Читать книгу Modern Romance Collection: April 2018 Books 5 - 8 - Andie Brock, Heidi Rice - Страница 22

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.

He jumped to his feet, his heart racing in his chest, his first instinct to run and find her, to stop her, to beg her forgiveness. To ask her to stay. But dredging up a depth of willpower he scarcely knew he possessed, he forced himself to stop. He would not go after her. For her sake he had to let her go.

There was a light knock on the door and Agnese, Alfonso’s housekeeper, appeared in the doorway. ‘Signore Romano, I thought you should know that the funeral directors are here.’

‘Si, grazie.’ With a heart laden with sadness, Vieri bent over his godfather to place one last kiss on his cheek. Then, straightening up, he took a deep breath and nodded. ‘Tell them I will be right there.’

* * *

The sun shone brightly on a thin scattering of snow that coated the rugged landscape as Harper neared her home on the Craigmore estate. Ahead of her Mount Craigmore, one of the Scottish Munros so beloved by serious climbers, stood tall and proud, its jagged white peak stark against the blue sky.

It felt strange to be back, even though she’d only been away for a few weeks. Everything looked the same, but felt different, as if there had been some imperceptible change. With a twist of sadness Harper realised that she was the one who had changed. Irrevocably and for ever.

Leaving Sicily, leaving Vieri, had all but torn her apart. But she had done it, somehow made the arrangements, taking the first flight she could from Palermo, and spending half the night at Amsterdam airport waiting for a connection rather than spending another moment on Sicilian soil.

And despite the fact that she felt as if she had been passed through a grater, mercilessly shredded, a quick glance down revealed that she was still in one piece. Still breathing. Nobody died of a broken heart. She would get over this, be strong, carry on. Because that was who she was, what she did.

The first test of her strength had been telling Leah, who had been sleeping soundly through the drama going on around her at Castello di Trevente. Harper had already woken her to tell her the news of Alfonso’s death and the fact that Vieri wanted her to leave. But Leah was still in bed when Harper returned with the knowledge that she too would be going.

‘Hurry up, Leah.’ She pulled impatiently at the bedclothes. ‘I’ve already told you, we have to leave.’

‘We?’ Pushing herself up onto one arm, Leah had stared incredulously at her sister. ‘Surely you’re not leaving too?’

‘Yes. I told you, Vieri wants everyone to go.’

‘But not you, surely?’ She frowned deeply. ‘I mean, you and Vieri, yesterday, you seemed so close.’

‘It was an act, Leah. You of all people should know that.’ In the effort to cover up her pain and hurt she knew she sounded harsh, cold. But it was either that or break down and burst into tears and she would fight against that with all her will. Because if Leah knew that Vieri had broken her heart she wouldn’t put it past her to insist on confronting him, to rush to take a chunk out of him there and then.

‘Well, if it was an act, it was a very good one.’ Leah gave her sister a narrow-eyed look. ‘It certainly had me fooled.’

‘But that’s not exactly difficult, is it, Leah?’ Harper snapped back. ‘I seem to remember you getting fooled by a certain Max Rodriguez and losing all that money being the reason we are in this mess right now. Or should I say I am in this mess.’

‘And you know how sorry I am about that, sis.’ Leah reached for Harper’s hand, her eyes imploring.

‘I know. I’m sorry, Lea, I don’t mean to keep punishing you.’ Harper dragged in a breath, fighting to keep the emotion at bay, acutely aware that Leah was watching her intently. ‘It’s just...it’s all been a bit much. What with the wedding and everything and now Alfonso dying.’

‘Of course.’ Leah pulled an apologetic face. ‘I’m sorry about Alfonso, really I am. He seemed like a lovely man and I know how fond you were of him. But...’ her face brightened ‘...it does mean that your ordeal is over now.’ She paused, searching Harper’s face. ‘Doesn’t it?’

If only. If pretending to be Vieri’s fiancée, and then his wife, had been the ordeal, then what she felt now, the thought of being separated from him for ever, was more akin to torture. She swallowed down her misery and focussed on the practicalities.

‘It would be if we didn’t happen to be legally married.’

‘Well, presumably that can be annulled or something, can’t it?’ Leah persisted, her eyes not leaving her sister’s face. But when Harper didn’t immediately reply she leaned in closer. ‘Harper?’

‘I don’t know...yes... I suppose so.’ Even amongst all the trauma of the day that particular worm of worry had managed to niggle at the back of her brain. She and Vieri had consummated the marriage, more than once. Did that mean it could no longer be annulled? But right now that problem would have to wait. Right now, all she could think about was getting away.

She had assumed that she and Leah would travel back to Glenruie together, but Leah, being Leah, had had other ideas.

‘So are you planning on staying at Glenruie, when we get back?’ She asked the question casually as she moved around the room collecting her belongings.

‘Yes, of course. What else would I do?’

‘Only I was just wondering, if you are there to keep an eye on Dad, could I maybe be excused, just for a week or so? It’s not like he needs both of us on his case.’

‘And what would you be doing for this week or so?’ Harper helped her close her suitcase.

‘Well, the thing is—’ Leah affected a nonchalant air ‘—Jaco, he’s invited me to go to Licata to see his vineyard.’

‘Has he now?’

‘And obviously I said no, because I thought I had to get back to Glenruie.’

‘Obviously.’

‘But now...’

Harper shook her head, even managing a small smile. She had never been able to deny her sister anything. And there was no reason why one of them shouldn’t be happy. Jaco had seemed like a nice guy, and as Vieri’s oldest friend he had to be trustworthy, didn’t he?

‘I mean, I will come back with you now if you want me to, that goes without saying.’

‘No, it’s fine!’ She took Leah’s hand. She had to admit that a part of her was glad that Leah wouldn’t be accompanying her back home. She wasn’t sure her fragile armour would be able to withstand several hours of Leah’s questioning. At least this way she would be able to nurse her misery in peace. ‘But promise me you won’t do anything stupid.’

‘Who, me?’ Leah had feigned an innocent look, before pulling her sister into a hug.

So Harper had travelled alone. Now, as she paid the taxi, picked up her bag and trudged across the crunchy grass to let herself into Gamekeeper’s Cottage, wondering what havoc would greet her inside, she felt more desperately miserable than at any time in her life.

* * *

Vieri hastily gathered together his belongings, the urge to get away from the castello, from Sicily, suddenly overwhelming. He would fly back to New York right away, concentrate on getting his life back on track. A life that had recently become dangerously derailed.

Today he had buried his godfather. In the same chapel that he had married Harper only forty-eight hours before, he had had to endure the ceremony, then watch as Alfonso’s body was lowered into the ground. And as the priest had given his final blessing and Vieri had scattered a handful of soil against the polished wood, he had never felt more alone.

But he only had himself to blame. Because there was only one person who could have made this day more bearable. Harper. And he had driven her away, banished her. Today he had missed her presence like a physical pain but the suffering was no more than he deserved. Much as he had longed for the feel of her hand in his, for the comfort and support she could have given him, he had had no right to it. Far from it.

And the brutal fact was, even with the funeral over, he still missed her. With Harper gone it felt as if a huge void had opened up. As if a part of him had died.

And this was he, Vieri Romano, a man who prided himself on needing no one. Who had learned from a very young age to stand on his own two feet, to fight his own battles. To look to no one for emotional support, or any other support come to that. Even his beloved padrino had had to use his cunning and intelligence to circumnavigate Vieri’s fierce pride before he could offer any guidance or advice.

Moving over to the wardrobe, he started to roughly pull his shirts off the hangers. He had ordered Harper to leave the castello and she had done just that, even though missing Alfonso’s funeral must have hurt her terribly. He had behaved like a heartless bastard—he knew that. But he also knew that he was doing this for her own good, to save her from himself. Because the longer she was around him, the more deeply they became involved, the worse it would be for her in the long run. He would end up destroying her. And he couldn’t bear for that to happen.

Plucking his wedding suit from the hanger, Vieri started to shove it into his suitcase when he felt the rustle of something in the jacket pocket. Sliding his hand in, he pulled out an envelope. Alfonso’s wedding gift. Caught up in the events of his wedding night he had completely forgotten about it. Now he sat down on the edge of the bed and withdrew the handwritten piece of paper. He read it quickly, his godfather’s reassuring voice speaking the words in his head.

To my dearest Vieri and Harper,

It is my final wish that you accept Castello di Trevente as my wedding gift to you. I know it was agreed, Vieri, that my entire estate would be distributed amongst my charities, but I hope you will allow me this small change of heart.

The thought of the two of you living here, raising a family, gives me the greatest of pleasure. I know you would never deny me that.

Your loving godfather,

Alfonso.

Vieri put his head in his hands, screwing up his eyes against the shame and guilt. Alfonso’s gift, so generously given, so optimistically stated, felt like a ton of salt poured onto an open wound. Because he and Harper would never be living together at Castello di Trevente, let alone raising a family here. The whole thing had been a big fat lie. And Alfonso’s kindness had only exposed the nasty little fraud for what it really was.

Getting to his feet, he raked a hand through his hair, then turned and stuffed Alfonso’s letter into his suitcase, slamming down the lid. He would tell Harper about the ‘wedding present’ at a later date, when he had calmed down. She could have the whole castello as far as he was concerned, to live in or to sell, or to give to her wretched sister if that was what she wanted. It didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was getting away from here.

Picking up his suitcase, he cast one last look around him and then headed out of the door. He couldn’t get back to New York fast enough—back to the ordered, controlled life he had had before this whole wretched debacle had kicked off. Before Harper had happened. Only then would he be able to think straight again.