Page 35 of Wicked Rivals

Like some kind of machine, my son gathered data, cataloging, and analyzing, trying to understand the facts of the situation before deciding how to feel about it.

Then again, he could have also been in shock.

Stefano led us into the house and brusquely dismissed us by instructing his maid to take us to the guest suite. Enzo and I quietly followed her up the staircase.

I’d been expecting a moderately large guest room, something more like what we would have found at a four-star hotel. Ha. Not even close.

The maid led us through what she called my room first. The second we entered, I instantly understood what Stefano intended for the room to be. A gilded cage—beautiful, decorated in rich golden ochers, warm whites, and hints of delicate sky blue.

The room was large and airy and would have been more than suitable if someone hadn’t forced it upon me.

As if to emphasize my new captivity on her employer’s behalf, the maid went straight to the balcony doors and locked them with the set of keys pulled from her apron.

“If this room is satisfactory,” she said, gesturing with an open arm at Enzo, “I will show the boy to his room.”

“No,” I half-shouted, then cleared my throat and attempted to smile. “We’ll share this one. Thank you.”

“Oh…”

For all her efficiency, the maid clearly didn’t know what to do with a guest who argued—with her or with her employer.

“But… I was instructed to make up the adjoining room as well. There’s plenty of space for you both, with a shared bathroom in between. You’re welcome to leave the pass-through doors open whenever you like. That’s up to your discretion, ma’am. The entire suite is yours.”

Enzo stepped forward and intervened before I could argue any further.

“Adjoining rooms are fine,” he said.

The maid blinked at him, probably as surprised as every other adult who didn’t know my son when he let out an unexpected comment like that far beyond his years. Then her eager-to-please smile returned, and she dipped her head at him.

“Wonderful. It’s right this way.”

Enzo let out a big yawn and rubbed one eye with the back of his hand before following her.

He looked exhausted, yes, but there was more to it. The way he’d snapped out his last words signaled his growing anger, and when he got angry, he needed space. He had always been like that, sitting by himself for an hour or two before moving on to deal with whatever had upset him.

Mainly, that anger had stemmed from watching a customer being rude to me or because he had some kind of argument with another kid in his class. This was on a whole new level, though. But it made sense he would want to process this unexpected experience.

If he was angry with me, well, I couldn’t blame him.

Sure, I couldargue against Enzo having his own room, since we shouldn't be here in this house. And yes, I wanted to insist that he and I sleep in the same room. In the same bed even. That was the only way I could know he was safe every second we spent in Stefano’s house.

I really wanted to insist.

But I also realized how unfair that would be. My fears were my own, not his, and while keeping him at my side like that would have made me feel better, it wouldn’t have been a decision made with Enzo’s best interest as the top priority.

More than that, as much as I hated to admit it, Enzo and I really weresafe under Stefano’s roof.

Stefano wouldn’t have taken a bullet for my son if he had wanted to hurt him.

Mafia men did not hurt their own children.

In this world, any child was useful, even illegitimate ones.

Little boys were raised to be soldiers. A bastard could rise to the ranks of lieutenant or even a don’s second-in-command if he was smart enough.

Girls, though, were raised as the property of everyone else but themselves, sold into marriage to solidify business deals.

In the mafia world, no one was free.

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