Page 16 of A Son Hidden from the Sicilian

She was too tired for her temper to flare. Mostly. “It’s exhaustion, Lorenzo. Would I like my art supplies? Of course. Will my life look like something I can use art supplies in? How should I know? How could I possibly know what I need when I don’t know what my life will look like in five minutes, let alone five days?”

She shifted Gio’s weight, smoothed her hand over his flyaway dark hair. “But we’ll have fun, baby,” she said, forcing herself to sound cheerful. “An adventure!”

Gio didn’t get excited about this, but he didn’t voice his displeasure—which was a positive. He often voiced it and loudly.

But now there was only silence. The bustle of people going back and forth with bags. They were just waiting on her parents now, standing awkwardly in the entryway. Lorenzo never took his eyes off Gio, and Gio watched the man with careful wariness, never letting his grip on Brianna loosen.

“Would you like to hold him?” Brianna asked after a while. Because her back hurt, a migraine threatened, and if her parents didn’t hurry up, she might actually go insane.

Lorenzo’s smile was stiff and tight. Gio was practically strangling her—a clear sign he did not want to be held by a stranger. Brianna didn’twantto hand him over to Lorenzo, but their first meeting should be more than this...surely.

“It is all right,” Lorenzo said after a long while. “We will wait until he is ready. We have time.”

We have time. It felt like a threat, even though it was only the truth. Who knew how long this would last? Who knew what lay ahead? All Brianna knew was she was doing this for Gio.

Everything was for Gio.

Safely on the plane, Lorenzo read the report from his head of security. They’d managed to waylay the small unit of journalists who’d been offered a tidy sum to get a picture of Brianna or her son, and they’d managed to make it back to the airport without detection.

A good start as they headedbackacross the ocean, this time with a toddler in tow. Lorenzo could not claim the flight was goingwell. Despite the attention of four adults determined to put every ounce of focus on Gio himself rather than dealing with each other, Gio didnotenjoy the flight.

He screamed. He kicked. He ran about the cabin like some kind of wild, deranged beast. He hurled the remainder of his snack he didn’t want and fought sleep like it was the very devil.

Lorenzo did not know why it filled him with a strange kind of pride.

Yes, be wild and untamable, son. Scream your displeasure. Get what you want. Always.

Brianna and her parents were clearly exhausted—both by the events of the day and Gio himself. The boy was tired and fighting it at every turn. The staff, used to children of all ages, were doing a pretty good job of keeping their feelings on the matter hidden behind stoic faces, but there were looks exchanged when the fever pitch of screams got especially high.

Like right now. Lorenzo got out of his seat and crossed to where Gio was huddled, ignoring his grandparents’ attempts to calm him. Brianna sat in a seat like she’d given up. It was hard to blame her.

Lorenzo crouched in front of the boy, who immediately stopped screaming. His wide eyes studied Lorenzo in a mix of fear and uncertainty.

“Perhaps you’d like come with me to meet the pilot,” Lorenzo offered pleasantly, holding out his hand though he didn’t expect Gio to take it. It would take time for the child to trust him. “See how the plane is flown?”

On a whimper Gio scampered past him and to where Brianna sat, which was about what Lorenzo had expected. He didn’twanthis son to be afraid of him, but if he used that uneasiness to get Gio to sit still, the boy would no doubt drop.

Gio crawled up into the safety of Brianna’s lap, shooting daggers out of his eyes at Lorenzo. But those eyes quickly began to droop now that he was forced to sit still. Just as Lorenzo had hoped.

Lorenzo crossed to the seat next to Brianna. Gio’s eyes tracked him, blinking closed once, twice, and then finally staying there. His breathing evening out. His body relaxing in Brianna’s arms.

Brianna relaxed, too, relief clear in her features. She even turned her head and smiled at him. “Good job,” she whispered.

It should not fill him with warmth. That he’d succeeded. That Brianna had complimented him. Children at this age were easy enough to maneuver if you knew the tricks, and he’d had to learn them long ago.

It was a strange feeling, and one that made it easy not to be hurt by Gio’s reticence, to be reminded of old responsibilities that had been thrust upon him too young. Responsibilities that had ripped his family into too many pieces. But he wasn’t that powerless boy anymore.

He hadallthe power.

Which he was reminded of once again when they moved from plane to car, and then pulled up to his estate outside of Palermo. Saverina, his youngest sister, called it pretentiousand over-the-top, while enjoying all its many amenities.

Lorenzo had been happy with both descriptors. The car pulled up the grand drive, around trees and fountains and marble fixtures that glittered in the sunlight. Brianna’s parents practically had their noses pressed to the glass.

Lorenzo’s staff stood waiting at the door. Everyone in the car filed outside and then the Andersen family simply stared, eyes wide and awed. No one seemed to know what to say. Even little Gio, who couldn’t fully understand why this was impressive.

Lorenzo felt pride at this as well. Becausethiswas the representation of his life’s work. From hovel toestate. From hunger toexcess. Luck might have played a role in just how far he’d climbed, but luck could only take a person so far.

“Come,” he said. “We’ll get you settled in.”

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