Page 57 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don

My cheek is throbbing and my eyes are watering. I blink rapidly and rise to my feet, looking down at the small form of my mother.

I bend forward and press a dutiful kiss to her cheek and then force my leaden feet to walk across the room and out the door.

I walk through the quiet hospital hallways, my cheek burning and my heart feeling like lead in my chest. A part of me wants to get in the car and just drive away. I could just drive until I found someplace where no one knew who I was and drink until I forgot all of this.

The hours since Kate’s accident have felt like a prison that I cannot escape from and my inability to connect with my emotions is only making things worse for me.

I think of my father. He would have just gone back home, gotten roaring drunk, and then gone back to work.

Maybe he would have cracked a few extra heads while doing some deals to make himself feel better. Is that who I am turning into? Am I on a path that will lead to becoming the kind of man that my father was?

The thought is not a comfort and I quail a little at the idea of becoming a terror to everyone around me. A ruthless weapon honed for conflict and aggression and nothing else.

I think about Gabriel and his little family. He has always been able to separate business from family, but then again, he was never asked to do the terrible things that I did, in the name of securing deals and strengthening the family’s reputation.

I climb into my car and sit for a moment, driving my hands through my hair. I sent my security team home hours ago and so I probably shouldn’t sit here like a prime target, easy to attack. But I just can’t even find the will to care that I am putting myself in danger.

Kate’s uncertain future has made me feel like every single thing in my life is on hold. I can’t even find the anger or desire within me to throttle the Baldini brothers anymore.

I sigh and turn the key in the ignition. Hopefully, I can get some sleep tonight.

While I would rather not leave Kate alone, I know that my mother won’t let anything happen to her. And she’s right; I need to figure out how to take care of Kate and Mateo, or they truly will be better off without me.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Elio

The letter opener glints in the stark light flooding in from above.

The room around us is starkly white, sterile and featureless. Kate looks like she’s floating through space while walking on the ground at the same time.

I hear shouting and I think in a vague way that I will kill the Baldini brothers, but not now, later.

“I’m more useful to you dead, Elio,” she says, smiling softly as blood runs down her slim neck. “It’s better to let me go.”

I want to say something to her, want to touch her, but I feel frozen. I lunge forward, reaching for the knife she has pressed to her throat. I don’t want her to do anything rash.

I want to tell her that I can handle this situation if she just trusts me for the first time in her life. I haven’t earned that trust, but I need her to do so in spite of that.

“Tsk,” she clucks, dancing away from me nimbly.

Her hair is a cloud floating around her shoulders and her beautiful golden eyes shine from her pretty face. “You can’t stop it now. I’ve already set my plan in motion. I’m sorry that it had to come to this, but maybe it was always meant to be this way.”

“Kate,” I manage to say hoarsely, reaching for her again. I think I am going to grab her shoulder, but then my fingers slide past her. How is she so fast? Why is she so determined to die in order to save me?

“You never told me that you loved me.” she says then, her lush mouth turned down in a frown. “I always wanted to know that you did. I thought you might, but you never say the words. You barely even compliment me.”

My mind fills with all the things that I want to say to her, all the compliments and the praise that she should hear about.

I want to tell her that I fell in love with her the moment I saw her the summer I was sixteen. I want to explain to her that I tried to forget her. I tried to drown the memory of her with tequila and other women, but it never worked.

I want to tell her, I swear on my mother’s grave, that I was never able to sleep with another woman after I lost her because no woman could compare to her.

I want to scream that I still love her, that I want to raise our son together.

I want to offer her the shattered pieces of my heart so that she can start the process of sewing them back together again, even if I think that healing my psyche is an impossible feat.

But my lips won’t form the words, my throat feels clogged with terror and tears and I remain silent. She looks at me so sadly and backs a few more steps away from me, lifting her elbow in preparation to do the unthinkable.

---