Brunetti's Secret Son

His jaw flexed. ‘My name is Romeo Brunetti.’ The way he said it, the way he waited, as if the pronouncement should be accompanied by a round of trumpets and the clash of cymbals, set her spine tingling. When she didn’t speak, a curious light entered his eyes. ‘That means nothing to you?’

She shrugged. ‘Should it?’

He continued to stare at her for another minute, before he shook his head and started to pace the small space in front of her desk. ‘Not at all. So now we have our long-overdue introductions out of the way.’

Maisie cleared her throat. ‘Mr Brunetti, I—’ She froze as he let out a stunned breath.

Her gaze flew to his face to find his gaze transfixed on the photo on her desk. ‘Is this... Is this him?’ he asked in a tight, ragged whisper.

When she nodded, he reached forward in a jerky movement, then stopped. Apprehension slid over his face. He fisted and then flexed his hand, before he slowly plucked up the frame. In another person, she would’ve been certain he was borderline terrified of a mere picture.

Terrified or dreading?

The reminder of the cold indifference her parents had felt about their grandson, about her, made her itch to snatch the photo from him, protect her son’s image the way she fought every day to keep him from the rejection she’d been forced to live with her whole life.

She glanced at the picture clutched in Romeo’s large hand.

It had been taken at Ranelagh Gardens on the first day of spring. Dressed in a smart shirt, jeans and bright blue woollen jumper, Gianlucca had looked a perfect picture of health and happiness, and Maisie hadn’t been able to resist capturing his image.

She watched now as Romeo brought the picture up close to his face, his features drawn tight, his breathing slow and controlled. After almost a minute of staring at the photo without a hint of emotion, he raised his hand and brushed his fingers over Gianlucca’s cheek, almost in direct imitation of what Maisie herself had done a mere half hour ago.

‘Mio figlio,’ he murmured.

‘I don’t know what that means,’ Maisie replied in a matching whisper.

He blinked and sucked in a deep, chest-filling breath. ‘My son. It means my son.’ He looked up, his gaze deeply accusing. ‘He’s my son. And you kept him from me,’ he snarled, his voice still not quite as steady as it’d been moments ago.

Maisie stumbled backwards, bumping into the chair behind her. ‘I did nothing of the kind. And if you stopped to think about it for a moment, you’d realise how ridiculous that allegation is.’

He shoved a hand through his thick dark hair, dislodging any semblance of order it’d been in. He began to pace again, the photo clutched in his large hand. ‘How old is he?’ he demanded when he paused for a moment.

‘He’s four in three weeks.’

He resumed pacing in tight circles. ‘Four years... Dio mio, four years I’ve been in the dark,’ he muttered to himself, slashing his hand through his hair again.

‘How exactly were you enlightened?’ It was a question he hadn’t yet addressed.

He froze, as if her question had thrown him. ‘We’ll get to that in a moment. First, please tell me his name and where he is.’

The urgency in his voice bled through to Maisie. She wanted to refuse. Wanted to rewind time and have this meeting not happen. Not because being given the chance to reveal her son’s existence to his father wasn’t what she wanted.

From the moment she’d found out she was pregnant, she’d known she would give her child every opportunity to know his father. She’d gone to Palermo during her first trimester with that exact reason in mind and had given up after two weeks with no success in tracing Romeo.

No, the reason Maisie wanted to rewind time and take a different course was because she knew, 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.’

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_7ae927b9-3b68-51af-91e5-8a59cc069a75)

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.’