by Donna Alward
“But…” he prompted.
She looked over her shoulder. “But it speaks to me somehow. I can’t tell you what this is a painting of. I can only tell you that I feel connected to it somehow.”
She turned back to the painting, her eyes drawn to the scarlet centre.
“So my Mari feels first and thinks later. I’m surprised.” His words, his breath caressed the skin behind her ear, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. A warmth flooded her at being called his. It made her feel protected, like she belonged somewhere. And that with belonging, a sort of freedom she hadn’t expected. She remembered how he’d described the view from his suite that very first day. Freedom. Little had she imagined then. Had she ever felt this way before, in her entire life? Like around every corner was an open door?
Had Luca changed her that much? How had he snuck past all her defenses so easily?
She half turned. “Surprised? Didn’t you think I had feelings, Luca?” She did have feelings, so many of them that she refused to show the world. Letting people see inside her gave them power. It was much better to think, and wait. She’d been thinking a lot about Luca lately, and letting him in bit by bit, despite reservations. She couldn’t seem to help herself, and couldn’t pinpoint it any more than she could say exactly what it was about the painting that was so striking.
“Of course I did.” He tucked an errant hair behind her ear. “I merely wondered what would finally make them break free.”
She paused slightly, but she was growing bolder; dealing with him on a daily basis and having to stick up for herself had achieved that. She’d learned to trust him a little, and trust was uncharacteristic of her. And yes, he drove her crazy when he bossed her around. But he also touched her heart when he was gentle with her, as if he already knew her secrets.
After years of planning every moment, every aspect of her life, the ability to break out of the box was exciting. She wished he’d kiss her again, like he had on the balcony after dinner the other night. Like he had just minutes ago. She looked up and met his eyes boldly. “What if I told you it was you?”
His golden eyes met hers. Clung. Without anything happening between them she felt the power of their earlier kiss. Swayed closer to him.
“Tell me why this painting.” He broke the connection and faced the work of art.
She looked back at it, her heart thudding. The opportunity was gone but she hadn’t imagined the link between them.
She wasn’t sure why this particular painting spoke so strongly to her. It wasn’t a painting of anything concrete at all, just a swirl of color. It wasn’t of people that reminded her of someone, or mountains or lakes or places. It was a vertical rectangle with the color of twilight forming the background, the tones and shades swirling together in an ocean of blues. And bisecting it, a splash of deep, throbbing red.
“It’s peace,” she murmured, taking a step closer to it. Without thinking she reached down and took his hand in hers. “It’s tranquillity and contentment and a thudding heart.” When she looked at it, it made her ache. Made her hope, and that was something she’d given up on long ago. Hope was about the future, and she lived day to day. Luca would think that silly, she was sure, so she kept the last to herself.
Luca smiled, though he was unusually unsettled. He’d called her “his” Mari without thinking, and it shocked him to realize he thought of her that way. He’d meant to share the art with her, but it had become more very quickly and he felt the need to back away. The way she’d looked up at him, the way she’d credited him with her response, sent warning bells crashing through him.
It was all his fault. He’d ignored the signs and had told himself that he wasn’t getting in too deep. Because he’d sworn not to.
He was about casual liaisons, but nothing about his feelings for Mari were simple or casual. It was a miscalculation he hadn’t counted on. He’d be a liar if he didn’t admit he had looked for an excuse to see her today. The kiss last night had affected him more than he’d expected. And he’d enjoyed knowing it had affected her, too, seeing her back in form when he’d arrived this morning. He’d taken pleasure knowing he’d gotten to her, seeing her trussed up in her suit and with her hair pulled back. Wearing her battle armor. Keeping him at arm’s length. She had been right about one thing. He did enjoy a challenge.
But something had changed. It was more than enjoying her company, of matching wits. There was a connection with Mari that he hadn’t anticipated. He felt it when she’d reacted to the painting. And when their eyes had met moments ago. And when he’d kissed her earlier this afternoon.
He took a step back, his brows pulling together as he stared at her back. “That’s the meaning of art, Mari. It doesn’t have to make sense. It just needs to mean something.”
She stepped up to the canvas and looked at the price. “That’s insane.”
He looked at the number. It wasn’t exorbitant, but he remembered again that he was used to Fiori money and that such a sum was nothing to him. For someone in Mari’s situation, he imagined it was quite different.
“Think of how it elicited such a reaction from you, and then try to quantify it. Can you put a price on that?”
“I can and have.” She smiled, even as she gazed wistfully at the canvas.
He laughed, he couldn’t help it. Mari was so charmingly practical. It reminded him how far apart they were and he took a little comfort in it. She was not for him. He was not for her. She was the kind of woman who looked for long-term stability, and he traveled around the world with his job, settling nowhere. This was just a blip on the radar.
“I could afford it, if I didn’t eat for the next year. This is why art is in museums rather than living rooms.”
She started to walk away. “I don’t know why I was so struck by it anyway.”
“You don’t need to know why. Sometimes understanding takes all the magic away.”
Once he’d said the words he considered them. Mari moved down the wall, looking at the next pieces and he watched her. Maybe he was making this too complicated. An attraction did not a fairy tale make. And he was the last person on earth to believe in fairy tales. Gina believed enough for the two of them and he was happy for her. But it wasn’t something he was willing to risk himself.
Gina had been young and full of her own grief at their mother’s abandonment. Luca had been a little older. He had seen the toll it had taken on his father. He’d realized his father had truly loved his mother. Time and again he’d seen his father try to win her love only to fail, and in the end losing her had broken Papa’s heart. Luca had never wanted to put himself through that anguish.
Maybe it was doing this job for too long that had him dissatisfied. Tired of the endless travel and rootlessness, of living out of a suitcase and only going home for holidays. Maybe that was what intrigued him about Mari. She knew her place and was happy in it.
He was smart enough to know it wasn’t him she was enamored with. She was taken with the changes; with experiencing new things and it was breathtaking to watch her blossom. But he wasn’t fool enough to believe it was him, as she said.
He wouldn’t take it further than it had already gone, and in the end they’d part as friends. He’d return to Italy.
The idea didn’t seem as charming as it had a few weeks ago. What was waiting for him at home seemed flat and lackluster now. More than ever he longed to break free and take his own place within the company. To step out of the shadows. To be Luca, not just the son and brother.
Mari returned to his side. “Have you finished?” She placed her hand on his sleeve. “I thought I’d do a little shopping of my own before the stores close. But if you’re not…I can stay.”
He wanted her to stay with him, he realized. And he didn’t like knowing it. Didn’t like knowing he’d somehow lost control of the situation he himself had orchestrated. He had to keep it to their original agreement. So that no one got hurt in the end. Maybe he wasn’t looking for love, but he sure wasn’t looking to
hurt anyone, either.
“No, you go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You’re sure?”
He leaned over and on impulse dropped a light kiss on Mari’s lips, wondering why in the world they tasted like strawberries. “I’m positive.” He aimed a winning smile at her.
“All right then. Don’t forget, we have a meeting in the morning with the landscape designer for our spring plans.”
“I’ll be there.”
She squeezed his hand and grabbed her shopping bags. He turned around and looked at the painting again, but for the life of him he didn’t see a beating heart.
Mari took a moment to roll her shoulders back and forth, easing out the tension. There had been too many long days in a row, she realized. There had been no more kisses, and she had told herself that was for the best even as she felt the dull ache of disappointment. Reminded herself of it even as she caught herself staring at his perfect lips in meetings or when they met in his office or hers about the renovations.
Once she walked in while he had Gina on speakerphone. She’d paused, unsure of what to do, but Luca had waved her in. His hair stood up in rows where his fingers had run through it and the scowl line was back between his brows. They were speaking in Italian, but at the end, his voice softened. “I love you, Gigi. Ciao.”
The line was disconnected.
“You’re worried about her. Is everything okay?”
His smile was thin. “It will be. She says hello, by the way.”
Their obvious closeness made her wish once more for the family she’d never had. Seeing Luca with his sister, teasing, arguing, and like today—always supportive—made her long for it.
For the first time, she felt free to be herself. Luca had no expectations of her and that was liberating. The way he smiled seemed as if it were just for her. The way he’d held her hand felt like it had always been that way. And his kisses had taken her breath away. Even knowing it was imprudent, she couldn’t help but wish he’d do it again.
The clincher had been when the delivery man had arrived on Saturday morning.
She’d carefully unwrapped the package, staring down at the painting she’d admired during their trip to the gallery. The fact that he had spent so much money to buy it and give it to her said it all. It didn’t require a note, but there was a brief one anyway, scrawled on a plain white card…
When it speaks to your heart, you know it’s the right one.
No one had ever given her such a gift. And it wasn’t the money. She knew now that the price tag meant nothing to Luca. And it hadn’t been for appearances; if he’d wanted to impress he would have given her jewelry. This was more personal. It was perfect.
She had yet to thank him, though. Saturday had rolled into Sunday and she’d spent the day cleaning and picking up groceries…she hadn’t noticed the fridge, but she had noticed Tommy’s empty food bowl. Now it was Monday and the opportunity hadn’t arisen.
She wasn’t sure what she’d say. She’d glimpsed him this morning, walking through the lobby and her heart had given a little leap just at the sight of him. She was falling for him. She hadn’t wanted a relationship and even now it wasn’t a real one, but she couldn’t help her feelings. She saw so many things in Luca to love. She knew now she’d seen them in the beginning, but hadn’t recognized them as they’d been blanketed in her own fears and insecurities. The truth was, he was a conscientious, caring boss who worked hard and was extremely capable. Luca wasn’t the irresponsible playboy she’d expected. He was nothing like.
If she thanked him for the painting now, she’d probably make a complete fool of herself and say something sentimental.
She had to keep her head. Soon Luca would be gone. She’d get over her feelings. She’d be fine. She’d look back on it all as a beautiful time.
Mari stepped into the lobby, her eyes taking in the changes that were ongoing. The lobby was, for all intents and purposes, operating in half its usual square footage while the other half underwent its transformation. Even though they’d cordoned off the area being worked on, there was still mess and disorder, and she wondered if it would have been better to close the hotel for a few months. On the other hand…she looked at the staff. They were doing a fantastic job of adjusting. More than one had mentioned to her how excited they were to be able to take part in it all. And while she’d felt duty-bound to try to keep a check on the plans, she could admit to herself that Luca had been right. He was good at his job. The hotel was going to be stunning when it was completed.
But as she turned, she caught sight of a man at the makeshift reception desk. Something about him unnerved Mari. She couldn’t pinpoint it, but a cold feeling of uneasiness swept through her. Colleen, the employee behind the desk, had a smile pasted on her face but Mari could tell it was forced. The man gestured with his hands and Mari heard his raised voice carry across the lobby, over the construction noise.
But it was her job to deal with this sort of thing, no matter how distasteful. She gave her shoulders one last roll, put on her friendliest smile and went forward.
“Good afternoon, and welcome to the Fiori Cascade. Is there some way I can be of assistance?”
Colleen’s taut cheeks relaxed a bit. “Good afternoon, Ms. Ross. I was just explaining to Mr. Reilly that we’ve adjusted his reservation to a room on the third floor. Due to the renovations.”
Mr. Reilly was not appeased. “And I was telling her—” he turned his back on Colleen altogether “—that arrangement is completely unacceptable.”
Mari clenched her teeth. He had presented his back to Colleen, the slight deliberate and rude. But he was their guest and he had been inconvenienced. It was her job to smooth ruffled feathers. “I’m the manager here, perhaps I can be of help. You were booked in which room?”
“The Primrose,” Colleen supplied over his shoulder.
Mari kept the warm smile in place. The Primrose Room was one of their best, and it was also nonexistent now. “I’m afraid the room you originally booked is now involved in extensive renovations. To compensate you, Mr. Reilly, we can accommodate you in a third floor executive suite at no additional cost. I’m sure you’ll find the room more than satisfactory. Our executive suites feature a generously sized—”
“I reserved this room three months ago and it’s the room I’ll have,” he interrupted sharply. “I don’t want a suite on the third floor. I want the Primrose.”
Mari breathed in measured breaths. Everything about Reilly was pushing her buttons, from his rudeness to his sense of obligation to the belligerent tone of voice.
“And I’m very sorry it’s impossible, as the room is part of our upgrading.” She tried a smile, hoping to appeal to his common sense. “Presently the room is full of plywood and power tools. As manager here, I do apologize on behalf of the hotel and will be more than happy to move you to the suite and also include breakfast each morning. I assure you, Mr. Reilly, our executive suites are beyond compare.” Her voice came out warm and confident, but inside she was trembling, hating the confrontation.
She tried to remember the exercises her therapist had taught her. It went against everything she’d learned growing up. That to stay silent meant to stay safe. It was her job to talk to him. Yet for a moment she became the girl huddled in a corner hoping to be left alone.
She looked over his shoulder at Colleen. “You’ll see to it, Colleen?”
“Yes, Ms. Ross.”
Mari aimed a parting smile at him and took two steps away.
“If you think that’s good enough, you’re mistaken, missy. Don’t you walk away from me!”
A heavy hand reached out and gripped her wrist painfully, jerking her back and she yelped and cowered before she could think better of it. Her eyes closed, waiting for what would come next, the sound of Colleen’s shocked gasp vibrating through her. She stilled. It was only worse when she showed pain or fear.
“Is there a problem here?”
Mari gazed up at Luca, wanting to weep with gratitu
de. Luca, eyes dark with fury, glared like an avenging angel at the man holding her arm. She’d never been so glad to see someone in all her life.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” the man sneered, giving her wrist an extra squeeze. Mari couldn’t help the wince that flickered over her face, and instantly saw a muscle in Luca’s jaw twitch in response.
“I strongly suggest you release the lady’s arm.” He uttered the words softly but the steely threat was unmistakable. When Reilly didn’t immediately comply, Luca’s voice was dangerously low. “While you still can.”
“We were just having a little disagreement, that’s all,” the man replied, looking disappointed at having to relinquish his hold on Mari. Now that her wrist was free, she rubbed it with her hand. She knew she should say something, but words refused to come. She stood dumbly, staring at Luca.
“Mari, are you all right?” He temporarily took his eyes off the man, the look of genuine concern reaching through the fear and touching her deep inside. Luca wouldn’t let anything happen to her. She nodded slightly and forced calm breaths. All she wanted was for Reilly to leave. To get him out of her sight.
“Perhaps I may be of some assistance,” Luca suggested tightly, his polite words laced with venom. Mari held her breath, hoping Luca didn’t resort to violence. Causing a scene was clearly what the man wanted. A chill ran over her body. She knew his kind. The kind that wanted to provoke a fight. Who thought physical power solved everything.
“And who might you be?”
“Luca Fiori. Owner of this hotel.”
The man smiled suddenly. “Mr. Fiori. I think perhaps you need to teach your staff the principle of the customer is always right. I booked the Primrose Room months ago, and now I’m being put in some third-rate room.”
Mari spoke for the first time. She lifted her chin and willed her voice to come out without the wobble she felt inside. “I moved Mr. Reilly to the suites on the third floor.”
“The Fiori Cascade is very sorry for the inconvenience, as I’m sure our manager, Ms. Ross, communicated to you.” Reilly started to open his mouth but Luca cut him off. “However, we do not tolerate abuse of any kind toward our staff. She has generously booked you in one of our most exclusive suites. I’m sure you’ll find it more than satisfactory.”
