Chapter 4 The Bombshell

(Asher)

“Mr. Giordano, there’s a little boy at the front door, asking to speak to you,” Bruce says, scratching his neck in confusion. 

Looking up at my burly bodyguard, I tilt my head to the side, “I’m sorry, a what?”

“We tried telling him to scoot, but he sat down on the steps and said he’s not leaving until he’s spoken to you.” 

I knew having my face plastered all over the news was going to have repercussions, but, this isn’t one of the scenarios I pictured.

“When you say little, what age are you referring to?” I ask. 

Bruce shrugs, “I dunno, like kindergarten little. Like shouldn’t be out on the streets alone little.”

Fuck. I’d better go and see what the hell this is about. 

“I take it you’ve frisked him?” I ask dryly and Bruce pales. 

“Shit. No. Should I have?”

“Bruce, you’re a great bodyguard, but we really have to work on your sense of humor,” I tell him in passing. 

“No, there’s no need to frisk the toddler, I’m sure I can take him.” 

Bruce still looks a little uncertain as he trails after me. 

It’s a good thing I didn’t hire him for his brains.

I’m still several feet from the front door when I spot the boy through the window and my heart stutters in my chest. 

He’s sitting with his back toward me, but I don’t need to see anything but his hair to know who he belongs to.

Nobody but Emmeline has that shade of red hair. Somewhere between the angry red of a huge blaze and the soft, glowing orange of a nearly banked fire. Nobody ever believed that she didn’t dye her hair. He’s got her curls too.

For a moment I freeze in my tracks, struggling to fill my lungs with air. I loved her so much, I nearly told her all my secrets. 

Thank God for Carlos, who showed me who she really was, before I made the biggest mistake of my life.

“Sir?” Bruce asks in concern and I shake my head, striding forward again. 

“I’m fine.” 

The boy on the steps looks over his shoulder when he hears my voice and I get a second punch to the gut. 

He has my dark eyes, not Emmeline’s emerald green gaze.

There are too many people watching for me to risk losing my composure. 

“I believe you want to speak to me?” I ask. 

He gets up and runs over to me, throwing his arms around my legs and clinging on for dear life.

I throw a dark look at the half-dozen security guards, all reaching for their weapons. 

“Shall we go and talk in my office?” I suggest quietly, pulling him to his feet. 

He stares at me like I’m a mirage and he’s been crawling through the desert for days. 

The knot in my chest grows tighter.

“Come on,” I say, “Follow me.” 

I look down in shock when he slips his little hand into mine and happily trots alongside me.

The moment I close my office door, he asks, “Do you know my mommy? Her name is Emmeline Boucher. I think you’re my daddy.” 

So do I little boy, so do I.

“How did you get here? And what’s your name?” I ask instead. Wondering whether Emmeline is parked around the corner, waiting for him. 

I shouldn’t be excited at the prospect of seeing her, but we certainly need to talk.

“I’m Jackson. I looked at mommy’s work email and your address was there. So I sneaked away from school during recess and took a taxi.” 

I admire the resourcefulness, he gets that from me. 

“Where does your mother work?” I ask. 

“For Uncle Elias at the DA’s office,” he tells me. “Are you my daddy?”

Tenacious and goal-driven as well. It appears I have a son I can be proud of. 

What the hell is Emmeline doing at the DA’s office? Bunch of sanctimonious pricks. I’m sure they think they’ll have me behind bars any second now.

“I don’t think I know your mother. Why don’t you go with Bruce and have a snack in the kitchen with Maria. I’ll come and get you in a minute.” 

He looks like he wants to argue, but when I mention there’s fresh cannoli, he eagerly agrees. 

I guess Emmeline still makes cannoli. I used to tease her about betraying her French heritage by making the best cannoli in New York City.

I need to think fast. 

I have zero doubt that I’m Jackson’s father and I’m not planning on missing any more of his life. 

What about Emmeline though?

Carlos answers on the second ring. He’s been my best friend for years and he’s my second-in-command now. 

He listens in complete silence while I tell him what just transpired.

“Asher, you know she’s bad news. Emmeline deceived you before, she’s probably trying to do it again. Don’t you find the timing of this very suspicious? A day after your face appears on every media platform available, some kid shows up and says he’s yours? Something smells fishy to me. I’m coming over there.”

“No. I’ve got this handled, I’ll let you know if I need you.” I can tell he’s pissed about being kept out of things, but this is a family matter.

There’s no way Emmeline produced a child from nowhere, who just happens to look like an exact blend of me and her. 

She may have gotten pregnant on purpose, so she’d have a way to trap me, but Jackson is undoubtedly ours.

I loved her with my whole heart and I truly believed we’d be together forever. 

Get married, start a family and grow old side by side. 

She was a brilliant actress. Playing the part of the sweet ingénue perfectly. 

I was going to turn my back on my own family and start a new life with her.

Until Carlos brought me proof on the day we were supposed to get married. Emmeline had been lying all along. She was working for my father’s enemies, trying to find a way into the Giordano family to take us down.

“So, do you want to see my mommy?” Jackson suddenly pipes up from the doorway.