by Leslie North
“No.”
Luciana’s head bobbed backward and her eyes went wide with surprise.
“You have a young child to go home to. You will not go below with me. You do not belong there.”
Luciana’s mouth fell open, and then she found her voice. “Sir,” she said, purposely stressing the word, “I will do my job and this is my job. There are time schedules to discuss as well as materials, not to mention inspectors to be postponed.”
Gianpierre winced when she said “postponed.”
“Sir… Gianpierre,” she said, softening her tone. “I am good at my job. Please, let me do my job.”
He looked her up and down, and his jaw tensed, but finally he gave a single nod. Turning on his heel, he headed for the main entrance to the catacombs. It was a roped off opening in the courtyard floor that would eventually be sealed over with a custom made door, which would sit flush with the surrounding cobblestone.
Grabbing a couple of yellow hard hats sitting on the ground, Gianpierre handed one to her and put the other one under his arm. She stood staring and waiting with the hard hat in her hands, but Gianpierre didn’t budge until she lifted it to sit atop her head. Then he turned away once more, shrugged off his jacket, and headed into the bowels of the Romano del Mare.
Once they were below, Luciana moved into the lead. At nearly every turn of the tunnels, she referenced the map on her computer pad again. Even so, she got them lost and walking in circles. She kept waiting for Gianpierre to become impatient and chide her before ripping the computer pad away, but it never happened. Instead, he remained calm and patient, and eventually she was able to lead them to the spot that Paolo had found. He was there, too, on his knees with a tubed video scope in his hands. He’d pushed it through the jumble of rocks and dirt that filled an arched doorway in an attempt to see what was beyond.
“Any luck?” Gianpierre asked, kneeling down next to Paolo and peering at the scope’s monitor.
“Not yet. The debris is thick. The entire room might be a cave in that was bricked over up above. But if it’s not…”
Luciana knew what it was that Paolo wasn’t saying. If the room was not completely full of stone and debris, there was a chance that the courtyard floor above the room could eventually give way. People could be hurt or even killed. Finding out what was inside the room was a matter of safety.
“This scope’s not long enough,” Gianpierre said. “We need the ten foot.”
“Se, I’ll get it,” Paolo said. He was on his feet and gone in the next moment. He didn’t have a map. He’d been down here so much that he knew his way around.
Luciana’s gaze moved to Gianpierre with a flash of realization. Gianpierre could have taken over and figured out where the uncovered room was in a matter of minutes, but he’d given her the chance to prove herself by allowing her to lead them to it instead. He could be so gruff and so hurried that his tendency for gentle leadership always caught her off guard.
Gianpierre adjusted the light density of the small view screen. “It looks like mostly rubble. We could drill a coring hole through the top of the courtyard, but I’d rather not damage the top bricks.” Standing, he left the monitor on the ground and shook his head. “I don’t have time for this. I’m needed in Dubai. These setbacks, they’re no good. They’re ruining my schedule. I’m going to leave this. It will still be here when I’m ready.”
“Sir… Gianpierre, no. You can’t.” Her heart thudded heavily in her chest and she felt light headed. She’d only just gotten approved for her loan. If she had to report back to the bank that her two-week-old job had already ended, all the progress she’d made toward providing little Natalia with a better life would slip away. She couldn’t let that happen.
Gianpierre shot her a sharp look in response to her declaration that he “could not” abandon the unfinished job. This was his show, she knew that. Not only was he one of the most sought after medieval restoration experts in the world, he was also one of the three owners of this property. He could do whatever he pleased with it, even if that was shoving a stick of dynamite under the thing and blowing it up. Telling the man what he couldn’t do wasn’t going to work, Luciana quickly realized. So, she tried a different approach.
Taking a deep breath despite the dusty, stale air of the catacombs, Luciana willed her heart to slow and her body to relax. If she was tense, he’d be tense. And, if she was relaxed, he might relax a little. Next, she smiled the biggest smile she could manage, but when that effort was met by Gianpierre’s grunt as he refocused on the little monitor, she let the smile soften and then pressed forward with her new, gentler attack on his plans. “Is walling a section off to come back to it later something that’s commonly done?”
Gianpierre shrugged. “Sometimes.”
Luciana licked her lips nervously and was thankful that he wasn’t looking at her to notice. “Is it something you’ve done in the past?” Please say no. Please say no.
Gianpierre’s lips thinned and his eyes narrowed as he shifted his attention back to her but he did not give an answer.
Gotcha! Luciana resisted the urge to do a triumphant fist pump in the air.
Gianpierre twisted the tubed camera scope in an effort to get it to travel into the rocky debris a little further. “You’re right. I would not normally leave a cave-in until later, but situations change. It can’t be helped. The entire project is taking too long. One delay after another. It’s too much.” He backed the tube out a few inches before attempting to push it back in at a different angle.
Luciana shone her flashlight at the jumble of dirt and rocks at eye level. Tracing the edges of the curved archway, she spotted a rock that was only loosely wedged into the debris and it seemed to have some space behind it. “There’s a spot up here,” she said as she reached on tiptoes to pull the rock free.
“Don’t!” Gianpierre yelled, but his warning came after Luciana already had her fingers hooked around behind the rock and was in mid-yank. A small sound followed of dirt and rock cascading, but then, as if someone turned up the volume on a set of speakers, the sound grew.
Luciana backed away from the clogged archway with her hands still lifted in the air where they had been when she’d pulled the rock.
There was a grumbling that felt as much like vibration as it was sound, and then… an avalanche. Rock, dirt and heavy carved stones flooded out of the archway as the archway itself lost its shape on one side.
Fear shot through Luciana as she saw the dirt that would become her grave come down at her, then Gianpierre’s long arms wrapped themselves around her body and she was pulled hard onto her back on the ground. There, Gianpierre covered her head with his arms, head and shoulders while his torso and legs did a good job of shielding the rest of her.
The air turned thick with dust that left Luciana gasping for air, and Gianpierre’s powerful body lay unmoving on top of her, his added weight making it all the more difficult to breathe.
“Sir? Gianpierre!” Terror filled Luciana that she had brought their deaths. She’d been a fool to insist on coming down into the catacombs. She’d only wanted to be seen as valuable to his team, but now she’d cost them both everything.
Gianpierre moved with a groan, sending dust from his hat into Luciana’s face. Squeezing her eyes shut, she coughed and spluttered, but then stilled when Gianpierre’s fingers brushed the dirt away from her eyes and cheeks.
“Are you alright?” Gianpierre’s gruff voice asked. “Say you’re alright.”
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pulled that rock. I’m—”
“Luciana,” Gianpierre interrupted, “are you alright?”
“I’m so sorry—”
“It doesn’t matter. Luciana! Are you alright?” He held her face in both his hands, and even in the dim light Luciana could see the brightness of his blue eyes. “Tell me you’re alright.”
In the distance, Luciana could hear the yells of Gianpierre’s crew, their voices muted as if yelling through a wall. Lost in the rubble,
one of their flashlights blinked but then stabilized.
“I’m alright,” Luciana whispered, giving in to the feel of having Gianpierre’s body on top of hers, his weight on her, as he held her and stared down at her through the murky darkness with an intensity that unnerved her.
Gianpierre’s big thumb stroked her cheek as his eyes continued to search her face. His expression wasn’t one of anger; it was defeat.
Gianpierre’s body shifted, and Luciana failed to stifle the tiniest of moans, filled with desperate want. Then he did the unthinkable. He dipped his head and pressed his warm lips to hers. His crew’s frantic yells could be heard as they fought through the rubble to reach them, but it was as if he didn’t care. The rest of the world didn’t matter. There was only her, and the man whose kiss Luciana had craved to taste since the moment she’d met him ignited a hope in the future she hadn’t realized had gone out.
Wrapping her arms around him, Luciana kissed him back, opening herself to the caress of his tongue. What started out gentle turned into a fervent celebration of life as they lost themselves in each other, and they did not stop until the flow of fresh air reached them as Gianpierre’s crew breached the barrier that stood between them and the rest of the world.
6
Gianpierre
“Why didn’t she give me more time?” Gianpierre said to himself as he hurried through the apartment picking up discarded clothes and tidied stacks of paper. He’d gotten a call from Luciana only minutes ago that she was nearby and on her way over. He didn’t know why he should care what his place looked like when Luciana arrived—after all it was still his place—but he did care. Despite his best efforts to the contrary, the woman mattered to him, and he wanted to make the best impression on her that he could. That she was no one and nothing to him didn’t seem to matter.
As things stood, four days had passed since their kiss and he feared that he’d taken things too far. He needed to know that she didn’t feel taken advantage of. As her employer, he’d had no business kissing Luciana. On top of that, she was still grieving, and her entire financial wellbeing was dependent on him. Too much power over her life was in his hands, and that made for an unfair advantage. He’d seen it more than once, how a man would make a woman dependent on him in order to then bend her to his will through the motivation of desperation. He wanted no part of that way of life or that type of relationship.
“Relationship.” He snorted, amused with himself as he stuffed a large bundle of dirty clothes into the clothes basket. He had no relationship with Luciana. Not now and not ever. Then why did you kiss her?
It wasn’t a question that he got the chance to contemplate before a knock sounded at his door.
“Come!” he called out, not bothering to make the trip to the door. It was unlocked anyway, and besides, this was Luciana’s new home. She simply had not moved in yet—and he had not moved out.
“Is there something I can do for you?” he asked, making his way toward the entryway only to stop in his tracks. Luciana was wearing a simple burgundy tunic dress with a wide, wraparound black belt and had her hair pulled into a messy up-do. The dress reached only halfway down her very long, gorgeous thighs, and the belt gave shape to curves that all her other clothes seemed to try to hide.
It wasn’t fair. She wasn’t supposed to look this good. She was more beautiful than any runway model he’d ever seen, and he’d dated his share. How was he supposed to stop wanting her when she looked like that?
“I can’t date you,” he blurted.
It was Luciana’s turn to stop in her tracks. She opened her mouth only to close it again without actually saying anything.
Gianpierre walked forward slowly, closing half the distance between them. “I can’t want you. It’s not right.”
Luciana nodded agreement but then asked, “Why would it be wrong?” She licked her lips as if remembering the way his mouth had felt on hers.
“Because I’m leaving for Dubai and you are staying here to raise your niece. Our lives, they’re taking different paths. I don’t know when I’ll be coming back. It won’t be soon. After Dubai, there will always be somewhere else.”
Luciana stepped forward, shortening the distance between them even more. “I don’t want you.”
“That’s not what your lips said when you were kissing me in the tunnels,” Gianpierre countered, taking another step forward. They were within arm’s reach of each other now.
Luciana shrugged. “It was an adrenaline kiss. Fight or flight.”
Gianpierre smiled. “Fight or flight… or kiss?”
It was Luciana’s turn to smile, and she took her time at it. First it was only the corners of her mouth that curled up, but then as they got higher, her entire face transformed when her smile reached her eyes. “Fight or flight… or kiss,” she agreed before shifting her attention to her over-the-shoulder spaghetti strap purse. Opening its flap, she pulled out a measuring tape. “I need to measure Natalia’s bedroom. Her mom… Sophia, she got Natalia a full-sized princess bed about a month before… before she died.” Saying the words seemed to hurt her, but she pressed on. “I’m not sure that the ceiling in her room will be high enough. It’s a four-poster bed that arches up into a dome. It’s very high.” Her brows were pinched and she fiddled with the tape measure as she spoke, clearly worried at the outcome. “There’s no way I can ask her to part with it.”
Gianpierre felt like the most selfish man in the world as he stood before Luciana and the ongoing pain of having lost her sister. Not only was she having to deal with the loss of someone dear to her, she was having to deal with the stress of having to rebuild her life and learn how to be a parent. He could not fathom how strong she must be to choose to raise Natalia here in Sicily, in the place the child knew best, rather than take her back to America where life would surely be easier for Luciana.
“Let us find out,” Gianpierre said, gently taking the measuring tape from her grasp and then carefully taking her by the hand. He knew that he was yet again stepping across boundaries that were better not crossed. He was playing with the heart of a woman with a shattered life. Making her think that there could ever be room for her in his life would not be right, and he needed to add some distance to their growing attraction soon. He could feel her loneliness, and he knew he wanted her. His body craved her with a need so powerful that it hurt. But to give in to his want would cause unforgivable damage. He didn’t want a friend or a partner, and she needed both. She was a woman in a strange land with no support system, and anything he offered her would only get in the way of her building the life she needed. It would be like putting a dissolving bandage on a limb that needed a cast. He would cause her more harm than good.
Yet, the fit of her hand inside of his was perfect, and once they’d reached the bedroom that Luciana indicated was to be Natalia’s, he found that he did not want to let her go. But he did. He made himself.
Turning his back so that he would not have to torture himself by looking at her, he asked, “How tall is the bed at its highest point?” He walked toward the bedroom’s far wall as he pulled the winding measuring tape out of its casing.
“Fifteen feet.”
Gianpierre gave a low whistle. That was tall. Glancing up at the ceiling, he was sure that it was too tall, but he would measure so that Luciana could see the same.
With mixed feelings, Gianpierre pushed the end of the stiff, aluminum tape up the wall to the ceiling before extending its length down to the floor. Kneeling, he checked the tape’s reading. “Fourteen feet,” he said and then stayed in place as he looked over his shoulder at Luciana. Stepping forward, she knelt down to read the results herself.
That was when the fight seemed to leave her. She hung her head. Her shoulders drooped and her whole body slumped. “It’s all too much,” she said. “It’s not going to work. None of it’s going to work.”
Gianpierre was pretty sure that she was not talking about just the princess bed. Letting the spring-rolled measuring tape slip back i
nside its casing, Gianpierre shifted from kneeling to sitting and pulled Luciana down next to him. She didn’t fight it, and instead gave in to leaning against his side and resting her head on his shoulder.
“I can’t do it,” Luciana said. “I’m going to fail miserably as a mother. Sophia was so good at it. She was a natural. Natalia deserves so much better than me.”
Gianpierre remembered the way the little girl had looked at Luciana. Her eyes had been sad, but there had been adoration in the way she had looked at Luciana. “The little girl loves you,” he reassured her. “You’re her world now.”
“But I’m not enough,” Luciana lamented. She lifted her head from Gianpierre’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Before losing Sophia, my biggest worry had been what I should wear out at the clubs or whether or not I should let a man take me out to dinner or brunch for a first date. If I wanted to sleep, I slept. If I wanted to stay out all night, I did. If I wanted popcorn for dinner, I had popcorn.” She shook her head. “I’m not the motherly kind.”
“If that’s true, you’re doing a great job of fooling Natalia. She loves you. It’s all over her face every time she looks at you.” It was true. Gianpierre would never have been able to guess that Natalia wasn’t Luciana’s own if he hadn’t already known. He would have only seen a beautiful mother with her beautiful daughter, and he knew that as Natalia grew and they moved through life together, that was exactly what the rest of the world would see when it looked at them. Whether she felt like it or not, Luciana was now Natalia’s mother. She was the little girl’s foundation. “You’re going to be okay,” he said and kissed the top of Luciana’s head. Her hair was silky and smelled like lilacs, and the curve of her hip beneath his hand made him want to pull her into his lap so that he could hold her tight and never let her go. You’ll ruin her, he reminded himself. A woman with a shattered life didn’t need a man to drift in and out of it, leaving her to pick up all the pieces before, during and after. He fixed buildings, not people.
