Page 4 of The Don's Hidden Heir

I met Dominic on a group trip to Italy during my freshman year in college. We’d clicked at first sight, but I’d tried not to give in to him. Long-distance relationships were never my thing—still aren’t—so I’d tried not to start anything I would end up regretting.

Well, it’s safe to say fate had other plans for me, because I bumped into Dominic exactly two months after we first met in Italy. Apparently, business brought him to New York and he was here to stay.

We went on a couple of dates, had some good sex, and we both realized our feelings for each other. Our relationship was perfect. There was no doubt we were made for each other.

Three months into our relationship, I found out I was pregnant. Despite being a college student with my future ahead of me, I was more than excited to share the news with Dominic.

But then I found out something I should never have. Dominic wasn’t just a business man like he’d told me. Our whole relationship had been a lie.

That night, I found out he was the head of the Italian mob. The brutal man famously known as“Death.”

Being only twenty, I did the only thing I could think of. I ended our relationship, and never told him about the pregnancy. I’d heard enough about the mafia to decide that wasn’t the kind of life I wanted for my child.

It’s been seven years, and while I can’t swear I made the right decision that night, I don’t regret it.

“I don’t know, Moira. Some days, it feels like I’m completely over him. Other days, I want to break down and cry. I wonder how he is doing, if he thinks of me or if he’s moved on to another woman.”

Moira looks at me for a minute, her gaze filled with pity. She means no harm, but I hate the way she is looking at me right now. It makes me feel pathetic.

She leans forwards and reaches out for my hands. “It’s okay to miss him, Elena. But you have to move on at some point.”

A pang of an emotion that has haunted me for years starts to tighten my chest. I can’t put a name on what I’m feeling right now, but I can admit Moira is right. I have to move on, I should’ve long ago.

Still, I can’t find it in me to let go of my feelings for Dominic.

***

“It’s not an event for Moms,” Lucas complains, his small face heavy with a frown. “I don’t want you there. All my friends are coming with their Daddies.”

I lounge beside Lucas on the light grey sofa in the middle of my living room, wearing a SpongeBob onesie that matches Lucas’s. “I know you want a dad, and I’m only offering because I don’t want you to go alone.”

His frown deepens. “You know nothing about soccer, Mom. It’ll be really embarrassing when all my friends see you there.”

Embarrassing?

Lucas has never used a word like that with me before. My heart clenches at how much he’s grown. My little boy is no longer the toddler who followed me around, wanting to see as much of me as he could.

He’s a big boy who thinks his Mom is embarrassing now. I finger his dark hair, keeping my voice soft. “Hey, buddy!”

Lucas doesn’t turn to look at me. He’s too upset.

I don’t give up though. “Hey. Your Dad isn’t here with us, Lucas. I know you miss him, and you want him here, but it’s just you and me right now.”

Guilt slithers through me as I look at my son. Lucas was three the first time he asked of his father. It’d come as a surprise, and though it wasn’t a logical lie, I’d told him his daddy traveled faraway and may never come back.

May.

Because as much as I try to deny it, there’s still the slightest gleam of hope in me that someday, my love and I will be together. And I then won’t be able to keep Dominic in the dark about his son’s existence.

The thought of it scares me.

The thought that a day will ever come when I won’t be able to shield Lucas from Dominic, lurks around me like a nightmare.

Dominic left for Italy shortly after I broke up with him. I don’t think he will ever return to New York, but if he does, I plan to keep Lucas as far away from him as possible. It doesn’t matter if I have to put my life on the line to do so.

But my son will never have to live the darkness of the mafia.

“Mom.” He is no longer frowning, but the expression on his face doesn’t show he is happy either. “Do you miss Dad sometimes?”

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