Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
VAL
The exotic blend of rich woody scents, layered with pleasant floral scents, rose from the bathwater, soothing the tension in my muscles along with my anxiety.
The relaxation cleared my head, helping me focus on what really mattered.
Floating in that big tub, I’d come up with several contingency plans, all ready to put into motion at a moment’s notice.
The secret to success would be simple enough. I had to be prepared for anything and everything, starting with the worst-case scenario.
If it turned out that Enzo and I could get away in the next twelve to twenty-four hours, then yes, I definitely had a plan. And if we had to wait longer and bide time, I still had a plan.
These plans unfortunately hinged on when Stefano would deal with the threat that had brought us here. After watching him earlier, something told me it was already at the top of his list. Perfect.
If Stefano tried to lock us up or take my son away from me, or even if Enzo told me he wanted to stay here, I’d already decided how to deal with that as well.
Every contingency had to be considered.
Even the unthinkable.
Though I’d already considered it, I wasn’t nearly as worried about what Stefano would do as I was about how Enzo would react, the possibility I might not be able to predict my own son.
Enzo wouldn’t stay with a man like Stefano, not even if he thought it was what he wanted. Not on my life. If I had to explain to my son the hard truths about his families—Stefano’s and my own—before he should really hear them, then so be it.
Any mother on the planet knew the hard choices had to be made sometimes to protect her child. Nothing in life was so precious to me that I wouldn’t sacrifice it to ensure Enzo’s safety, not even if it changed the way he saw me or meant he would never love me the same way again.
I hoped beyond hope it never came to that, but there would always be a chance. And if that chance became my reality, I would meet the challenge head on like I had every other one.
The only thing I couldn’t decide was where we would go after leaving Brooklyn and New York altogether. That decision had to be made in the moment, or I would end up spending too much time researching a specific place beforehand.
Even internet searches for apartments, neighborhoods, and schools left their own virtual paper trail that couldn’t completely be erased by simply clearing a browsing history. Not if someone with the right means really wanted to know what I’d been up to.
Stefano totally had the means, and now that he knew about Enzo, he would never let his son go without a fight. No matter what he’d said.
That kind of planning, looking ahead at that level, came with too much risk. Once Enzo and I got away, I had to be sure we couldn’t be tracked in any way.
Long after the heat of the bathwater had cooled, I stepped out of the tub, wrapped up in a fluffy towel, and collected my dirty clothes.
The dress I’d worn got covered in plaster, sawdust, and slivers of glass, and I couldn’t bring myself to put it back on.
So after heading back into the bedroom, I opened the closet and found a brand-new robe from the Neiman Marcus Collection, recently purchased but never worn, the tags still attached.
Whoever this robe belonged to before me, it didn’t matter. The damn thing belonged to me now.
The soft fabric hugged my body, wrapping me up in a warmth that rivaled even the steamy bath water. Just light enough and thin enough to stuff into a suitcase or backpack. I’d be taking it with me when we finally got out of here.
Stefano could consider it payment for my pain and suffering.
The finer details of my plans still needed to be locked down. More circumstances to consider. The weighing of pros and cons against staying until it was safe or leaving sooner while Stefano was distracted.
With all the rattling around in my head, I wouldn’t sleep. Not even a wink.
I sprawled out on the soft chaise lounge with the beautiful blue throw pillows, closed my eyes, and ran through the scenarios in my mind over and over, looking for weak points or potentially unforeseen circumstances that might hinder us. Or help us.
So many variables. So many things I didn't know. How many people occupied this house at any given time? If Stefano left the house, how many men did he take with him? Could I sway the loyalty of one of his employees?
The men wouldn't lift a finger to help me, that I knew. They were Stefano’s men through and through.
What about the maid? Would she see another woman in need and lend a hand, or did she value her resume more and the paycheck that came with it? Was she the only female in Stefano’s employ, or were there others?
I just didn't know.
And I couldn’t say how long it would take Stefano to solve our problem with whoever had started this private war with him.
Then my thoughts turned to the yellow envelope he’d handed me in the car and everything inside it. The note on the top had mentioned an engagement, and that introduced even more variables.
Did I need to worry about his fiancée as well?
If she’d somehow discovered Enzo, she could also be behind the attack, wanting to get rid of any potential future claims to Stefano’s empire, claims that might come between her own children and their inheritance.
Stefano hadn’t even known about Enzo, though. The existence of a bastard son living so closely in Brooklyn seemed like something a bride-to-be would discuss with her future husband, even if only to warn him that she knew and expected him to clean up the inconvenience.
The more I considered this mystery woman, the more I thought about her on a more personal level. Had he put me in her room? Was I wearing her robe after having bathed in her scented bath oils?
The idea of it all turned my stomach, not with jealousy but with a strange eerie feeling.
Then again, this suite could have been stocked to accommodate any other women Stefano brought home regularly. Everyone knew mafia men often didn’t uphold the morals of chastity or monogamy.
But a cashmere robe seemed a little much for one of his whores. It made more sense that it had been purchased for his fiancée. Then I realized it really didn’t make sense.
Mafia princesses didn’t have sleepovers with their fiancés before the marriage. Their families usually made sure they remained virgins until their wedding day.
I squeezed my eyes shut. None of that mattered.
If Stefano had a problem with me wearing the clothes stored in this suite, he would just have to deal with it. He hadn’t exactly given me an option about where I was going to stay or what I was going to wear.
With a sigh, I pressed my thumbs against the bridge of my nose to relieve the pressure building behind my eyes. I would have killed for a glass of wine to calm my nerves and take the edge off. I couldn’t do anything else while waiting to see what move Stefano would make first. So yes, a delicate glass of red.
Waiting was always the worst. It offered too much time for nerves and overthinking.
The door to the bathroom whispered over the floor as Enzo entered my room.
“Mama?”
I sat up and looked him over, instantly recognizing the potential for having missed some smaller injury during the earlier chaos of this never-ending night.
“Yes, baby, I’m right here. Why aren't you sleeping? Is everything okay?”
“I never went to sleep, Mama. I went to have a talk with Mr. Vignali while you were taking a bath.”
He said it like a grumpy old man complaining about having to chew someone out over something annoying but trivial.
I might have laughed if his confession hadn’t caught me so off guard. Now I didn’t know what to say. I took a deep breath, shut my eyes, and nodded.
“Enzo…”
He had questions. Of course he did. And I couldn’t be upset with him for that. After all, it was my fault, all of it. I had to tackle his questions. Who knows what Stefano told him.
I opened my eyes and met his.
“I’m sure you have even more questions now, huh? Do you want to talk about it?”
“Yeah… in the morning. I'm tired, and I just wanted to know if you would read me another chapter.”
He drew his hands out from behind his back to reveal the book we’d started reading before our quiet little life had literally been shot to pieces.
I hadn't even realized he grabbed it.
The fact he wanted something so simple and calming at a time like this overwhelmed me with relief. All I wanted was to pull him into my arms, hug him so tightly, and never let go.
“Sure, buddy. Let's go to your room. I'll tuck you in again and we can read one more chapter. Sound good?”
“Sounds good. Thanks, Mama.”
He turned on his heel and marched back to his room, hugging the book to his chest.
Once I pulled back the covers for the second time, Enzo crawled between the soft sheets beneath the thick down comforter. I tucked it all around him, then lay down on top beside him, opened the book, and picked up where we’d left off earlier.
A little girl running from her powers, from her destiny, from the people who would hurt her for simply being who they made her to be.
Despite the chapter’s action scene, I kept my tone low and even, hoping it would lull him to sleep while I absently played with his soft curls.
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.
“Why didn't you tell me? I would have been there for him. And for you.”
I had known this conversation would have to happen, but that didn’t mean I was looking forward to it. With a frustrated sigh, I tilted my head.
“You know why. Same reason I couldn't be with you.”
That was mostly true. He just didn't know why those reasons were so important to me, and I wasn't about to volunteer that information.
His eyes darkened even more if that was possible. I could see his anger seething within the tight grip of his composure.
“It didn't work, did it? Keeping my son away from me did not keep him safe.”
“No, it didn’t,” I admitted. “Now you know about him. You’ve met him. Talked to him. So tell me, Stefano. Tell me what you're prepared to do to keep my son safe. Because I will burn this entire city to the ground if it means even a single hair on his head is never harmed. Do you understand me?”
I expected him to fight me. I expected him to belittle my conviction or scoff at the whole idea.
What I did not expect was his startling lunge at me, or his hands wrapped around my throat as he shoved me against the wall. He squeezed hard enough that I knew he could hurt me if he wanted to. But he didn’t.
“Our son,” he snarled. “Ours.”
The next thing I knew, Stefano’s lips slammed against mine, his kiss pinning me against the wall as his hands left my throat to run down my body and inside the robe.
I should have fought him. My mind screamed for me to shove him away, to tell him no. But my body was a traitor and melted into his hands.
Stefano was the first man I had been with. The only man.
I’d already known from our first night together that no one could ever compare to what I felt when I was with him, so I never bothered with anyone else. I’d considered a few men, gone on a handful of dates, for Enzo's sake, but no one ever seemed good enough.
No one had ever been strong enough, fiery enough, perfect enough. And now I remembered why.
Because they weren’t Stefano.
The instant chemistry between us overpowered my self-preservation the same way this man overpowered me and held me against the wall.
It wasn’t normal.
No average man could make me feel that way. Then it occurred to me, maybe not for the first time, that my reaction to Stefano had everything to do with who he was.
What he really was.
God help me because the fact that he was a powerful mafia boss attracted me to him.
Mentally, I recognized his intelligence, his strength, his loyalty, and even his arrogance. Physically, instinctually, I recognized his power.
In my heart, I understood this man’s ability to save me from my demons… or to sacrifice me to them if he so chose.
Either way, he could do whatever he wanted with me, take whatever he wanted.
To feel this again, to see it, taste it, and exist in it, melted away my resistance and turned my soul inside out.
No ordinary man, no matter how sweet or loving, could ever truly meet my needs. Not the way Stefano Vignali did.
He made my heart race.
Only he could send heat rushing through my blood and make me forget everything else.
With one kiss, he reignited a hunger inside me.
The passion I thought had died the day I left him.