I shook my head, keeping my voice level and low. I didn’t want him to know how deep my fear ran.
And I didn’t want Marco to hear me either.
“I need you to go downstairs and make him leave,” I whispered. “When he’s gone, I’ll explain everything. I swear. Just please—make him leave.”
Stefano shoved me into a bathroom and closed us in.
“Give me a name, Val. What the hell did you bring into my house?”
I jabbed him in the chest.
So very stupidly, I poked the bear.
“I didn’t bring anything. I didn’t come here willingly. You forced me, and without doing your homework. God, Stefano, I hid your son from you. Did you ever stop to ask what else I might be hiding? How could you be so careless? Your carelessness brought this down on us.”
He slammed me against the wall. My back hit the plaster, and I lost my breath. He held me there with his hands on my throat. No blue irises—just darkness. He clenched and relaxed his jaw. Clenched. Relaxed. Clenched.
“I know why you hid my son from me,” he snarled.
He did, but he was only partially right.
He had no idea about the horrors I’d lived through. Even at his worst, a monster in his own right, Stefano didn’t scare me like the one haunting my nightmares. Even the psycho teacher who shot and tortured me didn’t top the list of my worst miseries.
I didn’t have time to explain any of it.
I had to get away from him. I clung to one of my nonna’s old pieces of advice, leaning into it so hard I almost fell over.
Men need to be heroes. It’s our job to make them believe it.
The idea struck me as wrong or maybe just outdated. But I had to do something. What else could I do? I pressed my palmsto his chest and dipped my chin as much as I could with his hands still around my throat.
Gazing up at him from beneath my lashes, I waited just a second, hoping his eyes might soften, hoping he might listen. Maybe even hear me out.
“If you love me, Ace,” I rasped, “you’ll make him leave.”
He shook his head, eyes narrowing, the crease between his brows deepening until it nearly folded inward. Then he dropped his hands from my throat. Still pinning me to the wall with his body, he let out a dark chuckle.
It vibrated in his throat.
“You really think you can manipulate me that easily, Valerie? I thought you were smarter than that. Now, who the fuck is at my door, and why do you think he’s here for you?”
Well, damn. I should have known better.
I nodded. “His name doesn’t matter. He’s my past. You’re my future.”
Not technically a lie, but not an accurate picture either.
I hated implying there’d been something romantic between Marco and me. But if a little misunderstanding made Stefano jealous enough to get rid of him, I could fix it later. If it kept our son safe, I wouldn’t correct Stefano’s assumptions.
In any case, Marco wouldn’t leave empty handed. So if he and Stefano fought over it before the truth came out, maybe I could grab my son and get him out the back door.
Enzo and I would have to run for our lives, this time finding underground help. Still, it beat dying.
Guilt knifed through my stomach, stealing the breath from my lungs. I didn’t want to take Enzo from Stefano.
More importantly, I didn’t want Enzo to lose Stefano.
My child had his father now. He had his father’s strength. And Stefano was the one who had to teach him how to wield it—like a man, not a child.