Hired: The Italian's Bride (10 page)

“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 gratitude. 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.”

“I assure you I won’t.” He turned his head and glared at Mari.

Mari dropped her gaze to the floor. She didn’t want to challenge him in any way. Luca was letting him stay. It was smart businesswise, but she couldn’t help being disappointed. She refused to look up. If he had to think he’d won, fine. It was better than the alternative.

Luca saw Mari’s gaze drop and stay focused on the floor. She was still afraid. For the tiniest flash, he remembered her vibrancy, her laughter, on the night that they danced together. No man—client or not—had the right to frighten her, to intimidate her. To use force against her. He held his temper, but only just.

“Come to think of it, Mr. Reilly, we’re terribly sorry but the Cascade has no vacancies at this time. I’m certain you’ll be able to find lodging at one of Banff’s other fine establishments. Please leave.”

“Like hell! I intend to let head office know of this!”

His attempts to defuse the situation had failed and Luca knew that he couldn’t have such a person staying at the hotel
under any circumstances. This scene had to end and end now. If Reilly would do this in a public lobby, what would happen if housekeeping upset him in some way? He had a duty to protect his staff. He had a duty to Mari. Luca knew Reilly would follow through and lodge a complaint, even if it meant he would only make a fool of himself.

“Please do. I’m sure my assistant will forward your complaint to me with the utmost expediency.”

“You bast…”

Luca interrupted, any pretence of amicability gone. His words were clipped and final. “I am sure the local authorities would be happy to provide transportation, if you can’t leave under your own power.” Luca flicked a finger by his thigh, knowing two of the hotel security would join them within seconds. He would have preferred not to get police involved, but there was a limit and Mr. Reilly had crossed it.

Reilly squared his shoulders, gathered his bags and strode out of the lobby, cursing the whole way.

Mari looked up at him, her cheeks still devoid of healthy color. “I’m sorry, Luca, I didn’t mean to…”

“Don’t apologize. Come with me.”

She followed meekly. He didn’t touch her anywhere but she felt pulled along just the same. “Where are we going?”

“To my suite, so you can get yourself together.”

He opened the door with his key and she went inside ahead of him. He went to the cabinet and poured a small amount of brandy in a glass. He handed it to her. “Drink this. It will put the color back in your cheeks.”

Mari sipped, opening her mouth wide and gasping as the liquor burned.

He was angry. She’d handled everything wrong and he was angry at her. At least he was going to have the grace to discuss it in private.

“Luca, I’m sorry.” She took another fortifying sip of the brandy and handed him back the glass.

“Sorry for what?”

“It’s my job to deal with our guests and I failed today.”

“For God’s sake, quit apologizing for that ape’s behavior!”

She stepped back at his outburst.

He tempered his tone at her reaction. “I’m the one that’s sorry, Mariella. When I saw him grab you…you looked like you were about to collapse in a heap. It made me insensible.”

“You’re not angry with me?”

He stepped forward and crushed her into his arms. “No, darling,” he whispered into her ear. “I’m not angry.”

Tears stung the backs of her eyelids as they slid closed. His wide hand cradled the back of her head as she leaned against him.

“I saw him touch you and I wanted to grab him by the neck and throw him out,” Luca ground out beside her ear. “But that’s not Fiori. At least that’s not what the hotel stands for. Fiori is class and elegance, not brawling in the lobby. Even if he deserved it.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. I…I hate violence. But I was afraid, Luca. So afraid.”

“It took all I had to hold my temper.”

She stepped back out of his arms. “You may think you were polite, but I saw the look of thunder on your face. Oh, Luca, I was so glad to see you. I knew you wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”

He lifted a finger and ran it over her cheek. “I’d never let him hurt you, Mariella.”

“But I know…I know what men like Reilly can do.”

And then the shakes hit.

Mari felt the trembling strike deep inside and was helpless to control it. Her body went cold and suddenly it was impossible to get enough air. She stared straight ahead but could hear the gasping of her own strident breath.

“Porco mondo!”
Mari barely registered Luca’s exclamation as his hands gripped her arms and pushed her down on the sofa. He said something to her in fast Italian. The breaths came fast and shallow and she started to see gray spots.

“Damn it! Mari, put your head between your legs!” He bit out the command and she felt the pressure of his hand against her head, pushing it down. She closed her eyes and fought against the darkness. “Breathe, darling,” his voice came, gentler now, and she concentrated simply on the in and out of respiration.

Reilly was gone. Robert was gone. No one would hurt her.

If she said it over enough, perhaps she’d believe it.

After a few minutes she’d gained control again. The shakes had hit her so hard and fast she hadn’t been prepared, though she should have been. She’d had them often enough before. It just hadn’t happened for a very long time. She’d let her guard down since being with Luca day in and day out. She was safe here with him. He was looking after her and knowing it made her want to cry all over again. She was always alone. This time she wasn’t. Luca was here.

“You…I thought you were going to hit him,” she murmured, bracing her arms on her knees and holding her head.

“And I wanted to, the moment I saw him put his hand on you. But sometimes there are better ways to accomplish things than with fists. He’s gone now, and he won’t be back. Not to any Fiori hotel. I’ll make sure of it.”

At his words a tear snuck out of the corner of her eye and she blotted it. He couldn’t know how much his words meant to her. How much he’d risen in her eyes, just knowing he’d preferred a calmer, more effective way to deal with a brute. Knowing he had had that urge to protect her, yet controlled his temper.

The warmth of his body disappeared for a moment and she heard him over at the bar. When he came back he pressed a
glass of water into her hands. “This might work better than the brandy,” he suggested quietly, his fingers cupping hers around the glass.

She took a grateful sip. Wondered what she could possibly say to make him understand. Understand both why she’d reacted the way she had and also understand how much it meant to her, having him there with her.

“Mariella, is there anything you could have done to make Reilly happy?”

She took another sip. “Short of magically making the Primrose Room appear out of our new massage facility, I doubt it. But I should have found a way. We were the ones who inconvenienced him. I should have found a better way. He was within his rights to be angry…”

“Don’t you dare make excuses. Don’t you dare, Mariella. There is no excuse for a man raising his hand to a woman. Ever.”

In the moment when Reilly had grabbed her arm, she had forgotten everything she’d learned since that day seven years ago. She’d forgotten how to be right and instead had only known what it was to feel wrong. And Luca was right. She was making excuses. She’d been good at it. Good at blaming herself, at playing the “if only” game. If only she’d been smarter, prettier, better behaved. If only she’d said something different, or nothing at all. If she hadn’t looked into his eyes, if she’d cooked the pasta a few minutes longer, if only, if only, if only.

And for a few seconds, she’d truly believed, if only she had looked away, said something differently, maybe Mr. Reilly wouldn’t have grabbed her. Seven years of progress down the drain.

“Mariella.” Luca knelt by her knees. “Sweetheart. I saw your face when he put his hands on you. You went so pale. That’s happened to you before, hasn’t it.”

She would not cry. She would not.

She nodded, a tiny affirmation.

“Oh, Mariella, I am so sorry.”

This kinder, gentler Luca was tearing her defenses apart bit by bit. Every place his hand touched was warmed and reassured. Every word he said healed something inside her. She didn’t want his pity. All she wanted was his understanding and…and…

And his love. It was all she’d ever really wanted and she hadn’t even known it.

Luca continued on. “It all makes sense now. That day in the attic, all those times you didn’t want to be touched. Who was he, Mariella? An ex-husband?”

She shook her head.

“A boyfriend then.”

Mari shook her head again. “No, nothing like that.” She could trust Luca, she knew that in her heart. They could deny their feelings all they wanted, but the way he’d rushed to her rescue proved it. He had earned the right to the truth. To know why she’d acted the way she had all these weeks. “It was my stepfather.”

Luca said a word in Italian she didn’t understand but the meaning was clear enough. “He beat you?”

“Yes. Me and…and my mother.”

Luca stood, went to the bar, poured himself a drink far more generous than the one he’d given her and tossed it back.

“And where is he now?”

Mari folded her hands in her lap. It helped with the trembling. She tried not to think about the beatings. About how Robert would turn to her after he’d gotten tired of pushing her mother around. “He…he was in jail, but he’s out now. He made parole the day before you and I went…” She had to stop, breathe, swallow. “The day in the attic.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

She looked up from her lap then. What she saw in Luca’s eyes she knew she’d remember to her dying day. He wasn’t
angry with her, he was angry
for
her. Ready to stand between her and whoever would dare to hurt her.