by Andie Brock
‘As I recall, he disowned me.’ She stroked the dog’s fur with a hand heavy with jewelled rings. ‘And me his only living relative.’
‘And you know full well why. You made your lethal choice when you married into the Sorrentino family.’
‘Ah, yes, of course. I am the evil witch responsible for the extermination of the Calleroni family.’
‘For the murder of your father, Alfonso’s only brother, yes.’
‘Look at you, Vieri, so high and mighty, so morally upright.’ A sneer curled her lip. ‘And yet I seem to recall a time when even knowing who I was, what I was, didn’t stop you from coming to my bed.’
Vieri ground down hard on his jaw, not trusting himself to speak.
‘You were crazy for me once, Vieri. You can’t deny that.’
‘I was crazy, all right, crazy to ever have anything to do with you.’
‘Ah, I see the years have twisted the truth, il mio amore, made you bitter. But I’m sure you must remember the good times. I know I do.’
‘What I remember—’ Vieri sucked in a breath ‘—is that you made the decision to terminate our unborn child!’
Shock flickered across Donatella’s face, fighting to move the chemically frozen muscles. ‘So you know about that?’
A murderous silence filled the air. ‘I do.’
‘Then you should be grateful.’ Swiftly recovering her composure, Donatella lifted her chin.
‘Grateful?’ The word roared between them.
‘Yes, grateful that I swiftly dealt with the situation. Surely you didn’t think you and I would ever be playing happy families?’
‘Maybe not.’ Fury slowed his words to a low drawl. ‘But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t have raised the child myself. Had I ever been consulted, that is.’
‘Trust me.’ She gave a harsh laugh. ‘No amount of consultation would have persuaded me to keep that baby.’
Rage flowed thickly through Vieri’s veins like molten lava. He towered over her, his fists clenching and unclenching as he fought to find some control. ‘Leave! Now!’
‘Very well, I will go.’ Rising to her feet, Donatella tucked the dog under her arm and started towards the door, but then stopped, turning to look at him again. ‘Oh, how rude of me. I haven’t congratulated you on your marriage.’ She met his searing glare. ‘Such a charming young girl, that little wife of yours. Did she tell you we had met?’
Pure hatred whitened the skin around Vieri’s mouth.
‘Yes, of course she did. I’m sure you two don’t have any secrets.’ She gave him a sly smile. ‘No doubt she will be only too happy to bless you with any number of little brats if that’s what you want. I wish you a long and fertile life together.’
Vieri’s low growl gave him away and Donatella’s gaze sharpened.
‘Or have I got that wrong? Perhaps there is another reason for this hasty marriage?’ She raised a painted talon to her lip, pretending to think. The dog squirmed in her grasp. ‘Could it be something to do with your godfather’s imminent demise, I wonder? Something in the terms of his will that meant if you weren’t married, his money, this castello, would have come to me?’
‘Ha!’ Vieri laughed in her face. How typical of Donatella to assume that she was the reason for his rushed marriage. ‘Trust me, that was never going to happen.’
‘That’s just it, I don’t trust you, Vieri.’ She stared at him with calculating eyes. ‘I have watched your meteoric rise to fame, seen the way you have acquired exposed businesses, taken over failing companies. That takes ruthlessness, determination, grit. Qualities I like to think, in some small way, you may have learnt from me.’ She studied her fingernails.
‘Or to put it another way, I believe that over the years you have become every bit as manipulative and underhanded as me. I believe you will stop at nothing to get what you want, especially if that means depriving me of any inheritance. I just hope that poor unsuspecting young woman you have taken as your bride knows what she’s let herself in for. For her sake, I hope she knows the man you really are.’
‘Get out!’ Vieri roared with a violence that made the dog growl, bare its teeth. Marching past her, he flung open the door, standing sentry as she came towards him.
‘Don’t worry, I’m going. Ciao, mio caro.’ She reached up to touch his cheek but Vieri ducked away from her hand. ‘Until we meet again.’
Ushering her out into the hallway, Vieri turned and strode back into the office, slamming the door behind him.
One thing was for sure: if he had any say in it, they would never, ever, meet again.
* * *
Harper heard the slam of the door before she turned the stairs and saw Donatella Sorrentino standing outside the office. She stopped, her hand gripping the banister, a cold fear creeping up her spine. There was something about this woman and her relationship with Vieri that felt bad, dangerous. Harper had never forgotten the way Vieri had reacted when she had told him about Donatella choosing her dress. It had been extreme, violent even. And now this, the door slamming, the high colour of Donatella’s cheeks as she headed for the front door, proof positive that emotions between her and Vieri were running high. Harper didn’t know what those emotions were but she did know that they were deeply felt and still very much alive. Which logically only led her to the conclusion she had already suspected. At some point in time, Vieri and Donatella had been lovers. And they possibly still were.
Pushing that hideously painful thought to the back of her mind, she watched as Donatella reached the front door, desperate for the woman to be gone. But at the last minute Donatella turned, fixing Harper with an icy stare, and for a moment their eyes locked.
‘Good luck.’ Donatella broke the heavy silence with a caw of sarcasm. ‘You are going to need it.’ Then with a cruel laugh she turned and swept through the front door.
Harper sucked in a breath. She refused to be intimidated by her, refused to even think about who this woman was, what part she played in Vieri’s life. Not today, not on the day of Alfonso’s death.
Moving to stand outside the office, she was trying to pull her composure into place when the door flew open and she was suddenly confronted with Vieri’s towering figure. And judging by the murderous look in his eye, a towering mood to match.
Harper’s heart lurched with love and compassion and a myriad other emotions that she couldn’t begin to process right now.
‘Hi.’ She sounded ridiculously chirpy. ‘I was just coming to tell you that I’ve done as you asked. All the visitors have left or are leaving. They asked me to pass on their condolences, and Jaco said to tell you he will be in touch later today.’
‘Fine, whatever.’ With a shrug, Vieri looked over her shoulder, scanning the empty hallway.
‘If you are looking for Donatella, she has just left.’ Harper fought to keep the bitterness, any sign that she cared, out of her voice.
‘But you are still here.’ The dark blue eyes swung back in her direction, coldly focussing on her face.
‘Well, yes, of course.’
‘There’s no of course about it. I want you to leave too.’
‘Me?’ Harper stared at him in astonishment.
‘Yes, you.’ He squared his shoulders, determination setting in. ‘I want you to go. I don’t want anybody here.’
‘But I’m not “anybody”, Vieri.’ Harper gasped. ‘I’m your...’ She hesitated, the word wife refusing to come. Despite what had happened last night she was not his wife, not in the true sense of the word. And she never would be. ‘I loved Alfonso, you know I did.’
‘You barely knew him.’
‘Not like you, no, but that doesn’t mean I’m not deeply saddened by his death, that I’m not grieving too.’
‘Well, you can go and grieve somewhere else.’
‘Vieri!’ Horror stiffened her spine. That he could be so hurtful, so cruel, cut her to the quick. But he was in shock. Dragging in a stuttering breath, she forced herself to calm down. ‘Look, you’re upset. I�
��m sure you don’t mean that.’
‘I can assure you, I do.’
She stared back at him, the glimpse of his vulnerability beneath his granite façade the only thing keeping her strong. ‘Let’s not discuss this now. We can talk things over later.’
‘There is nothing to talk about, Harper.’
‘Don’t do this, Vieri. Don’t push me away. I want to be here for you, to be able to support you.’
‘The way you support everybody else, I suppose?’
Harper flinched at the bite of his words. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I mean that I don’t need your support, Harper. More than that, I don’t want it. You don’t need to fix me, the way you seem to have to fix everyone else in your life.’
‘That’s not fair, Vieri.’
‘No? Well, that’s the way it looks to me. It strikes me that you are so busy solving everyone else’s problems that you have never stopped to take a long hard look at your own. Not content with saving your sister’s life, it seems you have to carry on running it for her. And the same with your father, trying to control everything he does.’ He paused, his eyes glittering like flint. ‘Perhaps if you spent a bit less time meddling in other people’s lives and a bit more concentrating on your own you wouldn’t still be a virgin at the age of twenty-five.’
Harper gasped, her eyes widening in horror. It took a second or two for his vicious words to permeate, for it to sink in that he had really said them. But when it did her knees started to tremble beneath her and she had to reach for the wall to support herself. The blood drained from her face, taking her breath along with it, so that she had to fight to remain upright. She swallowed, made herself breathe, then swallowed again.
She could feel his eyes on her but she would not look at him. There were a thousand things she wanted to say but none of them would come. And none of them mattered, anyway. All the words in the world wouldn’t have made any difference. With his short, brutal analysis Vieri had made it quite clear what he thought of her. He had shown just what a sad, pathetic creature he considered her to be. And maybe he was right. Maybe she had spent all her life looking out for other people because she had no life of her own. Maybe to still be a virgin at the age of twenty-five was pathetic. Pitiful. And if that wasn’t, finally giving her virginity away to a man such as Vieri Romano certainly was.
But worse than that, far far worse, was the fact that her virginity wasn’t the only thing she had given him. She had given him her heart. And for that she would never forgive herself.
Moving away, she headed blindly for the stairs, tightly gripping hold of the banister to help in her ascent, all too aware of Vieri’s cold, cruel eyes trained on her every step. She forced her shoulders back and straightened her spine, determined at least to hang onto her last modicum of pride while she still had it. Because right now, it felt as if that was all she had left.
CHAPTER TWELVE
VIERI WATCHED AS Harper climbed the stairs, her chin up, her head held high. But he could see just how much effort it was costing her, just how much his spiteful words had hurt her. He cursed violently under his breath, only just stopping himself from screaming out loud. Why the hell had he done that? Taunting her about her virginity, of all things. Why had he taken out his fury and hatred for Donatella on Harper? It was unforgivable.
But deep down he knew why. Guilt.
Much as he hated to admit it, Donatella had been right when she had called him manipulative and underhand. That was the man he had become. Hadn’t he demonstrated both of those qualities in the way he had treated Harper, using her purely for his own gain? His own pleasure. She had been right too, when she’d said he had learnt from her, but not in the way she’d meant. His poisoned relationship with Donatella had taught him never to trust anyone, never to get close to anyone. Never to give his heart away again. Something he had to guard against now, in a way he never had before.
He jammed his hands deep into his pockets, pacing to and fro across the echoing hallway.
Discovering that Harper had been a virgin had shocked him to the core. He had taken something from her that she would never get back. Something that he most certainly didn’t deserve. Now the shame of his action refused to go away. So when Harper had looked at him with those wide hazel eyes, piercing his protective armour, his guilt had made him lash out.
But maybe she had brought it upon herself. Vieri allowed his twisted logic to kick in. Maybe it was her fault for insisting on searching for the goodness in him, looking for something that wasn’t there. Didn’t she realise there was no goodness to be had? For all his wealth and success, all his urbane charm and effortless good looks, he was nothing more than a fraud. An empty vessel, a hollow shell. The baby his parents hadn’t wanted, the boy no one had adopted, the misguided young lover who had been rejected, the father he was never allowed to be. He certainly didn’t deserve her kindness and compassion. Much less her virginity. Or her love. If he allowed her to get close to him now he would only end up dragging her down, ruining her life, and he would never let that happen. He had to set her free.
Turning to go back into the office, he blinked against the tortured image of her face as he had delivered his spiteful words—the shock, hurt and pain, that awful pain that had stolen the light from her eyes.
He had to be strong. Alfonso was dead; there was no longer any reason for them to be together. It was better to be cruel now and have a clean break than prolong this agony any longer.
His phone buzzed in his pocket and he viciously swiped to accept the call from the funeral directors. ‘Si, pronto.’ Kicking the office door shut with his foot, he spoke in rapid Sicilian, instructing them to come and collect Alfonso’s body as soon as possible. No, he did not want them to leave his godfather at the castello for a period of mourning. He had no intention of prolonging this particular agony either. As painful as it was, he would say his goodbyes now, and that would be an end to it.
* * *
Standing outside Alfonso’s bedroom door, Vieri steeled himself for what was on the other side. Slowly turning the handle, he let himself in. The large, panelled room was dimly lit and a chilly breeze stirred the air. The shutters were closed against the bright daylight outside but one window was open behind them so that, in accordance with Sicilian tradition, the deceased soul could fly off to heaven.
As his eyes adjusted, Vieri could make out the motionless shape in the bed. Alfonso, his dear padrino, really was dead. The harsh reality slammed into him again. He silently stepped forward and only then did he realise that there was someone else in the room. Harper. Sitting quietly by the bedside, her head bowed, her hand clasping one of Alfonso’s that lay stiffly outside the covers. But the second she saw Vieri she was on her feet.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘I’ll go.’
‘You don’t have to.’ His voice sounded gruff, unsteady.
‘Yes, yes, I must.’ She refused to look at him. ‘You will want to pay your respects in private.’
He moved to stand beside her, inexorably drawn to her the way he always was. The masochist in him made him want to see her face and he reached to take hold of her chin, lifting it so that she had no alternative but to meet his stare. But what he saw shrivelled his very soul. Her eyes were red from crying, long eyelashes clumped together, the tears still damp on her cheeks. She looked so unutterably sad he simply couldn’t bear it.
‘What I said earlier, Harper.’ All his resolve had vanished at the sight of her misery and he slipped an arm around her shoulder to pull her against him. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Not here, Vieri.’ She put a shaky hand to his chest, lightly pushing him away. Vieri could feel the heat from her palm warming his heart. ‘This is not the time or the place.’
‘No.’ Letting his arm drop, Vieri glanced down at his godfather. ‘Of course not.’
For a moment she held his gaze, her eyes dark, unfathomable. Then, blinking, she turned away, bending to plant a soft kiss on Alfonso’
s forehead.
‘I’m going now, Vieri.’ Straightening up, she tossed her hair over her shoulders, tucking it behind her ears, suddenly in control. But Vieri saw the pale column of her throat work with the effort of swallowing. ‘I have never seen the point of long goodbyes.’
‘No. I understand.’ He moved to let her pass. ‘The undertakers will be here soon anyway.’
Giving him one last heart-rending look, Harper brushed past him and left the room.
Vieri took the seat where she had been and picked up the hand that she had been holding. Old and gnarled, it felt cold to his touch. He raised it to his lips, letting his breath warm it, just for a minute, before replacing it carefully down on the coverlet. He gazed at his godfather’s face, so familiar, so much loved, and yet somehow already different. As if he was no longer there. As if his soul had already left his body.
He would miss him so much, this man who had always been there for him, guided his path in life, steered him in the right direction, stopped him from making the worst mistake of his life. They had never discussed the whole Donatella debacle. Not once. Because that wasn’t Alfonso’s way. He knew how stubborn Vieri was, how proud. Instead he had cleverly manipulated him away from trouble, given him the means to start a whole new life.
With a flash of long-overdue insight, Vieri realised that Alfonso had been manipulating him right up to the end. His marriage to Harper. He raised his eyes heavenward. Was it possible that the wise old goat had been right about that too? Certainly everything about last night had felt right, more than right. Amidst the shock and grief of Alfonso’s passing it didn’t seem appropriate to let his mind go there but if he did...then he knew that his body still thrummed with the high of it, yearned for more. He knew that no other sexual experience had come close, that making love to Harper had been on another level completely. It had touched him. It had meant something.
I have never seen the point of long goodbyes. Suddenly Harper’s words came back to him and he knew, with a bone-chilling certainty, that she hadn’t just been talking about saying goodbye to Alfonso. She had been saying goodbye to him.