Page 71 of The Hidden Heir

“Me, too, to be honest. Yet we somehow always pull through.”

He inches closer, his hand gently cupping my cheek. “Whoever they are, they will die before they take you or Michael away from me. That, I am sure of.”

“I believe you.”

At least I want to believe him. Every fiber in my body begs me to believe him, yet that sliver of doubt hidden in the back of my mind refuses to loosen its grip on my reason. There’s always a clash between my body and my mind where Luca is concerned. Between my heart and my survival instinct.

“I never imagined it would come to this,” Luca says.

“This?”

“When I first heard about you and Stefano, I admit, I wondered what the hell he was thinking? Fanning the flames with the Mancusos, and for what?” He pauses to lower his gaze for a moment, admiring my naked body next to his. “But I see it now. All of it. It makes so much sense.”

I sigh deeply, caressing his firm and stubbly jawline. “You shouldn’t forget that Stefano never really wanted me. He only wanted to hurt my stepfather.”

“I think, deep down, my brother burned for you. But his selfish mission to infuriate Mancuso was a priority. Stefano was many things, including an idiot in some respects, but a woman like you, Valentina… I know he understood that a woman like you only comes around once in a lifetime. His ego pushed him to ruin everything, to hurt you.”

“It sounds almost romantic,” I chuckle softly, “but I’m grateful now.”

He gives me a curious, slightly confused look. “What do you mean?”

“Had he not broken me the way he did, I never would’ve had a wonderful boy like Michael. I never would’ve met you,” I say. “All of hell’s roads led me to you, Luca.”

And I mean every word, even though the truth hurts.

The truth is that tomorrow, I’ll have to devise my way out. I will crush the man I love in the process, but I’ll find my path into a future that knows nothing of the violence we experienced tonight.

My child deserves it.

And so do I, regardless of how I feel about Luca.

22

VALENTINA

The next morning, I stand on the terrace overlooking the back gardens, sipping coffee with Victor. In the golden sunlight, I can see he looks tired, his skin pallid and his eyes almost hazy. The way he sits in a rattan chair makes him seem smaller than he actually is, despite the finely tailored dark green Italian suit he chose to wear for this visit.

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

Michael sits on the wooden floor playing with colored blocks, occasionally glancing up at us to offer a toothy smile. Every time, Victor melts a little. I can tell he’s deeply attached to my son, and I welcome his affection.

“What makes you ask that?” Victor asks, pouring himself another coffee from the white porcelain pot Susie brought out.

“You look tired,” I reply, then I take a bite of a chocolate croissant.

“Given the events of last night, I’ll admit, I barely got a couple of hours’ worth of sleep,” Victor says. “The aftermath required extensive cleanup, I’m afraid.”

“I thought the cops were investigating.”

“They are.” Victor looks at me. “But they never got their hands on Lanny.”

“Lanny?”

“The shooter Luca caught, the survivor of his crew. We interrogated him afterward at a separate, undisclosed location.”

I frown at Victor. “You weren’t there?”

“Luca didn’t want anyone there, except his security lieutenants. I’m afraid they’re the only ones he fully trusts at this point.”