Italian Bachelors: Unforgotten Lovers. Lynn Raye Harris
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He shrugged, and she wondered what he did not say. “They were together for a couple of years, at least. I was a baby when he left her. He died in a car accident not too long after that. And that’s when my mother started trying to use me to get things from his family. She spent years trotting me out in front of my uncle, demanding money and then spending it all foolishly.”
“Babies need a lot of things,” she said. “Maybe she didn’t have enough, and...”
The fire in his eyes made her words die. She swallowed, her soul hurting so much for him. And for the woman who’d tried to raise him alone.
“She had enough, Holly. But not enough for her to get what she wanted.”
“What did she want?”
His throat worked. “I wish to hell I knew.” He threaded a hand through his hair, dropped it to his side again. “My uncle offered to take me in, but she refused to give me up.”
Holly’s stomach tightened. “I understand that. I wouldn’t give Nicky up, either.”
Drago leaned toward her. His expression was filled with pain and confusion. “She refused because she knew what she had. I was the golden goose, and periodically I brought her a golden egg. Eventually, my uncle offered her enough to let me go.”
Holly’s heart thudded painfully for him. But she understood why a mother wouldn’t give up her child. Why she tried and tried to make it work before she finally gave in. What must Drago’s mother have felt when she’d realized she couldn’t keep him? That he would be better off with the Di Navarras than with her?
And why wouldn’t Drago’s uncle take them both? Why didn’t he provide them with a home instead of an unthinkable option for a mother?
“I’m so sorry, Drago.” What else could she say?
His features were bleak, ravaged. She wanted to put her arms around him and hold him tight. But she didn’t. She didn’t know if he would welcome it. If she could be strong enough to do it without confessing her own sins.
Oh, God, how could she ever tell him about Nicky now? He would never comprehend why she’d kept it a secret.
“I don’t like to be used, Holly. I don’t like the way it makes me feel.”
“I understand,” she said, her throat aching, her eyes stinging with tears. “And I’m sorry.”
For so many things.
He sighed again. And then he shook his head as if realizing how much he’d said. “You should finish your dinner.”
She looked at the food congealing on the plate. There was no way she could eat another bite. “I’m finished.”
He stood again, shoved his hands into his pockets. He looked more lost than she would have ever thought possible.
“Do you see your mother much now?” she asked tentatively, imagining him as a little boy who must have felt so alone and confused when his mother had finally given in to his uncle’s demands.
His eyes glittered as he turned to look at her. “I have not seen her since I was eleven and my uncle finally convinced her to sign over custody. And I never will again. She committed suicide six years ago.”
Holly’s heart hurt. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged with a lightness he could not possibly feel. “This is life.”
“But...your mother,” she said, her throat aching.
He reached out and slid his finger over her cheek, softly, lightly. “I believe you are a good mother, Holly Craig. But not all women are as dedicated as you.”
His words pierced her in ways he would never know. What kind of mother kept a son from his father? What kind of mother struggled to raise him, to provide for him, when he could be the heir to all of this wealth? When he could have everything?
“Drago, I—” But she couldn’t say it. Her throat closed up and nothing would come out.
He smiled, but it was not a real smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Go to bed, Holly. Tomorrow will be a long day.”
Like a coward, she fled.
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