But even knowing the odds, she still had to fight, because what were her options? Let Vittorio take Joe from her? Never. Not in a million years.
Which brought her to her senses. What was she doing in his arms, her body taut against his? It was insanity, that’s what it was, and she fought to regain control. Jillian struggled against his chest. “You forget yourself,” she gritted. “This is America, not Sicily and I do not belong to you. Let go.”
He released her and she took a step away, and then another, walking blindly in the downpour in the opposite direction of her house because she’d never lead Vitt there. Never in a million years.
“Where are you going?” he called after her.
“Continuing with my walk. Need the exercise.”
“I’ll join you.”
“Please don’t.”
But he followed her anyway, although at a more leisurely pace.
Gut churning, mind whirling, Jillian splashed through puddles as she walked, trying to figure out how to lose Vitt, how to keep him from discovering Joe’s whereabouts.
She hadn’t brought her cell phone with her, so she couldn’t call Hannah and warn her. She hadn’t brought money, either, so it wasn’t as if she could catch a cab from town.
And so she just kept walking, and the rain kept coming, and Vitt continued following.
“How far are you planning on going, Jill?” he asked her, as they approached an intersection and the pathway turned into a sidewalk with a four-way stoplight.
“Until I’m tired,” she answered, worried that the light remained red while his limousine purred just feet away.
The limousine continued to the corner and made a partial turn, blocking the intersection. Blocking her access to the crosswalk. Suddenly the doors of the black limousine opened and two of Vitt’s bodyguards emerged.
In any other situation she might have laughed. Who but Vitt would have bodyguards that dressed like Italian fashion models? His men wore elegant suits, exquisite leather shoes and belts, and shaded their eyes with the latest in designer stylish sunglasses. They were sophisticated and well groomed and didn’t blend in. They had never blended in. But Vittorio had to know that. Vittorio Marcello d’Severano left nothing to chance.
The bodyguards watched her with professional interest. They were clearly waiting for a signal from Vitt, a signal he had yet to give.
“Tell them to move,” Jillian said, turning to look at Vitt.
“But I just told them to stop there.”
“Yes, but I can’t cross the street with them blocking the way.”
“I know. But we can’t just walk all day. We have things we have to discuss. Decisions that must be made.”
“Such as?”
“How we’re going to manage joint custody of our son—”
“We’re not. He’s mine.”
“And which country he’ll attend school in.”
“The States. He’s American.”
“As well as Sicilian,” Vitt countered softly. “As well as half mine. You can not legally keep him from me.”
“Nor can you legally take him from me.”
“Which I wouldn’t do.” He patted his chest. “Fortunately, I have excellent legal counsel, and have spent the past few months working with the best American and Sicilian attorneys. Everything’s been handled. I’ve taken care of the paperwork. The documentation is here. You’ve had him the first eleven months of his life. I’m entitled to the next.”
“What?”
He nodded. “We’re to share him equally, or, cara, darling, you risk losing him completely.”
“Never!”
“You’ll be found an unfit mother should you try to run off with him again. And you don’t want to be found in contempt of the court. It would seriously damage your chances of ever getting custody back.”
Jillian stared at Vitt in horror. “You’re making that up.”
“I’d never lie to you. And I never have. If we step into the car, I’ll show you the paperwork where it’s dry.”
He made it sound so simple. Just step into his car…just look at the papers.
He must think she’d forgotten just how powerful he was. He must think she didn’t remember how seductive and attractive she’d found him.
If she took that one small step, climbed into his car, she feared she’d never be safe—or sane—again.
Jillian swallowed hard, her senses already overloaded. Tall and broad-shouldered, Vitt was undeniably attractive, but twenty months ago she’d fallen for more than his body. She’d loved his mind. He was brilliant. Probably the most intelligent man she’d ever met and she’d enjoyed talking to him more than she’d enjoyed talking to anyone.
Vitt could discuss politics and economics, history and culture, arts and sciences. He’d traveled extensively and obviously had loads of money, but he’d played no games. He’d been warm, sensual—and except for the odd strange phone call, and the sudden secret meetings—he’d been totally available.
And like a love-starved puppy, she’d lapped it all up, soaking it in.
Seeing him again reminded her of just how much she’d liked him and wanted him.
Seeing him again made her realize she’d never be immune to him. “I don’t trust you,” she said, her voice husky with emotion.
“The problem in a nutshell.”
“Don’t mock me.”
“I’m not. But your lack of trust has created terrible problems for both of us.”
She looked away, bit her lip hard, so hard it drew blood. “I want to see the paperwork, but I won’t get into your car,” she said steeling herself, suppressing all emotion. “Don’t try to make me.”
Vittorio was still walking toward her and he slid his hands into his black coat’s pockets. “I didn’t want it this way, cara. I didn’t want it hard on you.” He was just a foot away now and she scrambled to the side. He moved past her, heading to the open limousine door. “But if you insist,” he added with an eloquent shrug, “then so be it. We’ll do it this way.”
Vittorio ducked his head and slid into the backseat of the car with its tinted windows. Jillian watched as one of the bodyguards climbed into the car and then the other. Vitt’s men weren’t coming for her after all. They were going to leave her alone.
She should have felt relief. Instead she felt fear and dread claw at her throat.
Something was wrong, very, very wrong, because Vittorio would never give up, which meant, if he was leaving her here, and letting her go, he’d already won.
He had Joe. He’d found her son.
Stomach heaving, she rushed toward the car, throwing herself at the door to prevent it from closing. “What have you done?”
Vitt looked at her from the interior of the car. The car’s yellow-white light cast hard shadows on his face, making his eyes look almost black and his expression fierce. “It’s what you wanted.”
“What I want is for my son, my baby, to be with me. That’s what I want—”
“No, you