Hired: The Italian's Bride

by Donna Alward

  “No, not really. I’ll just, um, go to my office, and if you need me for anything you can find me there.”

  “I’m waiting for a call from a designer. He did some work for us when we bought the Colorado Springs property and with the similarity in settings, I thought bringing him up here would be a good idea. I know what I want, but I’m at a loss when it comes to deciding fabrics and tapestries and…well, it’s Dean’s job to take my vision and put it all together.”

  Her mouth went dry. Nine o’clock in the morning and he was already moving forward without even discussing things with her. Was this all going to happen without her, then? “And what’s my job in all this?”

  For a moment she was afraid he was going to get up and her fingers felt for the handle of the door. Briefly she remembered the touch of his finger on her wrist last night. But he merely crossed an ankle over his knee and smiled up at her. “Your job is to keep the hotel running as seamlessly as possible for our guests and staff. I can already see you’re good at it. And your job is also to help me. I do want your input, Mari.”

  When the phone on his desk rang, his attention slid away from her completely, and she felt like a child dismissed from the principal’s office. Damn, she’d come in here hoping to get some insight into his plans, figure out a way to retain at least some control over the whole business. And she was leaving with nothing.

  Mari made her way to the manager’s office in a daze. It was clear she wasn’t needed when it came to whatever changes were impending. As far as Luca was concerned, she was there to keep people happy.

  She shut her office door firmly and threw her purse on her chair. She hadn’t worked this hard to build up her life to have someone dismiss it like it didn’t matter. Her years of being a doormat were over. She thought of the court proceedings happening this very moment and lifted her chin. She smoothed her hands over her cheeks, trying to soothe away the nagging feeling of inadequacy. She wouldn’t let him do this to her. This was her life now, and she would hold on to it with both hands.

  He was bringing in a designer, of course he was. That was logical. But it was all happening so quickly. She wanted everything back the way it was.

  Luca would consult with this designer and she’d be out of the decision-making process. She couldn’t let that happen. If she did he’d start making unilateral decisions that affected everyone. He’d have all the control and the thought terrified her.

  But how could she hold her ground, when the very thought of asserting herself into the situation made her stomach tremble and her knees watery?

  She had to come up with something that showed her value. When the idea hit she was shocked she hadn’t thought of it before. The hotel had an attic. And with every renovation, she knew certain things had been placed there for storage. She was sure there was a trove of antiques from the original design up there. She remembered what he’d said last night about returning to a “golden age.” Rich fabrics and natural wood. If she remembered correctly, there was an old chandelier, and who knew what other treasures she’d find?

  She jumped up from her chair, ignoring the open file on her desk and grabbing instead a ring of keys from the back of her desk drawer. She was just turning into the hall when she ran smack-dab into the solid wall of his chest.

  “Allentare!” He gripped her arms to steady her and she stiffened beneath his fingers. “Mari, slow down! Are you all right?”

  “Let me go. I’m fine.” She shook off his hands and straightened her shoulders.

  The woman was as prickly as a cactus. Luca stood back, nonplussed. She’d nearly knocked him over and now stood glaring at him like it was his fault that she’d come storming out of her office, not looking where she was going.

  “I am glad to hear it.”

  Her face softened just a bit. “I beg your pardon, it was my fault.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I was just coming to see you.”

  He watched as she slowly relaxed. First a deep breath, then her shoulders lowered and the taut lines of her face disappeared. She was wound as tight as a top. She had been last night, too. Her cheek had been cold when he’d kissed it in greeting and the tiny touch on her wrist seemed to turn her to stone. The woman needed to deflate before she imploded.

  She placed a polite smile on her lips, one he knew was put there for show and not genuine. It was a cover. But what was she covering? He’d never met a woman so uptight and rigid. He had a feeling if he said black, she’d say white just to be contrary. In that way, he thought ruefully, she wasn’t that different from his father. He held back the sigh gathering in his lungs. The Cascade was his baby. He’d demanded full authority over everything. And when it was over he’d be able to take the credit and finally step out within the company in his own right. He loved his father, he did. It didn’t mean he wanted to work under his thumb for the rest of his life. It was the one thing that kept things tense between them.

  “Did you need something?”

  At the sound of her voice he dragged his gaze from her lips. “Need? I heard back from the designer, Dean Shiffling.” He couldn’t keep the annoyance out of his voice. “He can’t make it until day after tomorrow. I told him we’d send a car to meet him at the airport.”

  They’d taken half a dozen steps down the hall but she halted abruptly. “Luca, we don’t have a car. We have a shuttle van.”

  “Fiori does not herd guests into a, what did you call it? A shuttle van.” He muttered something under his breath. There was much to be said for the old Inn, but things needed to change to bring it up to Fiori standards. “I shall look after getting us proper transportation.”

  He started walking again, knowing she’d have no choice but to follow after him. Already he could see the adding machine whirring in her head, working sums. A smile played with the corners of his lips. Perhaps it was wrong, but he had to admit he enjoyed putting her off balance. It had been too long since he’d had a worthy opponent to butt heads with and he got the feeling that Mari would be up to the challenge. It was worth it to see that firelight in her gray-blue eyes and her color rise. So much better than her icy withdrawal.

  They stepped into the lobby area. “What did you want to see me about?” he asked, surveying the lobby. He looked at the floor. They’d get rid of some of those fussy carpets, polish the stone beneath. And the lighting was wrong. This lobby was comfortable but cluttered. It needed space, and light amongst the richness. Let them play off each other.

  “I didn’t. You ran into me, remember?”

  “Ah, yes. A happy accident indeed.” He let his eyes twinkle at her. “And you were in a spectacular rush.”

  “I thought of something this morning that may come in handy during your redecorating.”

  “Yes?” She had his attention.

  “And you’re noticeably agitated that your designer isn’t at your beck and call within the hour.”

  His eyebrow raised at that. She was going to keep him on his toes. She was correct. He’d wanted to get started right away and he was being forced to wait.

  “Perhaps.”

  “And people always do what you tell them.”

  “Usually, yes. With a notable exception.” He aimed a pointed glare at her.

  She held up a key.

  She was playing with him now and it amused him as much as annoyed him. She’d never once in their meetings shown a fun side. “I’m assuming that is to a door. A door you’re going to tell me about.”

  The faintest of smiles cracked her face. She looked very different when she put away that cold façade. Her eyes lightened and she seemed almost like a precocious child. Like there was more to her than fusty suits that covered as much skin as possible and prim hairstyles. He stared at the utilitarian twist and wondered what it would look like if she let it down. If it would be soft and pliant. Like her skin. He remembered the feel of the nearly translucent skin just beneath her palm. Would the rest of her be as fragile and soft?

  Now that wouldn’t be wise at all. Even if
a man couldn’t help but wonder.

  “I was going to check it out first, but I suppose you want to come along. It’s to the attic.”

  “You’ve an attic?”

  Her smile grew as she nodded. “We do. And if we find what I think is there, you’re going to be happy I thought of it. Then you can stop obsessing about getting your designer in and focus on something else.”

  He ignored the barb, too excited by the idea of a treasure hunt. “Then lead on, by all means.”

  They took the service elevator to the top floor. Stepping out into a windowless corridor, Mari stepped to the right toward a large double door. “This is our storage area. I remembered it this morning. Something you said last night twigged with me, about a golden age.” She turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open.

  Inside was like finding buried treasure. A film of dust covered everything: chairs, tables, desks, divans, even paintings and sculptures. A room full of potential, waiting to be rediscovered. The hotel must have been a glory in its early days, Luca thought, before someone came along and decided to change it. His eyes lit on a particularly fine tallboy. Whoever had relegated it to the attic should have been whipped. It was too fine, too valuable, to be hidden away in an airless, forgotten room.

  “Dear God.” Luca stepped inside. There was little order to it, but he knew already she’d uncovered a gold mine. Excitement drummed in his veins. He wasn’t changing the hotel at all. He was restoring it. The idea thrilled him. He enjoyed the creating part of his job so much more than the management. It was a large reason why he wanted to step out of his father’s shadow. “Why are these things not displayed?”

  “I can only assume that renovations over the years have relegated them to the bench.”

  “The bench?”

  “You know, when sports players aren’t on the field. They’re benched.”

  “Right.” He stepped around an old rolltop desk, a layer of dust hiding what he knew would be a gleaming walnut finish. “Feel it, Mari. There’s history in this room. So much history.” If only Dean could be here sooner. They’d take an inventory and choose which pieces would be used in the decoration. Luca wanted to start right now.

  But perhaps now was the time to explore.

  He looked over at Mari. Prickly as thorns, but he could tell she was enjoying this. It was in the way her eyes lit up, or her fingers daintily touched the back of a tufted chair. She was picking her way to the far right, stepping gingerly and careful not to disturb the dust. She was a careful one, he was coming to understand. Always a deliberate move. Always a purpose. He wondered why. What had made her so cautious, when it was clear that inside she had vision fighting to get out?

  “Here it is.”

  He gave a plush wine velvet divan a longing look as he passed by, making his way to her. Only to find her standing beside a huge gilt and crystal chandelier that had been hidden by two armoires.

  “It’s seen better days. But I thought I remembered it here.”

  Luca reached out and touched a large teardrop shaped crystal, sending it tinkling against identical drops. “It’s stunning. It’s perfect.”

  “It is lovely.”

  Luca looked up at her. Ah, so the chandelier’s magic wasn’t all lost on her. The wistful turn of her lips told him so. A tendril of hair had come loose from her ever-present bun and kissed her cheek. She looked up at him and their eyes met, held. He could already picture the chandelier gracing the ballroom, the shots of light glancing off the crystals on to the gleaming floor and polished wood. Could picture Mari in the middle of it, slim and elegant in a golden evening dress, smiling at him. She was, he realized, cool class and grace. Timeless. His ingénue.

  “You love it, too. I can see it on your face.”

  Something changed at his words, breaking the spell. Her eyes cooled and she straightened her shoulders, looking away. “It makes perfect sense to use these things if they fit in with your renovations. Much cheaper than purchasing new.”

  “Oh, it’s not about the money, don’t pretend otherwise. Look at this place.” He turned, laughing to himself to shake away the intensity he’d felt in the moment. At least she was consistent, protesting about the bottom line. But he’d seen the look of longing in her eyes and he’d wanted her to look at him that way. Every moment she intrigued him more, but he was also increasingly aware that she wasn’t the kind of woman a man trifled with. He forced himself back to the task. “Each of these pieces has a story, can’t you feel it?”

  He took a few steps and stopped in front of a gilded mirror. He swiped a hand over the glass, clearing a stripe of dust away. “Oh, Mari, such beautiful pieces. Neglected for so long, forgotten. Just waiting for someone to discover them and make them new again. To make them shine.”

  When she said nothing, he looked back. She was trapped with the armoires on one side, the chandelier on the other and he was blocking her path back to the door. She was standing so very still, as if he’d struck her, and he didn’t know why. He got the sense that she was crying, but that was ridiculous because her eyes were bone-dry in her pale face. For some odd reason he wanted to erase the distance between them and take her in his arms. As soon as he thought it, he mentally stepped backward.

  Enjoying playing cat and mouse was one thing. Having fanciful thoughts was well and good. Acting on it was another. And this situation was already complicated enough without him adding to it by getting involved with the hotel manager. It wouldn’t be suitable. It would be messy. And he didn’t do messy relationships. He didn’t do any relationships at all, beyond the no-strings-attached ones. He’d determined long ago not to let his heart get involved with a woman. He never wanted to give a woman the power to destroy him the way his mother had his father. The way Ellie had nearly destroyed him.

  “Please excuse me, I need to get back. If you’ll lock the door when you leave…”

  She took halting steps toward him, cueing him to move out of the way. But he couldn’t, not hearing that cold, dry tone in her voice. He didn’t know what he’d said to cause such a reaction but he knew for certain that she was not all right and that superceded his own concerns.

  She stopped a few feet from him. “Please, excuse me,” she repeated, her eyes gray against her washed-out pallor.

  He started to step aside so she could pass, but at the last moment he couldn’t let her go without checking she was okay. He moved forward, reached out, clasped her elbow.

  “Get your hands off me.”

  She said it quietly, calmly, but the underlying venom in it shocked him so much that he stepped back, immediately releasing her elbow. He hadn’t thought it possible but she paled even further.

  “Don’t ever touch me again,” she said stridently, as she quickly picked a path around the scattered forgotten furniture. She scrambled out the door, leaving it open. Seconds later he heard the elevator pause, open and close again.

  He sat down on the nearest chair, releasing a puff of dust. He’d only been trying to be a gentleman when she was clearly in distress. It was obvious that whatever attraction he’d felt earlier was not reciprocated. She was cold, irritating, dictatorial. Nothing but a complication. He should fire her and get on with turning the Fiori Cascade into the hotel it was meant to be.

  But he couldn’t do that. She was good at what she did, he could tell. He’d promised her no one would lose their jobs. That had included her.

  And Luca Fiori was a man of his word.

  When he went back to the administration offices, her door was closed. He knocked, then opened it.

  It was like the scene upstairs had never happened. Her suit was straight, brushed of any dust. Her color was back, enhanced by fresh lipstick and her hair was tidied, even more severely pinned in place, if that were possible.

  The sting of the insult had worn away and he’d been left with the very empty knowledge that for some unknown reason, Mari was afraid of him.

  “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  She
looked up from what she was writing and pasted on what he was rapidly coming to understand was her face-the-public smile. “I’m fine, thank you. A little behind after our tour, though.” She looked back down at her paper and began writing again.

  He wrinkled his brow. The woman before him was cool, assured, in control. A direct contrast to the woman who’d nearly come unglued the moment he’d put a hand on her elbow. A woman practiced at hiding her feelings, who happened to have slipped and let him witness a weak moment.

  He should nod and walk away. It was none of his business. But then he remembered the stark look of nakedness he’d seen on her face when he’d spoken of the antiques. She’d looked like a woman who’d been stripped bare. He couldn’t ignore that, even if he wanted to. If he let this go now, it would stand between them the entire time they worked together. It would be far better to get it out in the open. Move on.

  “Do you want to talk about it, Mari?”

  With a sigh she put down the pen, placed her hands flat on her desk and crossed her legs. “Talk about what, Luca?”

  “About what happened in the attic.”

  She looked away. “No, I don’t.”

  “You were frightened. I want to know why.”

  “I was not frightened. I happen to be…claustrophobic.”

  It was paltry and he saw through it. But he could not make her talk and he hardly knew her well enough to pry. Still…

  “I did not realize that when I reached for your arm.”

  Her hands remained flat on the blotter and she met his eyes coolly. “Luca, I am a person who does not like her personal space invaded. I’m not a touchy person. That’s all. I’m sorry if that is blunt, or rude.”

  “It is honest, and I appreciate it. So it is not just me you don’t want to touch you, it is everyone.”

  Her cheeks flamed. “That’s correct.”

  “It’s nothing personal.”

  She swallowed, and his gaze was drawn to the curve of her throat. Damn, it sure felt personal right now.