peered at the article over her shoulder. ‘Do you think it’s true?’ she asked in a low voice.
‘I have no idea.’ Emma scanned the rest of the article, skimming over the terrible list of Larenzo’s alleged crimes that she’d read in the paper once already. Once had definitely been enough.
‘If his business partner really was guilty, why would Larenzo confess?’ Meghan asked as she nibbled her lip.
‘I don’t know.’ Emma gazed at the photograph of Bertrano Raguso, a silver-haired man in his sixties, his face set into haggard lines. ‘But if they let Larenzo go...’
‘But they’d have to, if they have another confession.’
‘I don’t know if it’s that simple.’ Emma rubbed her forehead, felt the beginnings of a headache. From the playroom she heard the clatter of blocks being flung across the room, and then Ryan’s yowl as one connected with his head. ‘I need to see to Ava,’ she said. ‘I’ll have to think about this later. About what I’m going to do.’
‘You should consult a lawyer—’
Emma flinched at the thought. She didn’t want to get involved in some messy, drawn-out custody battle that would no doubt be splashed across the newspapers, due to Larenzo’s notoriety. But what if the alternative was granting him access to Ava? Exposing her to God only knew what kind of danger?
Unless he really was innocent...but how could he not have known about his partner’s activities? And why would he have confessed?
Emma let out a tired sigh. Her mind was racing in circles and she knew she had no answers now. ‘He might not actually want to be involved with Ava,’ she said, trying to convince herself as much as her sister. ‘He might just want to see her once...’
‘You need to be prepared,’ Meghan answered swiftly. ‘Emma, the man is—’
‘We don’t know what he is.’
‘Can you really doubt—?’
‘I told you, I don’t know.’ And yet if there was any chance Larenzo was guilty, any chance of putting Ava in danger...
‘I’ll talk to a lawyer,’ Emma said. ‘I should do that much, at least. Just...just in case.’
Ava and Ryan had both started crying and so Emma scooped her daughter up and distracted her with a few board books before rejoining Meghan at the laptop. Her sister had typed custody lawyers into the search box, and, with her heart thudding sickly and her head still spinning from all that had happened in such a short span of time, Emma watched the results come up, and then she reached for her phone.
NERVOUSLY EMMA SMOOTHED her hair, straightened her skirt, and then opened the door to the restaurant where she was meeting Larenzo. It had been three endless days since he’d shown up at her sister’s house, and Emma had almost started hoping that Larenzo had decided to leave them alone. Yet tangled up in that hope had been an absurd disappointment that he might have given up so easily.
She’d spoken to a lawyer two days ago, and he’d told her that since the charges against Larenzo had been dropped, he would most certainly have a legal right to see Ava. Access could be limited or denied if a court decided there was any danger to her daughter, but it was by no means clear cut or simple.
The next day Larenzo had called and Emma’s heart had actually lifted at the sound of his voice. They’d set up a meeting over dinner at a local restaurant, and Emma knew she had no idea what she wanted from this meeting. Her emotions and thoughts were all over the place, and no matter how she tried to order them they raced off in all directions as soon as she thought of Larenzo, remembered how he’d once been with her.
The atmosphere, she saw as she came into the restaurant, was elegant and understated, candlelight flickering over snowy white tablecloths. It almost seemed romantic, which didn’t help her disordered thoughts, her clamouring emotions. No matter what she and Larenzo decided about Ava, romance had no place in their lives any more.
She gave her name to the maître d’ and he showed her to a table in the back, set in a private alcove. Larenzo was already seated, and he rose as she approached. He wore a white button-down shirt and plain grey trousers, and yet he still seemed bigger and darker and more magnetic than any other person in the room.
Once, only once, she’d allowed herself to be drawn by that magnetic force. Now she knew she needed to be immune. To stay strong.
Emma sat down across from him, busying herself with putting her napkin in her lap as Larenzo settled back into his seat, seeming to take up too much space, too much air. Why had it become hard to breathe?
‘Thank you for coming,’ he said.
Emma took a deep breath, letting the air fill her lungs. ‘I didn’t really have much choice, did I?’
He pressed his lips together and Emma could almost feel the tension crackle between them. ‘This doesn’t have to be unpleasant, Emma.’
‘And how do you figure that?’ she shot back. She’d wanted to stay calm for this meeting but already her composure was cracking, revealing the fear and uncertainty underneath. ‘I’m here to discuss a man with Mafia connections being involved with my daughter—’
‘My daughter,’ Larenzo cut across her, his voice low and intense. ‘She’s my daughter too. Never forget that.’
‘Unfortunately, I won’t.’
He sat back in his chair, his fingers laced together as he gazed at her. ‘Do you hate me?’ he asked, as if it was a matter of academic interest, and Emma could only stare at him, flummoxed. Where had that come from? ‘Because,’ he continued, ‘you seem as if you hate me.’
‘I...’ She searched for words, disconcerted by how much his question had unsettled her. ‘I don’t hate you,’ she said finally. ‘I don’t feel anything for you.’ Which was a bold-faced lie. She didn’t know what she felt for Larenzo Cavelli, but it was definitely something. ‘But I love my daughter,’ she continued shakily, ‘and I want to protect her—’
‘And you think I don’t want that?’
‘I don’t know what to think about you, Larenzo. I have no idea what to believe.’
‘How about the truth?’
‘Which is?’ she demanded, her voice rising. ‘Eighteen months ago you confessed to a long, sordid list of crimes. A week ago, your business partner was convicted of those same crimes, thanks to new evidence, but what am I meant to believe? How on earth do you expect me to trust you?’
Larenzo expelled a long, low breath. ‘I don’t,’ he said flatly. ‘You can’t trust anyone in this world. That’s one thing I’ve come to realise.’
‘Why did you confess if you weren’t guilty?’
He pressed his lips together as he flicked his gaze away. ‘Because there was overwhelming evidence to convict me.’
