by MK Meredith
But then Inez showed him the awful mosaic, and the headache that had been brewing all morning reached pounding. The tile was exactly what he’d ordered, but now his chest tightened as he absorbed it in all its horrific glory. The thing looked like a blood splatter, and was obnoxious against the ivory walls and white marble floors of the hallway.
He’d attempted to track down the mason numerous times, but none of his efforts had proven productive. The man had most likely cashed his check and hopped town.
He dialed his assistant. “I need you to find a tile mason immediately.”
“Sir?”
“One that is able to reproduce a mosaic, and did you make the early dinner reservation for me at Giardino’s?”
“Si, you are ready to go at four p.m.”
He disconnected the call as Rita approached him. “My original plan has changed. Nonna doesn’t want Chase or the hotel messed with. And neither do I.”
Rita nodded. “What’ll this mean for the inn?”
“Doesn’t matter, for now it is what it is.” He pressed his lips together. “You and Inez have done good work supervising the punch lists. Chase said the rooms look amazing, and the list was almost complete save for a few last-minute items.”
Rita beamed. “Grazie.”
Heading out of the lobby, he swore as a heavy mist hit his face. He hadn’t thought of bringing an umbrella and usually preferred to get around the city on foot. Whether the townspeople realized it or not, he loved Ferrara. But today, he needed to get to Giardino’s and still maintain appearances.
He’d almost made it to the restaurant when Lucinda popped her head out from her boutique across the street and called, “Drago.”
He waved her over as the door opened and he was ushered in. “Let me take your coat, Signor De Luca,” the host said.
“Grazie.” He slid his coat from his shoulders, allowing the man to hang it in the closet. Running a hand through his hair, he smiled as Lucinda followed through the door. “Sera,” he greeted her.
“I’ve been trying to reach you. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding me.”
Adjusting his cuffs, he forced an even expression onto his face and studied her. He’d known her for years. She’d gotten close to Chase, and would be struggling with her part in his original plan. He regretted having pulled her into it in the first place, but he couldn’t have her confessing her sins—or his. “Of course not. You can imagine how busy it’s been with Nonna.”
“She’s okay, right?” She grabbed his arm.
“Si, she’s stubborn as ever. Planning for the opening.”
She eyed him with relief. “Good. That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
He released a breath. “Lucinda, look. If I could change the way I handled things I would. But all I can do is fix it. That’s what I’m doing.”
”You need to tell her. I know you care for her. Tell her, and give yourself the chance to do this right.”
His chest tightened, and he tugged at the collar of his shirt. It was too late. He couldn’t tell Chase—the best he could hope for now was to fix his mistake and move forward. “Look, I’m sure you mean well. But the last thing I need is business advice.”
Lucinda lifted her chin. “Chase deserves better.” She paused. “And so do you. I know she’ll understand if you give her the chance. She loves Nonna.”
“There isn’t any coming back from it now, but don’t worry, I’ve fixed everything. She won’t be hurt by my actions, so there’s no reason to hurt her by telling her about them.”
With a small shake of her head, Lucinda pressed her lips together. “She and I have become close. I can’t have this lie between us. Hurting her is a risk you have to take. Show me, show Chase, the man I know you can be.”
He clenched his teeth. She didn’t know anything about him at all. No one really did anymore. The town had moved on without him—happily. “You’ll mind your own, Lucinda.” He put his hand out. “Please.”
She held his gaze, then took his hand between her own. “I’ll do what I have to. I learned that from you. You know who’s really going to be hurt by this, Drago?”
He crossed his arms at his chest, merely raising a brow.
“You. Because for the first time, I think you actually care.”
The host approached. “I understand you would like an audience with Signor Giardino.”
“Si.” Drago shot Lucinda one last parting look. “I’ll handle Chase,” he told her.
“Like you’ve been handling things all along? Where’s that gotten you?”
He clenched his teeth and turned his back, following the gentleman to the table. Lucinda wouldn’t say a word to Chase. She might hate him, but she loved her new American friend. He breathed against the tight band around his lungs.
The waiter poured Drago a glass of wine. “I’ll start you with a light salad. Signore will join you shortly.”
“Grazie.” Drago sipped from his glass, savoring the smooth pinot grigio as it slid down his throat. It wasn’t a cold day, but he was chilled. He took another sip, willing the wine to work its magic.
He wanted Giardino to cater for Nonna. It was Casa di Nonna’s best—if very slim—chance at competing with Huntington House’s opening. And he wasn’t leaving the establishment until he turned the “no” he knew was coming into a “yes.”
The Dragon didn’t accept no, the Dragon didn’t accept defeat, but lately the Dragon seemed to be on hiatus. It was time for that to change.
Lucinda was right. He did care, and it was costing him. Too many distractions, too many commitments, which was exactly what he’d been trying to explain to Chase. Commitments tied people down, stole choice from their still-grasping hands. He didn’t want that for his life.
“Signor De Luca, a pleasure. How’s Nonna?” Giardino rounded the white marble column flanked by leafy palms and paused at the end of the ebony table.
Drago stood and shook his hand, then they both settled. “As beautiful as she’s ever been.”
“Si, I thought perhaps to ask her to dinner soon, but the woman scares me.”
Drago laughed. “She scares me, too. A heart of gold caged by a very determined lion.”
Giardino sipped from his glass. “Si, so what is it you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Casa di Nonna.”
He raised a brow. “You’re still opening?”
“We have to, but we need help bringing people in off the streets. I want you to cater.” He put up a hand. “Just a few dishes, samplings rather. Something small but exquisite as only you are able to do.”
Giardino shook his head. “You should’ve asked sooner. My staff is already at capacity.”
“Don’t do it for me, do it for Nonna. You’ll increase the chances of the inn’s success. Your food will pull in the people, even from Huntington House.”
The man paused and rubbed his jaw. “Perhaps I can make it work—for Nonna—but in exchange…” He tilted his head, and Drago’s stomach dropped. He didn’t like that look at all. “I want all of your business. Exclusively. For the next year. Every business lunch, business dinner. I want to boast that the Dragon eats nowhere else but Giardino’s.”
Drago shook his head.
Giardino narrowed his eyes. “You’re in no position for favors. Don’t think I haven’t heard about the ridiculous request you made when the American first got here, and now you’re asking for help to fix the mess you made. You expect loyalty from a community that hasn’t had any from you in a long time.”
Drago curled his fingers tightly around his linen at the man’s words. Exclusivity for a year? He wasn’t planning on being in town past the end of the week. Being asked to stay made him want to run. Being asked for exclusivity produced a knee-jerk reaction to go patronize every other restaurant in the city until he was sick or broke. He really was exactly like his father. He pulled in a breath. Someday he was going to have to either accept the fact or change it.
His mind raced
for a solution. It would require twice the amount of travel to meet Giardino’s demands, but he always said he’d never get tied down so he could choose the where and the when for his life.
Well, it was time to use that choice to commit to Giardino. Cazzo. This was why he never mixed business with pleasure or family. Emotions messed with all things pragmatic and logical.
Drago closed his eyes for a moment, then adjusted the cuffs of his shirt. “Fine.”
“Si?” The surprise in the man’s voice would have been comical if anything about the whole past few weeks had been funny. Drago shifted in his seat and tossed his linen on the table.
Giardino eyed him. “Second-guessing your decision?”
“Never.”
“Always so arrogant. Like your father.” Giardino rose from his seat, dropping his hand to Drago’s shoulder. “Except you came back. That’s a very important difference.”
Drago stared at the wine in his glass. He’d accomplished something, but not enough, and not without strings. And Lucinda’s threats still echoed in his ears, increasing the pressure in his chest. All his well-laid plans were unraveling around him, and he needed…something.
Or someone.
He pushed up from his seat.
“Signore ?” the host questioned.
“Put the wine on my tab. I’ll be back.” Drago stepped out onto the sidewalk. The gentle but persistent mist had turned into rain. He’d forgotten his jacket, but didn’t care. Something pushed at him to go to Chase. A tension in his gut that left him confused and a bit worried. Two sensations that were anything but familiar companions.
He jogged down the street. Why did he need to see her so urgently? He shook his head. He just did, and he didn’t want to see anyone else. Taking the steps to the front doors of the hotel two at a time, he entered the lobby and went straight to the conference room.
Closing the door behind him, he found Chase standing from her seat at the long table. The room was blessedly empty, her last candidate gone or not there yet. He didn’t care.
He walked to her as she reached her hand out in question. “You’re soaked through.”
He wrapped his arms about her small waist and yanked her to him, pressing his mouth to hers. A thorough, wet kiss that left no question as to where he wanted to be. He might not understand what the hell was happening to him around her, but he understood this.
“Drago, I—”
“Kiss me.”
She pressed her hand to his chest. “Wait, there’s something you need to know.”
A low growl accompanied his furrowed brow.
“I’ve moved the opening back a full month.”
He stared at her. He couldn’t have heard her right. If she didn’t have the opening, she wouldn’t get her promotion. Something shifted in him, but he resisted the feeling. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m always saying how important family is. And I try to prioritize people.” She shrugged. “If I don’t move the opening and help Nonna, then I’m not the person I know myself to be.”
He stilled, studying her face for any humor or deceit, but all he found was her beautiful, earnest eyes gazing back into his own. “But you can’t. Your promotion.”
She lifted one shoulder and pressed her lips together. “I’ve got to believe I’ll have another opportunity, someday.” Pulling in a breath, she smiled. “I really want to make a home for myself. I thought I wanted it more than anything, but I realized, not more than Nonna keeping the inn.”
He grabbed her arm, a twisting energy building in his gut. “But there’s no guarantee, you can’t—”
“I already did. Ironically, the press was able to get out an immediate cancellation and reschedule the announcement. And on the day of Nonna’s reopening, Huntington House will be pointing all signs toward Casa di Nonna.”
As he stared at the hard set of her delicate jaw, that thing that shifted in his chest turned completely over, and he was powerless to stop it. A definite sign it was real, more than anything he’d ever known.
Touching her became critical and tasting her a necessity. Pressing her to him, he slid his tongue along her lower lip, gently biting. Without letting her go, he flicked off the lights of the room, submerging them into darkness save for the soft red glow of the uscita sign above the door. Exit. Exactly what he should do while he still had a chance. But nothing could have made him leave her in that moment.
The only thing that made sense was her in his arms. He felt lost in his community, he felt lost in his responsibilities to his grandmother, but with Chase, he knew right where he was, where he belonged. It all made sense with her.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she ran her fingers through his wet hair, sending shivers down his back and spraying droplets around their heads. He wanted to demand, to instruct, to take everything from her and at the same time give her the world. What was that?
Simple. It was everything.
Tearing his mouth from hers, he turned her around, gripping her hips with his hands, wanting to kiss her exposed neck. The stiff collar of her shirt thwarted him for a moment. He shoved it down and lost himself in her scent. With a mind of their own, his hands found her breasts and gently squeezed them together. One by one, he slipped the buttons of her shirt through the small holes, cursing when his shaking hands fumbled.
“Here, let me.”
“No.”
She looked back at him over her shoulder, and he silenced any more questions with a kiss. Pulling her shirt from her waistband, he worked it down her arms and tossed it to the table. He needed to feel her skin, he needed his hands on her, his mouth on her, to lose himself in her.
He needed. And it was terrifying and exhilarating.
The emotion pulsing with insistency in his heart threw him, so he did what any cornered man would do: he shut out his heart, he shut off his brain, and he turned everything over to biology.
Chase reached back and unbuckled his belt. He helped her rid him of his pants and briefs. He touched her everywhere: up her arms, down to her breasts, along her stomach until his fingers reached the band of her full skirt. She moved to shove it down her hips.
“Let me.”
“Drago.”
“Please.”
She placed her hands on the table.
He moved his fingers beneath her skirt and her barely-there panties until he met the very part of her that would surely make him lose his mind. She pressed back against him, moaning his name. Hearing it from her lips, in her American accent, drove him mad. She was slick and hot and he couldn’t wait any longer.
With his other hand at the back of her neck, he encouraged her to lean forward over the table. She took it one step forward and laid her body on it.
One hand worked gently between her legs while the other grabbed her skirt and bunched it around her waist. He slid her thong to the side, and almost lost it before he began. There was something decadent about seeing her exposed to him in this way, her skirt high on her hips, the tanned mounds of her ass displayed so trustingly before him. It was a great privilege to have such a moment with the woman who filled his mind so thoroughly. And he didn’t want anyone else to have it. To have her.
Gripping her skirt and hip in his free hand, he joined with her, filling her, claiming her, and in so doing found himself.
“Drago. Yes. Harder.”
He slid into her, matching his rhythm to the circular motions the pads of his fingers played between her folds. Her profile was barely visible in the darkness, her face to one side, eyes closed and that damn smile on her face. The smile that tempted him, teased him, and called to him like no other. “Minchia, Chase.”
“Yes.”
“You’re the most beautiful—”
“Shhhhhh…I need to feel you.”
He understood the need, because he shared it himself. Bending over her, he licked along the side of her neck, then melded his lips to hers. His legs and arms burned with fatigue, and the pain only heightened the overload of
being inside her. She bucked against his hand, and he pushed harder.
Until he could barely hold on at all. Until they released all of their pleasure into the groans of their kiss, until his body slowed, until her body quieted. He hung over her, resting his head on the table to look her in the eyes.
She gazed at him through the darkness with a satisfied grin. “What was that?”
He studied her, feeling as though he stood at the edge of a cliff. Never in his life had he been afraid of heights, but now he was terrified. “I think I love you.”
Chapter Nineteen
The morning of the inn’s opening, Chase sat down to her computer dressed to the nines in the beautiful dress and heels gifted to her by Lucinda. Her mind drifted back to Drago for the millionth time. It had been forty-eight hours since he’d made his startling declaration. Well, kind-of declaration. “I think I love you” was really more like a question. One she couldn’t, wouldn’t, and was way too terrified to answer.
Her mind had worked through the shock as she’d dressed, trying to come up with a response when Inez had knocked on the door with questions. Drago had taken the opportunity to slip out, and she hadn’t tried to stop him. But surely he should have called her by now, if for no other reason than to let her know how Nonna was handling the news. But of course, he hadn’t.
And in the end, a woman had to do what she was good at.
Everything.
Like all the things she had to do before going home tomorrow. If she left for home. She’d been up half the night, tossing and turning, trying to guess how Drago might respond when she saw him today, trying to figure out what it was she truly wanted.
Last week, her goals had seemed so simple. Malibu, a job, a place to belong. But now when she thought of belonging, it wasn’t beaches and glamour that came to mind, but castles and fountains and a certain sexy Italian.
“Hey there,” she said as her father’s face popped up on the screen, sipping from a large mug.
