by Jennie Lucas
“Die, you Italian bastard!” Blaise panted.
Vin! Scarlett scrambled to her feet, desperate to save him, terrified he’d been shot. But even as the bodyguards descended from all sides, Vin flung Blaise over his back like a sack of potatoes. For half a second, Blaise was suspended in midair with a shocked, stupid look on his face. Then he crashed hard to the concrete, where he lay still.
“The police are on the way, Mr. Borgia,” Beppe said.
Scarlett heard the distant whine of a siren. She knew the steps in front of the palazzo would soon be covered with medical and police personnel.
Blaise lay faceup, flat on his back. Unmoving, he wheezed, “You... You...”
Vin looked down at him coldly. “You are going to prison, Falkner. For a very long time. You should pray you never get out.” As bodyguards surrounded him, Vin turned to Scarlett. His expression changed. He reached for her. “Scarlett—”
“You saved me,” Scarlett choked out, pressing her cheek against him. Then she drew back, frowning. “But you’re wet. You...” There was a darkening patch on his right shoulder, and another on his left thigh. With a gasp, she lifted the lapel of his tuxedo jacket and saw red blooming across his white shirt, like a flower. And it was in that moment she realized why she was still alive. Vin had taken two bullets for her.
* * *
When Vin saw Falkner put his finger on the trigger, everything had become crystal clear.
He would either save his wife or die with her.
Their son would know that his father had loved his mother enough to sacrifice his own life to try to save her.
That was the best legacy any father could leave his son. The only real legacy. It had nothing to do with leaving a fortune, or a billion-dollar company. A man’s true legacy was his example, of how a man should live—and how he should die. For the ones he loved.
“Cara.” Vin pulled Scarlett into his arms, holding her like the precious treasure she was. He felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, and another in his thigh. He gritted his teeth against the pain. “He was right about one thing. If anything ever happened to you, it would utterly destroy me.”
“Vin, we need to try to stop the bleeding until the paramedics...”
“Not yet,” he breathed. He curved his hands around her, needing the feel of her body against his. “Everything you said was true. That’s what I came to say. I was afraid to love you.” He searched her gaze. “Now the only thing I’m afraid of is not having the chance to love you for the rest of my life.”
She looked closely at the holes in his jacket. “It looks like this bullet went straight through your shoulder and out the back. But your leg...”
He was barely listening. “I was a coward.”
“Coward? Vin, you took two bullets for me!”
“It’s true,” he insisted roughly. He was still shaking. It was only now that he held her, now she was safe in his arms, that he could admit how terrified he’d been. “I promised myself long ago that I’d never love anyone—never give anyone that kind of power over me. Then on Christmas Eve, after I told you I loved you, I was afraid. I was desperate to regain control.”
“Control over what?”
“You, me, everything. Life.”
“Oh, Vin,” she whispered through cracked lips. “No one can control all that.”
“I realized that today.” His lips twisted as he leaned on her. He could no longer put any weight on his left leg. He wondered how much blood he’d lost. But he couldn’t let her go. Not yet. “I’ve made so many mistakes. I just found out Giuseppe has always known he’s not my biological father. He just didn’t care.”
“No!”
He gave a low laugh, swaying on his feet. He was starting to feel dizzy. “Control is an illusion. I understand that now. All I can control in life are the choices I make. The man I choose to be.” He took her hand in his own, pressing it against his chest. “You have my heart, Scarlett. No matter if you hurt me. No matter if you leave me.” Her beautiful face blurred in his vision as he whispered, “After the way I tricked you into signing those papers, I wouldn’t blame you.”
Paramedics and firemen and policemen were swarming the street, and inquisitive wedding guests were pouring out of the palazzo. But all Vin could see was Scarlett’s pale, determined face.
“You listen to me, Vin Borgia,” she said hoarsely. “This is something I want you to remember for the rest of your life.” She took both his hands in hers. Her green eyes looked enormous. “You’re safe with me, Vin. As long as I live, I’ll watch out for you.”
It was a strange thing to hear from a woman so much smaller than he. But as he swayed, feeling weak from loss of blood, she was beneath his arm, supporting him, the source of his strength. As he was the source of hers.
“And I know I’m safe with you,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “I will never leave you. I’m yours for life.”
Her love washed over him like an enveloping embrace. Vin exhaled. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath for so long, waiting to hear those words. Years. Decades.
He breathed, “Scarlett...”
Snow fell softly in the dark January night, frosting the streets of Rome. As people swarmed all around them, Vin pulled her close. He felt new, reborn. She’d made him the man he’d been born to be.
Then he staggered back as his vision got a little hazy.
“You’re losing too much blood!” She waved wildly to the paramedics. “Over here! Quick!”
The paramedics swiftly assessed Vin’s injuries and worked to control the bleeding, applying pressure and bandages before leaning him into a backboard, to carry him into the ambulance. “We need to get him to the hospital, signora.”
“Yes,” she said anxiously.
“Wait.” Feeling woozy, Vin looked at his wife. “We’ll live in Rome.”
She tried to smile. “What about the long-term lease to Mr. Hollywood?”
“Canceled. We’ll stay.”
She looked down at him, her tangled red hair streaked with snow and blood. “No.”
“No?”
She shook her head. “That’s not how marriage works. It’s not my decision.” Taking his hand in hers, she kissed it. “It’s ours. I love you, Vin.”
He looked at her, now holding nothing back, letting her see his whole heart and soul. “I love you more.”
* * *
“Are you ready?”
No, Scarlett thought, biting her lip hard. She shivered, then nodded.
“Good.” Vin held out his hand.
She took it and stepped onto a plane for the first time in almost a year.
“You can do this,” he said.
She took a deep breath. She looked at his hand in hers, then squared her shoulders. “I know.”
He smiled. “That’s my girl.”
The plane was tiny, a four-seater Cessna. There would be no flight attendants. Only one pilot. And only one passenger.
But it was going to be all right, Scarlett suddenly knew. Because she trusted this pilot with her life.
She sat beside him now as he pushed knobs and flicked on switches. He moved the throttle, then glanced at her. “Maybe someday you’ll get your own pilot’s license.”
“Ha-ha,” she said, then realized he was serious.
Vin looked at her. “The best way to live is to do what scares you most. You taught me that, cara.”
Maybe he was right, Scarlett thought suddenly. Maybe. But...
“I’ll just survive being a passenger first,” she said, gripping her headphones tightly.
He reached over and put his hand on her knee. “Look at my face.”
She did and relaxed.
“There’s no way we can crash.” He sat back in the pilot’s seat with an encouraging grin. “I’m safe with you, remember? You’ll watch out for me.”
“I meant it.” She knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to her, either. If anyone could keep Vin safe, it was Scarlett. If anyone could ke
ep Scarlett safe, it was Vin.
She took a deep breath, clutching her armrests.
So much had changed in the last eight months, since the night of Maria’s wedding, when he’d been shot by Blaise Falkner. Vin had spent days recovering in the hospital, where he’d also been interviewed by the police. But he’d been lucky.
“If he’d shot you a little lower in the shoulder,” the doctor had told him, “the bullet would have hit you in the heart. If he’d shot you a little higher in the thigh...” He hesitated.
“I’d be done fathering children?” Vin had grinned up at Scarlett, standing by his hospital bed. “Remind me to visit Falkner in prison and thank him for his poor aim.”
She didn’t find it funny at all. “This is no laughing matter.”
“Oh, cara, but it is.” Vin had kissed the back of her hand, then looked at her seriously. “One should always be joyful in the presence of a miracle.”
When he finally was able to return home, he’d embraced his baby son happily swinging in his bouncy chair, who had no idea of the tragedy that had nearly taken his parents’ lives. Vin had kissed his son’s downy head, kissed his wife’s lips, then gone straight to the study and thrown the signed postnuptial agreement into the fire.
He’d also ripped up the villa’s lease to the movie star. The man had immediately threatened to sue, but Vin had solved the problem by paying for him to stay three months at a fancy hotel, and the actor quit complaining.
“Room service,” Vin explained succinctly.
Vin had also insisted on paying for his sister to have a second honeymoon. It was the least he could do, he said, after ruining her wedding reception. After the young couple had returned from Tahiti, while Giuseppe and Joanne were visiting their grandson for a week, they had the whole family together for dinners and game nights.
Eventually, when Vin’s wounds had healed and Scarlett felt ready, they had a farewell party to say ciao to Rome. They packed up what they needed most and took the train to London and, from there, a luxurious ocean liner to New York.
Scarlett had felt guilty about the six-day voyage—so much longer than a transatlantic flight—but her husband hadn’t grumbled once. In fact, he’d claimed he enjoyed the vacation, and the chance to dance with his wife every night on the dance floor while Mrs. Stone kept a close eye on Nico in their lavish suite.
“In fact, I might consider a fleet of ships for my next SkyWorld expansion,” he’d told Scarlett, waggling his eyebrows. She still wasn’t sure if he’d been serious.
The two of them had agreed to compromise, and split their time between Rome and New York. But since they’d moved to Manhattan, Scarlett had found to her surprise that she’d come to love this rough-and-tumble city, too. Next week, when they returned to Rome, she might even miss New York. Living in their delightful two-story penthouse with a view of Central Park—which she’d decorated to be homey and comfortable—meant she often passed St. Swithun’s Cathedral on Fifth Avenue.
“The place you decided to marry me,” she liked to tease Vin, “in the middle of your wedding to someone else.”
He grinned. “Bella, I know a good thing when I see her.”
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you more,” he said seriously.
Which of them loved the other one more was, of course, not their only quarrel. They were human, after all. Sometimes Vin worked too much, or Scarlett fretted about their perfectly happy baby, who could now sit on his own and loved to giggle and was starting to talk. But even during their rare arguments, Vin would claim that Scarlett was perfect, the most wonderful woman in the world. It irritated her to no end. How could she properly fight with a man who continually insisted she was perfect?
So when Vin suggested one tiny, tiny thing she might do for his birthday, she had to listen. He asked her to take a plane ride. “I have a little Cessna parked at Teterboro. I’d be the pilot. We’d fly for fifteen minutes, tops. Short circle, totally uneventful, then we’d land.” He looked at her hopefully. “What do you say?”
She hadn’t wanted to disappoint him, so she’d agreed.
But now...
“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” she breathed, as the engine noise started to build, shaking the small plane.
He grinned. “You’ll love it. Trust me.”
And the funny thing was, she did trust him. So maybe he was right. Maybe she would love this. Maybe the fear that had been holding her back all this time from flying was the same one that had made him afraid to love her.
It was normal to be afraid of taking a risk. But wasn’t it the point of life to find courage—even if it took a little while—and be bold enough to fly?
“Are you ready, Scarlett?” her husband asked quietly.
She felt green with fear. But she knew that if anyone could keep her safe, if anyone truly loved her, it was Vin. She took a deep breath. “Hit it.”
“I love you,” he said, pushing the throttle forward.
She looked at him, her heart full. “I love you more.”
The Cessna started to increase speed down the runway, going faster and faster. And as the nose lifted off the ground, and their little plane soared off the runway into the bright blue sky, Scarlett knew they’d be relishing the pleasures of that argument for the rest of their lives.
* * * * *
Read on for an extract from TRAPPED BY VIALLI’S VOWS by Chantelle Shaw.
Trapped by Vialli’s Vows
by Chantelle Shaw
CHAPTER ONE
‘SO YOU’RE LEANDRO’S dirty little secret.’
Marnie jerked her gaze from the door of the restaurant—she’d been watching it for Leandro’s arrival—to the man who had sat down on the bar stool next to her. She wondered if she had misheard him.
‘I’m sorry?’
He grinned and held out his hand. ‘Forgive my little joke. I’m Fergus Leary, senior accountant at Vialli Entertainment. Everyone in the company is curious about why Leandro keeps his girlfriend hidden. We only heard of your existence when he asked his PA to phone you about the party.’
Marnie tried to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had taken an immediate dislike to Fergus, but smiled politely. At least the accountant had spoken to her, which was more than any of Leandro’s other staff had done. She had felt nervous enough when she’d arrived alone at the restaurant which had been booked for the private party, and the curious glances she’d received from the other guests had made her feel worse.
Like her, everyone seemed to be waiting for Leandro. He was fifteen minutes late and, although she’d tried calling him, his phone was constantly busy. There was nothing new in that, Marnie thought ruefully. She had only spoken to him a few times in the past two weeks while he had been away on a business trip to New York.
‘Leandro gets frustrated with the paparazzi’s constant attention so we avoid popular restaurants and bars,’ she explained to Fergus.
In fact lately she had wondered why Leandro never asked her to accompany him to social events, such as the star-studded film premiere he’d attended the previous week.
‘I’m going to the premiere because it’s a good business opportunity and a chance to network,’ he’d told her when, for the first time in their relationship, Marnie had queried why he hadn’t invited her to go with him.
‘You won’t know anyone, and I’m sure you would be bored.’ Her disappointment must have shown on her face, because then he had said in a conciliatory tone, ‘We’ll go out for dinner when I get back from New York. In fact we’ll have a weekend away somewhere. Choose where you want to go and I’ll make the arrangements. How about Prague? You’ve often said you would like to visit the city.’
He had avoided further discussion by taking her to bed, but later, after he had fallen asleep, Marnie had realised that yet again he had distracted her with the promise of a trip away together and sex—which always reassured her that although their relationship might be unconventional s
he was extremely happy living with Leandro and he seemed equally content.
The fact that she was here at this party he was giving for his staff from Vialli Entertainment, to celebrate the completed refurbishments of his latest theatre project, was proof that he had listened to her small complaint about their relationship and invited her. Admittedly he must have made a last-minute decision to include her, and he had left it to his PA to relay to Marnie the details of the venue and the time of the party.
Determined to dress to impress for her first public appearance with Leandro, she had shopped for a new outfit on Bond Street. But it had been an unenjoyable experience—not only because the price labels on the clothes had seriously stretched her overdraft, but memories of the humiliating incident when she was eighteen and had been accused of shoplifting from a big department store had made her feel tense while she’d been trying on outfits.
If she had spent a bit longer looking in the mirror at the boutique, rather than being in a rush to change back into her own clothes, she might have noticed that the dress was a fraction too tight, she thought as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. The black velvet dress clung to her hourglass figure, which was more curvaceous since she had gained a few pounds recently. She hoped that the string of pearls around her throat would detract attention from the dress’s plunging neckline.
Glancing around the restaurant, she noted that all the female members of Leandro’s staff were slimmer and more sophisticated than her. Self-doubt gripped her. When she had first met Leandro, at the cocktail bar and restaurant where she worked, one of the other waitresses had told her that he had a reputation as a playboy who liked to date beautiful models and socialites. Marnie knew, realistically, that she was only averagely attractive, and she had never understood why Leandro had chosen her for his lover when he could have had any woman he wanted.
A flurry of activity on the other side of the restaurant caught her attention, and her heart leapt when the door opened and Leandro Vialli strode in.
Nothing about his lean, lithe, jaw-droppingly handsome appearance indicated that he had stepped off a long-haul flight less than an hour ago. He would have flown from New York on his private jet, before travelling to the restaurant in his chauffeur-driven Bentley, and he looked like a model from a glossy magazine.
