Return Of Her Italian Duke

“This is it, cousin. Remember—when I’m established in New York, I’ll contact you. Look for the phone number through an ad in the help wanted of Il Giorno’s classified section. Be sure to call me on a throwaway phone.”

Dimi nodded.

“It won’t be long before you turn eighteen. I’ll wire you money so you can join me. And as soon as I reach my destination, I’ll phone our grandfather so he won’t worry.” Both boys were the grandsons of the cancer-stricken Emanuele Gagliardi, the old Duca di Lombardi, who no longer could function and verged on death.

His cousin’s eyes teared up. “Che Dio di benedica, Vincenzo.”

He tried to clear his throat. “God be with you, too, Dimi. Promise me you’ll keep an eye on Gemma.”

“You know I will.”

Vincenzo hated this situation that took him away from her, but there was no going back. He thanked his cousin for his sacrifice, hating their gut-wrenching separation and the horrible position he’d been put in. But they both agreed the danger was too great to do anything else.

As they hugged hard, Vincenzo realized that he could barely see through the tears. The deep well of shame and pain because he hadn’t been able to protect his mother was something he would have to carry for the rest of his life. Gemma was better off without him.

Because of Dimi’s loyalty, no one would ever know where he’d gone. This was the way it had to be.

Now that Vincenzo had been forced to cut himself off from the world he knew, the need to make money had taken hold of his life and had become his raison d’être.

* * *

Gemma lay in bed, wide-awake, at six in the morning, reliving the moments she’d spent with Vincenzo the night before last. When she’d heard he’d suffered injuries from a fall off his horse, she hadn’t been able to resist slipping up to his tower bedroom to see if he was all right.

Despite his physical pain, they’d tried to love each other until he’d told her she needed to get back to her room. Gemma had wanted to stay the entire night with him and couldn’t understand why he’d been so insistent she leave. She’d wanted to lie in his arms forever.

It was painful to have to tear herself away from him. After making sure no guards were watching, she slipped down the winding staircase at the back of the castello to reach the rooms where she and her mother lived behind the kitchen.

Yesterday after school she hadn’t seen him at all, and she feared his injuries were worse. If she didn’t spot him in the back courtyard today after she got home, she’d go up to his room again tonight to find out why.

He was such an expert rider, it was hard to believe he’d been hurt so badly. While she suffered over what had happened to him, she heard a knock on her bedroom door. “Gemma? Get up and get dressed, then come in the main room quickly!”

She didn’t normally get up until six thirty to start getting ready for school. Alarmed by the concern in her mother’s voice, Gemma did her bidding.

When she emerged from the small room, she saw a sight she’d never forget. Vincenzo’s father, the acting Duca di Lombardi, stood there while three policemen searched their rooms off the castello kitchen.

He and Vincenzo bore a strong likeness to each other, but there was all the difference in the world between them. The duca’s stare at her was so menacing, she shuddered.

Her mother grabbed her hand. “The duca wishes to ask you a few questions, Gemma.”

He’d never talked to her personally in her life. “Yes, Your Highness?”

“Where’s my son?”

She blinked. “I—I don’t know what you mean,” she stammered.

“If you know anything, you must tell him, Gemma.”

“I know nothing, Mamma.”

The police reappeared, shaking their heads. The duca took a threatening step toward her. “My son is missing from the castello, and I believe you know where he’s gone.”

Gemma froze. Vincenzo was gone? “I swear on my faith in the Holy Virgin that I have no idea where he would be.”

His face turned a ruddy color. He shot a fiery glance at Gemma’s mother, who crossed herself. “She’s lying! Since you can’t get the truth from her, I insist you leave the premises immediately and take your baggage with you.” Gemma flinched. “I’ll make certain you’re never able to get another job again!”

He wheeled around and left. The police followed and shut the door.

Gemma ran to her mother and hugged her hard. Both of them trembled. “I swear I don’t know anything about Vincenzo. I swear it, Mamma.”

“I believe you. Start packing your bag. I’ll do the same. We have to get out of here as soon as possible in case he comes back. I’ll call for a taxi from the kitchen. We’ll leave for the train station and go back to Florence.”

Fifteen minutes later they assembled in the kitchen. The other cook and her daughter, Bianca, Gemma’s best friend, were there, too, with their bags. The duca’s fury knew no bounds. As they hurried out of the service entrance at the back of the castello to wait, the duca’s words rang in her ears.

She’s lying! Since you can’t get the truth from her, you must leave the premises immediately and take your baggage you. I’ll make certain you’re never able to get another job again!

When the taxi arrived, Gemma climbed inside feeling as dead as last winter’s ashes.

New York City, six months ago

After Dimi had phoned Vincenzo during the night with news that had come close to sending him into shock, he made calls to his two best friends and asked them to come to his Manhattan penthouse above his office ASAP.

Once arrangements were made, he told his assistant he wouldn’t be in the office today and didn’t want to be disturbed for any reason. Within two hours they’d both shown up using his private elevator.

The ultra-contemporary apartment suited Vincenzo perfectly. He liked the modern art on the white walls and the floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the light. Up here there were no dark reminders of the past. Here, he could breathe. Or he’d thought he could, until Dimi’s phone call.

“Thanks for coming so fast,” he said in Italian. “I’m just thankful you were available.”

Cesare nodded. “You made it sound like life or death.”

“It is to me.”

His friend Takis eyed him curiously. “What’s going on, Vincenzo?”

“Something that will surprise you. I’ll tell you over breakfast. Come to the dining room.”

Once they sat down and started to eat, Vincenzo handed them each a photograph of the massive Castello di Lombardi. “You’re looking at the former residence of the Gagliardi family. From that family, two hundred years ago, sprang the first illustrious Duca di Lombardi, an important political figure in that region of Italy.”

They stared at the photo, then looked at him in confusion.

“Why am I showing you this?” He read their minds. “Because there’s more to me than you know. What I’m about to tell you could cause you to distrust me. You would have every right to walk out of here and never look back.”

“Tell us what?” Cesare asked in total bewilderment.

“I haven’t been completely honest about myself. You know me as Vincenzo Nistri, but my full name is Vincenzo Nistri Gagliardi. Nistri was my mother’s maiden name.”

Takis blinked. “So you’re full-fledged Italian? For some reason you remind me of one of my Macedonian friends.”

“That’s what I thought, too,” Cesare said. “Maybe Eastern Europe.”