Vieri's Convenient Vows (Harlequin Presents)

by Andie Brock

‘That’s enough.’ Speaking in Sicilian he pulled the man away by his shoulder, the beggar looking at him with a mixture of annoyance and surprise. ‘Get your hands off her.’

  ‘Vieri!’ Harper rounded on him in outrage. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘I could ask the same of you.’ Moving his hand to the small of her back, he propelled her forward along the pavement, tucking her arm through his to secure her to his side. ‘I just saw you giving him the entire contents of your purse.’

  ‘So what if I did.’ She tripped angrily along beside him. ‘It wasn’t your money, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

  ‘I don’t give a damn about the money.’ He navigated them between the pedestrians. ‘But I do worry about you getting yourself into dangerous situations.’

  ‘Well, don’t. I can take care of myself. And besides, there was nothing dangerous about that. The poor man was hungry, that’s all, and so was the dog.’

  ‘That’s as may be. But that doesn’t mean he’s not a violent criminal.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Jerking to a halt, Harper pulled her arm from under his and held it across her chest. ‘I don’t know how you live like that, thinking the worst of everyone. I feel sorry for you, I really do.’

  ‘Save your pity for the beggars, cara.’ He met her heated stare full on. ‘And besides, I don’t think the worst of everyone. When it came to your sister it seems I didn’t think badly enough.’

  He watched, not without some satisfaction, as the famous pout put in another appearance. She really had the most luscious lips, pink and full and perfectly formed. It was all he could do to stop himself from raising his fingers to touch them or, better still, bending his head to feel them against his own. The fact was, he hadn’t been the same since that kiss they had shared. Even though a couple of days had passed, the memory of it still burned in his head—in his groin.

  At the time he had pretended he was doing it to test Harper, to see how she would react. With arousal already stirring in his body he had wanted confirmation that she was feeling it too—at least that was what he’d told himself. But the fact was, the sight of those swollen lips had been impossible to resist, especially when coupled with her heavy-lidded eyes and that sensuous take-me-to-bed body.

  That, at least, he had managed to force himself to resist. So far anyway. Harper’s bedroom was at the opposite end of the hotel apartment from his and he had expressly forbidden himself from going anywhere near it. Just the thought of the delights that lay in wait for him on the other side of that door was enough to see him heading for the shower and swinging the dial round to cold.

  If anyone had told him that he would be obsessing over this relatively ordinary young Scottish woman he would have told them they were mad. She was not his type, she wasn’t glamorous or sophisticated or worldly. But she was warm and clever and kind. Despite the telling-off he had given her, the compassion she had shown that beggar, the way she had let him pull her into his arms, even though he must have smelled decidedly rank, had touched Vieri. It was typical of her, always thinking of others. Couple that with a natural prettiness and an innate sexiness and you had a special kind of person. Had he just called her ordinary? Who was he trying to kid?

  But she was also as stubborn as a mule. Linking his arm through hers once more, he started them walking again. His car was parked only a few streets away. He wasn’t even going to tell her that he’d just decided he was taking her out for lunch. She’d only start kicking up a fuss.

  ‘So.’ He turned them down a side street. ‘Did you enjoy the antiquities museum?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’ He felt her relief at the change of subject. ‘There are some amazing works of art in there. It’s hard to believe that some of them date back thousands of years.’

  ‘Sicily has a very rich history.’

  ‘But some things never change.’ Following her gaze, he saw she had spotted another beggar on the other side of the street. He groaned inwardly, preparing himself for another lecture. And sure enough it soon came. ‘Doesn’t it bother you?’ She shot him an upward glance. ‘Living a life of such wealth and privilege, when there is still so much poverty all around?’

  Vieri drew in an exasperated breath. ‘For your information, I have earned the life that I lead through hard work and determination.’ He had no idea why he felt the need to defend himself, why he should give a toss what this opinionated young woman thought of him. He only knew that he did. ‘And quite apart from that, me living like a pauper is not going to help these guys.’ He gestured across the road. ‘But by continuing to invest in this country I am providing employment and security for families who in turn pay taxes that go towards helping those less fortunate. Plus I am actively involved with a number of charities. Throwing down a handful of coins is not the long-term solution.’

  ‘Well, no, I suppose not,’ she conceded quietly. ‘But sometimes a short-term solution is better than nothing.’ Their eyes clashed before Harper dragged her gaze away. ‘Oh...’ She looked around her, suddenly realising they had stopped. ‘Is this your car?’

  ‘It is.’ Opening the door, Vieri gestured to her to get inside. ‘If you would like to get in, I know a nice restaurant not far along the coast. I thought I could buy you lunch before we go and see Alfonso this afternoon. That is, if your socialist principles will allow it, of course.’

  Harper hesitated, biting down on her lip. Unless Vieri was very much mistaken she was trying to hide the hint of a smile. Finally she slipped into the passenger seat and turned to face him as he got in beside her, tucking her hair behind her ears. And there it was, the distinct and heart-warming twinkle of mirth dancing in those autumn-coloured eyes.

  ‘Lunch would be lovely.’ She even reached out to touch his arm, albeit very briefly. ‘Thank you.’

  * * *

  Through the arched windows of the overheated sitting room, Vieri watched Harper and his godfather in the garden. Bundled up in a thick coat and with a rug across his knees, Alfonso was seated in his wheelchair, Harper slowly pushing him along the neat paths that meandered between flower beds that had more bare earth than flowers at this time of year.

  Alfonso had been quite determined that he wanted to go out and get some fresh air, and that it should be Harper, and Harper alone, who was to accompany him. His nurse, Maria, had been told to take some time for herself and Vieri, somewhat unwillingly, left to his own devices.

  They had stopped now, Harper coming round to Alfonso’s side, squatting down so that she was level with him. Alfonso was pointing to a bird perched on a holly bush, a goldfinch if Vieri wasn’t mistaken, though he was no expert on ornithology. He was more interested in the way Harper’s hand rested on Alfonso’s knee, the way Alfonso’s own hand went to protectively cover it. The bird flew off and Harper tucked in the scarf around Alfonso’s neck and they smiled at each other before she stood up and went back to pushing the wheelchair.

  Vieri frowned. His godfather clearly adored Harper. And she him, if the tender way she fussed over him was anything to go by. Vieri had noticed the way Maria had started to defer to her, obviously happy that Alfonso was in safe hands when Harper was around.

  Turning away, he sat himself down on the ancient sofa, drumming his fingers on the cracked leather of the arm as he waited for them to return. It was good that they got on so well, that Alfonso so obviously approved of his choice of ‘fiancée’. But at the same time, it left him with more than a slight sense of unease. Somehow this close friendship they were forming troubled him because of course it was all built on a lie. Somehow it would have been easier if they had remained more emotionally distant from one another, then Vieri wouldn’t have ended up feeling such a fraud. He was starting to realise that he hadn’t thought this thing through at all.

  His lunch with Harper had been surprisingly relaxed. Choosing the fresh catch of the day, Harper had ploughed her way through a large platter of seafood with surprising speed, enthusiastically mopping up the juices with hunks of b
read. It had been a real delight to see her enjoying her food, although Vieri had been careful to avert his eyes to the twinkling expanse of the Mediterranean Sea when she had finally come up for air, dabbing her mouth with the napkin and declaring it was the nicest meal she had ever had. Even so, he felt a foolish swell of pride that he had finally managed to do something that had made her happy.

  A buzz from his phone alerted him to a new email message from Bernie, his head of security. Vieri clicked it open. Rodriguez had been found and was back in New York. But Leah McDonald was no longer with him. Bernie was awaiting further instructions. Vieri narrowed his eyes for a moment, then tapped out his reply.

  Leave Rodriguez to me. Find Leah McDonald asap.

  He heard a door opening and the sound of Harper and his godfather returning. Harper was laughing at something Alfonso had said and when they appeared in the sitting room she was still smiling, her cheeks flushed from the cold, her hair a mass of untamed curls. She looked...gorgeous. Dragging his gaze away, he was suddenly conscious of Alfonso’s eyes on him, a knowing smile playing about his lips.

  ‘Let me help you into your chair, padrino.’ For some unknown reason he felt flustered, as if he had been exposed. ‘I do hope you haven’t caught a chill.’

  ‘Stop fussing, my boy, I am fine. With your fiancée, I have been in the very best hands.’ He smiled at Harper before easing himself into his chair. ‘But I think I will go for a lie-down in a minute. Harper, perhaps you would be so good as to find Maria for me.’

  ‘Of course.’

  As she left the room, Alfonso signalled to Vieri to close the door behind her.

  ‘Come here, my son. Quickly. I want to talk to you before Harper returns.’

  Vieri pulled up a wooden chair and seated himself opposite his godfather.

  ‘What is it, padrino?’

  ‘I may be old,’ he started, fixing his godson with a watery stare, ‘but I like to think I am still pretty astute.’

  ‘Indeed you are.’ Vieri didn’t doubt that for a second.

  ‘And it is fairly obvious to me that you have rushed ahead with this engagement because you want to make your old godfather happy.’

  Vieri inhaled sharply. Was this it? Had they been rumbled? Had Harper been right all along? With Alfonso’s penetrating gaze firmly trained on his face, Vieri decided that if necessary he would come clean, admit that this was all a sham. He wasn’t prepared to dig the hole of this lie any deeper.

  ‘And I want you to know that you have succeeded.’ His lined face lit up. ‘Harper is a wonderful girl. I am delighted that you have fallen in love with someone so perfect for you.’ He raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Well...yes, thank you,’ Vieri mumbled quietly.

  ‘In fact I would go as far as to say you are very lucky to have found her. Young women like Harper are few and far between. Don’t lose her, Vieri.’

  ‘I’ll try not to.’

  But his attempt to be light-hearted was met with a sudden seriousness as Alfonso reached to take hold of his hand.

  ‘I mean it.’ His eyes glittered. ‘You have to trust me on this one. As someone who probably knows you better than you know yourself, I’m telling you, if you let Harper slip through your fingers you will regret it.’

  ‘Alfonso—’

  ‘No, hear me out, figlio. As you know, I never married, never had a family, not because I didn’t want to but because of the terrible vendetta between my family and the Sorrentinos. The vendetta that took the life of my dear brother.’ Alfonso’s voice faltered but with a look of grim determination he carried on. ‘Now I am the very last Calleroni so when I die the name will die with me and the generations of murder can finally cease.’

  ‘I know this, padrino.’ Vieri’s voice was soft. ‘I have always known.’

  ‘And you also know that this is the reason that I could never adopt you as my son, much as I wanted to, because I would never burden you with the Calleroni name.’

  ‘I do, padrino. But to be your godson has been more than honour enough.’

  ‘And it has been my pleasure. To see the success you have made of your life has been my greatest achievement. Especially...’ He paused and reached for a glass of water by his side to moisten his throat. ‘Especially as there were times, in the early days, when I thought I had lost you.’

  ‘Never, padrino. I would never have turned my back on you.’

  But they both knew the time that Alfonso referred to. That black period in Vieri’s youth when the course of his life could so easily have changed for ever. Or more likely ended—with a bullet through his head.

  Vieri had been just eighteen, little more than a kid, when Donatella Sorrentino had deliberately sought out her uncle’s handsome young protégé. At the time she had appeared to Vieri to be the height of sophistication: wealthy, extremely attractive and impossibly glamorous. He had known she was dangerous, but in Vieri’s naive eyes that had only made her all the more alluring.

  Some years before, Donatella Calleroni, as she had been then, had done the unthinkable and crossed the divide, forsaking her own family to marry into the Sorrentino dynasty. The fallout between the two warring clans had been predictably catastrophic. In the name of honour but blinded by revenge, her father, Eduardo Calleroni, had retaliated in the only way he knew how—with violence, ending up with him splattered across the tarmac in a hail of bullets. His brother’s death had broken Alfonso’s heart but if Donatella had felt any guilt, any remorse, she never had shown it.

  But even knowing all this, to Vieri’s intense shame, he had still fallen under her spell.

  In hindsight he could see how he had been groomed. Donatella had taken such an interest in him, buying him clothes, taking him to the theatre, the opera, for meals out in expensive restaurants. By keeping her entertained Vieri was doing her husband a favour, she had insisted, because Frank never did anything but work.

  In actual fact Frank Sorrentino had known full well what was going on, to start with at least. One of Sicily’s most notorious gangsters, he had thought it wise to keep tabs on the clever Romano boy who was a son in all but name to Alfonso Calleroni. Donatella had been dispatched to keep a close eye on him. Something she had done all too well.

  Before long the idea of them going to bed together had shifted from an erotic fantasy to an inevitability. And Vieri, still a virgin, had wanted it, badly. The thought of Donatella being his first, maybe even his only, had filled his head, consumed his young body, sent his teenage hormones into overdrive. So he had readily agreed to Donatella’s terms that nobody could ever, ever discover their illicit relationship. Despite knowing the possible consequences, they had embarked on a passionate affair.

  And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Donatella was bored, she told him. He was becoming too possessive, anyway he was far too young for her. It was only ever meant to have been a brief fling. From being a constant presence in his life she abruptly severed all contact.

  And Vieri had accepted her decision, respected her wishes. Despite being shocked, bruised, broken-hearted even, for he had genuinely believed himself to be in love with her, he had backed right off, walked away. Done as he was told.

  It was only several months later that he had discovered the full, horrifying truth. And such had been his all-consuming rage, his thirst for revenge, that he knew he would have been capable of almost anything. With fire raging in his blood and his contacts in the world of organised crime, the situation could so easily have ended in disaster, destruction, death.

  But then Alfonso had stepped in. Without ever discussing anything a position in New York had rapidly been found for him, together with a considerable amount of money to enable him to make a new life for himself. Which of course he had done, becoming a billionaire businessman in under ten years. He had his godfather to thank for his success. But more than that, he had him to thank for his life.

  Now he squeezed Alfonso’s hand. ‘You know you mean the world to me, padrino.’

  ‘
I do indeed, mio figlio. Which is why you are going to accept this one piece of advice.’ His voice quavered. ‘Build a family for yourself, Vieri, a wife and children. Don’t live an empty life like mine.’

  ‘You have not led an empty life, Alfonso! How can you even say that?’

  ‘It has been empty in here.’ He punched at his bony chest with a frail fist. ‘Inside, where it matters. I had to deliberately end my family line but you, you have the chance to start one. Don’t you see, Vieri, by being an orphan, by having no background, you have a blank canvas? You are free from the shackles that restrained me. Make the most of that opportunity.’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘I’m saying it is time to alter the course of your life. Don’t put it off any longer. Take this opportunity to marry your lovely fiancée and settle down.’

  ‘Alfonso, I—’

  ‘Set a date, Vieri.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘For the wedding, set a date. And don’t make it too far away. If I am to stand any chance of seeing you two walk down the aisle it will need to be within the next month.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  HARPER SURVEYED HERSELF in the full-length mirror. She had to admit that awful Sorrentino woman had chosen the most beautiful dress, even though she would never have picked it for herself. Not in a thousand years.

  Made of shimmering satin, it had a slim-fitting bodice, ingeniously styled so that the two straps only went over one shoulder leaving a tantalising sliver of cleavage in between and a wide expanse of bare back behind. Slightly ruched around the hips and bottom, it hugged her tightly, giving her a sexy shape she hadn’t even known she had, before it fell in soft folds to the floor. But it was the colour that was the most shocking of all. Red. Bright red. Harper was quite sure that someone of her colouring should never wear red and yet here she was wearing it, and looking pretty darned hot—even if she did say so herself.

  She turned, twisting to get a better view of the back, so intent on her own reflection that she failed to notice Vieri standing in the doorway of her dressing room.