Page 13 of A Son Hidden from the Sicilian

“Lorenzo, what’s going on?”

He didn’t so much as look at her. Simply opened the car door and gestured her inside. When she did not get in, he turned that ferocious scowl on her and leaned close.

“We must retrieve Gio at once.”

Terror pierced her soul. “What’s happened?”

He nudged her into the car and in her shocked state she had no fight in her. Gio. She had to get to Gio. That was all that mattered.

“The press knows,” Lorenzo said quickly as he pulled the door closed behind him. The driver immediately pulled away from the curb.

“Knows what?”

He spared her a look, again like she was dim. “That I have a son. In New Jersey.”

Brianna blinked, trying to find the terrible threat in those words. But they were only the truth. She frowned as she tried to calm her racing heart.

“We will collect him,” Lorenzo was staying. “We will take him to my estate.”

“Yourestate? Here?”

“Outside Palermo, but yes, in Sicily. It is protected. No one will have access to him. I assume the same cannot be said of your home in America.”

Brianna shook her head as if this would make the jumble of thoughts going on inside her coalesce into something rational. Something that made sense.

But the only thing that made sense was getting out of Sicily and far away from Lorenzo. She sucked in a breath and turned to face Lorenzo. When she spoke, she did so calmly and carefully. Much like she spoke to Gio when he was in the midst of a tantrum.

“Here’s what we’ll do, Lorenzo. I’ll go home. You’ll stay here. We’ll make arrangements for you to meet Gio, of course. I’m not suggesting otherwise. But not when everything is so...up in the air.” She didn’t know why he was rattled by the press’s knowledge, but shedidwant to keep whatever interest there was in Lorenzo away from her child. So it made no sense to bring Giohere. “I can’t imagine why anyone would care all that much about a toddler, so we’ll stay in New—”

“Dante will have planted a story tomakepeople care.” His gaze turned to hers, and she could not read it. It wasn’t anger or even solely frustration. Something deeper and more complex sat there, making her ache for him when she should be angry with him. “I am afraid this changes things, Brianna. I cannot cave to your time line.”

“Cave? My time line? Everything since you broke into my hotel room has beenyouridea,yourtime line.”

He waved this away as if it was inconsequential, and she supposed it was. The currentconsequenceswere a business rival making an international story out of her son. Which didn’t seem quite so serious as Lorenzo was making it out to be, not that she loved the idea. But Lorenzo was the expert on press and threats. Not her.

“Is he in danger?” Brianna forced herself to ask, even though she didn’t know what recourse she had if he were. Just get home as fast as possible. “Are my parents?”

“I have dispatched every resource at my disposal to ensure everyone remains well protected. These reporters pose no direct threat to Gio or your parents, no. But I will be in charge of the public’s access to my son so no threats can manifest.”

Manifest. The idea of threats justpoppingup out of nowhere made her throat tight with fear. As if sensing this, something in his expression softened. In a move that shocked her, he took her hand in his.

“I will need you to trust me on this,” he said earnestly. “But I will make you this vow—no harm will come to our son on my watch. He is my top priority. Always.”

She had known a different man two years ago. A charming, passionate man with a certain amount of intensity forcertaintasks. But not this. Not this sharp-edged, severe, heavy-handed pushing forward like an invading army.

And it was for her son. Her son’ssafetyandprivacy. So two years ago hardly mattered. The man she’d known, the woman she’d been. Her clattering nerves and old feelings that should be long gone didn’t matter. Only getting to Gio and keeping him safe did.

So, when the car pulled to a stop and Lorenzo got out, Brianna followed. All the way back home to New Jersey.

Lorenzo spent much of the flight across the Atlantic on his phone. He had men on the ground in America, so he knew that no one had descended on Brianna’s family just yet, and that he had people in place to stop them if they tried.

Perhaps Dante had been bluffing. Lorenzo mulled this over between phone calls, not allowing himself to look over at Brianna.

Last time he had, she’d been watching the dark night outside the plane’s window. Her expression had been soft and sad and had made something turn and twist inside of him. The kind of twist that had caused him to break things off with her all that time ago.

A twinge that reminded him of a childhood torn by too many terrible things, all cemented by love and duty.

So he didn’t look at Brianna. And when the plane landed and they were ushered off the plane, he kept his gaze forward, though he had to offer an arm. It seemed the right thing to do.

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