Bound by the Italian's Contract

by Janette Kenny

  A saying her mother would strongly disagree with. “I know.”

  They reached the sedan at the same time the elder Duchelini crossed to intercept them. Hard lines dug grooves into the older man’s tanned features, but they merely enhanced his rugged good looks.

  “Father,” Luciano said, pulling her close. “This is Caprice Tregore, rehabilitation therapist extraordinaire.”

  Certainly not the tag she would add to her name, but it would embarrass her make to make a fuss out of his exaggerated praise. She managed a smile. “Hello.”

  “Good to meet you,” Mr. Duchelini said, and lifted each hand in turn and bestowed a kiss on each. The gesture was so old and charming she couldn’t take offense, yet she felt Luciano stiffening beside her. “Welcome to Italy. I hope your stay proves entertaining.”

  “Thank you, but this is a business trip for me,” she said.

  The older man frowned, looking from her to his son before landing on Luciano. “What is this?”

  “Caprice will be setting up her program at our new lodge,” Luciano said.

  Again, she was treated to another exacting perusal from Luciano’s father. “Ah, a beautiful woman and a smart one as well. A dangerous combination,” he said to his son.

  “Yes, she is,” Luciano said.

  And what was that supposed to mean? The only danger she saw was the powerful draw of Luciano that she constantly fought to ignore.

  “What brings you here, Father?”

  “A problem.” His dark gaze swung to her, assessing she was certain. “If you will excuse us, I need a moment alone with my son.”

  “Certainly,” she said and moved to get in the sedan, only to have Luciano open the door for her and offer an apologetic smile.

  “This won’t take long,” he said.

  “It’s okay. Take your time.” She busied herself fishing her netbook from her tote and hoped he didn’t see how her hand shook.

  Several strained seconds passed before the door closed. Only then did she take a breath and glance out the window. The two men squared off between the two sedans, looking obstinate and commanding. Father and son. So much alike in that regard yet something was driving them apart.

  She didn’t want to guess what it was. She didn’t even want to know details. She only wanted to find a way she and Luciano could work together for the next month without tearing each other apart. And without her losing her heart to him all over again.

  It wasn’t going to be easy.

  * * *

  “What is this urgent business?” Luc asked his father, having no patience for this interruption to his own plans.

  “Victore wants to do business with us at the new lodge. I can’t refuse them.”

  “I can,” Luc said with heat.

  His father bit off a ripe curse. “Carlos Victore has been a friend of mine for fifty years. It would be a slap in the face to refuse to meet with his son because of past issues you have with Carlos’s eldest son.”

  “Past issues?” Luc said, balling his fingers into fists. “His son had an affair with my wife while he was doing business with me. He’s not to be trusted.”

  His father stared at him, unmoved. “Let it go.”

  “I most certainly will not let it go. I will never do business with a Victore.”

  And he most certainly would not stand here while his father tried to strong-arm him into dealing with the man who ruined his marriage. He stormed toward the waiting sedan.

  “Wait,” his father barked.

  “I’ve nothing more to say on the subject. I’m considering Mario Godolphin as the architect.” He wrenched open the car door and dropped in beside her. “Go,” he told his driver as he reached for the door.

  His father positioned himself in the door’s opening and the driver noticed and remained parked. Stubborn old fool!

  “Our families have done business for decades,” his father said. “We are like family!”

  “Family that stabs one another in the back,” Luc spat.

  His father slashed the air with a hand. “What proof do you have for such a claim? None, other than your wife and Carlos’s eldest son dying in a horrific motor accident. Think, Luciano. We can make this work to our advantage. What do I tell Carlos and his son?”

  “Tell them both to go to hell.”

  Luc pulled at the door and his father backed out of the way with a scowl that screamed retribution. He didn’t want to have this talk and he sure as hell didn’t want Caprice privy to the details of his family’s scandal. “Drive.”

  * * *

  The big sedan jolted forward, slamming Caprice against the plush cushions. Heat seeped from Luciano and tension pulsed inside the car. Her heart raced. Should she ask what was wrong? No. This wasn’t her business. Wasn’t her concern.

  So why was her heart still pounding? Why were her fingers numb from clenching her hands together tightly?

  “That was not pleasant,” he said at last.

  “Is there a problem with la Duchi?” she asked, the most logical thing that popped into her mind.

  He barked a laugh that lacked humor. “My father wouldn’t know one way or the other. He held a small figurehead role at la Duchi for years because of his impressive records and because my grandfather insisted on it. But Father’s only gift was his supreme athletic ability regarding equipment design and an overload of savoir faire. As far as business acumen, he was doubly cursed.”

  “While you were blessed with all three,” she said, genuinely meaning the compliment to the champion who’d come up with innovative designs and who could also run an empire.

  “That blessing sometimes is a curse,” he said.

  “Everything has a price.”

  “Sometimes a price that pains us to pay.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

  “No. There is nothing to discuss. I like my life the way it is,” he said, his crisp tone and intent gaze on the road dissuading further comment.

  “As do I,” she said.

  She had a home, business and profession all crammed into one. Her employees were trustworthy. Her few friends were loyal.

  And so what if her love life was nonexistent? It was her choice. She’d never received any pleasure from a man.

  Alone she was independent. In charge of her own fate and pleasure.

  If she ever got the crazy idea to indulge in an intimacy, she would choose the time and place. She’d never let herself be victimized again.

  And she wouldn’t dream of entertaining close company with a man like Luciano Duchelini! When she’d known him years ago he had been an athlete at the top of his game. The champion. Arrogant beyond belief.

  Everyone had wanted a piece of him, from the vast endorsements clambering for his approval to the women who hoped to win his heart. Even her, and look where that had got her.

  Caprice pushed those dark memories again to the back of her head, preferring to let her gaze wander the land so very different from Colorado. Though they were on the southern perimeter of the Alps, well into Italy, place names were an intriguing mix of Italian and Germanic. Soft romantic sounds interspersed with hard guttural ones.

  The mountains here were just as unyielding as the Rockies with bold limestone cliffs that screamed danger. Just like the man beside her.

  He was the predator, a champion in winter sports and high-stakes business. She’d watched him dominate the slopes, and she was certain he attacked business with the same fierceness.

  But she refused to let his bravado or his business prowess scare her into meek compliance. Though she never earned a medal, she did earn a degree. She was an expert in her field and was insulted by the fact he expected her to play by his rules.

  He would soon learn that she refused to be the puppet dancing
on his strings, she vowed as they reached the village close to an hour later. It looked more like an Alpine village than a ski area. The panoramic vista that seemed to stretch forever into the horizon literally took her breath away.

  It was a hidden place of treacherous cliffs and lush hidden vales amid the backdrop of soaring snow-capped peaks. Shadows and amazing lights. Light and dark. Soft and hard. Like Luciano, who clearly had roots here.

  Deep roots would be mandatory here. Clustered against the hills and nested on the flats were charming Alpine structures anointed with cream stucco walls and tiled roofs that gleamed a rich patina under an intense high mountain sun. It silently offered beauty and solitude. Yet for all its apparent quaintness an upbeat atmosphere pulsed in the air, as if the area were being prepped for an event.

  Robust villagers waved as they passed, many shouting out warm greetings to Luciano, who returned each with a very broad, very relaxed smile that she’d never seen before. The transformation was miraculous. She blinked, certain she must have imagined the change in him from stoic traveling companion to congenial resident of this bustling settlement tucked in the Italian Alps.

  Right now he was beyond handsome. Boyish. Open.

  This was the man she’d caught a rare glimpse of years ago. A man she’d thought she shared much in common with. But she’d been wrong. She hadn’t known him then and she certainly didn’t know him now. Nor did she wish to.

  The village might be a world apart from the après-ski scene she’d associated him with, but Luciano was the same cunning man. This show of relaxation was just another mask for him to don at will.

  She wasn’t about to be fooled by him this time. But she would give herself over to admiring this amazing village. Every building held its own Old World charm. Except for the mammoth glass and log structure that rose high above the village. The clouds shifted and rays of sun illuminated its soaring glass facade as well as the hints of dangerous runs streaking the surrounding mountains.

  It was a curious combination of danger and opulence, just like the man beside her.

  “Is that your lodge?” she asked, shielding her eyes as she pointed to it.

  He slid on a pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses, but the hint of a smile pulling at his mouth boasted pure pride. “Yes, that is la Duchi Royal.”

  Fingers of panic reached out to her from the shadows of her mind as he wound the car through the narrow cobbled streets toward the premier lodge overlooking the valley. She’d expected wealth unlike she’d ever seen before, but this went far beyond her imagination.

  “It’s fabulous.” An understatement, but words failed her.

  “It is unique.” He glanced at her and smiled, and her heart did a crazy thump in her chest. “Like your program.”

  Her cheeks burned. “You don’t have to keep saying that.”

  He shrugged. “It is the truth.”

  She tore her gaze from his and swallowed hard, shaken that his compliments affected her so deeply. Was she that needy for attention?

  No. That was her mother’s penchant.

  She thrived on work and being totally independent. She had to be in control. Yet his compliments had begun to fluster her, and that wasn’t normal.

  Luciano was right. She was only comfortable when she was in control of her business and her life. Right now both were hanging in limbo, leaving her feeling on edge.

  Once she immersed herself in this project, she would draw strength and confidence. She couldn’t settle for any other outcome, no matter how much she was tempted.

  * * *

  Luc shook off the last of his tension like water and gave the sedan more gas, trying like hell to put the woman beside him from his mind. She was far too intriguing. Far too attractive, and that was a signal that he’d been away from his business for too long. But soon they’d be at the lodge and he could delve into much-needed work while Caprice did the same.

  Apart. Maybe then he wouldn’t be tempted to touch her. To see if her skin was as smooth as it looked, to explore how much of her well-toned body was tanned.

  Seven years ago, her allure hadn’t been that strong. He’d been able to resist her simply because she’d seemed more innocent. More playful. More inquisitive.

  Now she was a woman in control. A very desirable woman. Far too tempting to him.

  The last few hours he’d longed for sanctuary. If Caprice hadn’t been with him, he would have whizzed past the exclusive lodge and hit the trail that wound higher to his private rifugio nestled on a mountain ledge.

  But he would not take her to his hideaway. Besides, the luxury car would never make the journey and he wasn’t about to stop to trade out vehicles. The designers were waiting for them to arrive for the meeting and that was what they would do.

  As usual, he had no time for anything but business. But wasn’t that what he wanted?

  “The village isn’t what I expected,” she said, breaking the silence.

  “And that would be?”

  “Trendy. Busy,” she said, nose wrinkling.

  “A hotspot for tourists or more specifically, the haute rich,” he said, taking a wild guess at her thoughts and sensing her discomfort.

  “Yes. But it’s just the opposite.”

  “It was planned that way to set it apart from the party havens,” he said, quickly leaving the cluster of aged buildings behind. “Decades ago, my family chose to maintain the Old World charm of the village while keeping all the services up to date. They purchased the majority of the chalets, renovated them and hired full staffs. They immediately appealed to those who wanted exclusivity and were able to afford the cost of it. The village hasn’t changed much in decades. The chalets are rarely unoccupied for more than two weeks out of the year.”

  “A getaway for the wealthy,” she said, capturing a yawn with her palm. “Do you also own or hold interest in the local businesses as well?”

  “Several are la Duchi holdings. They were bought up when the previous owners wished to sell,” he said, hoping that put an end to her inquiry. “You are free to visit them after I give you a tour of the new facility and we have met with the designers.”

  “I’m anxious to see it and get started.”

  So was he, only for different reasons than hers, he suspected. “Good. We’ll be there in a few moments.”

  She blinked. “You mean the meeting is now?”

  “I told you we would meet the designers when we arrived here.”

  “Well, yes, I remember,” she said and bit her lower lip.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No,” she said and sat up straighter. “But I haven’t seen the place where you plan to house the therapy unit. After that I’ll need a little time to gather my thoughts before I can discuss detailed designs. Even then, some things may need to be changed.”

  “I realize that,” he said as he eased the car through the short tunnel to the arched portico where a valet waited. “We’ll tour the area set aside for the therapy pod and go from there, if you have no objections.”

  She shook her head. “None at all.”

  Even though he had expected it of her, again she surprised him by being ready to dive in at a moment’s notice. It was a trait that would suit her well in her business. A trait he admired.

  He climbed out at the same time the valet jumped to open Caprice’s door. By the time he’d rounded the hood, she’d fetched her bag from the trunk.

  “If you please.” He motioned for her to precede him though massive glass doors into the lobby.

  “Thanks.” She took half a dozen steps inside and stopped. “Wow.”

  He savored that moment, admiring her lovely backside before she turned, her eyes alight with pleasure, her gaze dancing over the native granite wall behind the bank of glass reception desks to the stand of trees that towered in the central
rotunda.

  “This is absolutely fabulous,” she said, her face capturing her awe. “Who designed this?”

  His chest swelled as he, too, surveyed the fluid modernity style that had already garnered three prestigious awards for the designer. “Valvechete of France. I commissioned him because my architect was off exploring some island in South America and I was too inpatient for him to return. Valvechete immediately stepped in and developed a design that was elegant yet fluid. Something that incorporated the location yet was innovative. In my opinion, this is by far his most stunning work. If not for my loyalty to my friend, I would use him exclusively for all my projects.”

  “Sometimes you just have to go with the better man,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything remotely like this before. It’s breathtaking.”

  “That was the idea.” He made to press his hand to the inviting small of her back but stopped short. Touching her might ignite the need he’d so far managed to tamp down. Might suggest an intimacy to her that he definitely wasn’t about to explore, even though he was sorely tempted. “Come. Let me show you the space allocated for your therapy program.”

  The short walk down the central corridor gave a commanding view of the valley, thanks to the walls of glass to their left. “It feels as if we are strolling along a mountain path,” she said, face wreathed in a smile that erased the weariness he’d noticed earlier.

  He ran his palm over the massive log wall to his right, proud of the rich patina it had developed over the past year. “I thought that would be a benefit to those who came here exclusively for therapy.”

  “Very clever,” she said.

  His face warmed uncomfortably. “Far from that.”

  She paused in the glass-walled rotunda to stare out on the ski village and the verdant valley below, the perfect picture to advertise the area. “I disagree. This view is riveting.”

  Not as captivating as her, he admitted. “Very much so.”

  He tore his gaze from her and focused on the mountain. When he built the lodge, he’d commissioned a top photographer to capture this vista from differing seasons, a job that had taken a year. But the end product had been worth the wait.