Seducing the Tycoon (International Temptation)

by MK Meredith

  She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. For the first time, she’d felt as though she’d been part of a community. But it had been nothing but a big, fat, Italian sabotage. Tears stung behind her eyes.

  “I still think you need to talk to him.”

  The last thing she wanted to do was talk to Drago. Merely the memory of the low timbre of his voice left her stomach hollow. How in the hell did she feel so damn lonely now that she was home with her friends and family? It made no sense at all.

  “No, he made himself clear. Besides, he jeopardized my career and was willing to destroy my chances to make my dream come true. He knew everything and did it anyway. How do I ever come back from that?”

  Addi pressed her lips together and sat on the edge of Chase’s large desk. “By changing your perspective.”

  Rubbing her temples, Chase longed for sleep, or a drink, or a dark room. “How would you suggest I do that? Facts are facts.”

  “But are they?”

  Chase groaned. “I’m too tired for this, Addi. I’m still fighting for the board to see the reasoning behind the decisions I’ve made, I—”

  “Exactly. Your decisions.”

  The muscles at the back of her head cemented in place, leaving her with a cold, hard headache. “That’s what I said.”

  “Regardless of what a man who was desperate to save his grandmother did when he first met you. He did not make you reschedule the opening. In fact, he never even asked you to.”

  “So that’s supposed to make me feel better? You’re using Nonna?”

  Addi sighed. “Let me ask you this. Do you love me? Think I’m a good person? ”

  Chase pushed back from her seat. “That’s a ridiculous question, love.”

  Smoothing her blond hair back behind her ears, Addi gave her an embarrassed grin. “Because I was desperate once, too. I made horrible decisions in a last-ditch attempt to save Aunt Addi ’s home less than a year ago. I stole from the man I love. Yet you think I deserved forgiveness.”

  A twist in her stomach took Chase off guard. She stood, hoping to relieve the discomfort. “This is different.” Her heart hammered in her chest. It was different, what Drago had done…

  “How?”

  Chase’s mind spun. Surely Addi couldn’t believe she should forgive him?

  Bold blue eyes met hers and stuck. “Unless you were lying to me all along. Unless you think I didn’t deserve the chance to make amends.”

  “Oh, Addi. Of course you deserve all the happiness this world has to offer.” She wrapped her arms around her friend. “I just think for me, it’s time to settle in.”

  Pulling back, Addi narrowed her eyes. “You are my dearest friend, and I can’t stand the thought of you living anywhere but here.”

  Chase dipped her chin.

  “However, you haven’t smiled once since you’ve been back.”

  “I’m—”

  “Heartbroken?”

  “You have to be in love to be heartbroken.”

  Addi stared at her, and Chase dropped to her leather office chair.

  “Look.” She took Chase’s hand. “I can’t say whether you love Drago or whether you love Ferrara; only you know that. But you’re in love. And it’s no longer with Malibu.”

  Squeezing her friend’s hand, Chase shook her head. “I love my family. I love you. I’m home. This is where I belong.”

  “Is it?”

  “What’s going on here? I get home and you’re running me out of town?” She brushed her fingers through her hair, straightening the strands that were never out of place.

  A look of understanding passed over Addi’s face. “I want you to know something. It doesn’t matter if you live here or Ferrara—you’re my family and I’m yours. That never changes. The only thing that changes is our commute when we meet to drink wine or go shopping. Besides, I’ve always wanted a reason to load up on air miles.”

  Addi grinned and slid from the edge of the desk. She leaned over and kissed Chase on the cheek. “I’m meeting my mother and Sam for lunch. Want to join us?”

  “I can’t. I have a meeting with my father to prepare for the case I’m presenting to the board.”

  “Okay. Good luck. They’re crazy if they don’t understand what you were doing.”

  With a nod, Chase opened a new document on her computer and smiled. The love and support Addi and her parents had shown since her return had made an impossible situation manageable. Her heart still lay flayed open, but their love kept it from splitting apart altogether. “Thanks for inviting me, though. Don’t stop doing that, okay?”

  Addi winked at her over her shoulder as she stepped through the door. “Never.”

  “And make sure I get my shoes back without custard all over them.”

  The little blond bombshell let the door close with a laugh, and Chase smiled. The action felt good.

  With a sigh, she opened her email. Lucinda’s name stared back at her.

  Addi was right; she’d fallen in love with Ferrara, and she’d made the mistake of thinking Ferrara had fallen in love with her.

  But she wasn’t their family; she was an American interloper they were hoping would go home. And the crushing weight of it all sat squarely on her chest. The community of Ferrara, the step back in time, the rich unity tied into all of their traditions had spoken to her soul. The history itself was a symbol of putting down roots, and the people of Ferrara had roots so deep you’d never be able to dig them free.

  She loved how everyone knew everyone else, how far back the families went, their stories, their romances. She loved how they embraced the children and revered the elderly. Nonna’s face popped into her mind. The flashing jewels on her fingers, her brightly colored hair wraps, and her engaging smile. She was a woman of the world who loved as if everyone she met were family. Her words whispered in Chase’s mind. “When you feel the pulse of your city in your veins, that’s when you know you are home.”

  Chase thought hard about Malibu, the beautiful sandy beaches, the peach and raspberry sunsets, the cool blue ocean waters. She thought hard, and she waited.

  Nothing.

  She frowned.

  Everything she’d ever wanted had been at her fingertips, almost in her damn hand. But now she felt empty and alone, and as if she’d yet to come home.

  She clicked on Lucinda’s name and the email opened.

  We miss you. Love, L.

  Below the message were pictures of the two of them drinking wine while confirming plans for the opening, pictures of a fashion show from Lucinda’s clothing store, pictures from opening day of Casa di Nonna, the cathedral, and the market. And Drago, bent over his laptop with his head in his hand and a frown on his face.

  All of us.

  Her heart thumped in her chest, and she slapped the lid of her computer down, wincing at the sound. “Shit.”

  Carefully, she opened it back up. “Ferrara,” she whispered, her hand fluttering to her chest. She studied the photo of the market and saw Signor Poppa with his daughter Maria. She studied the photo of the inn. Nonna sat in her jewels and hair wrap with a fine china teacup in her hand, looking like the Duke of Este’s wife.

  Her heart beat faster.

  These people had really known her, and the feeling had been beautiful—until Drago ruined it.

  And then she glanced back at the source of her sorrow and her speeding heart squeezed painfully.

  His expression was hard and stressed, and she wanted to reach through the screen and soothe his brow. She understood that he loved Nonna, but regardless of what their nights of passion might have made him think, he hadn’t loved her. He loved sex, and that she was a means to an end. It had merely confused him for a second. Even the Dragon’s head could be turned by a woman.

  But there was no longer any denying it. Stubbornly, she braced her mind against her heart: she was in love. With Ferrara.

  But she’d see his face in every sharp business suit walking along the cobblestones, and hear the velvet of his
voice gliding up her spine with the evening fog.

  As it was, she couldn’t even take a shower in Malibu without being reminded of the dark intensity of his eyes.

  She’d finally found her home.

  But she could never go back.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Drago sat across the table from Signor Worthington, craving the blood and tears of a fresh kill. He’d barely slept last week. Nonna wasn’t talking to him, no one in town was for that matter, and Diego had yet to fully take the bait they’d carefully laid out for him in Taiwan. Drago was pissed and impatient and fed up with just about every second of the past seven days.

  “De Luca, please reconsider.”

  “Reconsider? Why didn’t you think of this when you were overspending your profits and underutilizing your workforce? Why didn’t you think of this when you chartered a private jet once a month last year for business trips to the Med?” He put air quotes around the word “business.”

  The man blanched. “My father started this business. I can’t be the reason we lose it. Haven’t you ever wished you could press rewind? Start over?”

  Worthington’s face disappeared and Nonna’s took its place, then Chase’s with her trembling lips and shining eyes. Drago shook his head, trying to clear the vision from his mind.

  “De Luca?”

  The inn and Nonna, Huntington House and Chase, all of it collided in his conscience—and he saw Worthington for the first time. The man wasn’t an idiot, he was proud, and he wasn’t lazy, he was afraid. A legacy had been dropped in his lap, and he’d been unprepared to handle it. Now the man sat across the table from him begging for mercy…as Drago himself should have done for the inn.

  He’d always been so used to taking what he wanted that he’d tried the same tactics even when family was involved. Even when she was involved.

  A rush of shame and confusion stilled him. His whole career played back in his mind. How many men had he watched beg, even cry for a little mercy? Too many to count. But he’d always been at the ready with his business-is-business quip.

  “Signor De Luca?” Worthington questioned softly.

  “Fine.”

  The man blinked. “Scusa?”

  “I won’t move ahead on the takeover on one condition.”

  The man wiped his brow. “Anything.”

  Drago studied the man hard. “You’ll consult with me for the next year on how to run a business. We’ll turn Worthington Enterprises around, then you’ll pay me five percent of the profits for the next five years.” He stood. “I don’t work for free.”

  “Five percent of profits…of all the profits for the next five years?”

  Drago put his hand onto the table. “What’re your profits now?”

  The man cast his eyes to the floor.

  “Exactly. I don’t get paid unless you make money.”

  That got the man’s attention.

  “I’m going to teach you. You’re doing the work.”

  Worthington blinked rapidly, and Drago walked to the door. He didn’t want to see the man’s tears. Whether they were from shame or gratitude, he didn’t care. Or at least refused to. In the past month, he’d seen enough emotion to last him a lifetime. He called back over his shoulder, “Deal?”

  “Si, signore.”

  He walked straight to his office, then poured himself a shot of scotch. Standing at his window overlooking Ferrara, he tossed his drink back and coughed against the burn that rushed up his throat.

  His cell rang, and he answered it. “Give me some good news.”

  “He bit. He’s as good as done. He’ll be in custody by nightfall. The man won’t be hurting anyone else for a very long time where he’s going.”

  Relief hit Drago so hard he had to sit down before he fell, and then nausea smacked him solid and swift. It wasn’t competing hotels like Huntington House that threatened the inn, it was thieves like Diego and arrogant businessmen like himself. He rubbed a hand through his hair. Was he no better than the criminal who’d stolen from his grandmother? Stealing someone else’s dreams right from under their noses simply because they weren’t looking? Cazzo.

  After watching what his grandmother had gone through over the past month, he could no longer stomach the path he’d marched down for the last decade. His decision to help Worthington was a good start.

  And now Nonna was saved, or would be. As soon as her money was back in the bank and they put his business plan in place to keep the inn out of trouble, he’d be able to breathe again. Never again would he let anything threaten his family’s future, especially one built off such a rich past.

  Chase would be thrilled. Her smile rose in his mind, and it became hard to pull in air. She’d helped to build the Huntington legacy by putting people first.

  The concept never seemed viable to him before meeting her, and the truth was, he’d never really cared, either. But seeing her in action, witnessing how easily his town had fallen for her, how quickly he’d fallen for her, there was no denying how powerful her perspective was. She once said that commitment gave her more choices. He hadn’t understood what she’d meant, until she was gone.

  Committing to her opened up the beauty of the world, the strength of love, the stability of family, and the unity of community. All of it had been at his fingertips. But he’d refused to grab on. Afraid they might walk away if he offered his hand.

  But the truth of the matter was those who really loved him would never let “good-bye” be their parting echo. Otherwise, Nonna could have walked away a long time ago, and no one would have blamed her for it.

  And in a different time and place, Chase wouldn’t have allowed it, either, but he’d destroyed any trust she’d had in him. In his fear of hurting her more, he’d made sure she thought she wasn’t welcome in Ferrara, when she was more welcomed than he was.

  Pushing back, he stood from the desk and slid his phone into his pocket. It was Friday and the market would be in full swing. He stepped out onto the cobblestones, then glanced back up at the face of the inn, and his chest swelled. It was beautiful with its stone and balconies, and it boasted the lovely din of conversations and laughter from the patrons already filling the rooms inside. From here on out, he’d make sure it always looked loved as well as lovely.

  A few bicyclists raced by, and he had to dodge them to remain on his feet as he headed in the direction of the cathedral. Pulling in a deep breath, he smelled roasted beans, the sweet yeast of baked goods, and the earthy floral of the fresh flowers growing in pots along the way. Three of Chase’s favorite things.

  Walking along the market center, he took in the visual treat of all the colors. So many talented craftsmen selling their wares and businessmen selling their deals, not to mention the food. His stomach rumbled.

  Ferrara was magic. A modern town full of history, tradition, and community. A community he needed to reconnect with.

  Signor Poppa sat behind his table and looked up as Drago approached. The man eyed him coolly.

  Drago dipped his chin. “Signor Poppa. No daughter helping you out today?”

  “No. She’s helping at home. It’s important to help family.” He gave him a pointed stare.

  People understood why he’d done what he’d done, but what they didn’t understand was why he hadn’t acted sooner. Funny thing was, not once were his brothers Niccolo or Marco mentioned. Being the oldest came with a load of responsibilities, whether he wanted them or not.

  Signor Poppa continued frowning at him. “Son, every one of us would do anything for Nonna. The problem is we love Chase, too. The two women are like-souls, both generous and kind. Hurting one to help the other would never work. Nor would your Nonna want that.”

  Drago nodded. It was time to take the punches he was due. “I know, Signor Poppa. I tried to handle a family situation as if it was just business.”

  “Business is never just business. We’re not robots, son.”

  Denial sprung to Drago’s lips quicker than his next breath, but he pause
d. Arguing wouldn’t win him any love at this point.

  And there was one thing he did know.

  He was ready to earn back the love of his town again.

  He looked around. It was lonely walking the streets without the usual called-out greetings from his once-upon-a-time friends. He hoped it wasn’t too late.

  With that realization, he’d expected the hollow space in his gut to fill, but it remained stubbornly empty.

  Drago reached out to shake Poppa’s hand. “It’s good to see you. Tell Maria and Signora Poppa hello for me.”

  Poppa’s eyes widened briefly, then he grasped Drago’s hand in return. “I will son, I will. Grazie.”

  Continuing through the market, he made a point of saying hello and purchasing some goods to take home. A few merchants asked about Chase, and hearing her name twisted something in his chest every time. He hadn’t been over to the hotel since she’d left. It seemed less inviting without her in it.

  Kind of like his life. And the empty hull of it stretching out before him.

  “Drago!” Nonna’s smile shone like the sun as she approached him, glittering in her usual decadent fashion. But this time, it was Giardino beside her that he noticed instead of her brightly colored jewels. And wasn’t that interesting.

  Drago kissed her cheeks. “Sera, Nonna.”

  She studied him. “You haven’t been eating. Or sleeping. You look like merda, caro.”

  Smiling, he squeezed her hand. “Things are looking up, Nonna.”

  That got her attention. “You’ve spoken to Chase?” Hope shone from her eyes.

  “No, no. I mean with the inn.”

  She looked from Giardino back to Drago. “When will you see that the things we love are never as important as the people?”

  How many times had he wanted to call Chase? But she’d never talk to him, and he didn’t blame her. He’d betrayed her, made her feel like a fool. His gut twisted. He missed her smile, her warm skin, and the way she called everyone “love” with an accent that sounded neither American nor British but somewhere in between. “She’ll never forgive me.”