by Donna Alward
Their bodies hovered closer together, but Mari resisted the urge to take the one step necessary to be pressed against him. “It was a lot to take in at once, Luca. I was hurt by your behavior, but only because I understood. My story isn’t the stuff of polite chit-chat. Your reaction made sense.”
“But you don’t understand Mari, that’s the thing. You don’t understand anything.”
It was Luca who took the step and Mari found her breasts pressed against the fabric of his suit coat. Without thinking she lifted her hand, the silky fabric of her pashmina drifting off her shoulder and hanging from her right elbow. Her finger traced the hard angle of his jaw. “Then help me understand.”
He didn’t answer, instead he reached up and gripped her wrist with his hand and lowered his mouth to hers.
She opened her lips, letting his tongue sweep inside, tasting the tangy sharpness of fine champagne and the dark seduction of cool chocolate.
With his other hand he dragged her closer. The clinking sounds of the dining room echoed behind them, slightly muffled by the seclusion of the alcove. Luca’s lips trailed over her cheek to her ear and down the curve of her neck, dropping feather-light kisses that made her weak in the knees and destroyed any resolve she might have had.
“Luca,” she uttered, shattered, wondering what it would be like to give herself to a man for the first time since that awful day seven years before. To feel safe and protected. Cherished.
“The first time I saw you, your hair was up.” He whispered against her temple and sank her fingers into her waves. “And I knew that moment that one day you’d wear it down and you’d look exactly like you do tonight. Bellissima Mariella.”
She tilted her head back, feeling her hair slide along her shoulder blades as his mouth followed the curve of her neckline towards her collarbone. There was no reason for him to be touching her this way unless…unless…
Sensation after sensation swirled through her, touch, taste, the feel of his body holding hers and the taste of his lips as their mouths clashed again. His fingers found the zipper at the back of her dress and lowered it a few inches, sliding his fingers along the seam while Mari ached to be touched. It ceased to matter where they were.
But he stepped back.
“I can’t do this Mari. It’s not fair.”
Her body still vibrated from his embrace. “I don’t understand.”
Gently he reached out, picked up the trailing end of her shawl and placed it over her naked shoulder. “I cannot be with you tonight knowing that tomorrow…”
He hesitated, the silence so terrible Mari thought she would certainly scream. Finally she broke the silence with the one question she had wanted to ask since this morning but hadn’t had the courage to hear the answer.
“When will you be back?”
For the first time that evening, his gaze skittered away. “I have no plans to return. Once Paris is looked after, I am returning to Florence for the holiday with my family.”
A family that didn’t include her. No matter how welcome she’d felt in his arms, it came down to the resounding fact that she was an outsider.
And with that, everything went sinking to her toes.
It was clear. Despite what they’d shared, despite the attraction that clearly simmered between them—she knew that much to be true—there wasn’t enough to keep him here. She stood motionless, not sure of what to say. Until she’d asked the question, there had been a tiny flicker of hope. But she’d only been fooling herself. She had always known he was leaving, so why was she feeling so betrayed? Why was she feeling like somehow she’d failed?
Because she wasn’t ready to let him go yet. That was what he’d done to her. He’d shown her herself and he’d taught her to hope. And in the process he’d ended up breaking her heart by doing what he’d said he was going to all along. Leaving.
She should have known better. Should have thought it through more. Should have realized that in the end they couldn’t just go their separate ways like nothing had happened.
“Say something, Mari.”
She sat down in the chair. “There is nothing to say, Luca. We both knew this time was coming. I guess I just hoped you’d be back.”
“We knew this was temporary.”
She couldn’t tell him how she’d grown to care for him, to rely on him. It would sound weak and clingy and that wasn’t what she wanted. It was irrelevant now anyway. Tomorrow he’d be gone. There was no sense belaboring what was obviously not meant to be.
“I thought you’d be around to supervise more of the refurbishing, that’s all.”
His jaw relaxed a little and he sat too, turning his chair to face her. “I did too. The plan was for me to be here several more weeks. But I’m needed more elsewhere…I know I’m leaving The Cascade in capable hands, Mari. And we’re only a phone call or email away if you need help. I have full confidence in you.”
The words were hollow. He was leaving the rest of the job to her. He believed in her ability to run his hotel. She supposed she should be happy about that, but instead it simply felt wrong, doing it without him.
“I also spoke to my father today and we’re making you the permanent manager of The Fiori Cascade.”
It was what she’d wanted, what she’d aimed for since moving to Banff and taking the administration job. Now it felt like the consolation prize. When had she started wanting more?
She looked down at her knees. She knew when. When she’d stopped giving Robert all the power and she’d started living for herself.
“Thank you, Luca. It’s…it’s what I wanted, and I appreciate your faith in me. I won’t let you down.”
Luca stared at her dark head and wondered how the hell he’d screwed this up so spectacularly.
He should have kept things as he had this morning. Cool and somewhat businesslike.
Mari was important to him. Somehow he’d let her become important and that wasn’t fair to either of them. And he’d tried to remind himself of that all day. Instead, he’d lost his head when he’d seen her come up those stairs looking so elegant in her gown. She moved with an easy, subtle grace that spoke of a little shyness. Mari was not coy. She did not play games. And he’d wanted her on his arm as he’d never wanted any other woman to belong to him. Not even Ellie.
And he’d kissed her and touched her and ached to make love to her so badly he’d nearly lost himself. Until he realized he didn’t have the right to hurt her. And he knew her well enough now to know that to love her once and leave her behind would be the most selfish thing he could do.
The best thing he could do for her would be to give her what she’d wanted from the beginning…the running of the hotel. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t completely happy himself. The summons had irritated him from the first moment. He was tired of being at the beck and call of his father and knew now he wanted more. Yet…his first loyalty was to his family and to the Fiori empire. He’d made his choice years ago. He couldn’t have both.
“You could never let me down, Mari, never.” No, he was the one letting her down and it hurt like hell.
He fingered the ring on his hand, the gold one with the lily emblazoned upon it.
“That ring is important to you, isn’t it?” Her voice was quiet now, the soft tones burning through him like a brand. “I’ve never seen you without it on.”
He nodded, resting his hands on his knees. Perhaps if he explained about the ring, she’d understand why he had to go. “My grandmother gave it to my grandfather. She had it made to symbolize their lasting love. It meant everything to them. It went on to become the Fiori crest—beauty, loyalty, strength.”
“You have such a history, Luca, I envy that.”
“Sometimes it’s not all that it seems,” he replied quickly, then shook his head. His issues with Fiori weren’t Mari’s to solve. “I just mean that with it comes responsibility. I have a duty to my family, and it’s the life I was given as well as the life I chose. It anchors me.”
“But�
�”
He had to be very careful. He’d give anything not to hurt her yet he knew he must. He should have known better. He got up and walked to the end of the table, stopping and closing his eyes for a moment.
When he turned back he held out his hand and she took it. He marveled again at how soft and small hers was compared to his.
“We both knew I wasn’t here forever, and we both knew my job would take me away.” He inhaled, bracing himself for a small truth he could spare. “We also know that what we shared is special. You are special, Mari.”
“You’ll forget all about me.” She turned her head away. “I’ll just be another one of those women you once knew.”
“Don’t do that. It cheapens what we’ve shared.”
She peered back into his face. “You actually sound like you mean that.”
“I do.” He lifted he fingers and kissed them. “I care about you so much. And yet…the time has come as we knew it would, and I must go back to my life and you are here in yours. There really is no other choice. I simply want us to part without bitterness, but with a respect for what was between us. For you to know that it…”
He paused. He could get through this. Even if explaining it was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
He met her gaze with his and made the decision to be as honest as he could. “To know that it meant something to me.”
“You are making it very difficult to be angry with you,” she choked, half a laugh and half a sob.
“If it is easier for you to be angry with me, then so be it. I only want your happiness, Mari.”
And for the first time in his life, he knew it was true. He wanted her happiness ahead of his own. And a flash of fear: never did he want to become his father. Papa had dedicated his life to his wife’s happiness only to have it mean nothing. Luca had seen how Papa had been destroyed when his mother left them all. He also remembered the exact moment when his own innocence, his own belief in happy endings was so cruelly broken. And he knew now that it was nothing compared to the power Mari could have over his heart.
She turned away and wiped a finger beneath her lashes, catching the tear before it could trickle down her cheek. How could she explain that somehow her happiness was now bound up in him too? He was right about everything! How they had both known this time would come. But she remembered being held in his arms as she’d explained about Robert and feeling safe and loved. All that would go with him when he went away. She’d utterly despised him that first day in her office, and now she’d give anything to have him stay.
“And I want yours,” she replied. She looked up into his eyes, wishing she were in his arms once more. It suddenly struck her that she wouldn’t kiss him ever again and a surge of emptiness engulfed her. All this time she’d fought to go back to her old life. And faced with it now, it seemed cold and pointless.
“Luca?”
His fingers were gripping hers so tightly they pained.
“Will you kiss me one more time?”
She heard the plea in her voice but for once didn’t care. She stood and walked into his embrace, felt his hands gently cup her neck as his lips grazed her temple.
She barely breathed, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths as his mouth toyed with hers, treating her like precious china. Her lids drifted closed as the soft skin of his lips touched the crest of her cheek, her forehead, her lashes before tentatively settling on her mouth. The kiss there shattered her with its innocence and purity. Her wrap floated to the floor, but she didn’t care. Three little words hovered on her lips, but she held them in. There was something tenuous and fragile between them and Mari would not break that connection by voicing protestations of love. Instead she kept the words treasured in her heart until it hurt so much she knew she had to leave before breaking down completely.
“I need to go,” she gasped, pulling back and grappling for her purse. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”
She rushed out of the alcove before Luca could utter a single word.
Luca bent and picked up the wrap she’d left behind, turning it over in his fingers. Mariella, with her innocent pleas and courageous heart.
Summons be damned. He’d come here tonight to reinstate the status quo with Mari and all he’d done was stir things up more. He ran a hand over his face. He’d never had this trouble before. He was good at moving on. And he couldn’t figure out why this time was different.
He’d simply let himself get too involved, that was all. He was just being a fool, thinking this was love. He folded the wrap and gripped the soft fabric in his hand. Maybe she wouldn’t see it now, but his leaving was the best thing for both of them.
Chapter 11
The house was dark when Mari entered. Times like this her heart always beat a little faster; no matter how much she told herself the past was over, she knew it really wasn’t. She’d always have that little bit of fear lurking behind dark and closed doors. It was simple preoccupation that had caused her to forget to leave a few lights burning. As soon as she stepped inside, she flicked on the kitchen light, the instant glow alleviating some of her anxiety.
Luca was leaving. All the turmoil of the past weeks would be gone, like they’d never happened. She was getting her life back. It was what she wanted.
Aimlessly she let her fingers drift over the mail she’d brought in earlier and had thrown on the table in her distraction of getting ready for dinner. Her fingers paused over an odd white and red envelope that meant Express service…and opened it to find another letter-sized envelope bearing an insignia and the words Toronto Police Service.
She held the letter in trembling hands. After a few minutes of staring at it, she turned it over, ripped the flap, and pulled out a single sheet of paper.
It was over.
Mariella sat heavily in the kitchen chair, the paper still open and shaking in her fingers. Tommy’s nails tapped on the floor and he sat beside her, putting his head down on her knee. The warmth from it soaked into her leg, anchoring her to the present.
This was her life. Hers. And now, hers alone. The rest was gone, melted away in a few short paragraphs.
She had to read it once more to make sure it was true.
Dear Ms. Ross,
I am writing to inform you of the death of Robert Langston.
He died on November twenty-fifth, when the vehicle he was driving left the road and overturned. Alcohol was determined a factor in the crash.
Mari wiped away tears. He was gone. He had no power to hurt her anymore.
She kept reading, the rest scrawled in semi-neat handwriting at the bottom of the page.
I know this isn’t procedure, but I wanted to notify you myself. As the arresting officer in the original case, you and your mother have often been in my thoughts. Some cases are like that. I can only say that I hope you are well and that perhaps this might provide some sort of resolution for you and Mrs. Langston.
Sincerely,
Cst. Pat Moore
She remembered Constable Moore. He’d been steady, firm, gentle when questioning her at the hospital and then later when he’d testified at the trial. Somehow, having him be the one to break the news brought things full circle, even through something as simple as a letter. She wondered briefly if her mother was somewhere tonight, reading an identical letter, feeling the same relief…and regret.
Her first instinct was to tell Luca.
Mari looked up, swiping a finger under her lashes. Telling Luca was the last thing she should do. They’d all but said goodbye tonight. And he’d dealt enough with her problems. No, it was time to stand on her own two feet. The fact that she could—and be worry free—was a heady thought.
Standing, she walked over to where the painting he’d given her hung. She skimmed her fingers over the surface, the letter dangling from her opposite hand. She knew now what she hadn’t been able to put together the day she’d first seen it. She knew now not only that it had spoken to her, but what it said.
It was life; th
e life in her that he’d awakened. The life she’d fought for every step the way. And it bled on the canvas and she realized that by living, by feeling, she’d also opened herself up to hurt. And the shocking, glorious realization that it had been worth it.
Tears trickled down her cheeks. She had sworn up and down that she’d moved on from the wounds Robert had inflicted on her, but that wasn’t true. She’d only covered them up. And then she’d met Luca and he’d made her face them, and he’d made her fall in love with him.
Only she’d been so crippled by her fear she hadn’t had the courage to fight for him. Even tonight she’d simply accepted what he’d said—that he was leaving.
She took the letter, crumpled it into a ball and threw it into the fire.
Over the past weeks she’d wondered if she’d only been attracted to Luca because of Robert and what he’d done to her. She’d asked herself if she’d felt such an attachment because he seemed to protect her from her fear. Wondered if she’d been receptive to him because she’d needed him to make her feel safe after Robert had been released.
But it wasn’t true, none of it.
As the paper curled and flamed, reducing to ash, she knew without a doubt that she was free. And that freedom did absolutely nothing to release her from the longing she had for Luca.
The painting brought it all back, fresh and new. Luca’s smile, his eyes, the way he challenged her and pushed her and kissed her. The way he’d gotten her to talk about her abuse, and how she’d come to rely on him.
But the man who had made her life a living hell, who had beaten her mother and then her, who had put her in the hospital for weeks and who had caused years of therapy…was suddenly gone.
She no longer had to look around corners. She no longer had to deal with updates from parole officers, victim impact statements, or worry if he’d try to find her or if he’d come back to finish the job. She’d had no doubt that he was capable of it. And there was a little bit of guilt in the fact that a man had to die for her to feel free of her own personal prison.
