shop assistants were falling over themselves to help her, parading a dazzling array of garments before her. In the end she bought a cocktail dress, a pair of tailored trousers and a fitted jacket, all of which, she decided sourly, would be considered sufficiently appropriate.
But still no ball gown. As she breathed in the expensively scented air of yet another boutique, Harper determined that she would not leave this one without the requisite purchase. She was quite sure that there were any number of beautiful dresses here that would be more than suitable. The fact that she didn’t feel right in any of them was because of the circumstances, not the gowns.
Finally she made her choice, a dark green lightweight velvet creation with a demure neckline and a full-length skirt. It was considerably less daring than some of the outfits, which was why she picked it. She didn’t want to feel sexy around Vieri. Not when just the memory of that clinch, that kiss, was enough to set her knees wobbling again.
She was arranging to have it delivered to the hotel when she was interrupted by a tall, striking-looking middle-aged woman who she had noticed idly flicking through a rail of clothes and who had now silently come to stand beside her.
‘Excuse me.’
Harper turned and gave her a friendly smile. It wasn’t returned.
‘Did I hear you say that you are a guest of Vieri Romano?’ The woman spoke perfect English.
‘Yes.’ Harper wasn’t sure what business it was of hers but she politely replied.
‘How very interesting.’ Perfectly made-up eyes swept over her from top to toe, taking in every little detail until Harper felt she was staring at her very bones. ‘And that outfit you are buying.’ She pointed a manicured finger at the dress being held by the sales assistant. ‘It is for the Winter Ball?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘Then how fortunate for you that we bumped into each other. A dress like that will never do. Vieri will hate it.’
Harper frowned. She didn’t like being spoken to like this by a woman she didn’t know from Adam. In fact, instinctively she didn’t like this woman at all, but, positioned firmly beside her as she was, she was impossible to ignore. Sensing Harper’s reluctance, the woman gave her a forced smile.
‘How rude you must think me, my dear.’ She extended a hand weighed down with jewelled rings. ‘Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Donatella Sorrentino. I am an old friend of Vieri’s.’
‘Harper McDonald.’ Harper took her hand but found herself pulled into an awkward embrace, the soft fur of the woman’s mink coat crushed against her chest as several heavily perfumed air kisses were wafted on either side of her. Pulling away, Donatella studied her with highly critical eyes.
‘So tell me, Harper McDonald, how do you come to be accompanying Vieri to the ball?’
Harper moved a step away. ‘Alfonso, Vieri’s godfather, is a patron of the charity that hosts the ball.’
‘You hardly need to tell me that, my dear.’ Donatella’s eyes glittered coldly. ‘I suspect I know rather more about Sicilian society than you do. And quite apart from that, Alfonso Calleroni is my uncle.’
‘Oh.’ Harper was suitably chastened. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know.’
‘Why would you? How is the old man, by the way?’ She only just managed to stifle a bored yawn. ‘I have been meaning to pay him a visit.’
‘He is very frail.’ Harper chose her words carefully. She wasn’t going to be the one to tell this woman her uncle was dying, even if she suspected she wouldn’t give a damn. ‘But I think having Vieri here is cheering him up.’
‘I’m sure. And you? Where do you fit into this cosy little scenario?’
Harper hesitated. Apart from Alfonso, no one else knew about their engagement and she only ever wore the tell-tale ring when they were visiting him. To tell a woman like this, who looked as if malicious gossip could be her middle names, might be a dangerous thing. But on the other hand, what did it matter? People were bound to find out sooner or later and frankly the temptation to try and shock that supercilious face out of its Botoxed grimace was too great to resist. She took in a breath.
‘I am Vieri’s fiancée.’
The look of total astonishment on Donatella’s face was so great that Harper wasn’t sure she had actually taken the information in. She decided to clarify, just for good measure. ‘We are engaged to be married.’
‘Mio Dio!’ The words rasped from her throat before Donatella had time to stop them. But she quickly recovered herself. ‘How simply wonderful. Come, let me embrace you.’ She tugged Harper against her again, speaking over her shoulder. ‘Why, that means we are almost family.’
Harper suppressed a shudder. If she had thought her own family was bad enough, this woman was on another level altogether.
Pulling away, Donatella held her at arm’s length, gripping her shoulders that bit too hard with bony hands that felt more like claws. ‘To think that Vieri is finally to marry. You must tell me simply everything, my dear, where you met, how you came to fall in love, although Vieri of course has always been totally irresistible and you...you are such a pretty young thing. When is the wedding to be? This is all so romantic!’ She was babbling now, the words coming out in a rabid torrent. ‘We must have lunch.’ Fishing in her bag, she produced a diary, hurriedly flicking through the pages. ‘Now, let me see—’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ Harper interrupted, ‘but I can’t give you a date right now. I’m not really sure what my plans are.’
This brought Donatella’s head back up. ‘Your plans?’ Immediately she pounced on Harper’s mistake. ‘I’m sure Vieri will have everything mapped out for you both. He has always been so frightfully organised. When did you say the wedding was?’
‘I didn’t,’ Harper replied firmly. ‘We haven’t fixed a date yet.’
‘So this is all quite sudden?’ Cold blue eyes drilled into her. ‘You haven’t known Vieri very long?’
‘Not long, no.’
‘I thought as much. You would never be considering buying that ghastly dress if you knew Vieri like I do. Look...’ she glanced at her watch ‘...I can give you fifteen minutes. At least let me choose a suitable dress for you.’ She moved over to the rails, snapping her fingers at the sales assistants, who rushed to her side to take hold of the garments she was rapidly selecting in a frantic rustle of taffeta and silk.
‘Now run along and try these on and I will wait here to give you my final verdict.’ She decorously draped herself on a velvet chaise longue, all eagle-eyed determination.
‘We can’t have you letting our Vieri down, now, can we?’
* * *
Sitting at the pavement café, Vieri took a sip of his espresso and opened his newspaper. His morning had gone well, a successful business meeting seeing him acquire a large plot of land ripe for development to add to his portfolio here in Sicily. And right now, even though he had vowed never to live here again, he couldn’t deny that being back in Palermo felt good, felt like coming home.
A flash of auburn-coloured hair across the road caught his eye and suddenly there was Harper, striding along in the sunshine, her shoulder bag bouncing against her side. She seemed completely oblivious to the admiring glances of the men around her but Vieri wasn’t. He found his grip tightening on the handle of his cup.
In truth, seeing her here wasn’t entirely coincidental. At breakfast that morning she had told him she was going to visit the antiquities museum, which happened to be just around the corner. He had offered her a lift into town with him, which of course she had declined. It seemed she preferred to walk.
Now he watched as she bent down to stroke the head of a mangy-looking dog belonging to a beggar sheltering in a doorway.