She slid from the bed and slipped into a lovely satin robe that had appeared the day she’d arrived. More clothes had been delivered since then. All were his choice. All were far too elegant for her to wear when she returned to Colorado and the real world. But for now they suited the role she was playing.
She walked barefoot into the adjacent salon where the colazione had been deposited on the sideboard. After pouring a cup of caffè e latte and selecting a brioche, she curled up on the divan just as the bedroom door opened and Luciano strode into the room, his lean muscled body bare except for a thick, knotted towel that rode low on his lean hips.
A different hunger stirred inside her until her gaze lifted to his remote features. “Is something wrong?”
“We need to talk,” he said, pouring a rich coffee for himself before joining her on the divan with masculine grace.
“Sounds serious. Please tell me this has nothing to do with my lodge,” she said, hoping she hadn’t suffered any setbacks there.
He gave one abrupt shake of his head and stared at her with eyes that burned with fury. “My PA rang me yesterday. Mario scheduled a press conference in Milan tomorrow. According to sources he wants to set the record straight on why la Duchi has halted his company from further work at the lodge.”
The bite of sweet brioche she’d just eaten soured in her stomach. “I was afraid he would defy any threat.”
“He is an arrogant fool,” he said. “I will not allow him to spew lies.”
“There must be some other way to silence Mario. A payoff, maybe?” she asked, desperate to avoid scandal.
“He has money to burn. But he does rely heavily on the endorsement he’s always gotten from being the architect of my projects, several that were still in the planning stage,” he said, challenge darkening his eyes to a stormy blue. “Once legal measures are finalized and his current contracts with la Duchi are nullified, many businessmen will notice and follow suit, not wishing to do business with his sort.”
“Do you really think you can ruin him?” she asked, not entirely convinced he wielded that much power.
He pulled her close and kissed her hard, possessively. “Yes. Trust me, bella.”
“I do.” At least she was trying to put all her faith in him.
“Continue with the plans here. I’ll return before the opening. Promise,” he said, and when she nodded he released her and found his clothes.
She allowed herself the pleasure of watching him thrust long legs into snug black jeans, the denim hugging his firm thighs and riding low on his lean hips. He pulled on a gray jersey and tugged it over the muscled slabs of his chest, tucking it in with an economy of movement.
Her heart swelled, even though sadness lurked in the back of her mind. He was hers to physically love for a week more at most. For the umpteenth time she asked herself if this heaven she reveled in now was worth the hell she’d sink into when they separated.
The answer was obvious. She was a career girl. She was determined to be independent of a man.
She could survive alone. But did she really want to?
No. But her relationship with Luciano was drawing to an end. The most she could hope for was a few more nights with him as his lover. Having her own business and being self-sufficient was what she had dreamed of for years. So why did she entertain doubts about every facet of her life?
“Are you all right?” he asked, startling her.
“I’m anxious about the grand opening for the therapy unit at your lodge.”
“It will be fine. Perfect,” he said. “You will be as well.”
“I hope you’re right.”
She crossed to him with a smile and wrapped her arms around his neck, tilting her face to his, for the first time offering herself to him for whatever he wished to do. His sudden stiffening froze her to the spot.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“My thoughts are on dealing with Mario,” he said, grasping her wrists and gently setting her aside. “We’ll talk at length when I return.”
He strode out the door without a goodbye or kiss, his curt rejection cutting like a knife, bringing back unpleasant memories of how he’d been too involved in competition to have much courtesy for anything or anyone, especially her. How easily he’d dismissed her back then.
But then she’d been nothing but the volunteer helper. The starry-eyed young woman who’d had a too-big crush for the champion.
And now? She shook her head, admitting she hadn’t escaped that yet. Sure she was his business associate as well as his convenient lover. But once the contract was finished, all of that would end.
It was what she wanted. What she’d demanded from the start. So she shouldn’t feel melancholy now.
Luciano was never going to change, so it was useless to continue trying.
For the first time in weeks, she knew exactly what she had to do. After the grand opening at his lodge, she would return to Colorado and begin the lengthy process of putting him from her mind.
* * *
Hours later, Luc landed his private Eurocopter atop his towering glass and steel office building in Milano. He still got a special thrill seeing the helo’s reflection on the structure’s sides. This was his baby. The pinnacle of taking a million-dollar business that had gone stale and expanding it into a multibillion-dollar corporation.
He’d done it in less than a decade, which was much more than Mario could boast.
Mario. The detectives he’d hired confirmed his old friend had stayed in Milano, living and working out of his office. The fact he’d gotten away with rape still filled him with rage. But it wasn’t his place to bring that revelation to the public.
Only one person could do that. Caprice. So far she wasn’t inclined to do so.
He pounded across the helipad to the rooftop door, recalling the last time he’d rushed here on business was the morning after his ex-wife’s fatal accident. The tabloids had been filled with truths and half-truths and lies.
Guilt had nipped at him for ending their marriage so swiftly. For giving her no chance to explain or apologize.
But that guilt wasn’t near as biting as what he felt for the sweet young attendant he’d hired at the World Cup in Val d’Isère. Caprice had done everything he’d asked and anticipated his needs to the heartbeat. And she’d fallen into puppy love with him—a dog of a man.
Instead of putting her down gently, he’d dismissed her in the same manner he would fire a lazy employee. All because her kiss had stirred feelings in him that he’d only felt for his wife. The tender emotions that were a prequel to love.
That realization had scared the hell out of him. He’d vowed never to love again. Never to give his heart to another. He could not risk being around her.
So he’d left her vulnerable. And his friend Mario—his damned friend, of all people!—had taken advantage of her.
Luc remembered his treks down to the caretaker’s house to tempt Mario away from his chores. They’d been closer than brothers for years.
Before Luc had begun training vigorously for Alpine, he’d convinced his father to pay for Mario’s way. They’d been an unbeatable duo on the slopes, and pursued by countless women across the globe.
But that had changed as well after the accident. Mario had remained in his life as a friend, and if not for Caprice’s tearful confession, he never would have known the depths Mario was capable of sinking to.
Luc drove his fingers through his hair and swore. He would not repeat past mistakes and cause Caprice more grief. The fact he’d done so years ago made it even more difficult for him to face himself in the mirror. And to think he’d thought his father was a careless bastard!
The American saying “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree” certainly was true in Luc’s case. He wasn’t worthy of tying himself to a good woman. H
e’d already screwed up badly two times. He wouldn’t do so a third time.
Caprice had done everything they’d agreed to. She’d established her premier program at his lodge, and she’d thankfully incited his brother’s interest in life again.
The renovation he’d begun at her lodge in Colorado paled in comparison. She deserved much more.
He would see she received a hefty settlement so she would never want for money. So she could move forward with her life without financial worry. So he couldn’t hurt her more. Then he would never trouble her again.
His driver was waiting below and made a quick twenty-minute drive to Mario’s firm across the city. With instructions to his driver to wait, Luc exited his luxury Mercedes and marched into the Godolphin building Mario had designed and built from the ground up.
The express elevator sped him to the thirty-fifth floor and a modicum of steps took him to Mario’s outer office. “Signor Duchelini!” Mario’s PA said, shooting to her feet. “Is Mario expecting you?”
“No,” he said, storming past her. “It is a surprise visit.”
He twisted the knob and entered his old friend’s lair, slamming the door in the PA’s face and twisting the lock, ensuring privacy. “Cancel your press conference.”
Mario lounged in his chair and laced his fingers over his flat stomach, a sly grin touching his hard mouth. “A man must defend his honor.”
“Don’t speak to me about honor. You have none.”
Mario sat up, sobering. “So you take the word of a woman and take legal measures to nullify Godolphin contracts with all la Duchi holdings.”
“She told me what happened. Why did you do it?” Luc asked, desperate to know what had corrupted Mario’s mind.
Mario leaped to his feet, dark eyes slitted and sweat dotting his upper lip. “You’ve got this all wrong. Caprice came to me. She asked for it.”
He barely restrained himself from driving his fist into his old friend’s face. “Enough lies! I’ll never forgive myself for tossing her out of my life, leaving her vulnerable for a shark like you. I won’t make that mistake again.”
Mario had the gall to laugh. “Don’t play martyr or gallant over a woman you hold no affection toward.”
That remark was sharper than a knife that sank deep, drawing emotional blood. “I’m not leaving myself blameless, but I was your friend. You used an innocent girl!”
“How interesting that young girl is now your mistress. I’ve never known you to defend one before. Hell, you wouldn’t do that for your wife.”
“Don’t ever speak ill of either woman again,” he said, jabbing a finger at the man he now considered his enemy. “I know you raped Caprice. Why, Mario? Why did you do it?”
Mario sneered and his eyes went jet black. “You’re a rich boy with a family legacy on the slopes and everything you wanted at your fingertips. Not once did you or your family hide the fact I was the charity cause you took on. The ‘friend’ most saw as a hanger-on. No matter how I tried, you always won the top medals, secured the richest business deals and toyed with the most beautiful women. But I finally bested you. I had your sweet little American first.”
Luc lunged across the desk, grabbed him by the collar and jerked him back across the desk, holding him so close that the red streaks in Mario’s eyes stood out in bold relief. “If I ever catch you on any Duchelini holding or if you dare make any of our conversation public, I will come after you with enough legal guns to destroy you.”
He shoved Mario away from him and stalked out the door. A few months ago he would have sought release of his rage through drink and a willing woman. Now his only thought was returning to Caprice.
But he had urgent business to settle here with his lawyers that would take days. He had to ensure Mario would never be a threat to any woman again. He had to safeguard Caprice.
No matter what it took, he couldn’t fail her a second time.
* * *
“Yes, that’s it,” Caprice said, more to herself than the two workers.
It had been a hectic week ensuring everything was in place and going as planned, watching her advertisements go up in the newspapers and on television. Though she’d hoped for a good turnout, she hadn’t expected she would get such a crowd. But Luciano’s PA informed her that the lodge was booked to capacity for the grand opening.
Now, as the finishing touches were put into place, she stood aside, fingers entwined under her chin, watching, stomach alight with butterflies. Even after the workers slipped out the pod door, she didn’t move, preferring to admire the high intensity of this room used for those almost ready to hit the slopes again. From the vibrant splashes of color on the walls to the living backdrop of rugged mountains capped with snow and the challenging green runs lying in wait for that first blanket of snow beyond the bay of windows...it was spectacular.
Her eyes misted and her heart swelled as the vision she’d dreamed of for years came to life before her eyes. “It’s absolutely perfect.”
“So are you,” Luciano said, startling her.
She whirled to face him, cursing the fact her cheeks were flaming and her hands and knees trembled with that giddy excitement that still hit her whenever he was near. “When did you get back?”
“Just now. I came straight here.”
“You look exhausted,” she said, afraid to ask how it went, afraid that the news wouldn’t be good.
Too much had gone right lately for her to believe it would continue. Her luck had never lasted that long.
He shrugged. “It’s only been a week, but I’ve been assured that Mario’s clients are dropping at a steady rate.”
“He must be frantic. Furious with you. Me.”
“Tough. He deserves to wallow in his own hell.”
She bit her lip, agreeing but worried just the same. “Is there a chance he still might go to the press?”
“Sure, but he’s a fool if he does.” He straddled a weight bench, tested the pulleys and whistled. “These are good strength trainers.”
“Thanks,” she said, knowing she couldn’t dwell on Mario and his threats with the opening tomorrow—with the man she loved here before her. “I designed these to build upper-body strength needed for downhill and endurance.”
He tested them again and nodded. “Mind if I avail myself of them?”
“Anytime,” she said with a smile, stepping close enough to smooth a hand over his muscled shoulder. “It’s good to see you again.”
He was off the bench and gathering her close in a heartbeat, lips closing over hers for one long, lusty kiss that chased her earlier weariness away. “It is good to be back with you as well, bella. A man could get used to this.”
So could she. The question remained, should she? “So what happened? You know I’ve been on needles and pins since you left.”
“Mario denied any wrongdoing, but I didn’t buy his lies this time,” he said, sobering far too much for her liking. “I served him the papers severing all contracts with Godolphin and walked out.”
Could it be that final? Was she finally free of any threat from Mario?
“It’s over then? I can go on with my life?”
He nodded and ran his palms up and down her back, his touch both soothing and erotic. “Is that what you want, bella?”
“Of course. It’s what I’ve worked for,” she said and smiled, only to sober when he didn’t return the gesture. “The preparations for the opening of your therapy unit are completed as well. In fact they delivered the sign this afternoon.”
“Excellent. Have you looked at it yet?” he asked, his beetled brow hinting he’d expected her to do just that.
She shook her head. “No. I told the workers to place the sign in the hall leading to the ski exit. I didn’t think it would be in the way there.” And it was less tempting.
“Let’s take a look then.”
He took her hand and led her to the hallway and the large covered sign that would hang over the glass doors of the pod. In seconds he ripped the heavy brown paper from the sign, then stepped back.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
She stared at it, stunned, not having expected or demanded her name be tied with his lodge. But it was here, large and bold. Another tie binding them.
“Caprice Tregore’s Adaptive Ski Therapy and Sports Medicine,” she read, her gaze flicking back to her larger-than-life initials in a casual script above the bold print to the smaller trio at the bottom of certificates and degrees she’d earned. “I didn’t expect this.”
“I commissioned two. One for my lodge and the other for yours,” he said. “It is crucial we keep the continuity of the brand.”
“Yes, consistency of my program is crucial,” she said. “But why put such emphasis on my name?”
He slipped an arm around her shoulders, his laugh echoing free and clear and so welcome to her ears. “Your name is your brand. When people see this sign, they will know that this is the quality care and commitment they need.”
She considered that compliment with a frown. “Like athletes with their endorsements?”
“Far more powerful and important than that.” He kissed her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks, his splayed palm firm against her back, holding her flush against him—not that she needed that urging. “Athletes’ accolades are the result of skill and luck. You are a trained professional who has earned the respect of physicians, therapists and athletes. You change lives for the better.”
She buried her face against his chest, reveling in his spicy scent and strength. “You make me sound far more important than I am.”
“Bella,” he said, nudging her chin up. “That is your charm—you are adorably and honestly humble. I respect what you’ve accomplished. I admire you.”
But he didn’t love her. He would never love her.
Bound by the Italian's Contract Page 14
