Hired: The Italian's Bride (9 page)

Things like this simply didn’t last.

When they reached the car, he leaned over and kissed her temple before she got in. “You look radiant,” he murmured in her ear.

The spot on her scalp where he’d pressed his lips burned. He was acting as though they did this every day, for Pete’s sake! All the feelings from last night’s fairy tale came rushing back, and she tried to push them away. “It’s the facial,” she replied curtly, sliding over and buckling her seat belt.

They started with a small gallery tucked in behind Banff Avenue. Mari examined piece by piece, from soapstone sculptures to paintings to spectacular photographic work. As the visit continued, Mari felt like she was swept along with a whirlwind…only everywhere she turned, there was Luca, a few steps behind her. Always aware of him, the sound of his voice as he spoke to the proprietor. And using softer, more intimate tones for her.

It was hard to ignore him. Even if she really wanted to.

The saleslady was off to wrap a few of their smaller purchases to take with them, when Luca’s hands draped over her shoulders, his fingers gripping the ends of her scarf. She jumped at the contact.

“Nervous?”

If only he knew. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to sudden moves like that, even if it were Luca doing it. She breathed away the adrenaline rush. “I didn’t see you behind me.”

“This is lovely. The shade brings out the gray in your eyes.”

“My eyes are ordinary blue.”

She turned around to face him, expecting to see him smiling at her. Instead he was gazing at her, a serious expression clouding his eyes.

“Your eyes, Mariella, are anything but ordinary,” he murmured, and before she could catch her breath, he dipped his head and touched her lips with his.

Her fingers gripped his arm as the gentle contact seared through her. His lips were soft as they explored her mouth, undemanding yet beguiling. He pulled away slightly, their breath mingling, waiting. Mari dimly remembered they were standing in the middle of a shop, but the noise faded away to a distant hum as she leaned in the inch and a half to kiss him again. Her eyelids drifted closed and Luca’s free hand cupped her cheek.

The tenderness of it made her want to weep.

She hadn’t realized, hadn’t thought that the absence of affection had left such a huge hole. She hadn’t wanted contact, or tenderness, or even kindness. Hadn’t wanted to make herself vulnerable. She still didn’t. But when Luca touched her this way, kissed her this way, like she was precious, she craved more of it. Like gentle, steady rain after a long drought.

He broke the kiss when a car horn honked outside on the street.

“Luca,” she whispered. She’d come here to keep an eye on his purchases. To make sure he didn’t outspend them again. To make sure she still had a say in the decisions being made.

Only it had backfired. She’d allowed him in and…dear God. She had
feelings
for him. Alarm thudded through her. She didn’t do feelings! She had to keep things level. Luca wasn’t really interested in
her,
she wasn’t his type of woman. She knew that. Thank goodness one of them was thinking rationally.

Yet the thought that Luca wasn’t interested in her at all left her crushed with disappointment. How could that be, when it was what she wanted? She didn’t want to be closer to him, did she?

She lifted her confused eyes to his.

And was shocked to see her feelings mirrored back at her. He didn’t say anything. But she knew. She knew she hadn’t been alone in being affected by the kiss.

“There you go.” The saleslady held out two bags, smiling like finding them in an embrace was a sweet secret. “The rest of your purchases will be shipped to the hotel.”

Mari felt Luca’s body behind her as she turned, the solid wall of him against her back as he put his arm around her, cradling her against him as he rested his chin atop her head. Mari wanted to beg him,
please don’t be so kind
. And somehow she heard his unspoken answer:
Let me in.

They left the shop and ventured on foot to the next, cradled between two restaurants on the busy main street. As he held the door for her, he murmured, “That’s probably not a good idea, letting that happen again.”

She stepped inside the door, the scent of vanilla and lavender teasing her nose. “No?”

“You’re the manager, and I’m the owner. It wouldn’t be good for appearances.”

Mari nearly laughed. Luca, concerned about appearances? He was the one who wandered through the hotel in jeans instead of business suits. He was the one who asked for picnics and dinners and shunned anything traditional. He was the one who had his picture in magazines with a new woman on his arm every month, it seemed. “If I remember correctly,
you
kissed
me.
”

“I believe you kissed me back.”

Something in the last few days had caused something to break free in Mari. Instead of backing off she lifted her chin. “That’s hardly the point now, is it.”

“Fiori does have an image to uphold, Mariella.”

Mari goggled.

“Who are you and what have you done with Luca?”

He only offered a tight smile in response. Mari stepped inside the gallery, immediately surrounded by pieces by local artists. She was secretly pleased he wanted to showcase local art. It was part of what the Cascade should be about. She was beginning to see that. This place was like no other place on earth. It deserved to be showcased as such.

She found some particularly interesting carvings and when she looked up, Luca had moved on. She spied him in a side room, his hands in his pockets as he looked at paintings. She sighed. He was so…something. He was just so Luca. He made no apologies for it. The self-assurance was sexy, she realized. He’d been molded and shaped long ago, when his mother had left all of them. Now he knew who he was. She envied that.

When she reached him, he didn’t look at her but simply said, “There are some wonderful pieces here.”

For a moment she wondered about the cost of adding original art to the hotel. But put it aside for once. How could she worry about dollars and cents for her livelihood, when she’d splurged for perfectly selfish reasons today?

“I haven’t been in here before.”

“Don’t you like art?”

He stopped his perusal and turned his head. The kiss they’d shared was suddenly in the front of her mind.

“I haven’t given it much thought.”

He turned back to the painting before him.

She found a bench and put down her bags. It was true. She hadn’t had time for things like art appreciation. In the last store she’d merely followed his lead. She’d had more immediate needs, more pressing concerns. Like getting her life back. Taking charge. Moving forward instead of being paralyzed by fear.

And she’d done quite well, until that phone call. The one telling her Robert had served his time. Had fulfilled his debt
to society. It was no solace at all—what about his debt to her? To her mother? Where was he now? She could swear up and down she’d rebuilt her life, but all she’d done was run. Run and pretend. Now she didn’t even know where her mother was. If she’d run, as well. If she was even okay. She’d gone years telling herself it didn’t matter, but now with Robert out of prison, her thoughts kept turning back to the one parent she had.

Luca didn’t get any of that. Nor would he. She couldn’t bring herself to explain it to him. Despite their newfound closeness, she certainly didn’t know him, or trust him enough to fill him in on the sordid details.

“Are you feeling well?”

“Excuse me?”

Luca was close to her shoulder. “Mariella, you are pale as a ghost. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Show me the paintings you like.” She had to stop giving her stepfather any power. She’d left that life behind.

He took her hand and showed her his favorites. She dutifully nodded and commented. She ignored the way he looked at her with his brows meeting in the middle.

She bluffed her way through it, going through the motions as best she could. The paintings he liked were lovely, she could see that. They were mostly landscapes, and with the Rocky Mountains being their backyard, sweeping mountain scenes were prevalent. He favored those over the wildlifes or stills, she noticed numbly.

“Whichever ones you want will be fine.”

He stopped in his tracks. “You have no opinion? You’re not going to pull out your calculator and quote budgets to me?”

Mari swallowed. “You’re going to do what you wish anyway, Luca. Why argue?”

“Because it’s what we do best,” he replied.

“I don’t want to argue. The paintings are fine with me. They are very nice.”

He stepped closer, his face puzzled. “But how do they make you feel, Mari?”

Feel? “Luca, it’s paint on canvas.” She didn’t want to talk about how she felt. Today she’d felt like she was the girl she’d always wanted to be but hadn’t been allowed. She could do what she wanted, buy what she wanted, feel what she wanted, and no one would punish her for it. She could take a morning off and no one would berate her. She could splurge on vanity and it was fine. The self-indulgence had been heady. Then reality had crashed in and she felt alone again, too weary to fight. Luca could make her forget, and it was wonderful while it lasted. But coming back to earth was a big thud and it hurt a little more each time.

“Yes, and the Cascade is a hunk of rock on a hillside. Even you know better than that.”

“I’m afraid I’m not an art aficionado.”

“You don’t have to be to have feelings, Mari.”

“Of course I have feelings!” she snapped.

She turned away, ashamed. Even-tempered, reliable Mari was suddenly all over the place. One moment she was sighing into his eyes and the next she was so overwhelmed she was biting his head off. She didn’t know who she was anymore. He kept pushing at her, demanding things of her and her well-ordered life wasn’t so black and white. She certainly didn’t feel up to dealing with everything she was feeling.

He led her around a corner. “Look at these. Tell me what you feel. Let them speak to you. You’ll know it when you see it.”

She sighed, put upon. When he got like this, there was no deterring him. She had learned that already. She may as well humor him.

These were no landscapes. The paintings here were different, angled shapes and colors and impressions. Mari walked past, feeling no connections. Longing simply to return to the hotel. She was tired. She was drained. The whole day had been
something special, but she doubted he’d understand how much it had meant to her. She’d felt a part of something.

Something based on a lie.

And then she turned a corner and saw it. Sweeps of blue with a brilliant core of red, exploding out from the middle in splashes.

It made no sense. But something about it spoke to her and she stepped ahead, lifting her fingers, coming close but not actually touching the canvas.

“Mari?”

Mari ignored his voice, but knew he’d been right all along. As hard as she’d fought, he’d been sure of himself. There was something inside her that Luca had set free, and it was right here in oil and canvas, looking back at her. She couldn’t explain why, but she knew she had to have it.

“Y
OU
like it.”

She nodded, her eyes roving over the blend of paint and canvas. “I don’t know why…it isn’t even of anything at all.”

“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?”