Page 45 of Wicked Rivals

His body relaxed within minutes, followed by the gentle, steady rhythm of his breath.

Worked like a charm every time.

After everything that had happened, the sound of a child surrendering to a deep sleep, unaware of what horrors waited just around the corner, comforted me more than I’d expected.

I considered staying, falling asleep beside him, just like I always had whenever a nightmare woke him, but movement on the other side of the room caught my attention.

I looked up and froze.

Stefano leaned against the open doorframe, watching us.

He hadn’t changed his black slacks from earlier, but he had replaced his shirt, tie, and jacket with a white tank top that clung to muscles he hadn’t had the last time we were together. A bandage covered his upper left arm.

I raised a brow at him, silently asking what he wanted.

He answered by tilting his head and holding my gaze.

A request for me to step outside so we could speak.

That was the last thing I wanted. But if my plans were going to work, Stefano couldn’t suspect a thing.

I nodded, took my time kissing Enzo on the forehead, and tucked him in before walking out of the room to face whatever Stefano planned to do to me. At the very least, he would want answers too.

Everyone wanted answers.

As if the robe could shield me from whatever rage, hurt, anger, or indifference he was about to unleash, I tightened it around my body, and then gently shut the door behind me.

“What?” I asked, keeping my voice just above a whisper.

“I already know the answer,” he said, “but I want to hear you say it. Is he mine?”

My cheeks burned, possessive fury overwhelming me.

“He’s mine,” I snapped.

The same level of vitriol filled Stefano’s eyes.

He clenched his jaw and snapped back at me.

“Am I his fucking father?”

There was no point in lying about it. I sucked in a deep breath and blinked.

“Yes.”

He nodded. “He and I spoke tonight. Did he tell you?”

I folded my arms, pulling the robe tighter when his gaze dropped lower.

“My son doesn't keep secrets from me,” I said.

“No, I suppose he doesn't. But he knows you keep secrets from him. He doesn't know exactly what they are, or if he does, he wouldn't tell me.”

“Okay…” I pretended like that wasn’t news.

Enzo and I would talk about my secrets when the time came. But that conversation would happen when I was ready for it. Stefano had no say about the timing.

His gaze narrowed, his eyes so dark.

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