Dante (27 page)

Dante could still hear Marc’s words to Catrina ringing in the back of his mind. Like a shot of poison directly to his heart, fury raced through his bloodstream. Somehow, he kept it hidden from his wife. She was upset enough, even if she was hiding it.

“I tried to keep contact with Catherine once I was back in the States, but I was ignored. Something inside me knew, Dante.”

“Knew what?”

“That he was beating her, using her like he did the others.”

Dante’s throat felt tight and dry, but he still managed to ask, “How did you find out about Michel?”

“Someone sympathetic to my sister got in contact with one of my men,” Catrina explained. “The informant was terrified of Bruno and wouldn’t give too many specific details. It was enough, though.”

“Enough for what?”

“To send me back again.” Catrina’s shoulders slumped as she shook her head. Pressing her palm to her forehead, she sat down on the couch. Dante surveyed his wife in silence, unsure of what to say or do. He was still so torn inside over what she had done and how she had lied to him. “I watched him and her for weeks, his men, too. I found her pregnant and beaten. Very pregnant.

“I was smarter the second time around,” she continued, glancing up at Dante with a sad smile. “We flew in on a privately chartered jet. We stayed in the shadows making sure no one who might recognize us would catch us by mistake. I waited, thinking maybe I could bring her back with me if only I could catch her when he wasn’t there … and then she had him.”

“Michel, you mean.”

“Yes. Catherine was quite pregnant, but she wasn’t far enough along to be due. Bruno beat her into labor one night. She gave birth alone and scared, and my sister died before morning from blood loss and I imagine shock. But he was so revered that his idiots couldn’t help but celebrate the birth of the little boy and that was how I learned he had made his way into the world.”

Catrina shrugged. “So, I waited a little longer. When Bruno left the boy alone with the nanny, I went in. I brought the nanny, too. She had tried to help my sister shortly before she died, or at least, that’s what she said. I believed her only because she spoke of Catherine in a familiar way. She also cared for Michel.”

“You must not have gotten away as cleanly as you assumed, considering Bruno is still after you,” Dante pointed out.

“No, I got out perfectly unscathed with Bruno and his fools none the wiser. Problem was, no one cared for my sister but me. Even our parents, once she left in search of me, had wiped their hands clean of her. No one would have defied Bruno like I would have. He knew, Dante. Bruno didn’t have to see me or be told it was me to know who had taken the child.”

“His child.”

Catrina smirked, the sight almost cruel. “It’s not his son. He claims Michel, but the baby doesn’t belong to Bruno.”

Dante’s brow crinkled in his confusion. “How could you know that?”

“Michel is brown-eyed. Both my sister and Bruno are blue-eyed. Bruno has black hair, my sister had red hair like me. Michel is a dark blonde. And his skin is light, not tanned like a Sicilian’s.”

“You’re assuming, but you don’t know for sure whether or not he is that man’s son,” Dante said.

“According to the nanny, once I was able to get her calm and promise her safety, she explained a few things, also.”

“Like what?”

“Like how Bruno would share my sister with others as punishment.”

That sick feeling slammed into Dante with a vengeance. “
Cazzo
.”

“Maybe he never would have hurt Michel. Maybe he would have treated the boy like a little king. Who knows? I wasn’t willing to risk the chance that he might not, Dante. Michel is my blood, too, and the one thing I have left of Catherine. All I can do for my sister now is protect that boy, so I did what I had to. I’m sorry for hurting you, and for little Johnathan, but if you knew what I was running from—”

“I never would have married you,” Dante interjected, his words a whisper.

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Catrina replied. “I do love you. So very much.”

“I know,
Amore
.”

Of course, he did. It still hurt.

“How did I get on your radar?” Dante asked, clearing his throat of the thickness building.

“I told you before when we had that first meeting.”

“When you broke into the condo, you mean.”

“Semantics. I didn’t lie about that, either. We work in a similar trade, some of our business tends to intermingle in certain avenues. Word had traveled a year or so earlier that the successor for the Marcellos might be looking for an arrangement of the wedding sort. It was the only thing I could think of to do when I had Michel back in the States. Once he was settled and I knew he was safe, I made my move to get my men on your radar, and then I sought you out.”

“How old is the child?” Dante asked.

“Eight months last Monday.”

“Jesus, he was practically brand new when you came to me.”

“I had no choice but to leave him. I didn’t want to take the chance Bruno might come looking sooner rather than later, and I couldn’t take the risk of having Michel close to me if he did come.”

“The nanny still cares for him, then?”

“Yes, Isa watches over him.”

“Have you seen him since marrying me?” Dante asked.

“Once. The trip to LA was a cover for me being gone.”

“A lie, you mean. Another one.”

“Okay, a lie,” Catrina admitted.

Dante rubbed circles into his forehead. He was entirely over the whole goddamn day. “And where is he located?”

“Not far out of the city.”

Dante didn’t even have to think about it. His choice was cemented instantly. “Get ready, Cat, we’re leaving.”

Catrina seemed stunned. “What, to where?”

“I said get ready, it’s time to bring him home.”

“What about Johnathan?”

“I have people on the streets digging for info. Right now, it’s the best we can do unless the men who took him contact us directly before something comes up.”

Catrina hesitated. “You’re not planning on bringing Michel out into the open to draw them from hiding, right?”

“I would never do that,” Dante said firmly. “He’s just a child, one who deserves to be properly cared for, not kept away from the only family he has left.”

Catrina stood from the couch. Dante turned away, needing a second to think without his wife gauging his every reaction. Catrina was far too apt at reading other people’s actions and what they truly meant.

A little boy …

Was this his one chance at something that had been impossible?

Dante glanced over his shoulder. “I understand why you hid it from me, but I don’t like it at all.”

Catrina stilled, her fingers clenching tight around her bag. “I knew exactly what I was giving up marrying you. My reputation—being the queen. I was ready for that, Dante.”

“But?” he asked.

“But I was not ready for you.”

“I wasn’t ready for you, either.”

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you. I thought if we could keep this as strictly business, you wouldn’t be hurt by me in the end. Everyone is always getting hurt by me.”

Maybe she had hurt him. 

But she had saved him and made him so much better in a lot of ways, too.

• • •

“
Grazie
, Isa,” Catrina said, kissing the older woman’s cheek. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited more. I couldn’t. It was too dangerous.”

“
Lo so
,” Isa replied, smiling. “I think he misses you after the last time, though.”

Catrina made a face. “He was too little to remember me.”

“They’re never too little,
ragazza
.”

Isa watched Dante from the side as he leaned against the wall, observing the women’s exchange. “
Il marito
?”

“
Sì
,” Dante said, answering Isa’s question if he was Catrina’s husband.

“He’s handsome,” Isa whispered, albeit not very quietly, to Catrina with a conspiratorial grin.

“He is,” Catrina agreed.

Dante shook his head, amused at the two women as their conversation turned to only Italian. Catrina asked about Michel’s welfare, how much he had grown, and if he was speaking any words. When the chat turned to Isa’s family back in Italy, Dante gave the two some privacy from his presence.

Isa would likely want to return home if she could, given the sadness in her tone as she spoke about her daughter and two adult sons she left behind to help Catrina.

“You’ll be safe,” Dante heard Catrina murmur in Italian. “I promise, we’ll make sure of it, even if we have to start you all out somewhere new. After what you’ve done for Michel, you deserve it, Isa.”

“You mustn’t allow that man to take him back, Catrina.”

“We won’t.”

Dante took careful note of his wife’s words. Not that
she
wouldn’t allow it to happen, but
they
wouldn’t. Him and her together, because they were a partnership, even if he was terribly angry with her for the things she did.

Glancing around the small, bungalow-style home, Dante was relieved to notice the place was well maintained. It was clean, warm, and seemingly safe. A few toys were scattered in the corner by an infant rocker. A playpen rested in the corner, empty but for a blue blanket. Isa seemed to be around the same age as Cecelia. He guessed to the quiet neighborhood, Isa probably looked like an older mother if, or when, she took the child out.

It was the perfect spot, Dante knew. Catrina had set the woman and Michel up well for as long as they needed. He smiled privately. They wouldn’t need it anymore. Not after tonight.

“But he is not American and he has no papers,” Isa argued quietly, drawing Dante’s attention. “What about that?”

“We’ll take care of it,” Dante said, turning back to face the women. Catrina offered her husband a thankful smile, her hand reaching out for him. Dante moved to take it without question. “I have more than enough connections to get Michel whatever documentation he needs. Even the government couldn’t make as good of a forgery as my people can.”

Isa snorted. “So sure.”

“Positive, actually.”

“Don’t worry, Isa,” Catrina said. “Bruno is the only danger Michel faces and I …”

Dante flinched, knowing what his wife was going to say before she trailed off. Steeling his nerves and swallowing his pissed off pride, Dante said for Catrina, “Cat took care of it, and she married a man unafraid of someone like Bruno so that Michel could be safe.”

“Yes,” Catrina said softly. “And I so love this man.”

Dante’s fingers interwoven with his wife’s squeezed gently, but he kept quiet. Later, he knew. They would have so much time later to get out every little last thing they had to say. Or him, mostly.

“Is he sleeping?” Catrina asked.

Isa nodded. “He sleeps well.”

“What about his shots and things?” Dante asked his wife. “Is he up to date on all of that?”

“No, I’ve had trouble getting paperwork made for a child his age that would pass inspection.”

“You could have paid for a doctor to take care of him on the down low.”

Catrina’s guilt was plain to see, but as always, the woman was stubborn. “I haven’t had the chance to find one who would also stay off your radar if you checked into my business. The more money I shuffled around, the more likely you were to notice something was up.”

Dante suppressed his frown, knowing she was right. Joining their accounts and having an all access pass to survey hers had been a major stickler for him; he wouldn’t have to wonder if Catrina was doing things behind his back. “Cat, my parents missed a very vital vaccine for me by a few months and it cost me a great deal.”

“I know it did,” Catrina replied, ignoring Isa’s curious stare. “We can get him caught up.”

“There’s a schedule for that sort of thing and it needs to be followed,” Dante pointed out.

“Dante,
please
. Not right now.”

“Yes,
right now
, Cat. This is important to me.”

Catrina sighed, meeting his gaze with a nod of acceptance. “What about Paulie? Could he …?”

“Possibly,” Dante said. “Or at least, he could get Michel started. It might take a few days before he can get a hold of the first round, however.”

Letting go of Catrina’s hand, Dante excused himself from the two women for a moment. He entered the small bathroom, taking note of the baby tub inside the large bath and the squeaky toys lined up along the counter. Shutting the door to have privacy, Dante pulled out his cell and dialed his consigliere.

After the fourth ring, Dante wondered if Paulie was even going to pick up the damn call. It was late and Dante wouldn’t usually bother Paulie with nonsense unless it was important during the evenings. That’s what Lucian was for, now. He should have known better—the boss was calling. Even if Paulie had nearly three decades of life on Dante, he would never shun his boss’s call.