Page 15 of His to Keep (Reluctant Vows #6)

E ilidh

The first thing I notice when we arrive at the airfield outside of Florence is how hot it is. As I step through the door of the plane, a wave of searing heat hits me in the face and for a moment I struggle to take a breath. It should not be this warm in September, not even in Italy.

“They’re experiencing an unprecedented heatwave,” Gio tells me. I think for a moment, he must have read my mind and then I realize I’m fanning myself furiously but ineffectually with my hand.

“No kidding,” I grumble.

“Yup. Theresa told me they expect it to last three days.”

Something unpleasant, like jealousy, twists in my gut. The flight attendant was pretty and like many men Gio might have a thing for women in uniform.

“When did you speak to her?”

“When you were asleep.” Gio arches an eyebrow as he studies my face. “That doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“Of course not.” I turn away to avoid his scrutiny. “So, three days?” I take off my jacket and roll up the sleeves of my jersey top. “You do realize I’m Scottish? I’ll melt in this heat.”

“It will be cooler at the villa,” Gio assures me, “and I’ve asked my cousins to sort you out with some suitable clothes until we can go shopping in a day or two.”

Hopefully his cousins have bought loose-fitting clothes in cooling fabrics and not supplied me with a sexy wardrobe more suitable for clubbing in. Who knows what red-blooded Italian men think I’d want to wear?

As we walk down the steps to the tarmac, a car pulls up and a man jumps out of the passenger side.

Tall with light brown hair, he’s what you would call ruggedly handsome.

Despite the heat, he’s wearing jeans and a leather jacket.

He looks entirely unbothered by the scorching weather.

There’s a cocky smirk on his face that I suspect is part of his permanent expression.

A bit rough around the edges, he’s not the polished Mafia boss I anticipated meeting.

“Is that Damiano?” I whisper.

“Sadly not.” Gio rolls his eyes as if he’s extremely put out. “It’s Lorenzo.”

Is that bad? Gio’s manner suggests it is. “What’s wrong with Lorenzo?”

Gio doesn’t answer. He walks ahead of me and offers his hand to his cousin, Lorenzo grabs it, pulls him in for a hug, and then kisses both of his cheeks. So far, he doesn’t appear unfriendly.

“Lorenzo.” Gio’s taut shoulders betray his tension. “We were expecting Damiano.”

His cousin throws his arms wide. “You got me instead. Consider it an upgrade.” He turns to me. “And this must be the bella Hayley.”

If I had a pound for every time someone got my name wrong, even back home, I’d be a very rich woman.

“Eilidh.” Gio corrects him before I have the chance.

“Yes, of course. Eilidh.” Lorenzo pulls me close and kisses each of my cheeks in turn.

Gio actually growls and his cousin’s eyes dance with amusement.

I think I see now why my possessive Mafia prince was less than thrilled to see him.

The handsome Italian is a flirt. “Your brother spoke fondly of you.”

“You knew…” I hesitate. “Which brother?”

“James. We did business together.”

“He never mentioned that.”

Lorenzo gives me an indulgent look. “Of course he didn’t. Such things are not for the ears of young ladies.”

From any other man that would be unbearably patronizing, but somehow Lorenzo gets away with it. I’m going to have to watch out. Charm like his can be lethal.

“Are we going to stand here all day?” Gio can barely conceal his irritation.

Lorenzo grins widely. “Of course not. Come, I will take you to the villa. It seems someone is in need of a nap.”

He winks at me and pulls open the back door of the car.

Gio lifts me onto the seat, even though I’m quite capable of getting up there myself, and slides in next to me.

Lorenzo closes the door behind him and gets into the passenger seat in the front.

The driver, whose features are difficult to make out beneath a white baseball cap and sunglasses, revs the engine and takes off at speed.

I’m alarmed, but neither Gio nor Lorenzo seems disturbed by the way the man drives so I settle back and silently pray we make it to the villa in one piece.

“Have you been to Italy before, bella ?” Lorenzo swivels in his seat to face me.

“Yes I stayed near Lucca for a couple of weeks with a friend when I was younger.”

“Ah, then you already know how beautiful my country is.” Lorenzo beams with satisfaction. “When you are settled, I will take you to my new vineyard. It is my pride and joy, as you Brits say.”

That sounds like fun. Though we’re here to hide out, I’m hoping there will be a chance to explore the countryside. “I’d like that.”

“You can sample some of my finest wines, the ones I reserve for honored guests.”

“That’s generous of you.”

Gio’s cousin waves a dismissive hand. “Not at all. A beautiful woman like you should have the finest things in life.” He looks me up and down. “I would dress you in the most expensive fabrics, not this…”

Apparently he has no words to describe the clothes I’m wearing, so he offers a sneer as if the cotton jersey mortally offends him.

Next to me, Gio quietly seethes at the attention his cousin is giving me.

I’m going to have to knock this crap out of him one way or the other because it’s irritating as hell that I can’t even speak to another man without it triggering some caveman impulse in him.

“Is there a special woman in your life, Lorenzo?”

“How could I choose just one, bella ? Hearts would be broken if I settled down.”

“I see you’re still full of shit,” Gio grumbles. This petulant side of him is deeply unattractive.

“And you’re still a humorless pup. Are you really so insecure about another man speaking to your girl? Perhaps you fear I will swoop in and take her for myself.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“That’s enough,” I snarl. “I’m not some toy to be fought over. I’m a person who’s fed up with being pushed and pulled this way and that at the whims of men.” I jab Gio in the chest with my finger. “Now, apologize to your cousin. He’s done nothing wrong.”

Gio draws in a deep breath and then blows it out slowly, calming himself. “ Mi diaspace, Lorenzo . It’s been a long couple of days.”

Lorenzo sends him a look that conveys his understanding. “I forgive you.”

“But so we’re clear, Eilidh is mine.”

My eyes narrow in irritation. Lorenzo, of course, picks up on the subtle change in my expression.

“And how does Eilidh feel about that?”

“Like I must have really pissed someone off in a previous life,” I reply.

“Oh, dear. Is my baby cousin not your dream come true?”

Realizing it’s not a good idea to insult Gio in front of others, I temper my response. “He’s okay.”

“Damned by faint praise.” Lorenzo shakes his head and laughs. “I like this girl, Giovanni. She is not the wilting flower I expected.”

“She’s a fucking thistle,” Gio mutters.

I’m not sure how to take that comment. Thistles are pretty to look at, but they’re prickly.

Is that how Gio sees me? I guess I haven’t exactly presented him with a soft and fluffy version of myself.

If one ever existed, it doesn’t now. Even before tragedy struck my family a fatal blow, I wasn’t the cute and cuddly type.

Turning to watch the countryside passing by, I tune out Gio and Lorenzo’s conversation, which has turned to casting judgment over family members’ recent exploits. I swear men are the biggest gossips.

The Tuscan landscape is so beautiful I could cry.

I love the trees, the tall thin ones I can never remember the name of.

We drive past farms and lonely villas situated high on the hillsides before coming to a village whose narrow streets barely accommodate the width of the SUV.

It’s picture perfect. There are dozens of little houses, some with window boxes filled with vibrant colors.

We pass through a square with a fountain at its center and an old stone church accessed via a flight of wide steps.

It’s medieval, I think. Architecture isn’t something I know much about, but it reminds me of the church Sophia and her family dragged me to when I stayed with them in Lucca.

As we exit the square, a boy of about fourteen gives me the finger and shouts something in Italian. I don’t have to know the language to understand whatever he said was unpleasant.

“Cheeky little shit,” I murmur.

“Pay no attention,” Lorenzo advises. “There are still some in the area who blame us for recent events. It is best to allow them to vent.”

“What recent events?”

“The shooting of a young girl.” He makes the sign of the cross, which I’m assuming is more out of habit than religious sentiment.

He motions toward Gio. “His brother Matteo was there, but was not involved. People assumed because she was killed by a Mafia family we must have been responsible for the murdering thugs coming to the village.”

“But you weren’t?” I check.

“No.” Lorenzo sighs. “In this, at least, we were innocent.”

“Matteo took it badly,” Gio says. “He blamed himself because he didn’t react in time to save the girl.”

“It sounds like a horrible tragedy. He can’t hold himself responsible.”

“Ah, but he can,” Lorenzo says. “The men in our family are protective. We think we should be able to protect all the innocents of the world.”

“Including me,” I say quietly.

Gio grabs my hand and squeezes tightly. “Especially you, kitten.”

For the first time I realize just how big a deal it is when Gio says he’s going to marry me to protect me. It isn’t just some whim he’s acting on. He’s on a mission of sorts. That will make it harder to persuade him we shouldn’t take such a drastic step when we barely know each other.

I return my attention to the window as we drive along one country road and then another, eventually turning off when we come to a set of gates in a high wrought-iron fence.

They swing open for us, and we drive through.

After a minute or so. a house comes into view, a gorgeous, sprawling villa with terracotta tiles on the roof.

“My brother Gabriele actually owns the house,” Lorenzo tells me as we draw closer. “He bought it for the summer months when Rome becomes too hot and is overrun with tourists, but he’s never used it.”

“That seems like a waste.”

Lorenzo shrugs lazily. “It’s provided a useful base for our American cousins.”

We pull up at the front door of the villa and Gio gets out of the car first. I slide across the back seat and accept the hand he offers me. As I jump down onto the gravel driveway, I detect a pleasant floral scent in the air. Breathing in deeply, I step to the side to admire the view.

“What do you think?” Lorenzo joins me and Gio. “Have you ever seen anything more spectacular?”

Dunblair Castle, my family home, is surrounded by acres of farmland and forests. As far as I’m concerned it’s the most beautiful place on Earth, but I have to admit there is something special about the Tuscan landscape.

“It’s magnificent.” My remark earns me another of Lorenzo’s megawatt smiles.

I can’t help but wonder what ruthlessness his affable personality masks.

I’m not sure how far I can trust a man like him.

It’s something Gio has in his favor, I suppose.

He doesn’t try to pretend he’s anything other than what he is.

He wears his assholery like a badge of honor.

As we head inside, walking into a tiled entrance hall dominated by an impressive wooden staircase, a young woman with long, dark hair comes to greet us.

“ Buongiorno. Welcome to the Volante residence.”

“This is Rosalia,” Lorenzo says. “She is the housekeeper here.”

Housekeeper? She appears to be younger than I am. Looking after a place this size seems like a hell of a task for a teenager to oversee.

“Nice to meet you, Rosalia. I’m Eilidh.”

“Yes, Signorina , I know.”

“Rosalia will take care of your every need, so for now I will leave you in her capable hands.” Lorenzo pulls Gio into a hug and pats his back. “We will see you tonight, cugino .”

“What’s happening tonight?” I ask as Lorenzo leaves.

“A family celebration,” Gio replies. “Now, Rosalia, could you show us to our room.”

“With pleasure, Signore. ”

Rosalia leads the way upstairs.

“Do you think housekeeper is a euphemism?” I whisper to Gio.

“You think she’s one of my cousins’ playthings?” Gio asks.

I wrinkle my nose up. “I wouldn’t have put it like that.”

“How would you have put it?” Gio asks as we follow Rosalia along the corridor.

“I don’t know. Live-in lover?”

“My cousins don’t live here.” Gio chuckles as I grunt irritably. “But no, I think she really is just the housekeeper. My cousins don’t shit where they eat.”

“Fuck, Gio.” I slap his chest. “You are obnoxious at times.”

“Only at times? I’ll take that as a win.”

A retort sits at the top of my tongue, but Rosalia comes to a stop at the fourth, or perhaps fifth door to the right.

“This is your room.” She opens the door to reveal a spacious room with burnt sienna on the walls and a hardwood floor.

“It’s lovely,” I say as I walk in and look around. There’s a metal-framed bed under the window and a huge oak dresser along one wall.

“There are clothes in the closet, Signorina. ” Rosalia points to a door to our left.

“Please, call me Eilidh.”

“As you wish, Eilidh.” She smiles warmly. “There is also a private bathroom.”

“Thank you.” Gio’s words are a dismissal.

“I hope you’ll be very comfortable,” Rosalia says.

“I’m sure we will be.” Aside from the obvious awkwardness that only having one bed is going to cause. Gio and I may have fucked a couple of times, but I’m not sure I’m ready for the intimacy of sleeping next to him.

The Italian woman smiles and turns to leave.

“Wait,” Gio calls out as she reaches the door. “What about the dress I had shipped over?”

“It will be delivered in one hour in plenty of time for the ceremony.”

My heart drops into my stomach. As Rosalia closes the door behind her, I whirl around to face Gio.

“What the fuck is she talking about? What ceremony?”

“Our wedding, of course.” Gio reaches out and cups a hand around my cheek. “What did you think was going to happen when we got here?”