by MK Meredith
Chase studied the building more closely. Yes, it had to be Drago’s grandmother’s, but she couldn’t remember him mentioning any major restorations. How did he have the time to assist her with so much going on in his own life? She rubbed her chest.
The owner’s love was evident through all the little things, like the pots that dotted the front patio area, freshly planted with beautiful flowers and herbs. It was the larger things that needed more attention. The beautiful weaved awnings that allowed a bit of cover from the midday sun let barely-there polka dots of fog and diffused moonlight through to the cobblestones below from small tears that scattered the width, and the wrought iron arms from which the sign hung was pulling loose from the stone, leaving it hanging at a forward angle. The building would be gorgeous when they finished the renovations.
“Buona sera.”
The softly spoken greeting startled Chase, and her hand flew to her chest. She turned to find a tall Italian woman with jewels sparkling from every finger approaching her with one of the most beautiful smiles she’d ever seen. “Hello.”
“You’re American?” The older woman’s accent was thick, but her words were clear and strong.
Chase nodded. “Yes, signora. I’m with Huntington House a few blocks over. We’re opening in about two weeks. I hope.”
The woman placed her fingers to her chest. “I’m Nonna.”
“My name is Chase. Chase Huntington. Actually, I believe your grandson has been assisting me. Drago?” she said, returning the smile.
“Drago…is helping you?” The woman’s eyes narrowed.
Chase nodded. “Your inn is beautiful. The architecture is stunning.”
Nonna studied her for a moment longer, then looked over the front of the hotel with a dreamy look on her face. “Yes, it is. Things were made with care once upon a time, with an artistic eye to tradition and hope for the future. But we’ve neglected it a bit too long.”
Chase watched emotion wash over the woman’s face. She must have a fascinating story. “The whole city seems built that way, from the cobblestoned streets to the tops of the palace I can see from my hotel.”
Nonna nodded. “That’s the beauty of our Renaissance city.” She pulled out a chair from a small bistro table, then settled herself in the other. “Please, sit with me and tell me why eyes so young are so strained.”
Chase chuckled as she lowered to the chair. “It’s not really fair to say.”
“Why is it not fair?”
With a small wave of her fingers, Chase gestured toward the hotel. “You’re obviously in the middle of your own issues.”
“Yes. So what, cara?”
Smiling at the term of endearment, Chase cleared her throat. “I’m worried about the opening of Huntington House.”
Nonna sighed with a knowing nod. “Si, si. I understand. This inn has been my home my whole life, and the home of my mother before me, and her mother before her, but every day I feel it slipping from my fingers.” Her eyes glistened in the moonlight with unshed tears. “I don’t know what I should do if we can’t get it open and be profitable once again. But I imagine it is stressful for you if you haven’t yet held your Huntington House in your grasp? Si?”
Chase studied the beautiful woman, the strength of her straight spine as she sat on the edge of her chair and the kindness shining from her gaze. Was that kind of grace a gift at birth or learned through experience and intent? “Yes. I haven’t yet gotten a hold of it, and it may already be lost to me.” She was a fool to share her worries with the owner of another inn, an inn that Huntington House could put in jeopardy, but there she was.
She sighed and went on. “I was sent to oversee a successful opening, but the director has quit and the staff is less than happy about the interloping American. It’s my chance to prove myself and earn the position I want back in California. But I don’t know if I can get everything done in time, and they already have a very experienced candidate.”
“Those are big worries.”
Chase looked down the darkening street revealed by the lifting fog, then back at Nonna. “Drago’s been a huge help. I know he has a lot of his own work, but he’s carved time out to translate for me when I’ve needed it.”
Nonna’s eyes widened briefly, then she slowly nodded. She studied Chase. “Si, he’s very good at making things happen. But—”
“Buona sera, Nonna,” A friendly voice called out: a young mother and her child out for an evening stroll.
They looked so sweet, but something kept a tight pinch at the base of Chase’s neck as they approached. Nonna’s surprise at Drago’s offer to help. Chase couldn’t let go of the idea that Nonna had more to say.
The little boy ran up to Nonna and threw his arms about her waist. “Nonna. Nonna!”
“Sera, caro.” She kissed the top of his head and waved as they continued on their way.
Chase couldn’t help the sigh that passed through her lips. “I want that someday.”
Interest flared, and the older woman leaned toward her. “A child?”
A flush warmed her cheeks. “Oh, no. Well, yes, someday. But the sense of belonging. Knowing a home, walking down the street and feeling as if I’m part of a big village-wide family.” She looked in the direction the young child had gone with his mother. “Like the little boy. He knows he’s home.”
“You seek to make a home for yourself? Here?”
The question set off a curious feeling in Chase’s chest. There was something about Ferrara that called to her. It was more than a place with a million must-sees, it was a place where people sought to simply be. To feel. To exist as a thread in a tapestry rich in history, filled with both heartache and victory. The names of lives lost on the synagogue wall rose in her mind. But no. Ferrara wasn’t her goal.
“Malibu,” she answered Nonna. “If I’m successful here, I’ll be promoted to director of operations at Huntington Place there. It’s one of our high-end luxury hotels and my best friend’s there, my mother and father. At least when they aren’t running around in Europe. I’ve always traveled, but Malibu’s the first place I’ve ever felt as if I was putting down roots.” She sighed. “It’s a place I could imagine raising a family and being a part of a community. But that won’t happen if I can’t make Huntington House happen.” She glanced over to find Nonna listening intently. A wave of guilt washed over her, but Nonna was nodding.
“Then you must succeed. Win over the people, cara. If the people are on your side, you can’t lose. Listen to me. I know. The people of Ferrara have held me up practically my whole life.”
“I’m trying, but I’m not sure they’re too keen on an outsider moving in.”
“Show them you care about our traditions, our history, our feelings. If you do, they won’t be able to resist, no matter where you come from. And as for making a home, it isn’t the where that is important, it is the joining of a place to the beating of your heart. When you feel the pulse of your city in your veins, that’s when you know you are home.” Nonna leaned forward and placed her hand over Chase’s. “Breathe, child. Learn to be still, then you’ll feel it.”
Chase did as she was told, surprised to find she’d been holding her breath. She gave a small chuckle and stood. “It was a pleasure. Your inn is from every fairy tale I’ve ever read.”
Nonna dipped her chin with a gentle smile. “Come back sometime. I’ll show you my home. We’ll have caffè. Si?” She placed her hands on Chase’s shoulders and air-kissed each cheek. “Go before it gets too dark. Even in Ferrara the shadows tempt people to do things they may not be so inclined to do under the supervision of the sun.”
With a wave, Chase looked over the front of the hotel one more time and then left, convincing herself along the way that Casa di Nonna would survive Huntington House. Of course it would. The inn was steeped in tradition. It was Ferrara. There would be plenty of visitors who sought that exact experience even over the white-glove luxury she was determined would come from a night at her hotel.
; Once she was ready for bed, she reached to turn out the bedside lamp, a white cylinder lampshade from a movable arm attached to the wall, but the screws were loose. It hung at a slightly forward angle like the sign at the inn.
She’d have to ask Drago about Nonna. There was something going on there, but she’d been too preoccupied with her own issues to question Nonna further. The woman’s insight had been both comforting and uncomfortable. The idea of settling in Ferrara had never been a blip on her radar before, and it shouldn’t be now. She was Malibu-bound.
Two more weeks, and she’d be home.
Chapter Eight
After three days of introducing Chase to the merchants in town, Drago congratulated himself on his finest business manipulation yet—and for keeping his hands to himself. The former was quite simple, while the latter had been nearly impossible.
She walked along in front of him, staying well out of the way of bicyclists. If it wasn’t the smoothness of her skin as her hand brushed over his that called to him, it was the way her sweet scent filled his senses and blocked out anything else, or how her smile held his gaze whether he wanted to linger or not. Goddamn, he needed to get laid. Problem was he had a strong feeling that only one woman would do at the moment. And his gut was never wrong. Once he got a sampling of his sexy American out of the way, he’d surely be hungry once more for other flavors.
“I’ll never trust that grin. What are you up to?”
Chase’s voice broke through his musings, and he shot her a look. “I never give away trade secrets.”
Secrets like the fact that Inez and Rita were at this moment “taking care” of the hotel linens. He simply needed to keep Chase away long enough for them to complete their task. It wasn’t anything that would hurt the hotel long-term, but it would certainly hurt her very tight schedule for the opening.
Speaking of sheets, the intensity behind her eyes made him want to break in a set until the well-spent look from the other day reappeared.
She studied him, then took a left when she should have taken a right.
“Chase, where are you going? The shop’s this way.”
She spun around with a glance to the delicate watch on her wrist. “We still have a bit before my appointment. I want to go see the castle moat. I haven’t made it during my walks yet.”
“Your walks?”
Skimming her hands over her hips, she winked. “Do you think I keep these curves eating biscotti?”
His eyes followed the path of her hands, and his tongue wanted to retrace each inch. He swallowed. “Indeed.”
She laughed.
“You really want to see the moat?” He’d be happy to walk her around until the sun went down, but he hadn’t expected her to make his job quite so easy. And beyond the purposes of his sabotage, he’d always loved the castle. How many times had he and his friends run circles around it, dreaming up every possible way to breach the walls? Too many to count. If he were honest, he’d come up with a few new strategies only yesterday.
Eating up the sidewalk with her brisk steps, Chase gave him a bemused look. “You have a castle. With a moat.” She lifted her hands, palms up. “Of course I want to look. I’m a bit obsessed with history.”
Drago chuckled at her enthusiasm and led her toward the castle. He took her hand to help her across the short footbridge as they approached from the southwest corner, towers rising above them until they had to tilt their heads back.
Dropping his hand, she spread her arms wide with a sigh. “Look at it. It is so much more than four walls and a roof. It tells a story so rich it spans from a riotous dismembering of a high official to tours and art exhibits of today. Fascinating.”
Curling his fingers into his hand, he held on to the heat left there. “Only an American would find the dismembering of a high official fascinating.”
Her eyes were bright with excitement as she met his gaze. “Come on.” She grabbed his hand again, and he adjusted to keep it from easily being dropped in the future. Odd, he’d never fancied himself a hand-holder.
She grinned at him. “We have time for one quick lap, but I’m going to have to come back when I can take my time.”
“There’s really no reason to rush.”
The look she threw him accused him of losing his mind, so he let it go. “You really are a history geek, aren’t you?” He was proud of the Renaissance nature of his city, but he rarely pondered it. Chase pondered. With her finger tapping her chin, she studied the castle from different angles, and he found himself not only amused but well on his way to intrigued. This was a different Chase from the stressed-out, nose-in-her-phone Chase he’d met on her first day in Ferrara. And here he’d thought she didn’t care about his city.
An unexpected pinching settled between his shoulder blades, but then he pictured Nonna and the inn and shook it off. Or tried to, at least, but the damn sensation was persistent.
After making one trek around the castle, they continued on to their scheduled appointment. She ran her slender fingers along the bricks and stones of the buildings they passed, commenting in wonder on a historical fact for each as they went. She was better than any tourist guide he’d heard in the city—sexier, too. If he were only visiting, he’d never want to leave. His steps slowed. But he was only visiting, and he would be leaving. Something he needed to remember.
With a low curse, he barely missed running into a light pole. He’d been so fixated on her damn fingers caressing the buildings he about got clocked in the face. Still holding her free hand, he gave himself a firm mental shake, but as she caressed each bit of mortar he was hit by a swift surge of jealousy. What would it take to excite her, intrigue her in such a way that she caressed him in order to learn more? Minchia. He could have any woman he wanted, so why the hell was this one getting under his skin?
He pulled in a breath. Business was at hand. He couldn’t let his dick screw with his agenda.
He released her, and they walked into the local print shop to pick up the invitations she’d ordered. He had to give her credit. Using local resources would go a long way to winning over the townspeople. Something he’d have to keep an eye on. He could manipulate a lot of what happened in the hotel, like his little payoff with the tile guy, but he wouldn’t do anything that would interfere with the merchants of Ferrara. He may not call the city home anymore, but it was still his city.
“Ahhh, Signora Huntington.”
The heels of her Louis Vuittons clicked on the marble floor as she made her way to take the merchant’s hand. “Chase, please. Signora Huntington is my mother.” She glanced back at Drago. “Do you mind translating for me?”
He stepped up beside her.
Signor Minucci’s weathered grin stretched from ear to ear, his dark mustache seeming to grow along with it. “Your invitations are here. Come look.” He made his way back around the counter and dug into the shelves behind it. With a flair Drago had never witnessed before, the man spread out tissue paper to display the invitations for Chase to approve.
She sighed in that dreamy way women were wont to do, and Minucci’s cheeks reddened under her appreciation. That didn’t need any translation.
Carefully lifting one of the invitations, she turned it slowly in her hand, checking it out from all angles, like he wanted to do with her. “Ohhhhhhh, Signor Minucci, these are stunning.”
Minucci listened to Drago’s translation, then grinned broadly and returned his attention to Chase. “You like them? That makes me so very happy.”
“Like? I love them. Truly.”
He nodded as Drago repeated her words. “Si. Buona, buona. Let me wrap them for you.” He collected the one he’d shown her and placed it in the box with the others. As he wrapped it up, Chase asked, “How is your wife? Is she feeling better?”
Drago tilted his head. When had she spoken to Minucci before, that she’d know to ask about his wife? More importantly, how had she spoken to him? The merchant knew little to no English, as most of the older generation in Ferrara.
He translated.
“Si, si,” Minucci answered. “Thank you for asking. She’s so much better.”
Drago moved through the translation on autopilot as he racked his brain to catch up.
Chase smiled. “I’m so glad. I know you were worried.”
Minucci walked back around the counter and handed her the box wrapped in the shop’s signature emerald twine. “She’s my life. I am nothing without her.”
Chase leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “You’re a sweet man. I was wondering if I could discuss something with you.”
“Of course.” The shop owner directed her around the corner to a consultation table. “How may I help you?”
She lowered into the offered chair. “Actually, it’s how we might help you. It’s really important to me to bring Ferrara into Huntington House.”
Drago remained standing as he translated between the two, beginning to regret his hand in this.
Signor Minucci sat next to her with an intent look on his face. “Si?”
“Huntington House will cater to tourists, but we also cater to businesspeople. In our business center, I would love to highlight your work as their first option for any of their printing needs. We want them to choose Minucci’s not only for its attention to detail but also for its long-standing history of serving Ferrara. In addition, Huntington House will use Minucci’s exclusively.”
Drago cut his gaze to Chase. Was she crazy? The hotel would spend a lot more money using locally owned resources instead of what they’d already set up internally. But what could he expect from a woman raised with a silver spoon in her mouth? If she worked for him, he’d have her ass. An idea he liked more and more the longer he thought about it.
But then again, if she outspent her budget, he wouldn’t have to worry about Huntington House opening at all.
A flush spread over the older gentleman’s bald head. “Si. Let me put a proposal of services together that would cater to your guests and we’ll see what we can come up with. Grazie.”