I didn’t want to frighten her. She’d been through enough.
“How is he?” I asked.
She dropped her gaze to the bundle in her arms.
“He fussed about taking a bottle, but now he’s asleep,” she said.
She seemed a little worried. That crease between her brows said something was on her mind.
“I wish I could have been here,” I admitted.
Her gaze cut back to mine. “Really?”
I nodded and stepped into the room, crossing the space. I crouched in front of her, hands resting on her knees as she continued to rock.
“If there’s any doubt in your mind about me being mad at this situation, I want you to get rid of it right now, Gabriella.”
She let out a short huff. “It’s not that easy.”
“Why not?”
One delicate shoulder lifted. “This whole time, I thought you’d be flying off the handle, finding out that you’d married damaged goods with baggage.”
My grip tightened on her knees. “That couldn’t be further from the truth, cailín. I just wish you had told me sooner and saved yourself the heartache. Because I know now that is what’s been plaguing you—a broken heart.”
“It has,” she admitted softly. Her fingers gently stroked the edge of the blanket. “And I am sorry I didn’t tell you. But the men I grew up with would have….” Her voice trailed off and something wild flashed through her eyes.
“What?” I demanded.
Her lip trembled. “They wouldn’t have been so understanding. And Luca’s life would have been in danger.”
White-hot rage shot through my veins to think she’d been living this whole time with the knowledge that if she gave up her secret, some bastard would dispose of her son.
“Not all the Made Men are bad,” she added quietly, “but there was enough of a risk that I hid the pregnancy from the world.”
That was hard to believe.
“No one knew?” I pressed.
Moisture pooled in the corner of her eyes. Her whisper twisted my gut. “I went to my father…for help…but he didn’t…handle it well.”
If that bastard wasn’t already marked for death, this would have been the words that damned him.
“I’m surprised you went to him in the first place,” I muttered.
Gabriella shook her head. Nut brown hair fluttered from the claw clip to frame her pretty face. “My hand was forced. I tried to get the guy who knocked me up to marry me, and when he wouldn’t, I went to my father, hoping that as a capo in the mafia he would be able to force the soldier’s hand.”
She blinked hard.
If there was anything I could do to take away that pain, I would.
“Instead, Papa said I would have the baby in secret and get rid of it…or he would do it for me. I hid away in a small apartment in Boston near a low-grade hospital. Papa visited every few days to scare me into submission.”
“Ah. So that’s the travel-abroad story,” I said as one of the questions clicked into place. She nodded. There was just one more thing in this tale from hell. “Can I ask you something else, Gabriella?”
She nodded. “I won’t hide anything.”
“On our wedding night…”
