Chapter 2 - The Little Boy Who Tried to Buy My Love|
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
I had expected an unfamiliar mansion, a difficult child, and a husband whose reputation could make grown men change sidewalks.
I had not expected a seven-year-old boy to offer me his entire world in exchange for the promise that I wouldn't hurt him.
Nico watched my face with the careful attention of someone who had learned that adults could change their minds without warning.
His little fingers trembled against the edge of the metal box.
"Please," he whispered again.
"I can be good."
Something inside my chest cracked.
I slowly closed the box and placed it between us.
"Nico, look at me."
His eyes lifted reluctantly.
"You don't have to give me anything."
He frowned as though I had spoken a language he didn't understand.
"Not your toys, not your money, and definitely not your mother's photograph."
"But Miss Valentina says—"
"I don't care what Miss Valentina says."
His eyes widened.
I softened my voice.
"Nobody gets to buy the right to feel safe in their own home."
Nico stared at me.
Then he asked the question that would haunt me for weeks.
"Even if I'm bad?"
I swallowed.
"Even then."
His lower lip began to shake.
He fought it desperately, pressing his mouth into a straight line.
I recognized that expression.
I had worn it throughout most of my childhood.
Behind me, the housekeeper cleared her throat.
"Mrs. DeLuca?"
I turned.
She was a woman in her early sixties, with silver hair pinned neatly behind her head and kind eyes that looked exhausted.
"Rosa Bell," she introduced herself.
"I've been with this family for twenty-three years."
"Then perhaps you can tell me why this child believes somebody is going to hit him."
Her expression changed.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she glanced toward the hallway.
"Some conversations are better held privately."
I understood immediately.
The walls in this house had ears.
And apparently, some of those ears belonged to people who enjoyed hurting children.
I looked back at Nico.
"Would you show me your room?"
He hesitated.
"Will you get mad if it's messy?"
"Only if you've hidden an actual crocodile under your bed."
His lips twitched.
"There's no crocodile."
"Excellent."
He considered this seriously.
"There's a dinosaur."
"I can negotiate with dinosaurs."
For the first time, Nico smiled.
It lasted barely two seconds, but I would have traded every diamond in that enormous house to see it again.
His bedroom occupied the eastern wing, overlooking a garden filled with white roses.
The room itself looked like something designed for a magazine rather than a child.
Expensive furniture stood perfectly arranged, and shelves displayed toys that appeared almost untouched.
A large blue door stood opposite his bed.
Nico noticed me looking at it.
His smile disappeared.
"Don't open that."
"Why?"
"Because that's where bad boys go."
I felt the temperature of the room change.
Rosa stood behind us, her hands clasped so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
I crouched beside Nico.
"Has somebody put you in there?"
He nodded once.
"Who?"
His eyes filled.
"Please don't tell."
I wanted to break the door off its hinges.
Instead, I sat on the carpet beside him.
"Here's what we're going to do."
He listened.
"First, we're going to get you something to eat."
"I'm not allowed cookies before dinner."
"Then we'll have dinner first."
He blinked.
"Second, we're going to find a better place for your dinosaur."
He glanced toward his bed.
"And third, you and I are going to make some rules."
"Rules for me?"
"Rules for everybody."
His eyebrows rose.
"Even Daddy?"
"Especially Daddy."
Rosa made a startled sound behind me.
I suspected very few people in the DeLuca mansion had ever spoken about Dante DeLuca that way.
That evening, Nico ate dinner at the kitchen table instead of alone in his room.
He carefully placed one toy car beside his plate and asked permission before taking a second helping of mashed potatoes.
When I told him he didn't need permission to be hungry, he stared at me for almost a full minute.
Later, Rosa brought me a cup of tea.
"Miss Alessia," she said quietly, "you need to understand something."
I looked up.
"Mr. DeLuca isn't a cruel man."
"Then he should have noticed."
Her eyes became wet.
"He hasn't truly looked at his son since Mrs. Elena died."
Nico's mother.
Three years gone, according to the family information my lawyer had gathered.
I stared toward the dark hallway.
"Tell me about Valentina."
Rosa hesitated.
"She was appointed to oversee Nico's care by Mr. DeLuca's uncle, Salvatore."
"And Dante approved it?"
"He trusted his uncle."
That was not an answer I liked.
Before Rosa could continue, a small figure appeared in the doorway.
Nico wore blue pajamas and carried his mother's photograph.
"Alessia?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
He approached me cautiously.
"Can I sleep with my door open?"
"Of course."
He looked relieved.
Then he whispered something that made Rosa drop the spoon she was holding.
"Mommy said the blue room wasn't supposed to be empty."
I went still.
"What do you mean?"
Nico glanced toward the hallway.
"She said if anything ever happened to her, Daddy needed to see what she left inside."
Rosa covered her mouth.
I leaned forward.
"Did you tell your daddy?"
Nico shook his head.
"Miss Valentina told me Mommy was confused."
He took another breath.
"And she said if I ever talked about the blue room again, Daddy would send me away forever."
That night, I called my attorney and asked her to prepare an independent review of Nico's care arrangements.
Then I stood outside the blue door, staring at the lock.
I had entered this house expecting to negotiate a marriage.
May you like
Instead, I had found a frightened child, a locked room, and a dead woman's unfinished warning.
And somewhere across the ocean, the most feared man in Chicago had no idea that his son was terrified of coming home.
