How sad that he could freely give her what she’d worked tirelessly to achieve, respect and admiration for her work, yet the one thing her heart craved from him was never to be. That realization gave her the strength to gently pull away from him and manage a smile.
“Thank you,” she said.
This time he returned her smile with one that melted her heart and stirred longing deep in her. “Come. Let’s celebrate tomorrow’s pre-opening.”
“Sure,” she said, letting him lead her back to his room.
Letting him strip off their clothes and adore her body with his hands and mouth. Letting him do anything he wished with her.
No matter the outcome of her time with Luciano, she refused to deny herself a moment apart from him. Their separation would come far too soon anyway.
CHAPTER NINE
LUC STOOD AT the back of the banquet room, gaze fixed on Caprice behind the podium, a glass of the local cabernet franc caught between two fingers. He’d arrived late and missed the start of the ten-minute video of her program in action from initial therapy session to a patient hitting the slopes, but it was obvious her speech had kept the packed audience riveted. Now that the lights had come back up and she was explaining in more detail the benefits of her program, he had the pleasure of appreciating her beautiful mind and open heart.
Had he ever met a woman more giving? More caring of others? No. He’d realized that the moment he’d caught her working with Julian.
“At Caprice Tregore’s, we promise therapy to fit your needs so you can ski free again,” she said and paused as the applause swelled again, only dying down when she raised a hand begging silence. “Regardless of your degree of disability or ski experience, there is a program you can benefit from, stimulating mind and body. We welcome all of you with open arms, today, tomorrow and into the future. Thank you for coming and please enjoy the luncheon.”
She nodded and backed away from the podium as applause went up a final time, growing in volume as the audience stood in her honor. Her smile grew too large and trembled, and even across the room he noted the glint of moisture in her eyes.
Her rush of emotion wasn’t a surprise to him. No, what stunned him was the wad of anticipation lodged in his throat accompanied by a flutter in his gut, sensations he hadn’t experienced since the first time he’d stepped into skis and shot down a mountain.
His heightened interest in her remained steady, but he knew it wouldn’t last. The excitement never did, waning in months, weeks or sometimes days from each challenging sport he’d topped, coveted business deal he’d secured and desirable, aloof woman that he’d seduced.
These sensations he felt for Caprice would die as well. But could the same be said for her?
No. Though she’d never said it, he knew she believed herself in love with him. Her every touch, every look, conveyed what was in her heart.
He dragged in a breath and heard the crinkling of the message in his pocket, the paper that had been handed to him moments before the program started. Selfish bastard that he was, he thought of tossing it so everything would proceed as planned. He could keep Caprice by his side and in his bed for another week or more.
But he wouldn’t do that to her. He’d hurt her too much.
She must return to her life and he to his.
Her company would soar—he would make sure it did. She would find great success. One day she would find a good man, a thought he didn’t like envisioning at this moment, maybe never would.
So be it. She would have a fine life and he would return to the one he’d chosen, one that didn’t demand more of him than he was willing to give. It was the way it had to be.
He kept that thought in mind as the audience filed into the dining hall. No expenses had been spared for the selection of antipasto misto, primo of pastas, soup and risotto, secondo of meats and fish, contorni of vegetables and insalata and dolce, those being the first things some would select. Wines and mineral waters were in abundance as well.
Guests and prospective clients laughed and ate and drank and stole as much of Caprice’s time as she’d allow. The new staff that she’d chosen remained busy booking appointments well into the next month, he suspected.
Everyone was happy, especially Caprice. She’d gotten the control she wanted, and he’d seen a new spark of life in his brother. That’s why he’d hired her, and attaining his one goal should make him happy. So why wasn’t he? Why was he gripped with the sensation that he was losing something he would never regain again?
“Congratulations, bella,” he told Caprice a good hour later when she was finally free.
Excitement still danced in her eyes and kissed a rosy flush to her cheeks. Beautiful. She was absolutely beautiful.
She grasped his right hand and squeezed the fingers. “Never in my wildest dreams did I expect this wonderful response. You were so right about everything.”
He saluted her with his vino. “Told you so.”
Her grin shouted her happiness to the world as she accepted the champagne a waiter handed her. This was how he wished to remember her always.
Too soon she turned solemn. “What’s wrong, Luciano? You look like you just lost your best friend.”
He had, he admitted, taking a sip of the wine he favored and finding it bitter on his tongue, tainted by sour memories. “I’ll tell you when this is over.”
“Is it serious?” she asked, clear concern widening her eyes now.
He shook his head and managed the barest smile. “It is good news for us. You’re still much in demand. Smile,” he told her as a young news reporter nabbed her attention.
It was the perfect cue for him to take his leave. In silence he retreated to his office. The amber silk tie went first with a shrug. Next he traded his cabernet for a generous glass of Bunnahabhain and slumped behind his desk, wanting to drown his irritation in Scotch.
Why couldn’t he shake the feeling that he’d let the best thing in his life slip from his grasp forever?
* * *
The exhilarating high Caprice had floated on for the better part of two hours dropped her back to earth the second she stepped into Luciano’s office. He sat at his desk, glass of amber liquid sitting before him either untouched or a refill. To the side was a clean glass beside the bottle of imported Scotch from the isle of Islay, a favored label of his.
“Forgive me but you don’t look like a man who’s received good news,” she said.
One side of his mouth pulled up at the corner. “One man’s good news is bad to another. Want a drink?”
“Am I going to need one?”
“Maybe.” He upended the heavy glass, added two fingers of his imported Scotch and handed it to her.
She took the chair before his desk as well as the drink, struck with déjà vu of her very first meeting with him when she had just turned twenty and wanted desperately to be seen as a grown woman. That had been her first time drinking single-malt Scotch and dealing with an arrogant young champion. Both had been heady experiences she’d never forgotten.
“To you,” he said, raising his glass.
She clinked her crystal to his, the clink clear and loud. “And you.”
They each drank, hers a sip, his much more, then a spate of numbing silence.
A chill rippled through her, at odds with the whisky warming her tongue and throat. “Are you going to tell me this news?”
He nodded and cradled his glass between both palms, gaze lifting slowly to hers. “Mario is dead.”
She blinked. “You’re sure?”
He nodded. “Near dawn, a witness reported that Mario sped past their coupe on the A16, only to lose control. His Lamborghini shot over the stone wall of a viaduct and burst into flames on impact.” He knocked back the remainder of his Scotch and grimaced, anyone’s guess if the mouthful of liquor o
r distaste over the tragedy caused his expression. “It has taken an autopsy to determine Mario was behind the wheel.”
“He’s dead,” she said. “He can’t hurt me anymore.”
“Correct.” He pushed to his feet and paced the room. She massaged her temples, this day and everything that transpired happening far too fast for her to grasp. Or maybe the bit of alcohol had mixed unfavorably with the abundance of excitement.
* * *
He stood from his seat and walked to the view offered through the glass windows in his office. “With Mario dead, you can return to Colorado whenever you wish to. I will cover all expenses, as agreed to.”
She caught the gasp that nearly burst free. He was setting her free. Giving her back the control over her life. She didn’t have to remain in Italy under his protection a second longer. Not unless she wanted to.
And she did want to stay with Luciano. She didn’t want this to end swiftly and so coldly. But every inch of him, from his body language to his words, made it clear he didn’t share her view.
“Thank you for taking care of everything for me,” she said in a surprisingly controlled tone that still made her tight throat ache. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t.
He frowned, tapping three fingers on the nearly floor-to-ceiling credenza. “I disagree. You are destined for greatness and would have achieved it with or without me. But I am glad, honored and grateful you agreed to work with me on the therapy pod.”
“It was my pleasure,” she said, painfully aware that was the only thing she could say because it was true. Being with him had been her pleasure and passion. Leaving was going to hurt for a long time.
He dropped in his chair and meted out another drink for them both, causing her to wonder when she’d drank all of hers. “To your continued success.”
“And to yours,” she said, retrieving her glass to join him in the toast.
Before all the past had tumbled out in a torrent of pain and confusion, she’d known that time would fly by in each other’s arms. But to indulge in that now, even a kiss, would make their parting all the more heartbreaking. At least it would be that way for her.
She wanted to leave here the way she’d arrived. Chin up, determined to keep a careful distance from Luciano Duchelini.
“I’d better go now. There is so much I’ve left to do.” She set her Scotch on the desk as she rose and started toward the door.
“Caprice,” he said when she opened the door, and she steadied her nerves to look back at the most handsome man she’d ever met. “Would you join me for dinner tonight?”
She summoned up a polite smile. She’d been too nervous to eat much more than a few bites today, but all thought of food sickened her now in anticipation of their eventual parting. “I’d love to, but today is already packed. I have a meeting with the new staff now, and I want to find a flight out in the morning. Tonight I’ll pack for the trip home.”
His lips thinned, but he inclined his head once. “I’ll arrange your transportation needs for you.”
“Thank you.” Did he have to sound too eager to see her off? She shook her head, refusing to show the pain this caused her, and told him the time.
She closed the door behind her and calmly strode through the outer office when every instinct in her begged her to run, to scream. If his PA noticed her state of distress, she held comment and continued sitting at her computer, diligently working.
Halfway down the hall Caprice gathered enough composure to return to the therapy pod. It took an hour to go over last-minute details with the staff. The pleasant surprise was seeing they’d received close to sixty applications for enrollment today and the phones were still ringing.
Success tasted sweet, but the sourness of heartbreak erased any pleasure. If she could just hold at bay the eventual breakdown of her emotions until she was away from her, until she was alone, she would be grateful.
Darkness had crept over the lodge by the time she found her suite. She’d no more than locked the door and kicked off her shoes when a knock came at the door.
She bit her lip, debating if she should ignore it. “Who is it?”
“Room service, Signorina Tregore.”
A red flag waved before her eyes, but she fished several euros from her purse and opened the door. A smiling young man on the wait staff pushed a cart inside, the plate covered with a gleaming silver dome. Beside it sat one single yellow rose in a crystal vase.
“Shall I serve?” the waiter asked.
She shook her head and pressed the bills into his hands. “Thanks, but I’d rather wait awhile before I eat.”
“Grazie!” he said with a bow and backed out the door.
A twist of the lock secured her privacy and a lift of the white drape over the table ensured there wasn’t another surprise waiting for her there. The sealed white envelope on the cart stared back at her.
She knew before she broke the seal and pulled out the note that it was from Luciano, written in his bold, clearly read hand. “It is for the best this way. Luc.”
Was it?
The note fell from her hands and her vision blurred. Pain knifed through her, drawing emotional blood. Yes, her mind agreed with him, but her heart wasn’t buying it. Her heart wanted the man. Wanted his love.
Not to be.
She swiped at her eyes and took a long, hot shower, then packed everything but what she’d wear tomorrow. Exhausted, she fell into bed, the delivered dinner forgotten. If only she could just do the same with the imposing Italian she’d loved and clearly lost.
* * *
The wake-up call at seven gave Caprice the needed time to dress, secure her bags for the trip and leave her suite. One glance in the mirror confirmed that no amount of makeup could conceal the fact she’d had a fitful night’s sleep.
She wrenched open the door and smothered a gasp. Luciano stood there, looking haggard as well.
His note flashed before her—It is better this way. So why was he here now?
She swallowed hard. “Is something wrong?”
He shook his head. “Not a thing that I’m aware of.”
“Oh, good,” she said, confused. “I trust everything is ready.”
“To the minute.” He glanced at his watch. “You are anxious to depart.”
It was so tempting to refute that remark, but what was the point? She had to leave Italy and Luciano anyway. She had a ticket, lingering another hour or so threw that timetable off.
Even if she could easily leave at a later time, she still had to leave. Staying would only make it more difficult to walk away. And walk away she must.
“Allow me,” he said, taking her bag from her.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, closing the door behind her.
She trailed Luciano to the elevators and dreaded the ride down, secluded into close quarters with the man she would always love. And it was hell. More than anything she wanted to reach out to him. Touch him. Kiss him. But he stood like a Trojan, paying no attention to her at all.
After what seemed like forever, the elevator door whooshed open. He nodded for her to step out and she did, doing her best to pretend her nerves weren’t scraped raw, that her insides weren’t twisted into knots.
And then too quickly they were at the door with a private sedan waiting to whisk her to the airport, away from Italy. From the only man she would ever love.
This was what she’d wanted from the start. How could she complain if he didn’t wish to accept her odd change of heart? He couldn’t.
“Thank you,” she said to Luc when they reached the door. “For everything.”
And she meant it. His affection had given her back the confidence she hadn’t realized she’d lacked. The incredible sex she’d been sure didn’t exist. The faith he’d
put in her as a businesswoman. The funds he’d given her to ensure she succeeded in her chosen field—not for a year but for decades, getting her over any foreseeable humps that may occur.
In short, he’d made sure she wouldn’t need him ever again. Still, she was grateful. Everything he’d done for her was appreciated more than words could convey.
“It is I who should thank you for giving this opportunity to Julian.” He smiled, though it was bittersweet to her eyes. “He seems excited.”
“Julian will do fine. Tell him I’m just a phone call away if he needs to talk.” And it took effort to not extend the same to Luc.
He nodded and crossed his strong arms over the muscled chest she’d loved to snuggle against. “I will. And please, if you discover you need anything more after you arrive at Tregore Lodge, just tell my assistant. She’ll make sure you get it.”
Not Luciano. No, he wouldn’t want to hear from her once she stepped on that plane. When she left Italy and him.
“Goodbye,” she said and slid into the backseat of the luxury sedan, not waiting for another clipped reply from him.
She wanted out of here, away from the temptation of going to him, of begging him to let her stay. That would never work. And if it did, it would be counterproductive to her forward progress.
By focusing on that thought, she endured the lengthy drive to the airport in silence. Once on the plane she asked the attendant for a sleeping aid and silently prayed that it would banish the insane desire to tell the pilot to turn the plane around and take her back to Luciano.
Her prayers were answered. When she awoke the next day, she was in Colorado. She was home, or an hour’s drive from where she could watch the renovations of Tregore Lodge.
That alone made her deliriously happy. Or it should have. But she could barely manage a smile because she’d left something vital back in Italy. Her heart.
CHAPTER TEN
“YOU’RE AN IDIOT,” Julian said between breaks on the bench press Caprice had designed for upper-body strength and endurance.
For weeks, Luc had heard the same thing again and again, and he was tired of it. “Can’t you think of anything else to say to me?”
Bound by the Italian's Contract Page 15
