My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back

(Emmeline)

“Mama,” Jackson pipes up from the back seat, where he’s safely strapped in, “Is Batman my daddy?”

I can’t believe my sweet angel boy is old enough for kindergarten already. 

I also don’t know how to answer his question. 

The one thing I know for certain, is that Asher isn’t Batman. 

Beyond that, John Snow and I are in the same boat as far as knowing things go.

Asher disappeared off the face of the earth 5 years ago. 

There one day, gone the next, leaving me standing on the steps of City Hall, where we were going to get married. 

Waiting for hours before finally accepting he wasn’t going to show up.

I spent 6 months frantically looking for him, with no luck. 

I sometimes still catch myself thinking he’ll come back, with a good reason for disappearing on me. 

We were so in love, and so sure we wanted to spend our lives together. 

I don’t understand what drove him away.

I found out I was pregnant a week later. Asher doesn’t even know he has a son. 

If he’s still alive.

I filed a missing person’s report and I’ll never forget the look of sympathy the detective gave me. 

The way he advised me to move on with my life.

“No sweetheart, you know Batman is just make-believe. I thought Spider-man was your favorite?” 

He can wax lyrical about Peter Parker for hours and I’m hoping this will be enough to distract him.

“Peter’s only a boy,” Jackson says with a giggle, like I’m the silliest person on the planet. 

“But Batman is old like you.” 

Ouch. 

I’m not sure that 26 can be classified as teetering on the edge of the grave, but I guess to a 4-year old, it must seem pretty ancient. 

On par with middle-aged Batman, in fact.

“Oh look, there’s your school up ahead. Are you excited to see all your friends?” I ask desperately. 

I really need for this conversation to stop. 

“Yes, and Miss Ally. She reads us lots of stories, but she’s not as good at it as you are, Mama. She can do some voices, but not the ones that make you cough.”

I glow with pride and do a mental ‘take that, Miss Ally’. 

I can do scary, husky voices and you can’t. So there.

I shouldn’t resent my son’s kindergarten teacher for telling them to make a family tree. 

It doesn’t stop me from resenting her anyway. 

Most of the other kids have 2 founding members in their trees. 

Even Justin, who has 2 mommies and Dylan who has 2 daddies.

Jackson is the only one who has only a mommy, because I can’t get myself to talk about Asher. 

Miss Ally and her stupid tree gave rise to the sudden avalanche of questions from Jackson and it’s easier to be mad at her, than to face why I won’t discuss Asher.

“Is he a spy, mama?” 

I’m attempting to reverse park in front of the school and my attention is divided. 

“Who, sweetheart?” I ask distractedly. 

“My daddy!” Jackson says, his voice loaded with exasperation. 

I could just lie and say that’s it. 

He’s like James Bond and we can’t talk about him, because we don’t want to blow his cover. 

I don’t lie to Jackson though. 

Not about important things.

Sure there’s Santa, and the Tooth Fairy, and that time the park was closed for renovations because I had a cold and couldn’t face going out, but this is something important.

“Honey, can we talk about this later? I think I see Justin waiting for you.” 

Jackson undoes the straps on his car seat in a flash and darts to the open gate of the school. 

I’m glad he’s adjusted so well to kindergarten. 

I had to start working full time again and it would have been awful if he hated school.

I follow with his backpack and lunch pail, handing them over to a smiling Miss Ally, who’s already hugged Jackson good morning. 

“He’s such a sweetheart,” she tells me sincerely and my dislike thaws a little.

“I’m really sorry if I made things difficult for you with their art project. You shouldn’t feel bad for not knowing who Jackson’s father is.” 

Right, no, she’s definitely back on the list of undesirables.

“Not at all. And I do know who his father is. Things are simply not as straightforward as giving Jackson a name to stick on a tree and following the threads to the rest of the family.” 

Ally looks rather confused, but she nods politely, not saying anything else before I make my way over to Jackson to kiss his velvety little cheek goodbye.

***

The office is a hive of activity when I arrive. 

“Emmeline! Good morning, you look amazing,” Elias calls out when he sees me. “Put down your things and come and have a look at this. We’re getting really close to catching the bastard.”

Elias is the DA for Manhattan and the bastard in question is the elusive leader of the biggest mafia operation in New York. 

He’s been Elias’s white whale for years, firmly eluding capture. Nobody knows what he looks like, or what his name is. 

He’s a member of the Giordano family, but we don’t know which one.

What we do know is that he eliminated his own father and he’s responsible for a slew of murders across the city. 

He also commands such loyalty from his men that we haven’t been able to make any of them flip, no matter what we offered.

I say we, but I only joined the fight recently. 

Elias needed a paralegal and reached out to offer me the position. 

I’m really grateful for this job. 

For years I have been supporting me and Jackson by waiting tables. 

Because while coming to terms with Asher’s betrayal, my charmed life flipped on its head in one fell swoop. 

My father was murdered and my brother sent to prison for a crime he didn’t commit. 

I was left all alone, our fortune gone, bereaved, pregnant and penniless. 

I was in the final year of my degree in Financial Law when I found out I was pregnant so I put my studies on hold. 

With no degrees, waiting tables is the only job I can get.

Elias and I have been friends since grade school and I know he longs for more, but my heart still belongs to Asher, even after everything.

I never stopped wearing my engagement ring. It makes people assume I’m married and keeps most men from asking me out. 

Jackson is the only male I need in my life right now.

“Holy shit!” someone calls out from the corner where the television is set to CNN. 

They turn the sound up and I hear the commentator saying, “Footage has been obtained of the elusive leader of the Giordano crime family. The man, identified as Asher Giordano, is said to have been responsible for multiple violent deaths…”

The woman keeps talking, but the blood is rushing through my head so loudly that I can’t hear anything. 

The man on the screen is Asher. 

My Asher. 

He told me he was an orphan and his surname was Bianchi.

I’m going to be sick. 

My son’s father is the dreaded, menacing head of the Giordano family. 

He didn’t disappear, he played me and left. 

What will he do if he finds out I have his firstborn son?