A Ring for Vincenzo's Heir(13)

As they crossed through Tuscany, the orange sun was lowering into the  west horizon of lush autumn fields like a ball of fire, and Scarlett's  stomach started to growl. "Could we stop for dinner?"

"Of course, cara." Vin glanced at the countryside around the highway.  "There is an excellent restaurant not too far from here, in Borgierra. I  often visited the town when I was young."

"Borgierra? Sounds like your last name."

"My family founded the village five hundred years ago." He paused, then mumbled, "My father still lives there."   





 

Her jaw dropped. "Your father?"

"So?"

"You never mentioned him. I assumed he was...well..."

"He's not dead. I just...haven't seen him for a while. Since I left Italy."

"Wait-twenty years ago?"

"Contrary to popular opinion," he said irritably, "creating a  billion-dollar airline doesn't just magically happen. I've had to work  all day, every day, from the time I was fifteen and set foot in New  York. Gambling every penny I had. Working until I bled."

"Don't try to distract me from the main point."

"Which is?"

"You haven't seen your father for twenty years. Why? Was he horrible? Abusive?"

Vin's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "No."

Then she didn't understand at all. "I want to meet him."

He stared stonily ahead. "We don't have time."

"We have time to stop for dinner."

"I'm not talking about this."

"Too bad, because I am." The interior of the sports car suddenly seemed  very small. "Weren't you the one who insisted it would be morally wrong  of me not to allow our child to be raised by a father, as well as a  mother? Now you expect me to ignore his chance to have a grandfather?"

His jaw tightened.

She tried again. "You say your father is a good person, but after two  decades, you seriously intend to drive right by his house without  stopping?" She glared at him. "It makes me wonder..."

He glared back at her. "Wonder what?"

She looked down, twisting the enormous diamond engagement ring. "When  you said family was so important, I actually believed you."

"You are my family now, Scarlett. You and our son."

"The more family, the better." She took a deep breath. "I never had any  siblings or cousins. Since my parents died, I've been totally alone. Do  you know how that feels?"

He didn't answer.

Their eyes locked, and Scarlett's heart twisted at something she saw  hidden deep in his dark eyes. Some pain. She took a deep breath. "You  should want our baby to have as much family-as much love-as he possibly  can," she said quietly. "Two parents are great, but what if something  happens to us? Your father is our baby's only grandparent. Why haven't  you seen him in twenty years?"

"It's complicated." He stared grimly forward at the road. "My mother  never married Giuseppe. She preferred more exciting men who treated her  badly." He smiled grimly. "But she enjoyed keeping my father on a  string, not letting him fall out of love with her, making him suffer.  Most of all, she enjoyed him as a source of income to her jet-set  lifestyle. Anytime he wished to see me, he had to pay her a small  fortune."

Her lips parted with shock. His mother had made his father pay for the privilege of seeing his son? "Oh, Vin..."

"When I was ten, he finally was able to stop loving her. He married another woman, Joanne."

"A wicked stepmother?" Scarlett guessed.

He snorted, then sobered. "Not at all. She was kind to me. I spent  Christmas with them when I was fifteen, when my mother was partying with  her boyfriend in Ibiza. It was the best Christmas of my life, with them  and my new half sister. Maria was barely more than a baby then. When I  had to leave, Giuseppe and Joanne said they wanted me to come live with  them full-time."

"So did you?"

Vin's gaze was unfocused as he stared ahead. Then he shook his head. "My mother refused to let me go."

Scarlett's heart broke a little at the thought of a young boy,  simultaneously ignored and used as a bargaining chip by his own mother,  losing his chance to be in a stable home, safe and loved. No wonder he  was so determined to be a good father to his own son.

"It doesn't matter." His voice changed. "My mother died shortly after that, and I moved to New York to live with an uncle."

"I'm sorry about your mother." She frowned. "But why didn't you go live  with your father after she died? There was nothing to stop you then."

"It was all a long time ago," he said grimly.

"But-"

"Drop it, Scarlett."

She wanted to push, but something in his expression warned her. "Okay.  For now." She took a deep breath. "But if we're driving by his house,  can't we just stop by so I can meet him? Just for ten minutes?"

"We're on a tight schedule."

"Please..."

"They might not even be at home."   





 

"I promise if we stop, and they're not home, then I'll quit talking about it the rest of the way to Rome."

Vin stared at her. Then, with a sigh, he picked up his phone and told  the bodyguards in the SUV behind them they'd be taking a detour.

The night was growing dark as they drove through a wrought-iron gate in  the Tuscan countryside. The moon was full over the trees and fragrant  fields. Vin seemed to grow progressively more tense as they drove down  the long, dusty road, edged on both sides by cypress trees.

At the end of the road, Scarlett gasped when she saw a gorgeous  three-story villa with green shutters and yellow stucco lit up by warm  golden lights in the dark night.

When they reached the top of the hill, they saw at least forty cars parked around the circular drive and stone fountain.

"Looks like they're having a party," she said awkwardly.

Vin parked the car right by the front door and turned off the engine.  For a moment he didn't move. His handsome face looked strangely bleak.  She reached for his hand.

"Two minutes," he said, pulling his hand away.

"We agreed we'd stay for ten-"

At his look, she decided not to press her luck.

Moon laced through clouds, decorating the October night like bright  pearlescent lace across black velvet. He walked toward the front door,  looking like a man going to the guillotine. The bodyguards, after doing a  quick eyeball check of the perimeter, hung back respectfully. So did  Scarlett.

At the door, Vin glanced back at them, then set his jaw. He reached for  the brass knocker and banged it heavily against the wood. For some  moments, no one answered.

Then the door was thrown open, and light and music from inside the villa  poured out around them. Scarlett saw a dignified gray-haired man  standing silhouetted in the doorway.

"Buona sera," Vin began woodenly, then spoke words in Italian that she didn't understand.

But she didn't need to. He had barely spoken a sentence before the man  in the doorway let out a gasp and, with a flood of Italian words, pulled  Vin into his arms with a choked sob of joy.



Vin was furious.

He hadn't wanted to come here. He felt manipulated, backed into a  corner. Exactly how he'd promised himself he'd never feel again: like  someone else's puppet, under their control.

But Scarlett had made her threat clear, with her pointed insinuation,  twisting her engagement ring, that she might change her mind about their  marriage if he didn't do this. He'd barely contained his fury during  their drive up the cypress-lined road. This was the thanks he received  for striving to take good care of his pregnant soon-to-be wife, letting  her have her way in everything? It still wasn't enough? Now Scarlett  wanted to put her spoon into his heart and stir?

He hated her for this. Up till the very moment when he'd banged on the door.

Vin had been prepared for a servant to answer, or someone he didn't  know, as there seemed to be a party. But he instantly recognized the man  in the doorway.

Giuseppe Borgia had aged twenty years, with more lines on his skin and gray in his hair. But he'd known him. His father.

No. The man Vin had believed to be his father for his entire childhood.  The man whose heart would be broken if he ever knew the truth.

The last time they'd seen each other, at his mother's funeral, Vin had  been hostile and cold. Nothing like he'd been the week before, during  the happy Christmas he'd stayed at this very villa, believing he'd found  a place to call home and a real family who loved him.

But when he'd returned to Rome after Christmas and asked his mother if  he could permanently live with his father, she'd barked out a cruel  laugh.

"You're not even Giuseppe's son," Bianca Orsini had said. She'd taken a  long drag off her cigarette. "It's time you knew. I got pregnant after a  one-night stand with a musician I met in a bar in Rio." She smiled her  brittle, hollow smile. "But I needed Giuseppe's money. So I lied."

"I have to tell him," Vin had choked out.

"Do it, and for reward, he'll just stop loving you." Her fingers  tightened around the shrinking cigarette. "Did you really think I'd let  you go live with him and that British woman and give up my only source  of income?"