Page 17 of A Son Hidden from the Sicilian

No one spoke, but they followed him up the stairs and into the grand entryway. Staff bustled by with bags and Lorenzo himself showed them to their quarters. An entire wing to themselves.

“I will leave you to rest. We will endeavor to begin a routine and stave off jet lag and serve dinner at seven. Should you need anything, there are phones in every room to contact staff. Feel free to explore in any ways you wish.”

With that, he gave one last look at Gio...who was studying him intently. Lorenzo liked to believe there was less and less suspicion in the toddler’s gaze, but it was hard to tell. Better he had some time with the family he knew in this unfamiliar place.

Lorenzo would be patient. Because they would never be separated again. He simply wouldn’t allow it.

So he left Brianna and her family to settle in while he strode through the estate to the other wing. It would be in his best interest to rest, but he had to make certain there were no fires burning at Parisi Enterprises first. So he went to his office.

He lost track of time as he responded to emails and cleared his schedule for the next few days. There would be no leaving the estate until Gio began to look at him without fear, until he could figure out just what Dante was up to. So Lorenzo had to ensure all his seconds-in-command were ready to fill in for him.

He thought he heard something after getting off the phone, and when he looked up, Brianna stood in the doorway. Still in her casual travel wear, looking exhausted.

“Is there something you needed?”

She stepped into the room, studying the walls of bookshelves, the crystal chandeliers, the big windows that overlooked the beautiful grounds. She shook her head faintly, like she couldn’t quite believe what was right in front of her.

“My mother informed me that I needed to thank you. She wouldn’t stop harping on it, so I came to do that.”

“Well, please, go on then.”

She rolled her eyes. “I feel like Ishouldthank you. The flights. Plural. This place. It’s a lot, though clearly nothing you can’t afford. Still...this whole thing is all your fault to begin with, so why should I thank you for it?”

Lorenzo’s mouth firmed at that—though he wanted to scowl. “Allmy fault?”

“Yes.” She moved through the room, looking at the spines of books, dragging her fingers across the back of a leather armchair in front of the broad fireplace that dominated one wall.

He should not find the casual ensemble or messy hair or tired eyes alluring, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from taking a tour of her form. He had once known her body as well as his own. Perhaps they had only been together two months, but she had become something like a part of him.

That was the problem with Brianna. Among so many other things.

“So there’s absolutely no blame on your own shoulders? For not telling me my son existed, that is.”

She let out a long sigh. “Do you remember what you said to me when I said I wasn’t going to beg for an apology for the way you broke things off with me?”

I’m not sorry.

But he didn’tanswer, because unfortunately he understood her point.

“I’m not sorry either, Lorenzo. I can’t be. We’ve both done...what we felt needed to be done at the time. Now we’ve come together once again and our sole purpose is to protect Gio, correct?”

“Correct,” he returned stiffly, because if they could remain on that same page, nothing bad needed to happen. No angry fights. No painful betrayals. Just a business partnership.

“Then, that’s what we’ll do. As...partners of sorts,” she said, as if reading his mind. Then she turned to face him with those heartbreaking blue eyes. The color of the seascape above his mantel.

The one he’d boughtafterhe’d broken things off with her, convincing himself it wasn’t because of that shade of blue and her eyes.

“I hope very much you and Gio can have a real relationship,” she continued, with that natural warmth that was simply a part of her. “One that keeps him safe and allows him a father. I don’t want him to grow up without one.”

She said nothing about what that meant for them. Which was good because there was nothem. Or shouldn’t be.

But he was having a hard time thinking beyond the last time he’d seen her before these life-altering few days. Two years ago. Wrapped up in each other, pleasure and joy. A feeling so big, so dangerous, he’d slid out of bed the moment she’d fallen asleep. Packed his bags and left.

Because he would not love. He would not let such feelings tear him apart ever again. Not when he could help it.

And he could help it with her. Even if his body still ached for all they could bring out in each other. Lust and love got confused all the time. How well he knew this.

How well he kept them separate. And could. Always. Lust, he knew, gave him the upper hand, and didn’t he need that now more than ever?

---