A Dark Sicilian Secret(25)
But watching Vittorio hold her son—their son—Jillian marveled over the fact that Joe didn’t cry or go rigid when Vitt took him from her. If anything Joe looked supremely comfortable, as well as extremely content in Vitt’s arms. It was the strangest thing, too, because Joe was never relaxed with strangers, and even less with men, as he’d been around so few in his first year of life. Yet here he was, held securely against Vitt’s broad chest, nonchalantly studying his chubby baby hands as if this sort of thing happened every day.
Remarkable.
Extraordinary.
Vittorio and Joseph already fit together. And they certainly looked like they belonged together. Both had the same dark glossy hair, although Joe’s was baby-fine, and the same intensity of expression, even though Joe’s eyes were blue and Vitt’s amber brown.
“You’ve held babies before,” Jillian said, trying to come to terms with her intensely ambivalent emotions. None of this was supposed to have happened. Being here, like this, was her worst fear and yet nothing terrible had happened yet. Maybe nothing terrible would.
“I have four nieces and three nephews and I’ve held each one within hours of his or her birth,” he answered.
The overhead light played off Vitt’s sculpted cheekbones, strong nose and angular jaw. On someone else the nose might have been too long, the bridge too broken, but on him it was perfect. Vitt’s eyes, shaded by that dark slash of eyebrow, and the curve of his full sensual mouth, were almost too beautiful. He needed a nose of character, and he had one.
“Your brothers and sisters live close then?” she asked, forcing her attention from his arresting face to the conversation. She would soon meet his family, and tomorrow she’d be expected to live amongst them. Who would have thought any of this possible?
Vitt dipped his head, pressed a kiss to Joe’s temple. “Two do. The other two are in different countries. But I’m always there when a baby arrives. Nothing is more important than family.”
She swallowed hard, hit by a wave of loss. Those were the very same words her father used to say when she was a little girl.
His two favorite expressions had been “There’s nothing more important than family” and “Family is everything.” Only he hadn’t meant it.
Or maybe once he’d meant it, before he’d become consumed by greed and reckless ambition.
“I agree,” she said softly, hating the awful emotions churning inside of her. Growing up she’d been a daddy’s girl. He’d adored her and she’d loved him deeply in return. He’d been such a handsome, gregarious father. Outgoing. Charming. Full of jokes and laughter.
And then it all changed, virtually overnight. Her father, learning he’d be arrested and prosecuted for a long laundry list of crimes, cut a deal with the feds and confessed his part, and everyone else’s role in organized crime. He saved himself but sold his crime family out.
He should have gone to prison. Because even fourteen years after her father confessed everything to the government, revealing everything he knew, and giving up everyone he’d known, he remained hated and hunted. He’d done the unthinkable. He’d turned on his people, and the mob had turned on him.
“Are you feeling all right?” Vitt asked, shifting Joe in his arms and scrutinizing her face.
She tried to smile but her eyes burned and acid rose up in her throat. Discovering at twelve that the father she’d loved more than life itself, was a thief, a traitor and a coward, had broken her heart. She’d lived with shame every day since. “I’m fine.”
“Do you need some mineral water?”
Did she need mineral water? No. She needed forgiveness. She needed peace. She needed grace. And most of all she needed to forget she was Frank Giordano’s daughter. But married to Vittorio, she could never forget. Married to Vittorio, she’d never be forgiven. “That sounds like a good idea.”
He took a couple steps, pressed a button on the wall and in seconds the flight attendant appeared. “Yes, sir?”
“A mineral water, and some crackers or dry biscuits.”
The flight attendant disappeared to fulfill the request and Vitt drew a chair from the table. “Come, Jill, sit, before you faint.”
Perhaps if he knew the truth now, perhaps if she confessed everything right away, he’d possibly forgive her. Perhaps he’d even understand…because surely, he wouldn’t really hurt her…she couldn’t believe he would hurt her, not after their two weeks together in Bellagio….