Page 27 of Sweetest Sin (Tempting Love #1)

Dominick

It was close. Too close. Had we shown up a few minutes later, Peyton and our son would’ve been gone—or worse, dead. Since we don’t know who is responsible, we don’t know what their intentions were.

We have their phones for our IT guy to go through, but I’m not taking any chances. Until we know who is after me and my family, everyone is on lockdown.

My thoughts go to Brielle. She’s going to be pissed. She just got home, and now, she’s about to be a prisoner in the house she despises.

The rest of the ride is quiet—though Peyton’s glares are plenty loud.

Scotty takes off once we arrive at the airport, and Matteo rides with us back to the house. The entire drive home, Peyton holds a still-sleeping Damien while I watch the two of them, hating how much I’ve missed of my son’s life. His first words, first steps. He’s almost four now.

Has he asked why he doesn’t have a father?

I always told myself that I would be a better dad than mine was. I wouldn’t force my child into this life. I would let them follow their dreams, and I would support them.

But Peyton took it all away from me the moment she made the decision to not tell me about my flesh and blood.

I want to hate her for it, but a part of me gets it.

It’s the reason I didn’t go after her all those years ago.

She’s sweet and innocent, and I didn’t want to taint her with our shit.

Brielle could watch a man get murdered in front of her and not blink an eye.

My mother has witnessed men get tortured and then sat down for dinner like it was just another day.

But Peyton merely heard me take a man’s life and ran scared, refusing to tell me that she was pregnant with my baby.

I can admire her protectiveness. It’s obvious she’s a good mother to our son, giving him what she can with what she has. But she’s no longer his only parent, and she’s going to have to get used to me being around because they’re in my life now and there’s no leaving.

When we pull up to the property, Peyton’s eyes widen. The home is situated on a few acres of land on the outskirts of North Harbor Point. Andrey built it over thirty years ago when he earned his first million, and it has since been renovated to be brought into the twenty-first century.

Our car stops in front of the black wrought iron gate with a large A in the center, and one of our men steps out of the guardhouse to ensure it’s us—they know better than to assume.

After the gate opens, we drive down the driveway. The two-story home, complete with a circle drive and an obnoxious fountain in the middle—which my mother loves—comes into view. Despite Peyton trying to hold in her emotions, a small gasp leaves her parted lips.

“You live here?” she questions, letting her curiosity get the better of her.

“We all do,” I tell her. “Though my mother is probably out.”

After a few weeks of her rarely being at home, I asked the guard I had on her what she’d been up to, and he confirmed she was dating someone.

After having her boyfriend investigated and learning he wasn’t a threat, I let it go.

She hasn’t told us about him yet, but I’m assuming she will once she’s ready.

She knows we support her moving on from Andrey.

With me just having learned about Damien, I haven’t had the chance to tell her about him, but I have no doubt she’ll be ecstatic to learn she has a grandchild she can dote on.

“It’s late,” I say as we exit the vehicle and head toward the front door. “I’ll show you to a guest room. Tomorrow, I can give you a tour of the place, and we can figure out which rooms you guys want.”

Peyton shoots daggers my way, but doesn’t argue since she’s still holding our little boy in her arms.

“Do you want me to carry him up?” I offer since there are a lot of stairs and he’s got to be heavy from her holding him for so long.

“I want you to pretend you never met me,” she sasses, making Matteo snort out a laugh before he disappears.

She follows me up the stairs, and I stop in front of the guest room that’s closest to my room and open the door, allowing her to walk through first.

She sets Damien on the queen-size bed and then places the blankets around him before she looks over at me. “You can go now,” she says, dismissing me. “I’m staying in here with him.”

Too exhausted to argue, I nod. “There are towels and toiletries in the bathroom, and I’m having clothes for both of you brought over. I’ll bring them up once they arrive. And tomorrow, we can buy everything you need.”

“What we need,” she hisses, stepping over to me, “is to go home to where all of our stuff is.”

“It’s all being packed up as we speak,” I tell her.

“And what about Damien’s school?” she volleys. “He’s going to wake up in the morning and expect to go to school, where all his friends are. Are you going to pack them up too?” she says, sarcasm dripping in every word.

“He’s three. Once we get a handle on the threat, we’ll find him a good school here.”

She scoffs and shakes her head. “So, what, we’re being held prisoner here?”

“Only until we figure out who the threat is.”

“And once the threat is gone, can we move out?” she challenges, knowing damn well I’m not going to let our son live anywhere other than under my roof.

“Let’s just take it one day at a time,” I tell her. “I went almost four years without my son. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to spend some time with him. You’ve had him to yourself all these years while I didn’t even know he was alive.”

“Well, if tonight is anything to go by, the only reason he’s still alive is because I kept him away from you.

Less than twelve hours into you knowing about him, and we’re already being threatened.

If you want to get to know him, you might want to work a little harder at keeping him out of harm’s way.

” Her voice catches on the last part, her emotions seeping through.

For a moment, instead of the cold bitch she’s shown me, I see the worried mother who is scared for her child’s life.

As I watch her walk away and disappear into the en suite bathroom, I vow to make sure they’re both protected and safe. I failed my mother and my sister, but I won’t fail them.

“What do we know?” I ask, walking into my office a few minutes later.

Matteo is already sitting in the visitor seat with our IT guy. Eddy is a literal genius when it comes to all things technology. He can hack into damn near anything and find whatever or whoever we’re looking for.

“Anthony Rothschild,” Matteo says as Eddy turns his laptop around for me to see. “All contact leads back to him.”

For a moment, I think about what he would get out of this.

He wanted to marry my sister.

He raped her when he found out that she was with someone else.

She wasn’t sure who the father was …

My thoughts go to the text we now know he sent— An eye for an eye .

Suddenly, it all clicks into place.

“He knows.” I glance up at Matteo, who raises a questioning brow. “We don’t know what was said that day Joseph shot Andrey. Anthony was there. What would make someone so mad that he would kill his business partner?”

Matteo waits for me to continue.

“Andrey told them that Brielle had an abortion, that Joseph’s flesh and blood was dead.”

“Fuck,” Matteo breathes. “It makes sense. Andrey was probably pissed that Anthony was with her before the wedding, and he wanted to punish him, make a point. Andrey never would’ve let Brielle have a baby out of wedlock.”

“No, because it would’ve made the family look bad.”

“So, Joseph killed Andrey. And then Giuseppe killed Joseph. And Anthony ran. He said it the day we were questioning him in the warehouse … ‘I want what’s owed to me.’”

“He didn’t just mean Bri,” Matteo says. “He also meant the baby.”

“And the second he found out that I have a son, he went after him … an eye for an eye .”

“We need to take him out,” Matteo deadpans. “He’s not going to stop until he gets his hands on Damien.”

“He’s working with the mayor,” I say. “I don’t know why the mayor would give him the time of day, but he’s the one who vouched for Anthony at the auction.”

“Fucking unbelievable,” Matteo spits. “It’s not a coincidence that Paul Astor Jr. was nearly killed right before the election and forced to pull out of the running, allowing Eric Vanderbilt to win by default.”

“No,” I agree. “It’s not a coincidence. So, the question is, what does Mr. Mayor want?”

“Martha.” I nod at the housekeeper as I walk into the kitchen the next morning.

“Mr. Antonov,” she says with a smile as she pours my coffee.

After finding out who was responsible for the bugs in our house, we were forced to fire our cleaning company, unsure if anyone else had been compromised. Thankfully, Martha has been with us for years and is loyal to a fault.

“We have a couple of new houseguests,” I tell her, taking the coffee from her and having a seat at the island. “My son, Damien, and his mother, Peyton, will be staying with us indefinitely. He’s three … almost four,” I add, realizing I don’t even know when my son’s birthday is.

“Oh.” She perks up, and I imagine she’s already planning what she can cook for Damien. “Do you know what he likes? Or better yet, I’ll ask him myself when he comes down,” she says thoughtfully.

When we were younger, she practically helped raise us, and when we got old enough to no longer need a nanny, she moved into caring for the house and cooking. When I noticed her slowing down, I decided to hire an outside cleaning company to come in and do a thorough housecleaning every week.

“Morning,” Brielle says, sauntering into the kitchen, dressed in workout attire. “Martha, I’ve missed you so much.” She wraps her arms around the housekeeper, who returns the embrace.

Martha was visiting a relative when Brielle and I returned from Russia, so she hasn’t gotten a chance to see her until now.

“Oh, Brielle,” Martha coos when they pull apart. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman. Welcome home, my dear.”