The Tycoon's Temporary Bride: Book Four (19 page)

“I would be delighted to,
mia
dolce
.” He took her empty glass and set it next to his.

As they bowed and repeated the sacred word,
Tashi felt the warmth of Light and Truth and Peace hover above her
heart and soul, but it didn’t enter. Perhaps she was too damaged
for it to reach that place inside her. The feeling of hopelessness
was so intense, she choked up and soon tears sprang from her eyes
and flowed down her cheeks.

“Tashi, darling.” Adam enveloped her in his
arms and she melted into him.

The thought of leaving Adam, of leaving the
safest place on earth—his arms—broke Tashi’s heart. How was she
going to survive without him, especially now that she had no money
and no home? No friends in over a year. No one to care about her
since her uncle died, no one, until Adam. The desolation of her
future overwhelmed her, and she began to sob.

Patient Adam asked no questions, but seemed
quite content to hold and soothe her until she was spent. He was
the kindest, gentlest human on earth. Finally, he placed his finger
under her chin and raised her face to his. His eyes brimmed with
tenderness and concern. And questions, but the only one he asked
was, “Feel better?” as he pushed her hair from her face and wiped
away her lingering tears.

“Adam—” She swallowed, then opened her mouth
to tell him everything, but the words were lodged in her
throat.

“That too will come naturally, Tashi. In the
meantime, I’m here for you. You can cry on my shoulder or on my
chest any time you want.” He searched her face. “Now, I don’t know
about you, but I’m famished.”

“I am, too.” She had no idea that a practice
as relaxing as yoga could make one sweat and work up an
appetite.

“We can put our clothes back on and return to
the house or we can stay here for the rest of the day. The pantry
and fridge are stocked with all sorts of goodies, and my garden is
blooming,” he said, swiping his wrist to the back of the building
where a vegetable and herb garden were indeed blooming.

No wonder his dishes always tasted so fresh
and flavorsome. “I would like to stay here. But,” she added,
knowing that he usually spent the latter part of his days, and half
of his nights in his home office. “I feel kind of guilty keeping
you away from your business.”

“You are my business for now,
cara
.”
He touched his knuckles to her cheek. “Don’t feel guilty. I enjoy
being with you. You brighten my every waking and sleeping moment.
Perhaps after we eat, we can go for a swim and stand under the
waterfall. It’s quite invigorating to feel the force of that water
crashing down on you.”

“Isn’t it cold?” she asked, glancing at the
water gushing over the granite rocks.

“It’s temperature controlled.”

“Of course.” As he led her toward the kitchen
and dining area, Tashi realized that Adam would be hurt whether she
left tomorrow or next month. He was already too deeply involved
with her—a murderer and a fugitive from the law.

Where was that FBI agent? Was he dead or
alive? Should she stay and wait for him, or should she leave to
protect Adam and everyone he cared about? When she’d agreed to come
back to his home, she’d told him that it was temporary.

How long should she allow temporary to go
on?

“Dad, I have everything under control. It’s
not as if I’ve completely neglected the company. I’ve been working
from home. I just needed a sabbatical to take care of some personal
issues.”

“Another sabbatical, Adamo? How many of those
do you need a year? I’ve been running Andreas International since I
inherited it from your grandfather thirty years ago, and I’ve never
taken a sabbatical in all those years. Even when I’m on vacation
with your mother, I leave room to conduct business. I’ve been
receiving calls from CEOs all over the world complaining that
you’ve been canceling and postponing important meetings for the
past two weeks. I called your cousin Massimo to see if he knew what
was going on. He hasn’t seen you in two weeks.”

“In all fairness, Dad,” Adam said in his own
defense, “Massimo has been busy with his new wife and daughter, and
with running Andretti business.”

“My point, precisely. Massimo has a family
and yet he finds time to run the company his father left in his
care. You have no family, Adamo,” his father stated, reminding him
that he had yet to produce an heir to carry on the Andreas
bloodline. “Yet you’re neglecting Andreas business. What have you
been doing? Are you ill?”

Adam closed his eyes, inhaled and exhaled on
a ten-second count as thoughts of Tashi filtered through his brain.
Yes he was ill—burning up with fever for her. He wanted to be with
her, make sweet love with her in the worst way, but he had to keep
himself in check. He had to wait until she was ready. She had to
make the first move and it had to be for the right reasons—even for
their first kiss.

“Adamo, are you ill?”

Adam opened his eyes and stared out the row
of French doors in his home office. “No, Dad. I’m not ill.” He
wiped his hand down his face.

“Then you’d better get back to business. I
didn’t work this hard all these years to watch Andreas
International go to ruin. I knew you were too young to handle a
company of this magnitude, but your mother assured me you could do
it…”

As his father ranted on, Adam put the call on
speaker, vacated the chair behind his desk, and paced the floor.
He’d grown accustomed to Alessandro’s lectures, which were merely
his way of convincing himself that even though he was not running
Andreas International, he still had some control over his company
and his son.

Adam understood why his father would be upset
that he’d been shirking his duties as the head of one of the most
prosperous hotel and restaurant chains in the world—never mind that
Andreas International’s profits had quadrupled annually since Adam
took control several years ago. If his own son had pulled this
number, he’d be questioning him too. He’d want to know why he’d
been neglecting his duties, but
sans
the flare and passion
his father was wont to exhibit.

That was where the Andreas males differed in
personalities. His father was a workaholic who never really took a
vacation even when he was on vacation, as his own words just
confirmed. He reacted quickly and vociferously to situations,
whipped people into shape with an imposing domineering hand, and
crushed his enemies with lethal force. Even the heads of organized
crime rings were afraid of the formidable Alessandro Andreas, as
they’d been equally afraid of Luciano Andretti. They struck in
broad daylight and let their enemies know they were coming.
Together, those two men had made the world tremble.

Adam was the very opposite. He preferred to
observe and analyze quietly and then react calmly and covertly, but
just as lethally to situations—just like his mother—a trait his
father had always claimed was too effeminate for a boy. It didn’t
help his father’s opinion of him when he decided to stop cutting
his hair at age twelve.

Adam smiled as he remembered the family
meeting his father had called after he’d missed their third
simultaneous haircut appointment. Visiting the barber together had
been a father and son affair ever since Adam was a toddler. It was
bonding time for the Andreas men. Adam remembered sitting in the
big chair and listening to his father boast about his smart son who
was already fluent in five languages at age five, and who would
become monarch of the Andreas fortune one day. As he got older and
became interested in ballet and yoga instead of soccer and hockey,
his father began to doubt the masculinity of his only
offspring.

“Arabella,” his father had said, “who is the
biological father of this boy you claim is my son?”

His mother had looked up from the book she’d
been reading, and spoke in the soft, calm voice Adam had been
addicted to since he was a baby. “Okay, Alessandro, I can’t keep
the truth from you any longer.” She’d flashed Adam a wink. “There
was a mix-up in the hospital after our son was born. The nurse
brought this beautiful little baby boy into my room and placed him
into my arms, but by the time I realized their mistake, I’d already
fallen in love with him. I couldn’t give him back. I’m sorry,
Alessandro, but if you want your son, you’ll have to go out and
search for him. I’m quite happy with the one I have.”

He and his mother had sat quietly, their
faces tight with humor as they tried not to burst into laughter
while his father had gone off into his habitual lengthy impassioned
speech in Italian that included flailing of the hands, shaking of
the head, and pacing of the floor. Massimo’s name, as usual, had
been thrown out a few times—his father’s wish that Adam was more
like his cousin, even at age twelve. His speech ultimately ended
with him standing in front of his wife, out of breath, beads of
sweat on his forehead, and his blue eyes flashing.

His mother had calmly raised her head again
and flashed her brown eyes at her husband. “Are you quite finished,
caro
?”

His father had grunted and glared down at
her.

“Good. Now bend over and kiss me. Apologize
for subjecting me to yet another of your insufferable tirades about
our darling son whom I know you love with all your heart, and for
whom you’d take a bullet without hesitation. You know they bring on
my headaches.”

“
Vieni, Bella
,
”
his father had
said, gently nudging his wife from the sofa and pulling her into
his arms. “
Mi si permetta di prendersi cura di quel mal di testa
per voi.”
He’d joined his lips to his wife’s in a leisurely
kiss.

Accustomed to his parents’ open show of
affection in front of him, Adam had smiled at his father’s offer to
cure his mother’s headache, and the haste with which they headed
out of the room, anxious to begin the ‘curing’ process.

“Adamo,” his mother had said, pausing at the
door to smile back at him. “
Ottenere un taglio di capelli, per
favore. Rendere felice il tuo paparino.
”

“
Sì, Mama
,” he’d responded to her
appeal that he cut his hair to make his father happy. But he never
did cut his hair, and eventually his father had come to accept his
decision to grow it—yes, like a woman’s.

As he’d watched them leave arm in arm—his
father’s tall muscular stature dwarfing his mother’s petite
frame—Adam had promised himself that when he grew up, he would have
the kind of marriage his parents had.

Adam’s mother had explained sex to him when
he was nine. He’d approached his father with questions about girls,
but the older Andreas had been either too busy or too embarrassed,
and had told him to go ask his mother.

His mother had held nothing back. She’d
pulled out her copy of
History of Fine Art
and shown him
paintings and sculptures of nude men and women by some of the most
famous artists who ever lived: Canova, Modigliani, Courbet, and
Rodin, and of course, Michelangelo, to name a few. And without
going into details, she had simply informed him that she enjoyed
lovemaking with his father. She’d explained that the human body was
nothing to be ashamed of, and that sex was enjoyable when it was
shared between two people who cared for each other, but even more
beautiful, spiritual, and magical with one’s soul mate.

“You will probably make love with many women,
Adamo, but one day, that special woman, your
Anam Cara
, will
come into your life, the one you’ll pledge your heart, and soul,
and life to. There are to be no other women after her. You’re to
wait for her,
amore mio
,” she’d said, brushing his hair from
his forehead.

“How will I know when I find her, Mama?” he’d
asked, gazing up into her eyes
.

A tender smile had graced her lips. “Your
heart will know, and it will be the most natural feeling you’ve
ever experienced. You’ll feel as if you’ve arrived—Home. And
together you and she will transcend beyond the physical to a
spiritual realm where your hearts, your souls, and your spirits
become one entity in the light and beauty of your pleasure and your
love.
”

Being raised under his mother’s salubrious
tutelage about sex and the opposite gender, Adam had developed a
deep respect for women and their bodies—no matter the age, color,
shape, or size. He saw women as delicate flowers, princesses, and
goddesses who should be protected, cherished, and worshipped.

He wanted a woman like his mother—one who was
delicate, sweet, warm, who would tolerate his eccentricities,
advocate for his children when he was being domineering and
unreasonable, and love him even when he was unlovable.

Adam’s heart jolted, and warmth spread
through him as he thought of the woman with whom he’d just spent
two of the most amazing weeks of his life. She was very much like
his mother.

It had been four days since Tashi begun her
journey into self-discovery and acceptance of her true nature.
She’d grown more comfortable with him, taking off her clothes
without hesitation and baring her body without blushing in
preparation for their daily couples’ sessions. He’d spent the last
three days coaching her deeper into the world of yoga, teaching her
the healing benefits of conscious breathing and meditation, and the
heightened intimacy between two people through tantric soul gazing
exercises. But even in her voyages into the deepest regions of her
inner universe, Adam detected fear and hesitation in her.

Sensing that his presence might be the cause
of her inability to face both her fears and her feelings for and
about him—feelings he saw in her incredibly beautiful emerald eyes
each time she looked at him—he’d suggested that she meditate alone
today. He hoped she’d return, ready to confide in him so that they
could transition into the next phase of their relationship.