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 bread. 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
