Brunetti's Secret Son. Майя Блейк
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deep in her bones, that Romeo’s presence wasn’t just about wanting to get to know his son. There was a quiet hint of danger about him that set her fear radar alight. And he hadn’t yet shown her that the prospect of a son filled him with joy. All he’d done so far was put an alpha claim on a child he didn’t know.
A child she would lay her life down to protect.
‘Why are you really here?’
His brows clamped together. ‘I believe we’ve tackled that particular question.’
She shook her head. Something was seriously, desperately wrong. Something to do with her precious son.
‘No, we haven’t. And I absolutely refuse to tell you anything about him until you tell me what’s going on.’
ROMEO STARED DOWN at the picture one more time, his heart turning over as eyes the exact shade as his own stared back at him. The child...his son...was laughing, pure joy radiating from his face as he posed, chubby arms outstretched, for the camera. A deep shudder rattled up from his toes, engulfing him in a sense of peculiar bewilderment. And fear. Bone-deep fear.
He couldn’t be a father. Not him, with the upbringing he’d had, the twisted, harrowing paths his life had taken before he’d wrestled control of it. He wasn’t equipped to care for a dog, never mind a child. And with the blood flowing through his veins...the blood of a thug and a vicious criminal...
Dio mio.
Lorenzo hadn’t been lying after all. A single wave of impotent rage blanketed him to know that the two men he despised most had known of the existence of the boy before he did. And while a part of him knew levelling accusations of subterfuge on the woman standing before him was unfair, Romeo couldn’t help but feel bitter resentment for being kept in the dark, even while he continued to flounder at the reality stabbing him in the chest.
He pushed the emotion aside and concentrated on the reality he could deal with—her continued denial of access. Because whether he was equipped to handle the prospect of fatherhood or not, she was at this moment behaving like an irrational person...a mother bear—a concept acutely alien to him.
Inhaling deep to keep his emotions under control, he rubbed his thumb over the face of his son. ‘I have only just discovered I have a child.’ He stopped when she raised her eyebrow again to remind him of her unanswered question. ‘Through...business associates who wished to get my attention—’
She shook her head, her long ponytail swinging. ‘What on earth does that mean? Why would business associates want to use your child to get your attention?’ High colour had flown into her cheeks, reminding him of another time, another place when her emotions had run equally passionate. ‘What type of business are you involved in?’ she voiced suspiciously.
So she didn’t know who he was. Something vaguely resembling relief speared through him. When his business partnership with Zaccheo Giordano had become public knowledge five years ago, his world had exploded with fawning acolytes and women falling over themselves to get his attention. That attention had increased a hundredfold when he’d opened his first super-luxury resort off the coast of Tahiti, a feat he’d repeated soon after with five more, seeing him skyrocket onto the World’s Richest list.
It was curiously refreshing not to have to deal with the instant personality change that accompanied recognition of his name. But not refreshing enough to know his response had triggered suspicion that could keep him from his reason for being here. Even though her instinct might yet prove correct.
He needed to frame his words carefully.
‘You have nothing to fear from me.’ He’d managed to lock down his control after that gut punch he’d received on seeing her again. From here on in, he would be operating from a place of cold, hard intelligence.
She shook her head again. ‘Sorry, that’s not good enough. You’ll have to do better than that.’ Her gaze went to the picture frame he held on to, a fierce light of protection and possession burning in her striking blue eyes. ‘Tell me the exact nature of your business or this conversation ends now.’
Romeo almost laughed. She was seriously deluded if she thought her heated threats would in any way dissuade him from seeing his son, from verifying for himself that the child truly belonged to him.
‘I’m the CEO and owner of Brunetti International,’ he replied.
She frowned for a moment, then her features morphed into astonishment. ‘Brunetti...those resorts you need to sell an organ or a limb before you can afford a night there?’
He made a dismissive gesture. ‘We cater to people from all walks of life.’
She snorted. ‘As long as they’ve sold their grandmothers to be able to afford your billionaire rates.’
Romeo pursed his lips. His wealth wasn’t the subject under discussion here.
The fact that she seemed to be a rare species, a mother who stood like a lioness in protection of her child, a child whom he’d yet to be certain without a shadow of a doubt shared his DNA, should take precedence.
‘You know who I am now. You’ll also know from your previous career that information can be discovered if one digs deep enough. My business associates dug deep enough and they found you and my son.’
‘My son.’
The sudden urge to snarl our child took him by surprise. He stared down at the picture, clutching at the fraying edges of his control when he began to feel off balance again. ‘Per favore. Please. Tell me his name.’
Her gaze went to the picture and her features softened immediately.
The look was one he’d witnessed before, in that hotel room five years ago. It was a look that had set so many alarm bells ringing inside his head that he’d withdrawn swiftly and decisively from it. He looked away because just as he’d had no room to accommodate feelings then, he had no room for them now.
‘His name is Gianlucca. Gianlucca O’Connell.’
An irrational surge of displeasure threatened to floor him. ‘O’Connell?’
Again that challenging arch of her eyebrow. Back in Palermo he’d seen her passion, her fire, but that had been directed to the bedroom, and what they’d done to each other in bed. Seeing it in a different light didn’t make it any less sexy. Yet the punch of heat to his libido took him by surprise. He’d grown so jaded by the overabundance of willing women that lately he’d lost interest in the chase. For the past three months, work had become his mistress, the only thing that fired his blood in any meaningful way.
‘That is my name. Or did you expect me to call him Gianlucca Romeo?’
He gritted his teeth. ‘Did you even make an effort to find me when you knew you carried my child?’
A look crossed her face, a mixture of pride and anger, and she raised her chin. ‘Did you want to be found?’ she fired back.
Knowing how well he’d covered his tracks, a wave of heat crawled up his neck. He’d succeeded more than in his wildest dreams. He’d walked away, having effectively smashed down any residual feelings of rejection, or the idea that he could be worthy of something more than the brain and brawn that had seen him through his harrowing childhood into the man he was today.
The hours of imagined softness, of imagined affection, had been an illusion brought on by his mother’s passing. An illusion he’d almost given in to. An emotion he’d vowed then never to entertain even the merest hint of again.
‘We’ll address the subject of his surname at another time. But now we’ve established who I am, I’d like to know more about him. Please,’ he added when her stance remained intransigent.
‘All I know is your surname. I don’t even know how old