Days later and several failed attempts to approach Katerina again, I’m distracting myself with the mission that had brought me home in the first place.
I sit on the edge of my bed, reviewing the note I received saying I needed to come home.
Plain black printed text on white paper. No signature, no clue to its origin.
Don Dante is dead. The family needs you.
My initial plan was simple—show up for the funeral, pay my respects, find out who needed me home, then return to Chicago where I answer to no one except myself.
But now…
I rub my face, feeling the stubble beneath my palms.
My father is dead.
The old bastard is actually gone.
The man whose approval I chased for decades, whose disappointment shaped me more than his pride ever did.
I should feel relief, maybe even satisfaction.
Instead, there’s nothing.
Maybe that’s good. It’s better than regret or grief, both of which I know too well.
And now I’m back to thinking about Katerina. And my son.
The thought hits me again with the same force as when Katerina first revealed the truth.
Enzo. My son.
I created a life I knew nothing about.
My brief glimpses of him show a child who has the Dante gray eyes.
Proof that my blood flows through him.
He’s a walking, talking, thinking, feeling person I helped create but haven't helped shape.
Does he like sports?
Is he quiet like Katerina was when I first met her, or does he have my temper?
Does he wonder about me?
I don’t know because Katerina is avoiding me. Normally, I wouldn’t allow such disrespect, but what the fuck do I know about kids?
I want to meet him, there’s no doubt.
But I don’t want to traumatize him or make him hate me off the bat by bullying my way into his life.
I think back to the funeral, when I fucked Katerina against the wall of my father’s—or I guess it’s Alessandro’s now—study.
God, it was so fucking good. My dick twitches at the memory of her nails digging into my back.
That was how it was with us seven years ago, wild, desperate sex that I’ve never been able to have with another woman.
I wonder if she knew she was pregnant before I was exiled.
