Page 15 of Wicked Rivals

Would he turn out differently without one? Would he eventually reach an age where he no longer listened to me but might listen to a father figure if one existed?

I just didn't know.

I couldn't see my sweet boy telling me no, not just yet, but he wouldn’t be my little boy forever.

So was I robbing him of the chance to reach his full potential by refusing to have a life outside of this café? By refusing to date and bring a potentially decent man into our lives?

I had tried dating years ago, once or twice. Each time, it had turned out to be a complete disaster. Not because the men were disasters. Because I’d spent the entire time feeling like I betrayed a man who I could no longer claim. A man who could no longer claim me.

Once I’d learned who Stefano really was, about his family, keeping him in my life was no longer an option.

Not even with a baby on the way.

Even after ten years, a deep, relentless guilt turned in my gut. The type of guilt I imagined I might feel if Stefano and I had stayed together, and I cheated on him.

It didn’t seem very fair to drag anyone else into my mess until I could finally release the pain of that nonexistent betrayal.

I was so fucking stupid.

And now I hated Stefano Vignali with everything in me.

He’d made it impossible for us to be together.

Enzo stopped reading, and his body stiffened in my arms.

I looked back at the book to search for a word he might not have known, but he wasn't looking at the book.

He stared out the window at the black Mercedes stopped in the middle of the street, right in front of Con Amore.

Enzo slammed the book shut.

“Mama, the car… who is that?” he asked as he jumped up.

I got up, keeping my voice calm, though my pulse raced.

“I don't know, buddy.”

But a custom Maybach like that wasn’t hard to recognize if one had been around that kind of money before. Longer, wider, with dark windows made of bulletproof glass.

“It’s probably just someone stopping to take a phone call,” I murmured. “Maybe they’re looking for the business hours on the window. No big deal.”

Oh, but it was a gigantic deal.

And then two large men in black suits got out of the car’s front doors. One had a bald head, and the other had put his dark hair in a top bun.

I didn’t recognize them, but I knew the type all too well.

The two men walked around the car and talked to someone in the back before heading toward the café.

They tried the door handle and found it locked.

My body froze in place.

I hoped the locked door and closed sign would be enough to turn them away.

But no, the bald one grabbed the handle again and pushed down hard enough to make the lock snap.

My heart beat itself into a frenzied rhythm.

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