Now I’m standing next to the black SUV with Viktor beside me, two of my men in suits flanking us, watching the private jet taxi to a stop.
Against my better self, I anticipate seeing her again. See the little female that has tormented and plagued my head for six years. I want to see what she looks like and know how she turned out.
The door opens and she appears at the top of the stairs, and for a second I forget how to breathe.
Six years. Her dark hair falls past her shoulders now, longer than I remember, pulled back in a ponytail that shows off her face. She looks older, more mature, but those green eyes are exactly the same.
Then I see the child beside her and everything stops.
A boy. Dark hair. Small for his age but sturdy. He’s holding her hand tightly as they descend the stairs.
They reach the tarmac and start walking toward me, and that’s when I see his face clearly for the first time.
The moment I see those grey eyes staring back at me, everything else ceases to exist.
My eyes. Looking at me from my son’s face.
The rage that floods through me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. Hotter than fury, colder than hate. It’s something primal and violent that makes my hands shake with the effort of keeping them at my sides instead of wrapped around her throat.
The boy is definitely mine. Whatever doubts I had earlier have all been taken away by looking at those eyes. Eyes like mineare rare, and it will take only my chromosome to replicate something like them so expressly.
The boy is still looking at me with those eyes that are mirrors of my own, and something in my chest constricts painfully. He’s standing here staring at me like a stranger because his mother decided I wasn’t worthy.
I force myself to stand up slowly, carefully, keeping my movements controlled even though every muscle in my body is screaming to lash out. To grab Scarlett and demand answers. To shake her until she understands exactly what she’s stolen from me.
But I can’t do that. Not in front of him.
“Five and a half,” I say quietly, after he tells me his name and age, and my voice sounds strange even to my own ears. “That’s a good age.”
I look at Scarlett and make sure my expression is completely blank. Make sure she can’t see the violence swirling inside me that wants to break free and destroy everything in its path.
She knows. I can see it in her face. She knows that I know and she’s terrified of what comes next.
Good. Let her be fucking afraid.
“We should go.” My voice comes out emotionless. “It’s not safe to stay out in the open like this.”
I turn toward the SUV before she can respond, before I do something I’ll regret in front of the child we created together.
The drive back to the estate takes thirty minutes and I don’t say a single word. I don’t trust myself to speak without unleashingeverything I’m feeling. My hands grip the steering wheel so tight my knuckles have gone white and I can feel Scarlett watching me from the backseat.
Let her watch. Let her see exactly how badly she’s fucked up.
Let her wonder what I’m going to do when we’re finally alone.
Every few seconds I glance in the rearview mirror and see Luca looking out the window, completely oblivious to the bomb that just went off in both his parents’ lives. He’s humming something under his breath, swinging his legs because they don’t quite reach the floor.
He has my eyes. My hair. Even the shape of his face is starting to show signs of Moretti features that will sharpen as he grows.
There’s no denying he’s mine.
The rage builds with every mile, every minute, every breath. By the time we pull through the gates of the estate, I’m holding onto control by a thread so thin it’s practically transparent.
I park in front of the main entrance and kill the engine, then sit there for a second trying to get myself under control before I get out.
When I finally step out of the SUV, Rosa is already at the door waiting. She takes one look at my face and her expression shifts to concern, but she’s smart enough not to ask questions.
“Rosa.” My voice is carefully controlled. “This is Luca. He’ll be staying in the guest wing with his mother. Show him his room. Get him some food. Give him a tour of the house if he wants. Just keep him occupied.”
