no. Domenico, he have a baby boy.Il bambino, he die.Dio riposi nella sua piccolo anima.” She signs the cross over her chest.

Swallowing hard, my mouth dry, I slump back, trying to process.

My father had a son?

I had a brother?

“Natalia, do you remember how old Dom was when he had the baby boy?”

“Si, si.Alessandro was jealous, because he is captain first, Domenico. Young for a captain. Only sixteen.”

Sixteen.

Which means he had a lover before my mother, and a child with her.

And he lost both of us, in a way. It almost explains some of his behavior, but my head is spinning, racing through what I’ve learned.

No wonder he wants a child of his own to raise, to make up for his grief, his trauma. It still doesn’t excuse his wild demands, his wicked games.

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