had finished her bottle. She stared up at Grace, startled to hear her mother’s raised voice.
Luca’s lips formed a tight white line. Still on his haunches, he tilted forward. ‘So you admit she is mine? You admit you wilfully kept my daughter’s existence a secret?’
Forcing her voice down to a lower, calmer tone so as not to distress Lily, Grace stared at him with all the venom she could muster, willing him to feel every syllable that came from her lips like a punch to the gut. ‘Yes. I hid her existence from you, and do you know what? I would do it again. Lily deserves better than to know of the monster who created half her DNA. You might be the sperm donor but I am her mother. She does not need you. And neither do I.’
* * *
The poison in Grace’s voice cut through him, as sharp as a dagger.
Luca had taken one look at Lily and known she was his. He could not say where this certainty had come from but there been no shadow of doubt in his mind. She was his.
He was a father.
Now his detestable wife had admitted the truth, he should feel relief. Instead, a raging burn was working its way through his system, a burn he was struggling to contain.
He would never have imagined such poison being uttered from the lips of his wife, a woman who always saw the best in people and always looked for the humanity in the face of evil.
He had never imagined she would look at him as if he were the Antichrist itself.
His guts rolled as he watched her lift their child onto her shoulder and rub her back, her movements gentle and loving.
The pain in his shoulder was immense. Once they were safely in the air he would take the painkillers Giancarlo had tried to get him to consume. Taking them would likely dull his reactions. Right now he needed every wit about him.
Unable to look at Grace a second longer, he got to his feet. ‘I’m giving you half an hour.’
‘For what?’ she asked tightly, rubbing her nose into their daughter’s thick black hair.
‘To pack. Anything not packed will be left behind.’
That hateful venom came back into her voice. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘You think not?’ On legs that felt heavier than usual, he paced the small room. Somehow she had managed to cram a treadmill, an exercise bike and a rowing machine inside the tight confines. No wonder she had lost all her baby weight. No one looking at her would guess she had recently given birth. This, from the woman who had once told him with a straight face that she was allergic to exercise. ‘I am not giving you a choice.’
‘There is always a choice.’
Abruptly he stopped pacing and stared at her, making no attempt to hide his loathing. ‘This is how we are going to play it: In exactly thirty minutes we will leave this place and return to Sicily.’
He took a breath.
Little more than an hour ago, he had been unaware Lily existed, unaware he was a father. Her thin eyelids were shut, displaying thick black Mastrangelo eyelashes.
His chest constricted, memories of his early childhood suddenly flooding him. His first memories. Waking up one morning at the age of three to find his parents missing. He remembered Bettina, his favourite maid, who was often given the task of watching over him, being red with excitement. His mother had gone to hospital to have the baby. He could still feel the eager anticipation he had experienced at that moment. Even clearer in his mind was the memory of his parents arriving home with the baby, his mother’s pale, tired joy, his father’s beaming pride. They had sat Pepe in Luca’s arms on the sofa, and taken pictures of the small brothers together. He had been full to bursting with happiness.
Lily was the image of the baby Pepe had been.
This was his daughter.
And Grace had hidden her from him.
He looked at his wife. Her eyes were hollow, sunken, as if she hadn’t slept for ten months. He was glad. Her guilt should not have allowed her any sleep.
‘You call me a monster,’ he continued, dropping his voice so as not to disturb the sleeping child. ‘Yet I am not the one who vanished without a letter of goodbye. I’m not the one who decided her child would be better off without a father and conspired to keep me out of her life. And you have the nerve to call me a monster?’
Her clenched jaw loosened but her eyes remained unblinking as she said, ‘I would do it again. In a heartbeat.’
Blood rushed straight to his forehead, colouring his thoughts, making his skin hot to the touch.
She had not the slightest remorse, not for anything. He could punish her, severely. He could snatch Lily from her arms and banish her from their lives and she wouldn’t be able to do a single thing about it.
He could. But he wouldn’t.
Luca had loved his parents equally but it had been his mother to whom he had gone with his cut knees and scrapes, his mother who had kissed his bruises better, his mother for whom a thousand hugs would never be considered enough.
Grace loved Lily. And Lily loved Grace. Already the bond between them was strong. It would take a heart of stone to break that bond.
Children needed their mothers and he refused to punish Lily for her mother’s sins.
No, Grace’s punishment would be of a different nature.
Blackness gripping his chest in a vice, he stalked towards her and bent over to speak in her ear. He could smell her fear through the clean scent of her skin and it gladdened him. He wanted her to fear him. He wanted her to curse the day she ever set foot in Sicily.
‘You will never have the chance to take her away from me again. Lily belongs in Sicily with her family. You should consider yourself lucky I believe babies thrive better with their mothers or I would walk away with her right now and leave you behind to rot.’ He paused before adding, deliberately, ‘I would do it in a heartbeat.’
* * *
Grace closed her eyes tightly and clamped her lips together, trying desperately hard not to breathe. Luca’s breath was hot against her ear, blowing like a whisper inside her. Tiny, tingling darts jumped across her skin, fizzing down her neck and spreading like a wave; responses that terrified her with their familiarity.
Her lungs refused to cooperate any longer and she expelled stale air, inhaling sweet clean oxygen within which she caught a faint trace of an unfamiliar cologne.
She forced her features to remain still, forced her chest to breathe in an orderly fashion. But she had no control over her heart. It jumped at the first inhalation and then pounded painfully beneath her ribs, agitating her nauseated stomach.
Luca wore one scent. He was not a man prone to vanity. Changing his cologne was not a triviality that would come on his radar.
She blinked the thought away. His mouth was still at her ear.
‘You see, bella, you do have a choice,’
