Seducing the Tycoon (International Temptation)

by MK Meredith

  A short time later, Inez returned, shaking her head. “They’re ruined.”

  Chase grabbed a sheet from her arms. “All of them?”

  Inez nodded.

  Pressing her hand to her forehead, Chase calculated the time before the grand opening, the number of beds, and the time necessary to launder and press them. “I need you to get in contact with them immediately.”

  “I’m trying, but no one is answering. I’ve sent an email as well as left a voice mail. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something.” Rita glanced everywhere but at Chase.

  “I’ll come up with a few alternative solutions if they aren’t going to correct this mistake. I’m shocked. Frette is usually above reproach.”

  Rita and Inez exchanged glances, then Rita looked back at the computer. “Si, signora.”

  Chase hesitated. Something was off. She wanted to cancel her morning plans and find a solution now, but she couldn’t afford to. She couldn’t afford not to, either. And wasn’t that the rub of it all? Every second counted, but hers seemed to be running away from her in wild abandon. A low pounding took up at the base of her skull. The board could not find out about this.

  Drago approached, easily identified by his long stride and the confident set of his muscular shoulders.

  At least something today was guaranteed to make her smile.

  She raked her gaze from the tips of his leather dress shoes to the crop of dark hair on top of his head and wanted to climb him like a fireman’s pole. Sliding down would be fine, too.

  Drago tilted his head at her. “You okay?”

  She waved his question away. “It’s warm today, isn’t it?” Glancing away from his interested gaze, she fought for composure.

  “Actually, today is cooler than yesterday.” He offered his arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. Oh, just a minute.” She walked to the sofa, then grabbed a bag. Sliding her fingers onto his biceps, she forced herself to keep from squeezing into the unyielding flesh as they made their way down the street toward the market. The city center had quickly become one of her favorite places, and it didn’t hurt that the cathedral rose on one side and the ducal house on the other. Merchants of all kinds lined the roads. Foods, crafts, and every kind of clothing in existence flanked the path.

  “Ciao, bella.” An elderly man with an array of shoes tilted his head to her from up the road.

  She clapped her hands and grinned. “Signor Poppa, how are you?”

  He looked to his daughter, Maria, sitting next to him. Without missing a beat, the girl translated. Signor Poppa nodded and replied in Italian.

  Maria said, “He says to tell you his knees are feeling better, and Mamma is full of energy these days. Which I can attest to—they’ve both been running me ragged. If I’m not at university, I’m running errands for the two of them.” She chuckled.

  Chase suddenly felt homesick for her own mother and father. She was torn lately. Running Huntington Place in Malibu had been her goal for so long that she’d never really considered anything else, but the more she’d been getting to know Ferrara the more difficult it was going to be to leave.

  Malibu was home. Her parents were there, and Addi, but no one greeted her as she walked the streets. No one shared their freshly baked bread or stories of their family. People kept their eyes down and their feet moving forward.

  She placed her hand to her chest and smiled at Maria and her father. “Buona.” She handed the bag to Maria. “This is for Signor Poppa.”

  Maria looked into the bag curiously. “Eh?”

  “With the pain in his knees, I thought they’d help. They’re padded orthopedic mats. He could use one while he works at the market and one for home, too.”

  Maria translated, and her father’s eyes lit up. He grabbed Chase’s hand. “Grazie.”

  Chase kissed his cheek. “I know how hard my own father works. If it helps even a little bit, I’ll be glad.” She waved as she and Drago continued down the road.

  “Orthopedic mats?”

  She turned her head at his curious tone. “He’s been having a lot of pain in his knees. His doctor recommended surgery, but they’re unable to afford the time off or any additional expenses, especially with Maria at school. I’ve been getting to know the merchants around the city center. For such a big city, the center is like its own little town…its own family. I really love it.”

  He studied her face. What was he looking for? Every now and then he watched her as if seeing her for the first time, and it turned something over low in her belly. He unsettled her. Not in a bad way, but an unfamiliar way, a way that made her question what she really wanted. For someone who revered decisiveness, it was an uncomfortable sensation.

  “But purchasing mats?”

  She bit her lip. “My own father has worked tirelessly his whole life, too. So much so that a few months ago he ended up in the ICU, and we were terrified we might lose him. That’s why I’m here instead of him.”

  “You’re a special kind of person, Chase Huntington.”

  The flip-flop in her stomach moved its way to her heart. Sincerity shone from his eyes in a way she couldn’t deny. Clearing her throat, she gestured back to the street, and continued on through the center aisle of the market.

  He leaned forward, making her look at him. “Are you blushing?”

  She scoffed.

  With warm fingers, he trailed the side of her face from her forehead to her jaw. “Then what’s this flush of pink visible even with your tanned skin? You’re not getting a sunburn, are you?”

  She pushed his hand away. “I don’t burn.” The indignation in her voice sounded ridiculous even to her own ears, but it was too late now. Her clothes seemed too tight and the air too thin. And if the look on his face was any indication, he loved every minute of his teasing.

  He laughed. “Well, you don’t blush and you don’t burn. Tell me then, Signora Huntington, what is going on?”

  She wasn’t going there even if the fate of Huntington House depended on it. “What’s going on is that I need a way to connect to this city. The only way Huntington House is going to be successful is if I make them understand that I want it to be a reflection of their values, not simply feeding off the culture. I think they might finally be understanding that now. Everyone was so resistant in the beginning, but little by little they’ve loosened up.”

  Adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, he asked, “How did you manage all this without me?” He swore. “Lucinda. Of course.”

  “Why would you—”

  “Cara!” Drago’s grandmother waved from a few market stalls down with two brightly colored silk scarves in her jeweled hands.

  “Oh, it’s Nonna.” The smile on her face stretched wide. Joining the older woman, she ran her fingers along the beautiful scarf she held. “This is stunning.”

  “It is. Yes. I think it would make a beautiful hair wrap.” Then looking past Chase she said, “Sera, Drago.”

  “Nonna.” He kissed her cheeks.

  Chase nodded. “I love when you have your beautiful hair piled high with the scarves wrapped around the base. The colors suit you perfectly, love.”

  Nonna kissed her on each cheek. “Come. I want you to meet my good friend.”

  Chase and Drago followed her around the tables to the side of a woman close to Nonna’s age. It was Signora Accosi, the bakery owner. Well, then. Chase braced herself.

  Nonna gripped both women’s hands as she spoke. “My dear friend, I’d like you to meet Chase Huntington. She’s opening the beautiful Huntington House.”

  Signora Accosi shot a quick look at Drago. That was interesting enough, but what intrigued Chase more was the tight-lipped expression on his face and the slight shake of his head before looking away. Turning to the baker, Chase leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “It’s lovely to see you again. I really enjoy visiting your bakery. The aromas tease me all the way down by the hotel.”

  Nonna translated. Signora Accosi smiled and low
ered her gaze. “Grazie.” Looking from Chase to Nonna, she spoke again. Nonna hesitated with a sharp glance at Drago. Shaking her head, she responded, and the lines around Signora Accosi’s eyes softened and her stiff movements eased. The baker gently took Chase’s hand and spoke in broken English. “You come. Yes?”

  “You couldn’t keep me away.” Chase squeezed her hand, then let her go.

  Drago shook his head while his grandmother translated.

  “I…afraid…for Nonna…eh…inn.” Signora Accosi tried to explain. Chase frowned. She was afraid for Nonna and the inn?

  Nonna stepped forward with a wave. “No, no.” She hugged Chase, then grasped the baker’s hand, encouraging her to follow along. “Ciao, bella,” she called to Chase over her shoulder.

  The two of them hurried toward another merchant booth with Drago’s grandmother leading the way. What in the world was going on?

  As she and Drago continued through the market, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye with a knot in her stomach. He’d been very quiet around Nonna, and something had gone on between him and Signora Accosi. It set off all of her warning bells.

  She slowed her steps. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  Drago continued on toward a table with thickly crusted breads. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The hell you don’t. I don’t have to tell you how tense that whole exchange was. You were there. What’s going on? I feel like you all were talking about something and not filling me in.”

  He cracked a small smile. “Oh, no. Not at all. Signora Accosi was asking Nonna about the hotel. And you know how I feel about anyone making Nonna talk about that situation. It’s bad enough she’s going through it.”

  A tight band squeezed around Chase’s chest. “No. There’s something more. Something you’re not telling me. Signora Accosi said she was afraid for Nonna and the inn. Why?”

  Drago furrowed his brow. “I’m telling you, it’s nothing.”

  “Pardon me, but you’re lying.”

  His eyes flashed, filling with an intensity that made her step back. “No, pardon me. You really want to know? Your opening is the same day as Casa di Nonna’s reopening. It’ll never survive it. Huntington will cannibalize the inn with its novelty of America and its facade of grandeur.”

  She flinched.

  He gritted his teeth. “The hotel’s been in my family for centuries and it’s going to close. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  Numb, she shook her head. Surely that couldn’t be true. Any business with sense had a contingency plan. There should be a way for it to not only withstand Huntington House’s opening, but thrive as well. They weren’t the only hotel establishment to ever come to town.

  Her lungs constricted, making it difficult to pull in air. She reached out to him. “I’m so sorry. I hope she’s able to figure something out. I can’t imagine her losing the inn when she’s so clearly such an integral part of Ferrara.”

  Drago stiffened. “No, I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. The fate of Casa di Nonna is not your problem.”

  She dipped her chin in acknowledgment. “Regardless, I’m sorry. I love Nonna.”

  “Yes, I believe you do.” He studied her a beat, then turned away.

  They wound their way back through the market, skirting bicycles as they went until they found a canopy that covered small outdoor tables. She’d remember her market visits as long as she lived. There really wasn’t anything like it in the States. American farmers’ markets were but a hint of what the experience of a market in Ferrara offered.

  She took a seat, and Drago arranged their goods. “So, only a week left before the opening. Ready?” he asked.

  “I’m getting close, but it’ll be a miracle if I get it all done. We still have the showrooms to set up and the punch lists of the main lobby to complete. I need to appoint a person to speak to the media, and set up the VIP event for the day. To top it off, I woke up this morning to find my luxury linens disintegrating beneath me, and it’s a hotel-wide situation. Not to mention the tile guy hasn’t shown me the materials yet, which makes me worry that he won’t finish in time.” She pinched the bridge of her nose.

  His warm complexion went white, leaving his features in stark contrast to his dark eyes and brows. “Chase, about that. I—”

  “Please, it’s not your problem.” She ripped off a piece of bread and matched it to a small wedge of cheese. “Enough about the opening for ten minutes. I want to enjoy this meal before I have to dive back in.” She took a healthy bite, sighing as she chewed.

  His eyes were stormy as if he wanted to say something more, but he pulled away into his own world, inhaling his lunch as he furiously worked on his phone. Chase smiled at his willingness to stay when he obviously had so much of his own work to do—and his own worries.

  Her heart squeezed. Even with his family’s personal struggles, he’d helped her. His support had brought her into the fold of the community, and she couldn’t remember ever feeling so welcomed. She trusted Drago—and that was nothing short of a miracle.

  He’d beyond proven himself to her. There were exceptions to every rule, and he was one of them. She studied the strain on his face. No brilliant ideas of how they could both succeed came to mind. All versions of the coming two weeks showed one of them losing everything.

  She wanted—no, needed—to do something. But helping him would sacrifice her own dreams.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Drago paced his office. “What do you mean we don’t have extradition?”

  “Sir, your grandmother’s accountant, though not brilliant, isn’t completely stupid, either. We have no means to bring him back to Italy at this point or to retrieve the funds.”

  Drago scrubbed his hand back and forth over the top of his head. Minchia. They needed that money. “Fine. Then we’ll get him another way. I sent you a document outlining my plan. I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. I have enough going on over here, but it is what it is. I need an investment front set up.”

  “Yes, sir. I have a contact running in his circles. My source can be trusted.”

  Drago pressed his lips together. “Good, because if we lose Diego I guarantee he won’t make the same mistake a second time. Set up the front then, and start the rumor mill going. If he’s looking for a place to hide his money, he’ll bite.”

  They had one chance to tempt the asshole out of hiding. One chance to get the majority of his grandmother’s money back. He shook his head. It should have never come to this.

  “Let me know when he makes contact, who he calls, any move he makes. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” the detective confirmed.

  Closing his eyes, Drago pulled in a breath. “Thank you. And when this is done, if Diego so much as sets a toe on Italian soil, I want him brought in. His ass can rot in jail. And if he’s smarter than he looks and stays away, at least I’ll have gotten Nonna’s money back.”

  Disconnecting the call, he walked to the office bar. He poured a finger of Balvenie scotch into a tumbler, then threw it back. The burn hit, and he breathed against it. The pain felt good, a hell of a lot better than waiting on Diego to take the bait, the stress of losing the inn, or the hell he’d pay if Chase ever found out he’d been working against her. There was no way of ever telling her at this point. It was a good thing all the way around she was returning to America.

  He glanced at his phone. Five p.m. He was having drinks with the linen vendor Chase had thought represented Frette, then with the tile man at six. The meetings would go his way if they knew what was good for them.

  He sighed. His plan had been sound in the beginning. A few obstacles that would make Chase postpone the opening until after the inn had brought in business. No harm, no foul, until Nonna got involved anyway.

  And even if Nonna hadn’t demanded he leave the opening alone, Chase’s appreciation for his “help” had made his stomach sour. A new sensation for him, to be sure. He’d never batted a
n eye when grown men sat across the negotiation table from him crying, but a little misplaced appreciation from Chase, and he felt guilty?

  Business was business. He still believed it, but he also respected Nonna—and Chase, too. So he’d leave the grand opening alone. Well, after he fixed the damn mess and found a way to make it up to Chase.

  He pushed back from the desk and made his way through the kitchen, yelling, “Nonna, I’m heading out.”

  “In here.”

  He stuck his head in the front sitting room to find her reading on the chaise lounge.

  She glanced up. “Really, caro. Yelling?”

  “Scusa. I’ll be back a bit later.” He threw her a crooked grin, the one she hadn’t been able to resist ever since he was a boy.

  Blowing him a kiss, she dropped her eyes back to her book. “Ciao.”

  He hesitated. He didn’t know how she could be so calm, so unaffected by the state of things. It was a skill he needed to adopt. “Nonna, aren’t you scared?”

  Pausing, she put her book aside, then met his gaze. “Would it help you to see me stressed? No. I need to be strong so you may be strong. I believe you will find a way. I’m heartbroken, but showing my heart split in two does no one any good. As long as you are in Ferrara, I have comfort.”

  Her words only resulted in an ache between his eyes. She found comfort in his being home, but staying home was the one thing he couldn’t do. And where would she go when the inn was lost? The ache turned to pounding.

  He stepped out onto the sidewalk busy with people going for drinks and riding bicycles home from work, and families heading out for dinner. One of his favorite things about the city center was that there were no automobiles, save for the few owned by those who were lucky enough to live right at the heart of it all. But since cars weren’t allowed in most of the city, it left the space open for the people.

  It was foggy, allowing him to see but a few meters. Fog in Ferrara had a way of setting a romantic stage. The buildings lost in time, the soft glow of the lampposts—history. He imagined that Chase loved it.