Page 10 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don

Even with a strong leader at the head of the family, there was no guarantee that the women and children in the clan would be kept safe.

I thought of my father, who didn’t know where I was. Marco told him that I came to see him and then I vanished. He warned him not to ask too many questions about where I was.

Marco assured me that my father knew I was safe and alive. He also made sure my father knew that everything depended on me being untraceable. Marco told my father he didn’t have details to share, but that he knew I was okay, at least.

My family trusts Marco and his men like they were their own. This gave me some sliver of peace.

I still can’t help but wonder what lengths my father went to in order to conduct his own search. In the end it doesn’t matter because whatever the lengths, he was clearly not successful.

I wondered if Elio ever looked for me. Did he ask my father where I was? Did he check with the other powerful families in our circles to see if they were keeping me in hiding? I wasn’t sure I would ever know the answer to those questions.

Frankly, I was surprised that Marco had caved to my pleas, inviting me to the wedding. I hadn’t left my little hideaway house much since Elio walked out of my life.

Even when Mateo got pneumonia and was desperately sick, I did not leave. Marco had taken him to the hospital and kept me updated about his condition, but I was kept under lock and key.

From the moment Marco agreed to help me and put me in hiding all those years ago, he took the job very seriously. I’m sure his urgency was partly due to the complication that his personal safety was now wrapped up in me not being found.

Elio knew that Marco was the only man alive who knew my location. Alive being the key.

Elio wasn’t going to kill Marco until he got me. Hence, keep me hidden, and continue holding the power card. That is, if Elio still had any interest in me whatsoever. It’s very possible at this point Elio’s moved so far on from me that he’s on Mars.

Marco’s protection was for my own good, I knew that, but sometimes I felt like I was being kept in a gilded prison created by my own design. Surely, after so many years, Elio had lost interest in me.

My dream of being able to leave Marco’s protection and live anonymously somewhere was becoming the only thing I could think about.

I was starting to think that another year in the little cottage, alone with my son, would make me go crazy.

Grazia is just a few people away now, and I can see that she is showing her sister the beading and lace on her dress.

I tilt my head back and swallow my champagne in one go. I blindly hand the champagne flute off to a passing waiter, trying to gather myself to say Grazia’s name.

“Mama!”

I turn toward the sound of my child’s voice, hiding my shaking hands by clasping them together as I squat down to be closer to his height. “What is it, baby?” I ask. I reach out and ruffle his soft, dark hair.

Mateo’s nearly black hair came from his father, but his golden-brown eyes are entirely mine.

He’s a handsome little boy and kind-hearted. I often worry that he is too sweet to survive this terrible life that he has been born into.

Being the child of a man like Elio La Rosa is not something to be envied. That is, unless you are cold-blooded and ruthless, just like him.

“Can I go play with the other kids, por favor?” Mateo asks me. His eyes are shining with excitement.

I feel a pang in my heart. The opportunity for him to be around other children has been limited for all of his life. No wonder he is so excited by the chance to get to play with other kids his own age.

“Absolutely,” I tell him with a smile. I lean forward and press a kiss to his forehead.

“Thank you, Mama!” Mateo calls over his shoulder as he whirls away and runs across the room.

I stay hunkered down for a moment, watching my child scampering across the room with a soft smile on my face. I slowly rise to my feet, smoothing the silky skirt of my black dress.

“What a beautiful child,” a female voice says to my left.

I look over my shoulder and see Grazia coming over to me. She is watching my little boy as he meets up with the other Baldini children. “Thank you,” I say truthfully.

Mateo is my life, the only good thing I have left. I am biased, I know, but I’m fully aware that he is a beautiful and sweet little boy. It would be hard not to respond to him the way Grazia has just done.

“How old is he?” Grazia asks me.

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