Page 27 of Beauty and the Boss

I nod slowly, processing, thinking. The timeline definitely works for Micah to be Luciano’s son. If he is, does he know he is? Did Luciano come here solely for Cecelia? I need more answers.

Bruno’s on his phone, already dealing with other business while still glancing around.

“Why did he choose Sicily?” I ask.

Bruno shrugs. “Fuck knows.” He drops the phone between his legs onto the leather seat and puts a hand on the steering wheel.

I purse my lips, not wanting to push my luck. Bruno doesn’t offer extra information for free, and he’s already given me what I asked for. He gestures with his fingers for me to exit the car. Deal done.

As Bruno speeds off, I slink into the buildings’ shadows, hands in pockets, head down, grinning to myself. So, Luciano’s a convicted murderer, is he? I might have just paid handsomely for it, but I call that kind of information priceless.

My phone buzzes and I assume it’s going to be Rocco, checking everything went okay with the meeting, but to my surprise I see a message from Dante. Judging by his usual friendly tone, I’m assuming he doesn’t know what went down with me and Cece. He suggests dropping by the house soon, says he’s noticed I haven’t been there lately. I text him back straightaway, accepting his offer. This bodes well: if I’m still in Dante’s good books, there’s no way Cece or Connie will have told him what happened at the hotel, which means there’s a very real chance of staying in the DeMarco inner circle, where I belong. Unlike my father, Dante doesn’t rule his girls with an iron fist, but they respect him unreservedly, nonetheless. If he supports my intention to marry Cecelia, he’ll be just the ally I need, especially when he knows the truth about Luciano.

Fourteen

CECELIA

I can’t wipe the soppy smile from my face. The past few days have been the best of my life; I feel like I’m living in a dream. “I want to marry you, have more babies with you, live my life with you.” That’s what Michael said after I finally told him that Micah was his son!

We talked for hours afterwards, in his office. He instructed his staff not to disturb us and we sat, limbs wrapped around in each other on the leather couch, looking at pictures and videos of Micah on my phone, from when he was born and through his birthdays so far, to candid shots taken on unremarkable days of our truly remarkable little boy. It was incredibly emotional and overwhelming for us both and we held each other as we cried tears of sorrow for all the years we’ve lost as a family then more tears of joy as we made plans for all the years to come. When I left to collect Micah from school, Michael wanted to come with me, but I asked him to wait just a couple more days, until we had time to arrange it properly. Michael agreed and said he was going to make it an introduction to remember, for all of us.

I again replay yesterday afternoon in my mind, when they met for the first time. I took Micah to Michael’s house after school, which he thought was a great adventure of course. I suspected my happy, confident little boy would take it all in his stride, but I was still so nervous about it. There are no instruction manuals for introducing your four-year-old son to his father for the first time in his life. But I needn’t have worried.

“Why are we at this house, Mommy?” he asked, looking up at me as we waited at Michael’s door. “Who lives here?”

“Someone very special lives here, baby. Someone I would like you to meet,” I said, bending down next to him.

At that moment Michael opened the door himself, his mouth breaking into a wide smile, his eyes shining with happiness. He looked even more handsome than usual when he squatted down to Micah’s level and said hello, we exchanged a look so infused with love that, in that moment, I felt like my heart was going to explode from my chest like a cannonball of confetti and cover us all.

“You’re early!” he said, standing up again. “I wanted to be out here to greet you, but I was just setting up in the garden. Come in, come through!”

Micah took my hand as we followed Michael through the house inside to the spacious sitting room I had been to before, except this time the French doors were wide open, giving a beautiful view of the well-maintained extensive grounds beyond. The sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky and Michael led us out to the large, impressive terrace which contained sun loungers and parasols and, to the right, a table and chairs.

The long table was set for three at one end, bunches of balloons were tied to all ten chairs and at the other end of the table sat a pile of presents wrapped in superhero wrapping paper with brightly colored ribbons. Micah and I both gasped in surprise.

“Wow! Mommy, is this a party?” Micah asked, his chocolate brown eyes taking it all in.

“It certainly looks like a party, baby,” I said, smiling at Michael who was leaning casually against the stone terrace’s ledge and clearly enjoying watching our amazed reactions from afar.

“Whose party is it?” he asked, looking up at me and squinting against the sun.

Michael then moved towards us and knelt in front of Micah. “It’s your party, Micah. To make up for all the parties and celebrations I’ve missed so far.”

Micah looked at Michael with a puzzled expression and I could tell my curious son was going to have a ton of questions for him.

“Why have you missed them?” he asked.

Michael sighed then smiled at Micah as I struggled not to sob. I didn’t want to detract attention away from Michael’s answer. “Because I’ve been somewhere far away for a long time. But I’m here now and I would love to have a party with you and Mommy. Just us three. Would that be okay with you?”

“Why? Who are you?”

“I’m your papa,” said Michael, gently stroking his son’s face. “And I’m very pleased to meet you, my very special son.”

Michael was kind and loving and so considerate of us both and answered all of Micah’s many questions with a natural ease. Seeing them together, Micah a carbon copy of Michael, was so special. And when Micah asked why I was crying, I told him it was because I was so happy, that I had made a wish and it had come true.

However, now, the dream may be about to become a nightmare.

Connie has gone to collect Micah from school to give Michael and I time to speak to Papa alone, wishing me luck before she left. She is so supportive of our relationship—as I knew she would be—and so pleased that Michael wants to be a proper father to her precious nephew. I wish the same could be said for Papa, but I have a feeling this discussion may not be an easy one. I don’t want to ambush him, but I don’t think I have a choice.

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