screen of his laptop suffusing his handsome face with an eerie glow. He had shown no interest in conversing with her so instead she had scrolled through the movies on the wide-screen television, in the hope of finding something to take her mind off things. Which was impossible. How was she supposed to divert herself from the mad reality of what she was doing? Pitching up with a man who was almost a total stranger and pretending to be his fiancée.
But it was happening. As the plane landed she looked across at her ‘fiancé’, watching as he closed his laptop, unbuckled his seat belt and drew himself up to his full height. He shrugged on a dark cashmere coat, then ushered her down the steps of the plane and across the tarmac to the waiting car.
‘Castello di Trevente,’ Vieri instructed the driver once they were both seated inside, before settling back against the soft leather.
‘Where are we going?’ Harper addressed his strong profile.
‘Castello di Trevente,’ Vieri repeated. ‘It’s where my godfather lives.’
‘He lives in a castle?’ Harper’s Sicilian was non-existent but even she could understand that.
‘Yes, it’s been in the Calleroni family for generations.’ Vieri turned to look at her. ‘Far too big and cold and draughty for him, of course, but Alfonso would never agree to move to anywhere more sensible.’
‘I see.’ Harper tucked her unruly hair behind her ears. ‘But aren’t we going to the hotel first, to freshen up, I mean?’
‘I don’t want to leave it too late. My godfather gets very tired and it’s already six p.m. here.’ Removing his heavy gold watch, he deftly adjusted the time before refastening it and raising his eyes to coldly assess her. In the dim light of the car his eyes flicked mercilessly over her body and Harper flinched beneath his scrutiny, tugging at the collar of her waxed jacket. Without saying a word he had managed to convey her obvious shortcomings, the world of difference between them. He oozed dark sophistication, whereas she felt as craggy and unkempt as the wild moorlands she came from.
But she refused to be intimidated by him. He might have all the wealth and power, and thanks to Leah’s stupid deal it seemed he as good as owned Harper for the foreseeable future. But she still had her self-respect. And she would hang onto that for dear life.
Sitting up a little straighter, she sneaked a look at her companion. He was facing ahead again now, the collar of his coat turned up, but she could still see the dark shadow of stubble along his jaw, the loose curls of his dark hair that softened his austere profile. His hands rested in his lap, beautiful hands with long, strong fingers that invited their touch, making Harper wonder what they would feel like against her skin.
Which was ridiculous and totally uncalled for. With a jolt she put the brakes on her imagination. She and Vieri Romano had entered into a business deal, nothing more. And wondering what it would feel like to be caressed by his hands was most definitely not part of that deal. She needed to focus on the practicalities. That was what she was good at.
‘So, what’s the plan, then?’ She broke the silence and Vieri turned to look at her, his dark brows raised. ‘How am I supposed to act in front of your godfather?’
‘Like my fiancée,’ he replied coolly. ‘I thought we had established that.’
‘But shouldn’t we have some sort of story mapped out?’ Ever the pragmatist, she pressed on. ‘How we met, how long we have known each other, that sort of thing?’
‘You can leave the talking to me.’
Harper bristled. The idea that she was just going to be paraded in front of this man like some sort of inanimate object didn’t sit well with her feminist principles. But then who was she kidding? None of this sat well with any of her principles. Even so, a thought occurred to her.
‘Perhaps your godfather doesn’t speak English?’ That would explain Vieri’s high-handed manner.
‘Aflonso speaks perfect English.’
So that was that theory crushed. And it would make her job harder, even though Vieri didn’t seem to recognise it.
‘Then obviously I need to be able to converse with him.’ She tried to assert some authority. ‘And to do that I need to know more about him. And we need to know more about each other.’ She tailed off, her authority already slipping away. Talking about herself was not a subject she was comfortable with.
‘Very well.’ Vieri immediately pounced on her reluctance, his full attention suddenly on her. ‘Tell me your life story, Ms Harper McDonald.’
Harper swallowed hard. Her life story was not something she was fond of recounting. Everyone in her home town of Glenruie knew it anyway—those poor wee girls, left motherless by a tragic accident that took their mother then drove their father to drink. Left struggling to make ends meet, to keep a roof over their heads. But where strangers were concerned, Harper was careful to keep her tale of woe to herself. Except now this particular stranger was silently, unnervingly waiting for answers. She decided she would stick firmly to the facts.
‘Umm, well, I am twenty-five years old and I’ve lived all my life in a small town called Glenruie on the west coast of Scotland with my father and my sister.’ She paused. ‘My father is a gamekeeper for the Craigmore estate. He manages the birds and the fishing for Craigmore Lodge, which is still owned by the Laird but now run as a hotel. Leah and I work there sometimes, housekeeping, waitressing, that sort of thing.’
‘And your mother?’
‘She died.’ Harper pursed her lips, then forced herself to continue. ‘A long time ago now. An accident with a shotgun.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Vieri lowered his voice.
‘That’s okay.’ But of course it wasn’t. In truth the accident had all but decimated their lives.
‘And I gather there are problems with your father.’
Harper silently cursed her sister again. ‘Umm, he hasn’t been well lately so things have been a bit tough.’
‘Leah said he’s a drinker.’ She really would kill Leah. ‘Is it true that if he loses his job you lose your home?’
‘Well, in theory that could happen. But I’m sure it won’t come to that. Anyway...’ she folded her arms over her chest ‘...that’s enough about me.’ She attempted a small laugh that died in the purring quiet of the car. ‘What should I know about you?’
Vieri laid his arm on the armrest between them, his fingers curling over the end. He turned to the front. ‘Thirty-two. Sicilian by birth but I’ve been living in New York for fourteen years. CEO of Romano Holdings. I started in the hotel and leisure industry, but now control over a hundred companies, and that number is growing all the time.’
Harper frowned. This wasn’t the sort of information she wanted. She wasn’t looking to invest or compiling a list of the world’s most successful businesses, though she had no doubt that if she did Romano Holdings would be up there at the top. She was supposed to be engaged to him, for heaven’s sake; she was supposed to know him personally.
‘What about your family?’ She focussed on his proud profile. ‘Parents, brothers and sisters?’
‘No, none.’ His voice was bleak, his hand tightening on the armrest.
‘What, no living relatives at all?’ His obvious reticence only made her want to push further.
‘No.’ A muscle now twitched in his cheek. ‘I was raised in a children’s home.’
‘Oh.’ The word seemed ridiculously inadequate. ‘Did your parents die, then?’
‘I’ve no idea. But if not they might as well have done. I was left on the steps of a church when I was a few hours old.’
‘Oh, how sad.’ The image of the tiny abandoned bundle lodged in her mind and refused to be shifted.
‘Not