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“Thank you.” I threw my arms around his waist and held on long enough to breathe again. “One hour,” I promised, already reaching for my coat.

I rushed from the house, wrestling with my coat as I flew down the front steps. It was almost time. They would be at the park soon, and I needed to be there before they arrived.

CHAPTER FIVE

I found my usual bench quickly and sat where I always did, facing the path they would take into the park. December had stripped most of the warmth from the city, but as long as the rain held off, they came every week.

This would be the last time I saw him.

No more visits. No more watching him grow from a distance. No more stolen glimpses of him pushing his little brother—his cousin, really—on the swings while I pretended to be nothing more than a woman reading alone on a bench.

He looked so much like his father that it made my chest ache.

My precious little boy.

He was supposed to be safe.

And he had been.

I didn’t regret my decision.

Not really.

It had been the only option.

If my father had known about Henry from the beginning, there was no telling what he would have done. No, that was a lie. I knew exactly what he would have done.

He had done it to Salvatore.

Henry’s father was dead because of me.

My father had beaten me when he found out about Henry. Not only had he been furious that I’d had a child outside his control, but he had also been enraged that I had kept that child hidden from him.

He was angry that my son’s father was Italian and not Irish.

He was angry that he couldn’t reach Henry.

So he’d reached for Salvatore instead.

When I met Salvatore Valentinetti, I was only twenty years old. He was thirty-three. We met by chance. He had a meeting with my father, and I happened to be at home that day.

When I discovered I was pregnant, Salvatore was the only person I told. Not even my mother knew. I immediately looked into transferring schools. I couldn’t stay at NYU. My parents couldn’t know.

Sinclair fabricated my transfer to UNLV, in Nevada. Making sure I appeared to live on the other side of the country, as far from my father as I could get. Then, after our wedding, we moved to Montana.

When Henry was born, I didn’t stay. I couldn’t bear to walk away, but I knew he would never be safe otherwise. Salvatore raised Henry until my father found out and had Sal murdered.

Now my son lived with his aunt and uncle. I should have known he would never have a normal life. I was a Mob princess, and Sal, a Mafia prince. Now Henry would grow up in the Bratva.

There were times I wished I’d never told Sal. I should have run. Given Henry up for adoption. Given him a chance at a normal life.

But then I saw him in the park. Saw how happy he was. Knowing he was safe made everything I’d done worth it. My father would never consider going up against the Bloodletter.

Sure, he was cruel man, but he wasn’t stupid.

What my mother ever saw in him, I would never understand. She knew what he was. Yet, she stayed.

She deserved so much better.