Page 46 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don

This is a trap that will be very hard, if not impossible, to escape.

“Come on,” he says to me, holding out his hand. “Time to face the music.” He grins suddenly, and my heart flips over in my chest at the sight. “And time for me to finally meet my son.”

***

“Where’s Mateo?” I say to Luca’s broad shoulders as we follow him down the hallway.

I know that he said that Enzo decided to bring his kids over today and my son is with them, but I don’t hear the children anywhere. And in this huge house, even the smallest sounds echo loudly off the marble floors and immense walls.

“I already told you he’s with Enzo’s kids,” Luca says distractedly to me. He’s looking at his phone as he walks.

I’ve noticed that he spends more time with his attention directed at his phone than anything else. Another charming aspect of his personality that makes me question Emelia’s sanity.

Enzo is still a cruel man, but I enjoy his company more because at least he looks at me while he is threatening me.

I glance back at Elio but he has a distant, calculating look on his face. I sense that he is barely aware of the fact that we are walking along the hallways of this huge house. He’s likely working out options to resolve this dilemma that we have found ourselves in.

I shiver at the cold expression on his face. I’ve never seen Elio in business mode, but his intensity is frightening.

Luca feels chaotic even when he’s restraining himself, and Enzo always oozes old-mafia competence despite his quiet nature. I glance at Elio again and I think about how I compared him to a fallen angel from the bible.

His eyes aren’t even seeing me or the scenery around him. He looks like he’s staring into the future, not looking inward. His presence feels ephemeral, otherworldly even.

If he were to phase out of existence or suddenly sprout wings and flap away, I would not be surprised. The chill of his eyes looking through me washes over my skin, leaving it pebbled with goosebumps.

I start to hear the sound of children finally and Luca leads us around another corner and into a large room that has clearly been set up for the kids when they visit.

My son and Enzo’s children are all holding onto gaming controllers and staring up at a big-screen TV. None of them turn to look at us as we walk into the room. Just like Elio, they are not living in this moment with the rest of us.

“Mateo,” Luca says, his voice short and clipped. “Your mother wants you.”

There’s a delay before Mateo realizes that someone is speaking to him. He glances away from the screen reluctantly, he sees me, then his gaze lands on Elio.

I know Elio must look chilly and forbidding to my son because he immediately goes still when he notices Elio beside me. I glance up at Elio, willing him to start acting like a human again; to come back from the plane of danger and scheming so that his son can meet him.

“Mama?” he says to me questioningly. He hasn’t moved, but he’s forgotten about the game that he was playing.

I step closer to Elio and snake my arm through his. “Mateo, mi amor, I want you to meet someone.” I glance at Luca, but he’s still looking at his phone.

My gaze lands on the doorway to a small patio outside the house and I tilt my head in that direction. “Come with us for a moment, please,” I tell my child.

Mateo remains frozen in place for a few more seconds, then glances a bit remorsefully at the game that is continuing without him. However, he has always been an obedient child. He slowly gets up and comes to join us.

I nudge Elio and he finally looks down at me. That hawklike, chilly expression is still on his face so I smile sunnily at him, attempting to connect with the human part of him again.

There’s a moment of disconnect where he looks lost, like he forgot that he wanted to meet his son, but then his eyes soften somewhat. I nearly sag in relief as I tug on him and we move toward the door to the small patio.

Outside, the sun is warming the flagstone surface of the seating area. There are flowers pouring over the high walls around the terrace and stuffed into pots all around the space.

The fresh scents of this outdoor space make me feel invigorated and I close my eyes to breathe in for a moment. I realize that I haven’t been outside enough since coming here.

“Don’t be long,” Luca orders us in a distracted tone of voice. He steps back into the hallway and pulls the door shut behind him before leaning against it with his shoulder.

I know it shouldn’t irritate me, but the fact that he has never once looked up from his phone makes me want to punch him.

“Mama, who is that?” Mateo ask me, taking my mind off of my apparently endless irritation with Luca Baldini.

I smile at my son as he comes to sit right beside me at the small, round table set up on the terrace. Elio is sitting on my other side. Mateo has kept half an eye on his father since he joined us in the hall and I am suddenly struck by how much he already looks like Elio.

---