Page 22 of A Son Hidden from the Sicilian

This gave Lorenzo a deep satisfaction. As did slowly winning over Brianna’s parents until they relaxed rather than looking around the opulent room suspiciously. Even Brianna looked somewhat relaxed.

“Brianna was telling us that one of the art shows she was meant to attend originally is tomorrow night. She’s saying she’s going to skip it, and we both think she should go,” Brianna’s father said, watching Lorenzo speculatively. “What do you think?”

“Of course she should go.” He turned his attention from Scott to Brianna. “You will all have a car at your disposal. If you need anything, you need only ask Maria. She will be your personal assistant while you’re here. I’m afraid I must insist on a bit of a security detail to make certain the press won’t become a problem, but there’s no reason for you to miss it.”

“I think we’d feel better if you went with her,” Helene said earnestly.

Lorenzo hadn’t expectedthat. He’d expected their continued distrust, figured this was some kind of a test. He cleared his throat. Going with Brianna would pose a problem with his current plans.

“I am right here,” Brianna said, wiping Gio’s messy mouth with a napkin. “And can make all these arrangements and decisions on my own.”

“But you won’t,” her father grumbled, lifting his glass to take a sip.

“Lorenzo does not need to play chaperone. I’ve handled this before and can handle it again.”

“But that was before...” Helene trailed off and glanced at Lorenzo. A clear look that said,This is all your fault, so you should clean up the mess. “Before the tabloids took an interest.”

Lorenzo didn’t say anything at first, and Brianna didn’t look at him. She very carefully and purposefully kept all her attention focused on Gio.

“Done. Done!” The boy started shouting when Brianna tried to urge him to take another bite. He flung out his arms, and would have toppled his cup if Scott hadn’t been quick to pluck it out of the way. As Lorenzo watched the three of them working as a team with such ease, something sharp and painful lodged in his chest.

“He’s tired,” Brianna said. “He needs a bath and a good night’s sleep. You all stay and finish your dinners. Say good night, Gio.”

Before the boy could say anything, Lorenzo stood. “I will come with you.”

“You don’t—”

“I would like to be a part of as many routines as possible. Both so he gets used to having me around, and so I understand what needs should be met.”

Brianna opened her mouth, like she was going to argue, but in the end she only shut it and nodded. She lifted Gio onto her hip, encouraged him to give his grandparents a good-night hug, then they exited the dining room together.

“Roar bath?” the boy said, holding up the toy Lorenzo had given him before dinner.

“Yes, the tiger can come in the bath with you,” Brianna said, following Lorenzo up the stairs to the wing he’d put her family in.

Lorenzo unlocked the built-in baby gate and opened it to let Brianna through.

“Was this left over from a previous owner? It’s very helpful.”

“No, I had it installed a few years ago for my niece.”

“I guess that’s a billionaire’s prerogative, isn’t it?” She moved down to their rooms and flipped on the light in the room he’d assigned her. It connected to the nursery, so she could either close the door and have privacy and use the monitors or leave the door open and feel as though they were in the same room together.

She moved for a suitcase, then turned to Lorenzo, who stood in the doorway. “What should he call you?”

“Call me?”

“Dad? Daddy? Father? A Sicilian word you’d prefer?”

Lorenzo blinked. In all of this, learning and accepting he had a son, meeting him, working to win him over, this was a strange thing not to have thought of. But it had not occurred to him that this little boy would have a wordforhim. His niece and nephew called him Zu. His brothers and sisters called him by name.

And it had been so many years since his father’s death that he hadn’t thought of how to address a father in so very long.

Pá.

No, he did not want to think of his father. Did not want that association. That bitterness when he heard his own son call out to him. He would never betray his son the way his own father had.

“Why don’t we keep it simple?” Brianna said gently, as if she sensed that he was lost. At sea. “He calls me Mama, so we’ll go with Dada. Gio, can you go to Dada for a second?”

---