Jane Porter - A Dark Sicilian Secret

His wife and son…

His wife.

Jill’s heart hammered relentlessly and her hand shook as she clutched the flute. Was this why he’d ordered the champagne? “So that is the story we’re to tell them?”

“It won’t be a story. My family has a disreputable history—a history you’ve thrown in my face. But my father has worked hard to change the past, and I’ve continued his fight. We’ve worked too hard, sacrificed too much, to have Joseph inherit scorn or scandal. No one is to know he was born out of wedlock,” Vittorio continued quietly. “He is not to grow up marked by shame.”

“The ceremony will take place in the next half-hour, before the baby wakes,” he said, looking down at her. “Find something appropriate in your suitcase for the ceremony—something elegant and festive. After all, we’ll want good memories to help us remember our special day.”

JANE PORTERgrew up on a diet of Mills & Boon ®romances, reading late at night under the covers so her mother wouldn’t see! She wrote her first book at age eight, and spent many of her high school and college years living abroad, immersing herself in other cultures and continuing to read voraciously. Now Jane splits her time between rugged Seattle, Washington, and the beautiful beaches of Hawaii, with her sexy surfer and three very active sons. Jane loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at PO Box 524, Bellevue, WA 98009, USA. Or visit her website at www.janeporter.com

JANE PORTER

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For the fabulous Megan Crane

You’ve been an amazing friend.

I can’t imagine my life without you!

PEACE.

Finally.

Jillian Smith drew a deep breath as she walked along the jagged cliff overlooking the stormy Pacific Ocean, relishing the fresh air, stunning scenery and a rare moment of freedom. Things were definitely looking up.

She hadn’t seen Vittorio’s men in over nine months and she was certain that if she was careful, they’d never find her here, in this small, private coastal town just a few miles outside Carmel, California.

For one, she didn’t use her name, Jillian Smith, anymore. She had a new identity, April Holliday, and a new look—blonde, tan, as if she were a California native instead of a striking brunette from Detroit. Not that Vitt knew she was from Detroit.

Nor could he know. It was imperative she keep Vittorio, the father of her baby, as far away from her as possible.

He was so dangerous. Such a threat. To her. To Joe. To everything she held dear. She’d loved him, had come so close to imagining a future with him, only to discover that he wasn’t a hero…wasn’t a knight in shining armor but a man like her father. A man who’d made his fortune in organized crime.

Jillian drew a short breath, aware of the tension balling in her shoulders. Relax, she told herself. There’s no reason to be afraid. The danger’s behind you now. Vitt doesn’t know where you are. He can’t take the baby from you. You’re safe. Everything’s good.

She paused along the cliff to stare out at the dark blue water crested with foam. The waves were big today and they crashed against the dark rocks below with power and passion. The sea seemed angry, almost inconsolable, and for a moment she felt the same way.

She’d loved Vitt. And maybe they’d been together only two weeks, but in those two weeks she’d imagined a life with him. Imagined so many possibilities for them.

But then the truth emerged. He wasn’t a hero—no prince on a white stallion—but a terrifying villain.

The first raindrops began to fall and she pushed back her long blond hair from her face, determined to put the past behind her and focus on the present as well as Joe’s future. And Joe would have a great future. She’d make sure he had everything she’d never known—stability, security, a happy home.

Already she’d found a darling rental house just a quarter mile down the road on a quiet cul-de-sac. She’d gotten an amazing job at the Highlands Inn, one of the premier hotels on the Northern California coast, assisting with their marketing and sales. And best of all, she’d found excellent child care so she could work. In fact, lovely Hannah was with Joe now.

The rain pelted down, and the brisk wind whipped at her hair, tugging at her black fisherman’s sweater, but she welcomed the fierce weather, and loved its intensity. She couldn’t help smiling at the ocean, and the endless horizon, imagining life’s possibilities.

“Thinking of jumping, Jill?” A deep male voice spoke behind her.

Her smile vanished as she stiffened in shock, recognizing the smooth, accented voice immediately.

Vittorio.

She hadn’t heard his voice in nearly a year, but Vitt’s was impossible to forget. Deep and calm, his voice was pitched to dominate life—whether it be man or nature—and it did.

He did.

But then, Vittorio Marcello d’Severano was a force of nature, a human being that inspired awe or fear in virtually everyone.

“There are solutions,” he added softly, so softly that Jillian shuddered, and took a nervous step away from him, putting her closer to the cliff’s edge. Her unsteady footstep sent loose rocks tumbling from the craggy point to the cove below. The falling rocks sounded like her heart shattering and Jill’s throat squeezed closed.

Just when she’d felt secure.

Just when she’d thought they were safe.

Unbelievable. Impossible.

“None that I would find acceptable,” she answered flatly, turning slightly but avoiding looking him in the face. She knew better than to look at Vitt closely, much less meet his gaze. Vittorio was a magician, a virtual snake charmer. He could get anyone to do anything just by smiling.

He was that handsome.

He was that powerful.

“Is that all you have to say to me after months of cat-and-mouse games?”

The rain fell harder, drenching Jillian’s thick knit sweater so that it ran with rivulets of water. “I believe everything has already been said. I can’t think of anything I’ve forgotten,” she retorted, her chin tilted in defiance even though her legs shook beneath her. She was torn between fury and terror. Vittorio was just a man, and yet he could, and would, destroy her world given the chance.

And no one would stop him.

“I can. Let me suggest you begin with an apology,” he said almost gently. “It would be a start.”

Jillian threw back her shoulders and steeled herself against that deep, husky voice of his, forcing her gaze to his throat. What harm could there be in that? And yet it was impossible to look at his throat—strong and bronzed by sun—without seeing the square chin or the broad shoulders encased in charcoal-black.