Page 44 of The Hidden Heir

With a trembling hand, I reach into my handbag and into the zipped pocket, where the diary still lives in silence, its last few pages still blank after all these years. I take it out and open it to one page that truly healed me, then hand it over to Luca.

“Read that. Out loud, if you wish.”

He frowns, doubt in his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“You have my permission. I think it’s important for you to read it, so you understand my mindset.”

“Alright then,” Luca replies.

I’m seeing a side of him no one else sees. Beneath the strong jaw and the hard lines, beneath the shadows and the coldness of a Mafia warlord, he is a man whose power radiates from his heart. And his heart has piqued my interest on a deeper level.

“Dear Stefano,” he reads. “No, that’s wrong. It’s not ‘dear’ anymore, because you’re not dear to me anymore. You never were. You were a lie I told myself because I was starving for love and I took the breadcrumbs, thinking of them as a full, filling meal. I bought the lies because the truth was simply too difficult to bear. I’m over it now. This baby growing inside me isn’t yours. By blood, he is, but by soul, he isn’t yours, he is and will always be mine, a piece of me that I will give to the world.

“He’ll grow up to be a bigger and better man than you ever were. He will love fiercely and intensely, and he will look after the women in his life. He will respect women. And when he finds his queen, he will worship her. When that day comes, I will think of you and smile, remembering how something good can come from even the smallest and most pathetic of men,” he continues, raising an amused eyebrow.

“It wasn’t love I felt for you. It was attachment, the kind that comes from your successful strategy. Nothing more, ever. Once the magic wore off, and I saw the real you, I understood. You’re a small man, Stefano Petrucci. A man who doesn’t deserve to have my son. My son will never know you. He will never see you. He will never be like you. And that fills me with all the hope and joy you thought you stole from me.”

Luca pauses and sets the notebook down.

He needs a minute. So do I. It’s painful to remember my state of mind when I wrote those words. I allow myself a smile as I take a long sip of sparkling lemon water, then finish the rest of my steak and fries while modern jazz music with delicate echoes and a mournful saxophone trickles through the room.

“What you wrote was incredibly intimate,” Luca says.

“But it was honest,” I reply.

His eyes meet mine. He gives me one of those deep piercing looks designed to reach deep into my soul, and for the first time, I realize I’m not fighting it anymore—this urge to bare my heart to someone, especially the man in front of me, who turned my life upside down and somehow positioned himself at the very center of it.

“What do you say we go for a walk? I’m done, and it’s getting a little stuffy in here,” I suggest.

“I’d like that very much.”

There’s a soft breeze blowing as we make our way along the Grant Park promenade. There are others people here doing pretty much the same thing—walking hand in hand, occasionally glancing up at the stars or sneaking looks at each other. It’s peaceful, it’s soothing, and it’s something I’m sure Luca has never done before.

“This almost feels normal,” I tell him.

“A walk in the park, right?”

“Right. Almost, that’s the key word,” I chuckle and look back at Eddie and his colleague, our security detail keeping a decent distance behind us but always watching us. “I guess it’s the best I’m going to get.”

Luca takes my hand in his and squeezes it gently. My heart skips a beat. His touch sends an overwhelming surge of heat through my body that softens my nerves at the same time.

“When the storms pass, it’ll get better. But in the meantime, Valentina, your safety is paramount,” he says, keeping me close.

“I never asked for any of this,” I remind him.

“It doesn’t mean I can just let you…” His voice trails off as he looks at someone passing by.

I follow his gaze and I see them, too. A man and a woman. Seemingly unremarkable, wearing dark clothes. But the way they look at us sends a shiver down my spine, making me want to tighten my grip on Luca’s hand. He fixes his gaze on them.

Eddie and his colleague also notice his sudden attentiveness.

Once the couple passes them, too, they go on just beyond the alley’s curve. Less than a minute later, however, they’re tailing us. Luca pulls me closer.

“Do you trust me, Valentina?” he asks.

“Why do you ask?”

“Do you trust me?”