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.’
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.
‘Molto bella.’ His deep, sultry voice spun her around and she reached out a hand to steady herself against the dresser. As he slowly advanced towards her, her grip tightened against the polished wood. ‘You have made a good choice.’
‘Thank you.’ His unexpected compliment went to her head like a glass of champagne. She was just about to blurt out that she hadn’t actually chosen it herself but remembered Donatella’s strict instructions that she wasn’t to mention her input, or indeed that she had met her at all. Harper had wondered if it was because she had no intention of going to visit Alfonso, that maybe this was just a flying visit. Harper gathered she now lived in Milan. ‘You look pretty smart yourself.’
Smart was a massive understatement. He looked completely, heart-stoppingly, drop-dead gorgeous. Wearing a tuxedo and a white dress shirt with a black bow tie, he was the epitome of suave, elegant handsomeness, as if he had been created solely for the purpose of showing how it should be done. Long limbs were effortlessly encased in the fine fabric, giving him an easy, cat-like grace. He was clean shaven, Harper noticed, his usual designer stubble missing, and his hair was still wet from the shower, pushed back from his forehead so that the thick dark curls were temporarily tamed. He smelled divine too, his subtle aftershave invading her senses now that he was so close. Too close. Way too close.
‘Are you wearing your hair down?’ Harper’s breath stuttered to a halt as he reached forward to move her hair to one side, exposing the sweep of her neck. ‘I think the dress would suit an upstyle, don’t you, maybe with some suitable earrings to set it off?’
‘Maybe.’ Harper pursed her lips. ‘But I don’t happen to have any suitable earrings.’ What did he think, that she had a selection of diamond jewellery that she could dip into for any occasion?
‘I wish I’d thought of that before.’ Vieri’s intense dark blue gaze seared into her. ‘I would have bought you some.’
‘Well, it doesn’t matter.’ With a small shake of her head, Harper dislodged his hand so that she could start to breathe again. By taking her caustic comment and turning it around with his offer to buy her jewellery he had disarmed her. More than that, something about the intensity of his stare was doing alarming things to her insides. She wasn’t used to being the focus of such close attention, to have someone looking at her, really looking at her, almost as if they cared. She quickly brushed the silly notion away. ‘I’ll put my hair up anyway.’
Briskly sweeping past him, she fled for the sanctuary of her bedroom where her make-up bag held a few grips and an assortment of hair bands. ‘Do
