Page 4 of Duncan (Irish Mob of Boston #1)

Maddie

I rushed from the house, wrestling with my coat as I flew down the front steps. It was almost time. They would be at the park soon, and I needed to be there before they arrived.

Quickly finding the bench I always sat on, I waited, watching the path they would walk down. It might have been the end of December, but they were here every week as long as it wasn’t raining.

This would be the last time I saw him. There would be no more visits, no more watching him grow. I wouldn’t see him pushing his little brother, who was really his cousin, on the swings.

He looked so much like his father; it made my heart ache. My precious little boy. He was supposed to be safe. And he had been.

I didn’t regret my decision.

Not really.

It was the only option.

If my father had known about Henry, there was no telling what he would have done. That wasn’t true. I knew exactly what he would have done. He did it to Sal.

Henry’s father was dead because of me.

My father had beaten me when he found out about Henry. He wasn’t just angry I’d had a child out of wedlock. He was angry he didn’t know about it until years later.

He was angry that my son’s father was Italian and not Irish. And he was angry that he couldn’t get to him. So instead he got to his father.

When I met Salvatore Valentinetti, I was only twenty years old. He was thirty-three. We met by chance. He had a meeting with my father, and I happened to be at his office that day.

When I discovered I was pregnant, Sal was the only person I told. Not even my mother knew. I immediately looked into transferring schools. I couldn’t stay at NYU. My parents couldn’t know.

Sal helped with an apartment, and I transferred to UNLV, in Nevada. I made sure I was on the other side of the country, as far from my father as I could get.

When Henry was born, I didn’t stay. I couldn’t bear to walk away, but I knew he would never be safe otherwise. Sal raised Henry until my father found out and had Sal murdered.

Now my son lived with his aunt and uncle. I should have known he would never have a normal life. I was a Mob princess. Sal, a Mafia prince. Now he would grow up in the Bratva.

There were times I wished I’d never told Sal. I should have run. Given Henry up for adoption. Given him a chance at a normal life.

But then I saw him in the park. Saw how happy he was. Knowing he was safe made everything I’d done worth it. My father would never consider going up against the Bloodletter.

He may be a cruel man, but he wasn’t stupid.

What my mother ever saw in him, I would never understand. She knew what he was. Yet, she stayed.

She deserved so much better.

Like Cian.

I saw the way he looked at her. The way he watched her when they were in the same room. He would have made a good father. A good grandfather for Henry. Someone I wouldn’t have feared. Someone who would have loved me. Loved my mother. Been faithful to her.

Maybe there was still a chance for them. It was unlikely I would ever see my father again. Once my Uncle Sal found out about Henry, he wanted to demand him back. Wanted him raised Irish. Not Italian and certainly not Russian.

But I stood firm. Henry had already lost his father. I wouldn’t pull him from his family. I wasn’t selfish like my father.

My heart broke every time I saw him in the park. But every time I saw the way his aunt and uncle doted on him, treating him like their own son, it healed a small crack from when it shattered after I walked away.

They were coming down the path. I tried to keep my emotions closed off. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. Didn’t want them to know who I was.

Why I was here.

Henry was seven years old now. I had missed so many firsts. Sal sent me pictures and videos. I should have stopped him, because that was how my father had learned about him.

My secret had gotten out and there was nothing I could do. I tried to warn Sal. He assured me his family was more powerful than mine. He wasn’t entirely wrong. People might fear my uncle Sal as the American boss. But my father was not my uncle.

His men didn’t respect him. And without respect, there was no fear.

Without fear, there was no loyalty. Sal’s family might have been powerful.

But they were no match for the Russians.

And when the two combined through the marriage of Sal’s sister and the Bloodletter, well, there was nowhere safer for my son.

Henry and Max ran to the playground. Their nanny following closely behind them, giving no thought to the danger that might be waiting for them.

She didn’t have to.

There was an entourage of Russian men watching over my son. Along with his aunt and uncle.

I avoided looking their way. My head turned, hiding the fact that I was watching the two boys out of the corner of my eye. Sitting on the bench, my eyes watered as I thought about everything I would miss.

His first missing tooth. Graduation from both high school and college. His first love. His wedding day. Children I would never see. My grandchildren that I would never know.

As I wiped away a tear that refused to stay put, a large man sat on the bench beside me.

“Good morning, Miss Kelley.”

My breath hitched at the use of my name. My body stiffened in fear. How did he know who I was? Did he know why I was here?

“Good morning,” I returned, praying it was a simple greeting. Though clearly I wasn’t a stranger if he knew my name.

“You are here every week when my wife and I bring our sons to the park. Did you think I wouldn’t look into you?”

“I had hoped,” I confessed quietly.

“That was a foolish thought.”

“I just wanted to see him. See how happy he is.”

Maxim Fedorov, the Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, sighed beside me. I didn’t know how to interpret that response. I sat frozen in my seat, not from the cold but the complete terror that overtook me.

Illyria Valentinetti looked in our direction. Her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at us.

“Does she know who I am?”

“She does.”

“Mr. Fedorov, this is the last time. I am moving to Boston. I just needed to see him one last time.” I didn’t look at him as I spoke. I couldn’t take my eyes off my son as he ran and laughed. Seeing him so carefree filled my heart with both joy and grief.

“Would you like to meet him?”

My head swung around so fast to look at the intimidating man, I thought I might get whiplash.

“No,” I whispered.

“Why?”

Looking back at Henry, I swallowed thickly. It would be too hard. I could never walk away if I spoke to him. If he showed me the sweetness he inherited from his father, I would never leave New York.

“It would be too hard. Even from here, I can see so much of his father.”

“Did you love him?” he asked.

“Very much. If for no other reason, he gave me Henry. But Sal was amazing. So loving and funny. And so strong. He made me feel safe.”

“But you didn’t trust him to keep you safe?” His question was quiet. Not accusing, but more... wondering.

Still, I glared at the oversized Russian sitting next to me.

“I trusted him with the most precious thing in my life. My son.” How dare he question my relationship with Sal.

“I won’t be back again. I just want to sit here and watch my son enjoy life.

” Something he would never have had with me, I added silently.

Maxim Fedorov stood from the bench we shared and turned back to look at me. I refused to give him any more attention that was reserved for Henry.

Without a word, he walked away to join his wife. I sat there watching Henry as my tears slipped silently down my face. My solitude was once again disrupted when Illyria sat down beside me.

We sat in silence for what felt like hours. I refused to speak to her. Illyria Valentinetti was not what the media portrayed her to be. An Italian Mafia princess, mistaken to be a vapid socialite, only interested in a superficial lifestyle.

No, she was so much more than that. She was someone to look up to. We might have been close in age, but she had lived a lifetime more than my sheltered existence.

If I was honest, I would admit she scared the hell out of me. The things she endured to keep her son safe. But she never left him. I wasn’t as strong as her. I knew that. I accepted that.

“My brother said you were a stripper in Vegas.”

The laugh slipped out so easily and my fingers covered my mouth. It didn’t surprise me Sal had come up with something ridiculous like that.

“You don’t look like a stripper. But with that hair alone, you would have been popular. Sal always did have a thing for redheads.” Her words might have sounded carefree, sympathetic even. But her tone was caustic. She made it clear she didn’t think I was good enough for her brother.

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. The words were stuck in my throat, keeping the bile that rose from my center from escaping all over her Louboutin shoes.

I was as much in awe of her as I was terrified.

“You can’t have him.”

“I know,” I said quietly.

“You don’t want him?”

I spun on her then. My eyes narrowed on the woman raising my son. Anger quickly replaced my fear. “How fucking dare you!” I snarled. “Of course I want him. I wanted him the minute I knew he existed. I love him more than I love myself.”

Closing my eyes, I turned back to Henry. I wouldn’t let her view of what I’d done affect my last few moments with Henry. Wrapping my arms around my waist, I leaned forward.

“All I wanted was to see him one last time,” I rasped. “Please, just let me have these last few minutes with him. Then I’ll go and you’ll never see me again.”

There was no stopping the tears. I understood their concerns, but I didn’t want to disrupt his life.

“Tell me why,” she demanded.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

Now she laughed. But it wasn’t in mirth. It was sardonic. Angry. It wouldn’t surprise me if she hated me on principle alone. But she didn’t know me.

“I wouldn’t understand? Really, Miss Kelley? I am probably the only person alive who would understand.”

I shook my head. “I’m not like you.”

“That’s obvious. I didn’t walk away from my son. I protected him.”

“Fuck you,” I growled. “My decision was mine. Sal understood it. He accepted it.”

“You don’t get to say his name,” she hissed. “You didn’t know him. You were just some tramp he got pregnant and then walked away.”

“I loved him! And he loved me!” I hissed.

It still hurt. Even apart, we never stopped loving each other.

“Why do you think he didn’t tell any of you about Henry until he was two? Or that we were married?”

There was a certain amount of satisfaction in the subtle widening of her eyes. My confession had come as a shock.

“It wasn’t just my family we hid from. Sal hid us both from you too! Maybe ask yourself why he didn’t want you in his son’s life.”

I stood and took a step away before I stopped. Illyria glared at me. But she held her tongue, and I knew it was killing her.

“Sal talked about you. About your relationship. You were close, and he still didn’t tell you about Henry until I gave him permission.

He asked me if he could tell you all about our son.

I said yes because I wanted Henry to have a family.

Aunts and uncles who would love him, protect him. Something I couldn’t give him.”

I looked back at Henry. He had no idea who I was, or that I was even there. Watching him, loving him.

“I wanted to see him one last time. I am leaving New York. I won’t be back.

You may have had the power to protect your son, Illyria.

I didn’t. But I knew Sal would. He could have told you about me.

Who I was. Who my family was. But even in his death, he kept me and Henry safe.

I was the one who suggested he make you Henry’s legal guardian in the event something happened to him.

That was how I protected my son. Maybe ask yourself how Sal would react to the way you just spoke to his wife and the mother of his child. ”

With those parting words, I walked away from Illyria Valentinetti and Maxim Fedorov.

And my son.