“I’m through fighting with you, Rhea.”

“I want to leave here, Joey. I want to take Nicci and leave Chicago.”

He stopped, turned. “No.”

“Damn you, Joey!”

“I may not have your respect right now, but I’ll have your loyalty. You’re stuck between a hard place and an even harder man, darlin’. Your future, and our son’s, are mine. The sooner you get used to that, the better off you’re going to be.”

Rhea shook her head, her eyes wide. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that in three days, you’re going to stand beside me…as my wife.”

Dear Reader,

“In like a lion, out like a lamb.” That’s what they say about March, right? Well, there are no meek and mild lambs among this month’s Intimate Moments heroines, that’s for sure! In Saving Dr. Ryan, Karen Templeton begins a new miniseries, THE MEN OF MAYES COUNTY, while telling the story of a roadside delivery—yes, the baby kind—that leads to an improbable romance. Maddie Kincaid starts out looking like the one who needs saving, but it’s really Dr. Ryan Logan who’s in need of rescue.

We continue our trio of FAMILY SECRETS prequels with The Phoenix Encounter by Linda Castillo. Follow the secret-agent hero deep under cover—and watch as he rediscovers a love he’d thought was dead. But where do they go from there? Nina Bruhns tells a story of repentance, forgiveness and passion in Sins of the Father, while Eileen Wilks offers up tangled family ties and a seemingly insoluble dilemma in Midnight Choices. For Wendy Rosnau’s heroine, there’s only One Way Out as she chooses between being her lover’s mistress—or his wife. Finally, Jenna Mills’ heroine becomes The Perfect Target. She meets the seemingly perfect man, then has to decide whether he represents safety—or danger.

The excitement never flags—and there will be more next month, too. So don’t miss a single Silhouette Intimate Moments title, because this is the line where you’ll find the best and most exciting romance reading around.

Enjoy!

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Senior Editor

One Way Out
Wendy Rosnau

www.millsandboon.co.uk

WENDY ROSNAU

resides on sixty secluded acres in Minnesota with her husband and their six children. She now divides her time between her family-owned bookstore and writing romantic suspense.

Her first book, The Long Hot Summer, was a Romantic Times nominee for Best First Series Romance of 2000. Her third book, The Right Side of the Law, was a Romantic Times Top Pick. She received the Midwest Fiction Writers 2001 Rising Star Award.

Wendy loves to hear from her readers. Visit her Web site at www.wendyrosnau.com.

This book is dedicated to you, the readers, who have expressed interest in my Brotherhood series and the Masado brothers.

A special thanks to my editor, Gail Chasan, for believing in me and for putting up with my red ink pen time and again.

Also for allowing me the freedom needed to make this series come alive on the page.

Grazie…

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

Chapter 1

At midnight Grace Palazzo suffered her second stroke of the year. Her struggle had been traumatic, but not fatal. It had sent the household into a panic and Rhea, along with Grace’s daughter, into tears. But it wasn’t the most significant drama to unfold on that stormy night on the third of November.

No, the real drama, at least for Rhea Williams, had come hours later when she had returned to her bedroom to find the silver cross glistening on her pillow.

She had scarcely been able to breathe as she backed out the door, then raced down the hall to Nicci’s room. Only, she knew before she swung the door wide that her son was gone—that like a thief in the night, his father had breached the house and taken him.

She had prayed she was wrong, had prayed for mercy—a shred of compassion. But there was no mercy, no compassion, only an open window and an empty bed where her son had slept for the past two years.

A gust of wind lifted the curtain at her bedroom window, and in spite of the heat, Rhea shivered. Key West was warm, but after the sun went down, the wind could become as dangerous and unpredictable as a vengeful witch. Especially during hurricane season.

The smell of rain was heavy in the air, the pounding surf a constant roaring in her ears. The tropical storm the islanders had been preparing for was less than ten hours away. Rhea hated storms, but she would rather meet a hurricane head-on than return to Chicago and face Nicci’s father.

In the beginning, all she had wanted was to go back, and for Joey to know about his son. But then the days had turned into months, the months into years, and slowly Santa Palazzo had become her home.

Oh God…he knew they had created a child—a beautiful black-haired, brown-eyed baby boy.

“What will you do, Rhea?”

The voice was soft behind her, as soft as the touch on her shoulder. Rhea turned from her bedroom window to face Grace’s twenty-four-year-old daughter. Elena stood hugging herself, her eyes red from crying. Tonight had been a nightmare for both of them.

“Rhea, did you hear me? How will you get Nicci back?” When Rhea didn’t answer right away, Elena squeezed her shoulder. “You’re scaring me, Rhea. There’s a way to get him back, isn’t there? You’ll fight, right?”

Fight Joey…

Elena had no idea how ridiculous that statement was. She had no idea what lay hidden behind all the closed doors to the past. She had no idea the complexity of the situation, or the danger. But then, why would she? She’d been carefully sheltered from the secrets by layers of lies—twenty-four years of lies.

“When I called to tell my father about Mom’s stroke, we had no idea that Nicci had been kidnapped. But he’s coming, Rhea. On his way right now. He’ll be here in a few hours. We’ll tell him what happened, and he’ll know what to do. He loves Nicci. You know that.”

Yes, she knew that. Frank thought the world of Nicci. That wasn’t up for debate. What was, however, was how to defuse the time bomb that had started ticking the minute Joey had learned he had a son. And that’s what would be foremost on Frank’s mind when he learned Nicci had been taken by Joey.

But how could she tell Elena any of that, without explaining the rest? Without telling her that her father, Frank Palazzo, resident of Key West, Florida, was also Frank Masado, a member of the famiglia in the Chicago-Italian mafia. And if she went that far to disclose his double identity, she would have to tell Elena all of it. She would have to confess that Frank was Nicci’s grandfather.

Elena believed she was an only child. She had no idea that she was the half sister to Joey and Tomas Masado. She had no idea that her father had been previously married, or that he’d been juggling two separate lives with well-crafted scenarios and tightly woven lies to keep them all safe.

When Frank had brought Rhea to Key West three years ago, he had told Elena that he’d hired a live-in nurse for Grace. And that’s how Rhea had been disguised—how the household at Santa Palazzo had come to accept her.

Grace’s health over the years had gradually gotten worse, and she needed constant care. Rhea had been a nurse in Chicago for seven years. The situation had worked on all levels.

“Talk to me, Rhea. What can I do to help?”

“I don’t want your mother to know what’s happened. She’s too fragile. She needs bed rest and no excitement for at least forty-eight hours. And your father…when he learns what happened tonight he’ll know why I had to…”

“Leave. You are, aren’t you.”

“I can’t wait, Elena. I’ll go crazy waiting for your father to get here.”

Elena reached out and tugged Rhea to the bed. Pulling her down to sit next to her, she said, “Mother would have died tonight if you hadn’t been here to help her. If you leave, she’ll have no one.”

Rhea pushed her long blond bangs out of her eyes. “You’re wonderful with your mother, Elena. You are why your mother has survived all these years. You and your father. She’ll be fine until Frank comes. He’ll order a replacement nurse within twenty-four hours.”

“Why can’t we just call the police and tell them that Nicci’s been kidnapped? Tell them that you know who did it, and—”

“I can’t do that,” Rhea said quickly. “Nicci’s father is a powerful man in Chicago. When I left I didn’t tell him I was pregnant. I didn’t say where I was going, either. I just left. I had my reasons. Good reasons. But…”

“I was always curious about Nicci’s father,” Elena admitted. “Is that where he gets his black hair and dark eyes? Does his father have black hair? You’re so fair, and Nicci’s so dark.”

“Joey’s Sicilian. His family…” Rhea glanced at Elena’s dark hair, then her earthy brown eyes, “they all have black hair and dark eyes.”

“Did you run away because he hurt you, Rhea? Was it Nicci’s father who gave you the scars?”

Rhea saw Elena focus on the thin white line on her lower lip, then on the one that slipped into the corner of her left eye—the scar that had made her wear an eye patch for months. The scar that had nearly blinded her.

“It wasn’t like that. Joey never hurt me.”

Elena frowned. “Then, I don’t understand.”

“I was in an accident.” Rhea shivered, remembering Stud’s angry eyes as he’d picked her up and hurled her through her bedroom window. Her ex-husband had claimed he hadn’t meant to hurt her, just to knock some sense into her. Elena didn’t need to know the sordid details of Rhea’s past, however, or the dangers that threatened her once she returned to Chicago. And likewise, Rhea didn’t want to dwell on her ex-husband…or Joey.

Especially not Joey.

There was no rational explanation for falling in love with him three years ago. It had been one of those crazy chance meetings at a time when she should have been too wary of any man to notice the black-haired Sicilian in the hospital corridor during one of her unscheduled late-night visits.

At the time, she didn’t know what caught her attention first, the meticulous way he dressed or his shockingly deep voice. Later, she came to realize it was neither. What had drawn her to Joey Masado was the hidden tenderness in the depth of his dark eyes despite his poignant tough-guy image—a goodness and a fairness that defied reason, as well as rumor.

“How soon are you leaving?”

The thought of returning to Chicago scared Rhea. But she forced a weak smile. “As soon as I can book a flight. While I pack, will you call the airport? I need to get out of here before the storm hits and they start grounding planes.”

And before Frank comes home and tries to stop me.

“Will you come back?”

“Yes. I’ll be back. With Nicci.” Rhea knew that it was the only way to defuse the time bomb—if she and Nicci returned to Santa Palazzo. How she was going to manage that wasn’t clear just yet, but she would focus on that once she had faced Joey and knew that Nicci was all right.

Elena shoved her long black hair away from her face, and stood. “I’ll call the airport.” She headed for the door, then turned back. “I love you and Nicci. I know I’ve never told you that, Rhea. But it’s true. I can’t imagine either of you not in my life.”

The uncertainty of the situation brought tears to Rhea’s eyes, and she came off the bed quickly. “I love you, too. I’ve always wanted a sister, and you’ve been that to me. Thank you for accepting me into your home, Elena.”

“Oh, Rhea.” Suddenly Elena rushed back and threw herself into Rhea’s arms. “If you need me, I’m here. Don’t forget that. Don’t forget me.”

The drive to the airport was hampered by heavy rain. When Rhea boarded the plane it was in a downpour, the wind so savage that she was glad she had worn jeans and her brown suede jacket.

When the plane was finally airborne, she pulled the silver cross from her pocket and stared down at it. Unbidden, the image of Joey, half naked, wearing the silver cross nestled against the black hair on his chest materialized, and with it a fierce longing that had her feeling anxious as well as frightened.

Three years hadn’t dimmed his powerful image or the emotions that had kept the memories alive. If anything, the years had sharpened the picture in her mind’s eye, and strengthened her belief that for a brief moment in time she had experienced heaven on earth.

It rained throughout the night. All the way through Florida and Georgia. Hours later, Rhea changed flights in Nashville, and as she watched the dawn of a new day from her seat among the clouds, a small private aircraft made its final descent onto a runway at Chicago’s O’Hare International. And like the tough Sicilian heritage Niccolo Joseph Masado had been born into, the black-haired two-year-old boy asleep in his father’s arms never fussed or blinked an eye as his uncle Tomas landed the sleek white Cessna in a rush of speed, tires squealing on black tarmac.

As choices went, this one had been easy. There had been risks involved, but then, Joey Masado was used to taking risks. He was a suit-and-tie businessman, considered the best moneyman in Chicago. But tonight, unshaven, wearing jeans and a sweater, he’d been simply a father on a mission to claim what was rightfully his.

Joey reached out and straightened the blanket that covered his sleeping son. He was smaller than he’d expected. He couldn’t help but worry about that. What if the boy was ill, or had been born sickly?

When he’d learned he had a son—a son he hadn’t known existed until his brother had waltzed into his office three days ago and slapped the proof down on his desk—he hadn’t believed it was possible. But the proof was no longer just a glossy photo, a flat image of a black-haired little boy walking on the beach hand-in-hand with his mother. The boy was flesh and blood.

His flesh and blood.

If the boy’s mother had been anyone other than Rhea Williams, Joey would have refused to believe the child was his. He had always been careful when he’d climbed into a woman’s bed. He’d never lost his head or forgotten himself. That is, not until he’d laid eyes on the sexy blond with the sad blue eyes.

No, Niccolo was definitely his son. He was as certain of that as he was of why Rhea had run away from Chicago three years ago. He had always thought she had vanished out of fear of her ex-husband. But now he knew that wasn’t the case. Pregnant with his child—a Masado child—she had run to escape him and what their son would surely become if she stayed.

As hard as it was to accept, the proof was asleep in front of him—the proof of Rhea’s betrayal.

“He looks just like the pictures of you hanging on the wall in the old house. I remember thinking that, the day I photographed him on the beach with Rhea.”

“That’s what Jacky said, too. The picture, I mean.” Joey turned to his brother, who stood in the doorway leaning heavily into the jamb. “Jacky just left. But for the past hour, he’s been sitting here staring at Niccolo and shaking his head.”

“The likeness is amazing,” Tomas agreed.

Joey studied his brother. Tomas’s eyes were bloodshot, which meant his back pain was giving him hell again, which meant he’d been drinking to compensate. He hated to see his brother drinking so much. He’d survived a serious beating a few months earlier. Hospitalized, he’d lost a kidney in his fight to survive. He had been cheating death since he was fourteen, a streak that had earned Tomas the nickname Nine-Lives-Lucky. Eventually it had been shortened to just Lucky.

Joey glanced back at Niccolo. “I never realized how small a two-year-old is. He looked bigger in the picture.”

Lucky grinned. “He’s going to take some work. You up for that, or do you want to take him back, fratello? Have you changed your mind?”

Joey admitted he didn’t know the first thing about raising his son, but the boy was his. That’s all he’d been thinking about for three days. And all he’d had on his mind when they had slipped into Santa Palazzo under the cover of darkness.

His brother had told him in the plane that he would back him in whatever decision he made concerning Niccolo. He’d said, “I’ll be behind you or in front of you. Walking in the front door, or going in through a window. Two of the guards on the estate are mine. I put them in place before I flew back here. We should be able to enter the grounds without any trouble. Then again, if you want to make trouble, I brought along the lupara. Capiche?”

They hadn’t used the sawed-off Italian shotgun. They’d gone in quietly through an open window off a balcony on the second floor. They were going in after his son, not to start a war. He hadn’t wanted to frighten Niccolo or endanger him by flying bullets.

It had only taken a few minutes to locate his son’s bedroom. Rhea’s room, too, though he hadn’t found her inside. His window of opportunity had been tight. They had ten minutes max to get in and back out. That’s why he had left behind the cross on Rhea’s pillow. If she cared at all about their son, he knew the cross would bring her back to Chicago.

“I need to hire a live-in nanny. Can you help me arrange some interviews tomorrow?”

“I’ll get on it first thing. If we leave him alone, you think he’ll be all right? We need to talk.”

Joey looked down at his son. “He’s finally sleeping, but he keeps asking for his bear.”

“There’s a kids’ store in the lobby, I’ll see what I can find. Are you ready to listen to what I have to say?”

“I was ready three days ago. You’re the one who wanted to wait until after Niccolo was here.”

“I didn’t want what I had to tell you to interfere with what was most important.”

“Meaning my decision to claim my son?”

“He’s yours.” Lucky hung his scarred hand on his jeans-clad hip. “If I had a son, I would want him with me.”

“I’m ready for whatever comes at me,” Joey told him. “I’ll fight the devil, or anyone else who tries to come between me and what is mine.”

“He’s a good-looking boy, fratello. Worth fighting for. Come, let’s talk and make some plans.”

Joey’s gaze went to his son. “I’ll leave the door open and the hall light on. If he wakes up in the dark and starts crying, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Guess you’ll get your chance to play daddy. Rub his back and tell him a story.”

Joey glanced at Lucky, then scowled when he saw his brother wearing an amused grin. “I don’t know any stories.”

“Sure you do. Remember the one Vina used to tell us? The one about the purple badass dragon who turned out to be a nice guy?”

Lavina Ward was their best friend’s mother. As young boys they’d spent countless hours with Jackson and Lavina Ward. They had adopted Vina as the mother they never had, and Jackson as the once-in-a-lifetime friend who hadn’t cared one bit what their name was, or what their father did for a living.

Twenty-eight years later, nothing had changed. Lavina was still baking her boys apple pies and buying them birthday presents. And Jackson, recently promoted as head of the CPD Special Investigations Unit, was still their best friend.

Joey tucked the blanket under his son’s chin, then followed his brother to the living room. When Lucky made a detour and slipped behind the bar, Joey said, “I thought you were going to give up the booze. Or, at least, back off a little.”

“I’ve rethought that. The way I see it, what’s the difference if I get addicted to painkillers or scotch? You might need a stiff one yourself once you hear what I have to tell you.”

Joey eased himself down on the red damask sofa that snaked around a massive Italian-marble coffee table.

Forty-nine stories up, Joey’s penthouse covered the entire top floor of Masado Towers. The ceilings were eighteen-feet high, and the furniture was plush and oversize in shades of Italian bloodred and gold. The long bar was imported cherry wood. A collection of large mirrors surrounding it and throughout the apartment opened up the already extravagant space, as did the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Grant Park and Lake Michigan.

Like the living area, the kitchen was a sprawling wonder filled with the latest conveniences and a number of skylights. A breakfast nook to the left of the kitchen offered a view of the city at sunrise, and the elegant dining room that jutted outward like a glass egg to the right, allowed for a breathtaking sunset view and a spectacular skylight panorama after dark.

When Lucky joined his brother, he brought Joey a glass of scotch and placed it on the coffee table. As he made himself comfortable on a gold tapestry chair, he said, “Trust me, you’re going to need that.”

“So, tell me what you know. Santa Palazzo was swarming with guards tonight. Whose place is it, and why so many guards?”

“The estate is never without guards. I’ve learned they’re a permanent, round-the-clock fixture. No less then eight at all times.”

“The electronic gates were high-tech. Some of the guards had dogs.”

“Four dogs. Dobermans with an attitude.” Lucky rubbed his thigh, indicating he’d had a conversation with one of them. “Before I tell you more about Santa Palazzo, I’ll explain how I found the place. It all started with the packages.”

“The packages?”

“For several years I’ve been mailing a package to a post office box in Key West every month. A job assigned to me eleven years ago when I was twenty. Since the packages were from various dress shops, I assumed they were gifts for one of Frank’s lady friends. From time to time I would joke with him about his dedication to one woman, and when I did, Frank would smile and get this strange look on his face. Anyway, when Sunni Blais opened Silks here at Masado Towers, Frank started ordering the packages from her shop. Last month, when I went to Silks to pick up the monthly package, I took a minute to talk to Sunni. She and I had never exchanged more than a few words since she’d opened her shop. But this time was different.”

“Because Jacky was in town.”

Lucky nodded. “He was living in her apartment. Acting as her bodyguard. But like you, I knew there was more between them.”

“So you were checking her out to see if she was right for Jacky.”

“We both know that women who look as good as Sunni does are usually bitches. But as it turned out, she was the exception to the rule. She’s for real in every way.”

“We’re in agreement on that. Tell me more about the packages,” Joey pressed.

“During the conversation, Sunni said something I thought was odd. She said the two gifts inside the package were exactly what Frank had ordered this time. One in each size.”

“One in each size?”

“That’s right. Two gifts. One in each size. For eleven years I thought I was picking up one gift for Frank’s mistress. A mistress he obviously cared a lot about because he never missed a month. But suddenly I learned there were two gifts inside one package. And they were in different sizes.” Lucky took a swallow of scotch. “I thought that was worth checking out, so I decided to fly down to Florida and stake out the post office box.”

“And that led you to Santa Palazzo.”

Lucky nodded. “For two days the same man showed up at the post office to retrieve the mail from the box. On the second day, I followed him. When he entered Santa Palazzo, and it was guarded like a fortress, my curiosity doubled. I decided to buy a camera and hang around for a few days to take some pictures. I wanted to see who came and went. That’s when I discovered Rhea.”

Lucky reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a handful of pictures and tossed them on the coffee table. “I figure you know where this is going. Those are the people who went in and out, the four days I watched the house. There’s only one in there that you’ll recognize other than Rhea.”

Joey reached for the pictures and shuffled through them, looking for confirmation of what he already knew. When he spied the picture, he said, “Frank was there. He’s known where Rhea’s been hiding the entire time.”

“It looks that way. But there’s something else you need to know, fratello. Santa Palazzo belongs to our father. In Key West he goes by the name Frank Palazzo.”

The news was such a shock that for a full minute Joey didn’t speak. Finally, he asked, “You’re absolutely sure? There’s no mistake?”

“None. He’s owned the estate for twenty-four years.”

“And Rhea’s been there since she left town?”

“I’d like to say I’ve confirmed that, but I haven’t. But my gut tells me she’s been there the entire three years. She looked relaxed. Talked to the guards. Smiled. Laughed. What I’m saying is, she’s no prisoner.”

“If that’s true, then Frank helped her run.”

“We both know he was upset when you broke off your engagement to Sophia D’Lano.”

“You’re saying he paid Rhea off?”

“Maybe. When Frank wants something bad enough, money’s no object. Then, neither is using a power play. He could have cut Rhea a deal. He could have told her she could keep the baby if she cooperated with him.”

“You think he knew she was pregnant.”

“Frank’s a cunning son of a bitch. Sure he knew. How, I can’t say, but that’s what motivated him. That’s what my gut tells me.”

“She could have gone to Frank. Maybe she blackmailed him.”

Lucky raised his heavy brows. “That’s an interesting twist. You think she’s capable of that?”

Three years ago Joey would have said no. Today all he could think about was that she had denied him his child.

“I’m not saying it didn’t happen that way,” Lucky stated. “But the Rhea I remember didn’t seem capable of blackmail. She never even bad-mouthed her psychotic ex-husband.”

“That’s because she was too busy surviving Stud’s hell, to spend time thinking of much else,” Joey reasoned, showing more emotion than he would have liked.

“Rhea doesn’t strike me as the manipulative-bitch type. Soft-spoken and kindhearted comes to mind. I can’t pinpoint what made her sexy as hell three years ago. I mean, it wasn’t exactly due to the condition she was in—the bruises and all—but she had something that made a man look twice. We both can’t deny that.”

More than a dozen qualities had made Joey look twice at Rhea Williams. And any one of them could be blamed for why he had ignored his own rules and mixed business with pleasure.

Up to that point he hadn’t wasted his time on married women, or divorced women packing baggage. And Rhea had had one helluva lot of baggage. Her ex-husband had been a cop. And if that hadn’t been enough to make Joey steer clear of her, the fact that Stud Williams was a dirty cop working for Frank should have.

“Remember when Frank offered to spearhead your investigation to find Rhea? Smart move on his part if he was the one hiding her out. My guess is, he put himself in that position to intercept information and to keep you in the dark.”

Joey said, “We never got any good leads. I always thought that was strange.”

Lucky nodded, rested his glass of scotch on his long jeans-clad leg. “I traced his flight itineraries for the past year. It wasn’t easy. Frank covers his tracks better than a snake on stilts.”

“And?”

“I’ve confirmed eight visits to Key West this past year.”

Joey swore, then leapt to his feet. “Why didn’t I suspect he was involved in Rhea’s disappearance?”

“Because he’s good at what he does,” Lucky reasoned. “Hell, for twenty-four years he’s been living a double life without either one of us knowing it. That kind of determination makes me a little nervous. I wonder what else he’s been hiding.”

“If he’s as good as you say, then, by now he’s on his way here to confront me.” Joey pointed to the silver chain tucked inside his brother’s shirt. “I left my cross on Rhea’s pillow.”

The cross that nested in the thatch of black hair on Lucky’s chest was identical to the ones Joey and Jackson wore. Lavina had given her boys the crosses one night when hell had descended on them, and all three boys had survived because they had stuck together. The decision they had made that night had bound them for life.

Lucky arched a brow. “You leave the cross for revenge’s sake, or out of concern for her state of mind once she found Niccolo gone?”

Not willing to analyze his actions, Joey said, “I want her to come to me. Face me. If she cares about the boy, she’ll come.”

“My men tell me Frank arrived at Santa Palazzo a few hours ago. My guess is, he got a call that Niccolo was taken and he flew out there soon after. You’re right. If he knows it was you who took Niccolo, we can expect him back here within twenty-four hours.”

Joey paced to the window, rubbing his jaw. He hadn’t shaved in three days—or slept, for that matter.

“So what do you want to do about Frank?”

“I have my son. That’s what I went there for.”

“The only reason?”

Joey turned slowly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying Frank’s been lying to us for years. Maybe it’s time we looked into why that is. Maybe we need to find out what he’s hiding at Santa Palazzo besides Rhea Williams.”

“I’ll go along with that.”

“And Rhea? What do you plan to do with her once she shows up?”

Joey wanted it to be all about revenge where Rhea was concerned. It would be easier that way. But when he’d walked into Rhea’s bedroom at Santa Palazzo he had been stopped cold, struck by her familiar scent filling his nostrils. Struck by the sight of her hairbrush on the vanity with blond strands of hair caught in the bristles. To his disgust he’d opened her closet just to look at her clothes.

“Do you think she knows that her ex-husband is in jail for murder?”

“That’s an interesting question.” Joey returned to the sofa. “It’s rather recent news. I suppose it would depend whether Frank thought it was news he could use to his advantage or not. Either way, at the moment, Rhea should be more afraid of me than her ex.”

“Rhea’s been through a lot in her life, fratello.”

“So I’m supposed to go easy on her because years ago she married the wrong man, and his favorite pastime was beating her up?”

“No. I’m saying Frank has more experience in deceiving people than Rhea.”

“The bottom line is, she’s been hiding my son from me like some dirty secret. And if it was Frank’s idea, and she was forced into it, she’s had plenty of time to find a way to get a message to me. But from what you’ve said, it sounds like she’s been living content at Santa Palazzo.”

Joey wasn’t going to accept any excuses. Whatever Rhea’s reason was, it wouldn’t be good enough. And the minute he laid eyes on her, this crazy feeling constricting his chest and tightening his jeans would burn itself out. He couldn’t possibly still care about her, after what she’d done.

“She looks different.”

Joey blinked out of his musing and saw Lucky studying one of the pictures. “She looks different because she’s not wearing a gauze bandage over her eye or a split lip.” He couldn’t disguise the anger and disgust that tainted his deep voice. He still hated the fact that he hadn’t been able to keep Stud from terrorizing her.

His gaze returned to the picture of Rhea walking on the beach. Besides being bruise free, he’d noticed that she’d cut her hair into a straight, carefree style, and it had been bleached almost white from the Florida sun. Her skin no longer made her look as pale as a ghost, and she wasn’t painfully thin. There was a gentle curve to her hips and more definition to her breasts. The only thing he could guarantee looked the same were her beautiful long legs.

Angry that he’d taken the time to dissect the picture, he said, “Not having bruises or gauze bandages doesn’t change the facts.”

“Which are?”

“That she’s a liar and a thief!” Joey swore softly, wishing he hadn’t raised his voice. He didn’t want his son to wake up to the sound of his father shouting like an angry fool. He didn’t want Niccolo ever to be afraid of him. Not in the way he’d been afraid of his own father when he was a boy.

He and Lucky had tiptoed around their father, beginning at an early age, to avoid his lectures on loyalty to the famiglia, but they hadn’t been able to escape the hourly drills Frank had forced on them to make his sons weaponry experts. By age thirteen Joey could nail a target dead center with a six-inch knife from twenty yards away. Lucky, at age ten, could empty a round of ammo into a dummy’s head with a 25-caliber Beretta and a .38 Special.

More softly, but just as angrily, he said, “She kept me from my son, Lucky.”

“Yesterday you had a right to be angry, mio fratello. But today you have the boy. Focus on what you want tomorrow. What you want next month. Next year. What you want for Niccolo’s future.”

“What I want for my son is for him to grow up happy, doing whatever the hell it is he wants to do with his life. I don’t want him to be like us. I don’t want him to feel trapped, or forced into chasing another man’s dream.”

Lucky raised his glass of scotch. “Then, we’ll drink to happiness, and to changing the future for him.”

Joey lifted his glass. “And we’ll drink to you, Lucky. For making a trip to Florida and buying that camera.”

Lucky nodded, his grin softening his dark eyes and the scar on his chin. “To Niccolo. May he grow up to be as wise as his father, and—” he grinned “—as handsome as his uncle.”

Chapter 2

The sight of the milky blue horizon over Lake Michigan was glorious, but it had been as fleeting a feeling as the absurd emotional tug that Rhea had somehow come home…home to stay.

Now, as she stood in the lobby of Masado Towers with a lump in her throat, clutching Nicci’s teddy bear, she knew the depth of what she was facing.

The night she’d left Chicago, escorted to the airport by two of Frank’s bodyguards, Joey’s dream had been nothing more than a blueprint, steel girders and concrete columns. Today, Masado Towers was a work of art, an architectural phenomenon. A city within a city.

Not only was the Towers a grand hotel, but there were condominiums, offices, department stores, boutiques, an art museum, a health club, a grocery store, restaurants, lounges, movie theaters and a bank.

Rhea had never thought she’d underestimated Joey’s ability. But all of this confirmed that the man she thought she knew was as complex as the dynasty he had built and now commanded.

If she had known before he had touched her what a mega-power he was, or what the future would hold, would she have done things differently? It was a question she couldn’t answer. That night three years ago, beaten down and desperate, alone and scared, she hadn’t expected to be rescued—least of all, rescued by Joey Masado.

Countless times she’d gotten herself home from the hospital after one of Stud’s outbursts. She could have done it one more time. Then Joey had appeared and completely disarmed her with his take-charge tenderness.

But that was then, and this was now. Last night he had breached a secure compound and stolen his son from under the noses of eight armed guards. And he had done it without a single confrontation. The tender man beneath the tough-guy veneer had a ruthless side. Maybe she had always known that. The rumors had surely warned her that the Masado men never turned the other cheek. Never… And she had seen evidence of that with Frank. He was a hard man, determined to protect his family, whatever the cost.

Rhea checked her watch. It was early, barely eight. She hadn’t slept, nor could she until she saw her son and knew he was safe. She eyed the glass elevator—the woman at the front desk had said, “You’ll find Mr. Masado’s personal elevator in the passageway. Go down hall B, you won’t be able to miss it.”

As if in a trance, Rhea stepped into the glass box, not thinking it peculiar that the door was standing open as if waiting for her. She pushed the only button visible, and when the door closed, she wet her lips, then nervously brushed her long bangs closer to the scar next to her eye.

When the elevator stopped, she buried her free hand—the one that was shaking—in the pocket of her brown suede jacket and waited for the door to open. When it did, she was confronted by a man who reminded her of the guards at Santa Palazzo—big and tough, and capable of snapping a woman’s neck in a split second.

“Ms. Williams?”

“How did you know who I… Never mind.”

The blond powerhouse surprised Rhea with a smile. “I’m Gates. Mr. Masado’s—”

“Bodyguard,” she finished.

“At the Towers we use the word assistant. This way, Ms. Williams.”

Rhea followed the six-foot-five assistant. As they walked along, she saw him lower his head and speak softly into a small gold lapel pin on his suit jacket. She decided he was outfitted with a miniature microphone of some kind that allowed him to speak to his boss.

Moments later, Gates stopped in front of a massive pair of doors. He didn’t bother to knock, just swung the door open and moved aside to allow her entry.

Rhea stepped inside, her son’s teddy bear gripped tightly in her hand. She didn’t know what she had expected to find, but a room shrouded in darkness wasn’t it. In the next few seconds, as the door clicked behind her, she saw that a vast wall of closed vertical blinds behind a sweeping half-circle desk were responsible for the shadows. They hadn’t stolen all the light from the room, but it certainly had set the tone for what undoubtedly was Joey’s morning mood.

The expensive leather chair behind the desk was empty. She was in the lion’s den, but where was the lion?

She scanned the room and located a silhouette seated at a mile-long bar that looked like it should have been in a nightclub instead of in an office. There was a liquor bottle on the marble surface, and beside it, a half-empty crystal glass.

It was too early to be drinking, but then, her ex-husband had drunk all hours of the day and night. The comparison, as well as the result of those painful times, didn’t calm her nerves.

He knew she was here. Rhea saw him stiffen on the bar stool. It was ever so slight, but she’d learned the hard way to be alert. Even the smallest body changes, a shifting eye or a tightening in the jaw, could be a warning.

The key to handling fear was to keep the brain well supplied with oxygen so your thought processes remained clear and your reaction time was lightning quick. Knowing this, Rhea concentrated on slow, deep breathing.

A minute ticked by, then two.

She stood there motionless while he raised and lowered his drink. When the glass was empty, he set it down and gave it a little shove. The heavy glass slid smoothly to the end of the bar with less than an inch to spare. It was a practiced maneuver, she decided, perfected over time.

Another minute lapsed before the white leather stool slowly rotated. Rhea’s heart skipped several beats, then several more when his dark eyes finally locked with hers.

Joey Masado was an awesome looking man. She had always thought so. Over six feet tall, he had brown bedroom eyes, jet black hair and a body that looked like it had been crafted out of iron.

His hair was shorter than she remembered—more businesslike, and a contradiction to the growth of whiskers that lined his jaw. It appeared he hadn’t shaved in three or four days. The stubble, however, didn’t detract from his handsome face, it simply added another measure of danger to an already dangerous man.

A minute dragged by before he spoke, but when he did, his deep voice sent raw chills racing the length of her spine.

“Rhea, in the flesh. After all this time, in a heart-beat she returns as quickly as she left. What brings you to town, darlin’?”

Rhea fought the constriction in her lungs, the sudden weakness in her knees. “You know what brought me, Joey.”

“I’m not sure that I do.”

He was going to make her say it. “Where’s Nicci? Where’s my son?”

“You mean ‘our son,’ don’t you, Rhea?” He came off the stool in one fluid motion, gestured to the stuffed animal in her hand. “Is that the bear he keeps asking for?”

“Yes. He sleeps with it.” She expected him to be wearing one of his expensive suits. Instead, he wore jeans and a black V-neck sweater that revealed a dusting of black hair on his chest.

Joey was known for his Sicilian charm and lazy smile, but both were absent as he held out his hand for the bear.

Rhea shook her head, pulled the bear close. “I want to see him. I want to see my son.”

“No.”

“I need to see him, Joey. I need to know that he’s all right.”

“He’s fine.”

“Prove it.”

“I don’t have to prove a damn thing to you, Rhea.”

“Let me give him the bear, and tell him…”

“Tell him what?”

“That I love him. That everything is going to be all right.”

“Is it?”

Rhea’s chin started to quiver despite her best attempts to remain strong.

Suddenly he swore. The vulgar words were followed by several more in Italian. Finally he shouted, “He’s my son, damn you! How dare you steal my flesh and blood?”

“Steal? I didn’t steal him, Joey.”

His nostrils flared as he regarded her with cold eyes. “When were you going to tell me about him, Rhea? When he was five? Ten? Twenty?”

Rhea refused to give in to the urge to scurry behind his desk. She’d been in similar situations before—a hundred times before. She knew better than to cower, or run. Standing her ground, she said, “He’s my son, too. I gave him life.”

He gave a rude snort. “That’s the controversy of the century, darlin’. I believe I gave him life.”

His words sent Rhea’s eyes down his hard body to that area that…yes, had been responsible for giving her son life. Feeling caught, she jerked her gaze back up. “Tell me when I can see my son?”

“When hell freezes. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like something Stud would say, not you.”

Another string of Italian obscenities scolded the air.

“You have so much, Joey. All I have is Nicci. A child needs his mother.”

“But not his father?”

“I never said that. Never wanted that.”

“What did you want, Rhea?”

She had wanted to share their son. To be a family. But that hadn’t been possible. “I wanted my baby born healthy.”

Her words gave him pause. “And is he healthy?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of mother denies a child his father, Rhea? A father who wants him and has the means to take care of him? If a child can’t trust his mother to have his best interests at heart then who the hell can he trust?”

Rhea’s own mother had walked out on her when she was seven. A few years later her father had died, and she’d been placed in an orphanage. From the minute Nicci was born, all her energy had centered around being a good mother to him. No, not just a good mother—the best mother ever.

“You can accuse me of many things, but not of being a bad mother. Nicci can trust me, Joey. I’ve kept him safe and warm and happy since the second I learned I was pregnant.”

“The way I see it, what you kept him was fatherless.”

“That wasn’t my fault.”

“You’re the one who left. He didn’t even know about me until last night.”

“You told him you’re his father?”

“I am his father. Yes, I told him.”

Rhea rarely swore, but she did now. “Dammit, Joey, you’re a stranger to him. Scaring him half to death in the middle of the night, then confusing him about who he is… You—”

“He’s not confused or scared.”

“How the hell would you know what he is? You’ve been a father less than twenty-four hours.”

“Not by choice.”

Rhea squeezed her eyes shut, her concern for Nicci escalating. She didn’t realize she’d forgotten to breathe until a wave of dizziness stole her balance. She swayed, but before she fell, a strong hand gripped her upper arm. Startled, she blinked her eyes open to find Joey directly in front of her. His fingers bit into her arm as he stared down at her. Unable to hold his gaze, she looked past him to their reflection in the large gilded mirror behind the bar.

Joey’s size dwarfed her, and again she realized that she was no match for him, and that maybe it would have been smarter to wait for Frank.

Suddenly he let go of her arm and walked around her. “One or two scars… Not bad. You didn’t lose your eye.”

From the mirror, she watched as he studied her as if she were on an auction block. He circled again, this time stopping behind her. Leaning in, his lips brushed her ear. “Were you able to nurse my son?”

The question might have seemed strange, even crude, to anyone else, but Rhea knew why Joey had asked it. Her dance with death had kept her in chest bandages for weeks. She had still been in them when she’d left town. Nonetheless, the intimacy of the question brought a hot flush to her cheeks. She had slept with this man, had come apart in his arms, yet their affair hadn’t really gotten under way until after Stud had put her through her bedroom window and in danger of losing her eye and her right breast.

He came around and faced her. “Well?”

The heat from her cheeks spread over her face and down her neck. She’d agreed to some reconstructive surgery to repair the damage, but then she’d learned she was pregnant and had decided against it. “Yes, I nursed Nicci.” Not waiting for him to delve into her answer and embarrass her further, she stated, “Are you telling me you’re not going to let me see my son, Joey?”

“He’s not here. He’s spending the morning with a friend.”

Rhea tensed. “He’s with a stranger. Can you trust this person?”

“I wouldn’t have left him with her, otherwise.”

Her. Sophia D’Lano… He’d left their son with his wife. “Is she competent?”

“Of course she’s competent.”

“How can you be sure? Nicci’s a very active child. If you’re not used to dealing with children, then—”

“Lavina Ward is used to children. And she would never let anything happen to my son.”

That was not the answer Rhea had been expecting. Not at all. “Are you saying Jackson’s mother is watching over Nicci right now?”

“That’s right.”

Jackson Ward wasn’t only Joey’s friend, he was her friend, too. At least, he had been three years ago. He had worked with her ex-husband at the police department. He was, however, nothing like Stud. Jackson was good and honest, and his mother was the reason he had grown up that way. She was a hard-working woman who supported her family as the owner of Caponelli’s Restaurant in Little Italy.

“She’s agreed to help me out until I can hire a nanny.”

Rhea’s maternal instinct flared. “Nicci doesn’t need a nanny, Joey. He needs his mother.”

“But not his father?”

“All right, yes, we made a baby. And, yes, I didn’t tell you. But you weren’t honest with me, either. You never told me you were engaged to Sophia D’Lano.” She spun away from him and walked deeper into his spacious office. Turning, she said, “I’m telling you right now, the only way your wife will raise my son is over my dead body, Joey. Do you hear me? I won’t abandon him out of fear of what you’ll do to me.”

“Wife? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t bother denying it, Joey. Your father told me about her.”

“The engagement, Rhea, was called off. I never married Sophia.”

His words hit her like a straight-line wind off the Gulf.

“You left Chicago because Frank told you I was getting married? Is that the story you’re selling?”

It was more complicated than that. Far more complicated. Rhea heard herself say, “Our baby’s health was the most important thing. If you remember, I had my hands full trying to keep my ex-husband from killing me. Sooner or later, Stud would have shown up again. In bandages and pregnant, what chance did I stand against him?”

“So good old Frank offered you money and a free ride out of town, and you jumped on.”

“It wasn’t exactly like that.”

“How exactly was it?”

“I hadn’t been able to work. Money was an issue, but that’s not what he offered. What he offered was something better than cash. He offered me a new life without pain, and a promise that Nicci would be safe.”

“At Santa Palazzo?”

“Yes. He guaranteed me that our child would be born in a safe environment. And he promised I would be able to raise him. You got Sophia, and…I got our baby. It seemed fair.”

Unexpectedly he moved, closing the distance between them so quickly that Rhea thought he was going to strike her. But instead, he curled his arm around her waist and jerked her up against his hard thighs. “Has Frank touched you?” he demanded. “Have you been in my father’s bed?”

“No.”

“The truth, Rhea!”

The question was absurd. Yes, she was close to Frank. He had become like a father to her.

“I’ll have the truth, damn you!”

“Frank hasn’t touched me, not in the way you mean. But he has been good to us. When he finds out what you’ve done, he’s not going to like it. He’ll come, and—”

“Rescue you again?” He shook his head, laughed bitterly. “No, darlin’, not this time. He’ll have to go through me first. And trust me, Frank’s not that stupid. He’ll come, that’s a given, but my son won’t be going back to Santa Palazzo. And if you want to see him anytime soon, you won’t be leaving, either.”

Chin high, Rhea promised, “I won’t abandon my son, Joey.”

“Then you’ve just limited your options, darlin’.”

What did he mean by that? The moment Rhea asked herself the question, he slid his hands down her back and curved them around her small backside. He had money to burn, as the saying goes. If he wanted it, or thought he needed it, he likely already had it. She had nothing of value to offer him. Nothing but…

He pressed himself against her, kept his eyes locked with hers. “Maybe some kind of an agreement can be made that will satisfy both parties.”

She knew what he was suggesting, and the idea of sleeping with Joey made Rhea’s knees weak. Three years ago the sex between them had been incredible. What would it be like now, bandage-free?

Bandage-free, but not scar-free.

Her voice half strength, shaky, Rhea said, “I’ll do anything, Joey. Anything but that. I won’t sleep with you.”

The idea of having her naked beneath him took Joey’s aroused state and pushed him over the edge. Stone hard and angry as hell, he shoved Rhea away from him, then turned his back on her.

He had every right to take his child, dammit. Every right to want to hurt her. He was justified, dammit!

Then, why did he feel so damn guilty?

Because if she was telling him the truth, it changed everything. She was right about Stud Williams. If he had learned she was pregnant, he would have been just that much more determined. And she was right about Sophia, too. He had planned to marry her—in the beginning.

Joey studied Rhea holding onto Niccolo’s bear. Her high-necked blue sweater matched her sapphire eyes. Her jacket was short and it sent his gaze down her long legs, then slowly back up. It was impossible to look at her lovely legs without remembering how damn good they had felt wrapped around his waist.

Lucky was right. Three years ago there was an unexplained beauty about Rhea. But today she wasn’t just beautiful, she was sexy as hell. And that, coupled with the fact that she was the mother of his child and the woman he had never been able to forget, was keeping his chest tight, and the constriction inside his jeans at a choke-hold level. He’d hoped that after their meeting he would be able to set her aside and concentrate solely on his son. But the fact remained that he still wanted her. More than ever.

“Where are your bags?” he demanded.

His question must have surprised her, because she floundered for an answer. “Uh…I have a room at the Fairmont.”

Joey strolled to his desk and pressed a button on his phone panel. “Gates, get someone over to the Fairmont to pick up her bags. Capiche?”

“Right away, Mr. Masado.”

From behind his desk, he went back to studying her heart-shaped face. She had always been too pale, but now her skin was a honey brown and the contrast with her white-blond hair was magnificent.

Her right eye had been patched shortly after he’d met her. The doctors had given her less than a fifty-fifty chance of saving it. Now, the only evidence that she’d experienced hell were two white lines that disappeared into the corner of her eye, and a thin scar on her lower lip.

He moved on to her lush mouth, remembering how the slowly healing cut had prevented him from kissing her with any amount of passion. But there was nothing stopping him from kissing her now.

Angry that she still owned a significant part of his body and his mind, that she likely always would, Joey said, “You’ll stay here at the Towers. But for now, you won’t go near Niccolo.”

He heard her suck in her breath, watched her lean over as if she was going to be sick. Her blue eyes were instantly liquid with tears.

“Joey, please. Let me have five minutes with him. Please.”

He turned his back on her, walked to the window and pulled open the blinds to let in the morning sun. Minutes passed before he turned to address her once more. “Stud was arrested four days ago. It seems he’s not only a wife beater but a murderer.”

She gasped. “He murdered someone?”

“Actually, three people. Remember when Tom Mallory was killed just before you left town? Stud was the one who shot him. Several weeks ago, he killed Milo Tandi and a dancer at the Shedd. I won’t bore you with the details. I just thought you’d feel better knowing that he’s locked up.”

“He killed Tom? Why?”

“Because he thought you were sleeping with him. He also tried to kill Jacky and me for the same reason.”

“Oh God.”

She was shaking. In spite of his attempt to remain indifferent, Joey said, “He’s crazy, Rhea. The best place for Stud Williams is six feet under, but instead he’s going to Joliet Prison. I guess that’s the second best place for him.”

She brushed at a tear clinging to her scarred eye. “Joey, let me see Nicci. Just for a minute. Let me explain why I won’t be seeing him for a while, so he doesn’t think I’ve abandoned him.” More tears. “Please.”

Joey stepped forward and pressed another button on his phone panel. The action brought the door swinging open and Gates into his office.

“Yes, Mr. Masado.”

“Find a suite for Ms. Williams. Something with a view. She’ll be spending a lot of time staring out the window.”

Chapter 3

As Joey had so cynically implied she would do, Rhea spent much of the day in front of the living room window, watching the clouds go by.

At times she had gotten so restless that she had paced her plush prison on the forty-sixth floor, wringing her hands and asking herself the same question that plagued her since she faced her son’s father. If she had agreed to sleep with Joey, would he have given in and allowed her to see Nicci?

Rhea touched her eye. She didn’t have a model’s looks, but she was no longer wearing an eye patch and sporting bruises. She’d never been comfortable wearing a lot of makeup, but she’d practiced enough so that the scars on her face were nearly invisible. She’d even taken a hairdresser’s advice and had her hair cut to hide the scar at her temple.

She wasn’t flawless, but… Flawless or not, Rhea admitted, if she got the opportunity to strike a deal with Joey a second time, she would do whatever he asked. If it guaranteed her time with her son, she had no choice.

A knock sounded at the front door sometime after seven. Rhea quickly turned from the window and hurried to answer. Her hand on the doorknob, she peeked out the peephole. When she saw who stood outside, her heart sank.

She hesitated just for a second, and in that second, she saw Joey’s younger brother pull a key from his pocket. Lucky was ten times more frightening than Joey, but Rhea refused to be intimidated. If she didn’t stand up for Nicci, who would?

She opened the door. “What do you want?”

“You. Upstairs.”

Not opening the door any wider than the width of her body, Rhea asked, “Why?”

“Because there’s a problem.”

“A problem? With Nicci?”

Without answering the question, he knocked the door open and grabbed her arm. “We’re wasting time. Move it.”

She shook off his hand and bolted for the elevator. In minutes they were on the top floor of the tower, passing Gates—who looked anxious and very glad to see her.

The minute she stepped into Joey’s penthouse, Rhea could hear Nicci’s screams. Frantic, she hurried through the amber-lit foyer and into the living room, barely noticing its lavishness.

“He’s in the bathroom at the end of the hall.” Lucky pointed to a hall that disappeared around a dramatic S-shaped wall. “Joey was going to give him a bath before he put him to bed.”

“A bath? Oh, no!” Rhea hurried down the hall, led by Nicci’s screams. She thrust open the bathroom door, then stopped dead at the sight of Joey standing in the middle of a square red bathtub. He was fully clothed in an expensive white shirt and gray suit pants, his jaw was set, and he was trying to restrain their hysterical, naked son.

“Nicci, stop before you get hurt!”

The seriousness in her tone brought Joey’s and Nicci’s heads around. Her son immediately stopped thrashing, then thrust out his arms. “Mama! No baff, Mama. No…baff.”

Rhea stepped forward, surprised when Joey thrust Nicci at her. She eagerly took him, and Nicci twined his arms around her neck. His little body was trembling, and she cradled him while she searched for a towel to wrap around him.

Facing Joey, she said, “There was an accident on the beach at Santa Palazzo. It happened about a year ago. Nicci was pulled under by the ocean’s current. Since then, he’s been terrified of water.”

“How the hell did that happen? Weren’t you watching him? What kind of mother—”

“Don’t say it, Joey. I was holding onto his hand. He was only under water for a few seconds.”

“But long enough to make him afraid of a damn bathtub for the rest of his life?”

“Don’t swear,” she said softly, careful not to chastise Joey too strongly in front of his son. “Not unless you want him using that word in school in a few years.”

Rhea kissed Nicci’s silky black head, then turned and assessed the bathroom. Spying the large sink in the middle of a ten-foot vanity, she pulled the stop, then ran warm water into it.

“Nicci, honey, let go of Mama’s neck. That’s a good boy.” She winked at him as his dark eyes met hers. Then she kissed his nose. “Shall we play?”

When he nodded, she eased him from her and placed him on the vanity. Making sure the towel was beneath him, she checked the temperature of the water, then added a little more warm before sliding his bare feet in. “Doesn’t that feel good, Nicci? Wiggle your toes.”

He did more than wiggle his toes. He kicked out both feet and sent water up the front of Rhea’s blue sweater and down the front of her jeans. The second kick lifted the water to the mirror and onto the white tiled floor.

Instead of reprimanding her son, she said, “Joey, a washcloth, please.”

Rhea heard him step out of the tub, heard him swear again, a little more softly this time and in Italian. From somewhere behind her, a thick white washcloth sailed over her shoulder and plopped into the water. Then the door closed, and she was left alone with her son.

A half hour later, Rhea tucked the teddy bear next to Nicci in his bed and kissed his cheek. “If you need Mama, just call out. I’ll hear you. I promise.”

She turned around and found Joey standing in the doorway. He’d changed into a pair of dry pants—jeans that showed off his lean hips and long legs. A steel-gray V-neck sweater covered his broad shoulders and revealed a hint of black hair on his chest.

He’d shaved, but it didn’t soften his set jaw. He was angry with her, possibly even more so now than he had been that morning.

When he backed up, she walked out and started down the hall. Trailing her, he said, “Not too smart making promises you can’t keep, Rhea. Tomorrow Niccolo will have a nanny, and all of his needs will be met by a professional.”

Rhea spun around. “Are you so sure she’ll be able to meet all of his needs, Joey? If she had been here tonight, she would have attempted to bathe Nicci, just like you did.”

“Your point?”

“My point is that no matter how good your nanny is, she won’t be able to replace me. Nicci’s afraid of water, and you can tell that to your professional, after you’ve frightened your son half to death. But do you know what to tell her about his allergies, or are you planning on jumping feet-first into that unknown territory, too?”

“Allergies? What kind of allergies? You said he was healthy.”

“He is healthy. Just allergic to carrots.”

“Carrots? What else?”

Rhea hesitated, then said, “I should let you find out the hard way, Joey. But at whose expense? It wouldn’t be yours or your professional’s, it would be at Nicci’s expense. Still, a nanny won’t know that he likes peas better than squash. Or that thunderstorms make him wake up crying. Or that he gets constipated if he doesn’t drink enough juice. But I know those things, Joey. I know them because I’ve been with our son every minute since he was born.” On a roll, she jabbed herself in the chest. “Me! The only professional he needs! His mother!”

He reached out and covered her mouth with his hand. “We’re not going to fight in the hall where he can hear us,” he whispered hotly.

Rhea opened her mouth and bit down hard on the side of his hand, so frustrated and angry that she reacted before she thought.

“Maledizione!”

The minute she let go, she warned him off with her extended arm. “I’m the one who should be caring for our son. But have it your way…daddy. Father knows best, right?”

She turned then, and quickly headed for the door. She didn’t want to go, but he was going to send her back to her cell “with a view,” anyway. At least this way, she wouldn’t have to be led away like a criminal on her way back to lockup.

She’d almost reached the door when he caught her in the foyer and turned her around. Backing her against the wall, he easily pinned her there. He leaned in and snapped, “Damn you, Rhea… Damn your hide.”

“And damn your hide right back, Joey. Now let go! Or I’ll—”

“Or you’ll what?”

Instead of telling him, Rhea hoisted her knee.

As she clipped him in the crotch, Joey swore, then wedged his knee between her legs and gave her his weight. “You should have told me you were pregnant, damn you.”

“You should have told me you were engaged to Sophia D’Lano.”

“I’m Niccolo’s father.”

“I’m his mother.”

The room fell silent as he stared her down. A full minute lapsed before he said, “Then, the answer is simple, isn’t it?”

His voice was no longer full of anger, but of resignation.

“Nothing is simple when it comes to you, Joey. Not one damn thing.”

He raised his hand and brushed a finger over the scar on her lower lip. “Say it? Say you’ll do whatever you have to, for the sake of our son. I want to hear you say it.”

If she refused him this time, she might never see Nicci again. Never hold him, or hear his sweet voice call her “Mama.” Life wouldn’t be worth living without her son, and she was sure Joey had figured that out. He knew he had her boxed into a corner. A very tight corner.

Her chin quivered, but Rhea kept it up, anyway. “Okay, Joey,” she whispered. “I get to care for Nicci, and—”

“I get whatever I want.”

There was more silence. Rhea’s chin continued to tremble, and Joey’s eyes bored into her as if he was waiting for her to change her mind. But she wasn’t going to, and when another minute passed, he dropped his hand and stepped back.

“There’s an empty bedroom across the hall from Niccolo’s room. You can move your things in there. Tomorrow morning, meet me in the sunroom at seven sharp. I’ll tell the cook she has the morning off. Two eggs, three strips of bacon, juice and coffee, Rhea. Questions?”

She shook her head.

He turned and swung the door open. “Gates, Ms. Williams is moving again. Get somebody downstairs to pack her things.”

“And where will she be moving to, sir?”

Rhea heard several graphic words, all of them in Italian. Then, “Where do you think, Gates?”

“Sir?”

More Italian. “Get her suitcases up here within the hour, Gates. Capiche?”

Joey headed for the Stardust Bar on the tenth floor of Masado Towers, intent on getting drunk. The idea behind the Open Twenty-Four Hours sign out front was to give the night owls a place to light—all night long, if need be.

With half-moon shaped booths in midnight-blue leather and a million neon stars scattered on a black ceiling, the atmosphere echoed the eclectic food and drinks, especially the latter, with names like Midnight Sun, Pink Cloud and the famous Moonshot.

As Joey stepped inside, he saw Lucky and Jackson seated at a corner table. Flagging a waitress, he ordered a double scotch, then slid into the booth.

“Who’s watching Niccolo?”

Joey scowled at his brother. “You know damn well who’s up there with him. Why in the hell did you stick your nose in my business? I was handling things.”

“You were handling things, all right.” Lucky turned to Jackson. “You should have seen it, Jacky. Joey was in the bathtub with his shoes on, juggling my screaming nephew like he was a slippery eel. Mio fratello can make a hundred grand a day pushing buttons on his computer, but when it comes to—”

“Shut up, Lucky.”

When Jackson chuckled, Joey nailed his best friend with an ugly look. “I don’t want to hear what you’re thinking. Save it until I’m in a better mood.”

Jackson schooled his grin. “I wasn’t going to say anything, Joe.”

“Like hell you weren’t.”

“Well, maybe I was going to make one small comment. An observation.”

“Just one?”

“Yeah, one. I was going to say, I’m glad it’s you and not me. Becoming an overnight father, I mean.” Jackson glanced at Lucky. “Did you get pictures? Nicci’s first bath with Daddy? We could put them on Ma’s conversation wall at Caponelli’s.”

Joey swore, then reached for the glass of scotch before the waitress could set it down. After he’d inhaled it, he said, “Let’s get drunk.”

“Drunk?” Lucky grinned. “Hell, yes. Let’s. It always makes me feel better.”

Jackson elbowed Lucky. “Joey doesn’t need to get drunk. Neither do you.”

“Yes, I do,” Joey argued. “I just moved Rhea into the penthouse.”

Joey ignored Jackson’s shocked look and reached for his drink. When he realized it was empty, he looked at Lucky, who appeared more surprised than Jackson. “Get me another bottle, Lucky. No, get two.”

After Lucky gestured toward the waitress and held up two fingers, he said, “Things are never black and white. This morning you wanted revenge. Obviously, after getting a good look at Rhea, you’ve decided on something a little more uplifting.” His rugged mouth curved into a wry grin. “Hell, I can’t blame you for that. Those photos didn’t do her justice. Must have been a poor job of develop—”

“Shut up, Lucky.” Joey rubbed the back of his neck, the day’s events giving him a helluva headache. “He’s afraid of water,” he said absently.

“Who’s afraid of water?” Jackson asked.

“Niccolo. That’s what started this whole mess tonight. There was some kind of accident at Santa Palazzo.” Joey shoved a fifty-dollar bill at the waitress when she brought the two bottles of scotch. “Niccolo was on the beach with Rhea and somehow he was dragged under water.” He looked over at Jackson. His friend’s grin was gone, and so was the mischief in his green eyes. “You’re sure Stud Williams is on his way to prison, right?”

Jackson nodded. “He confessed yesterday.”

“At least that’s one problem solved. I don’t need to worry about him with Rhea back in town.”

“Sunni’s relieved, too,” Jackson offered.

Sunni Blais was Jackson’s soon-to-be wife. He’d been assigned to protect her a few weeks ago. It had been a scary couple of weeks, but in the midst of the craziness, Stud Williams had been charged with murder and Jackson and Sunni had managed to fall in love.

Lucky said, “Letting Rhea stay with Niccolo should make her happy.”

“Should I care if Rhea’s happy?” Joey didn’t mean for the question to be answered. “It’s Niccolo’s comfort level I’m concerned with. But right now, all he cares about is his teddy bear and his mama. You should have seen him when he laid eyes on Rhea. He just about flew out of my arms to get to her.”

“He was just scared, Joe,” Jackson reasoned.

“He was scared, all right. And I didn’t know what the hell to do or say to calm him down.”

“That’s not your fault,” Lucky argued.

Joey knew his brother and Jackson were trying to make him feel better, but it didn’t ease his stinging pride. “I thought I had it all figured out this morning. The nanny was going to start tomorrow, Rhea was in a room three floors down—and then all hell broke loose.”

“So maybe you shouldn’t have moved her in,” Lucky considered. “If you want Niccolo to start relying on you, then—”

“Rhea pointed out that I don’t know a damn thing when it comes to Niccolo’s needs. And she’s right. I don’t have a clue.”

“He’s a kid, Joe, not a high-tech robot,” Jackson pointed out. “How complicated can he be?”

Lucky motioned to Jackson. “We can help out.”

“So now you two are experts on how much juice my son needs to prevent constipation?”

“What?”

“Never mind.” Joey stole a cigarette from Lucky’s pack on the table and lit it. Taking a long drag, he reached for his glass of scotch. “You hear anything from Frank?”

“No. He’s still in Florida. They’ve got hurricane winds beating the coast. My guess is he’ll be knocking on your door sometime tomorrow if he can get his plane off the ground.”

Jackson let out a low whistle.

Joey thought it was in anticipation of his confrontation with his father, but as he followed his friend’s gaze to the bar entrance, he saw whom the whistle was meant for.

“Dammit.” Joey eyed Sophia D’Lano in royal-blue glitz, noting that the dress advertised her curves like a lit-up billboard for Viagra. “What else can go wrong tonight?”

The minute he’d spoken the words, she spied him and waved, then started over.

Lucky asked, “How do you want to play this? You plan on telling her you’re a daddy, or do we keep Niccolo and Rhea a secret for the time being? The latest rumor is that she’s determined to get you to the altar before New Year’s.”

Joey ground out the cigarette. “We don’t tell her a damn thing. Not until I talk to Frank.”

“What are you doing here, Joey?” Sophia arrived batting her long lashes and smiling like she’d just had her teeth cleaned. “Your secretary told me you were out of town.”

“I was.” Joey stood, leaned forward and kissed Sophia’s flawless cheek.

She glanced at Lucky and Jackson, then at the empty seat. “It looks like there’s room for one more.” She tilted her head and batted her eyelashes at Joey. Turning slightly, she made sure her breasts brushed his arm. “I haven’t seen you in days. Let’s catch up.”

Joey stepped aside and allowed Chicago’s mafia princess to slide into the booth, then sat down beside her. Since their breakup, Sophia had been inching her way back into his life. But for the past three months, she’d been pushing harder than ever. He admitted that she was beautiful, with rich caramel eyes and sooty black hair that fell past her shoulders, but he’d never envisioned himself marrying her.

“So was it business or pleasure?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your trip?” Sophia licked her lips. “Your secretary didn’t say. You’re not hiding some big dark secret, are you?”

Jackson choked on his beer, while Lucky almost bit in half the cigarette he was lighting. But Sophia didn’t notice. She was too busy situating herself closer to Joey so he could look down the front of her dress.

The waitress came and took Sophia’s drink order. Two Moonshots later, she was snuggled close to Joey, purring in his ear. Thirty minutes later, Jackson excused himself, claiming he had to go home and rescue Sunni from Mac—Mac being Jackson’s once K-9 partner who was now retired and spent most of his time on the sofa watching Westminster and dreaming about a long-legged greyhound with an attitude.

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