by MK Meredith
His grandmother smirked. “No one can defend themselves against the Dragon’s bite…or his charm.”
A bark of laughter escaped his throat before he could stop it, and heads turned their way. “What do you know about that?”
She raised a brow as if he were dim-witted. “I know about everything. Chase belongs here. You simply have to make her believe it again.”
“I don’t know how.”
“So. Figure it out.” She swept her hand in front of them, her rings reflecting the light from the early evening sun. “You have the whole community behind you.”
Her words struck a chord within him. The community. Yes, yes he did.
For a long time, he’d convinced himself he’d wanted nothing to do with them, seeing his family and friends as if they were a weakness, a liability, or worse—a vulnerability.
But Chase was proof of how wrong he’d been.
The community. Chase. He stared at Nonna as thoughts clunked about like falling blocks in his head until they finally settled into a solid idea. He grinned. Grabbing his grandmother, he kissed her soundly on the forehead. “Thank you.”
“You love her.”
Drago thought back to the night he’d told Chase he thought he might love her.
Might, his ass.
He’d loved her since she’d walked through town with him, touching all the old buildings. He’d loved her since she’d kissed him outside Lucinda’s shop. Hell, he’d loved her since he’d assured the sassy American his foot size was more than adequate.
But his arrogance and pride and closed outlook on life hadn’t let the possibility filter through. And it might have cost him his future. “I do.”
“Then fix this, boy. We want her back.”
Giardino nodded in agreement. “You can bring her to the restaurant.”
“Oh, yes. I heard about that,” Nonna said. “So you’re going to be around awhile?”
Drago laughed. His original plan to come back to Ferrara for each meeting slowly morphed into a plan to strengthen his business base in his city. “You could say that. Sera.” He tipped his head to both of them. Then backed away. “I have something I need to do.”
The two stared at him with knowing looks. Damn the wisdom of age. When the hell would he get some? He felt older by the minute, but not necessarily any smarter.
But as long as Chase was beside him, he’d grow old with a smile on his face.
Now if he could only return the smile to hers.
…
It took a little longer than he’d expected, but Drago straightened the sheets of paper with a smile, then slid them into a folder. He’d prepared a business contract and created a petition while finishing off leftovers from Giardino’s. The restaurant’s food had been showing up more frequently in the inn’s refrigerator of late. And he couldn’t be happier for Nonna. She deserved such happiness, a companion, someone to make her feel cherished.
With the papers in hand, he headed back toward the city center.
Now for the hard part.
Writing a twenty-page business contract was child’s play, but admitting how wrong he’d been and putting his pride on the line was the most difficult task he’d ever set out to conquer.
But conquer it he would. By the end of the next twenty-four hours he planned to have pages of signatures from the local merchants petitioning for Chase to return to Ferrara. If he was anything, he was persuasive, but it was a whole different perspective when he had to depend on his community to help him secure his future.
Walking through the open door of the coffee and pastry bar, he pulled in a breath and said a prayer. His heart slammed against his ribs as he made his way toward the tall bar.
Signora Accosi glanced up with a smile, which quickly dissolved into a straight, thin-lipped stare.
“Ciao, signora. May I have a moment?”
She whipped her towel from her shoulder. “No.”
Rounding the bar, he stepped in front of her, ducking his head to make her look at him. He placed his hands on her arms. “I’m sorry. I was wrong.” His gut twisted as he waited for her to look at him. “I should never have played the games I did with Signora Huntington. I’m trying to make amends.”
She looked at him in distrust.
“I need your help.”
On a huff, she whipped the towel back to her shoulder. “No!”
“Wait, wait. Look at this.” With that, he pulled out the petition. “I want to get all the signatures of Chase’s friends here in Ferrara. I made her believe she wasn’t wanted, but it’s time to get her back where she belongs.”
Signora Accosi glared at him. “You don’t deserve her.”
“I know.”
She lifted her chin. “She could do way better than the likes of the Dragon.”
He nodded, looked away, then met her gaze straight on. “I agree.”
A smile slowly lifted the corners of her mouth. “Good. Where can I sign?”
Drago stepped through the doors and back out onto the sidewalk, feeling a little lighter than he had in weeks. The scent of cinnamon lingered from the baker’s hug, making him think of his preferred mango and cocoa butter combination. One down, only about a hundred to go.
Some signatures were easy to collect, some took what was akin to begging before they’d agree, but slowly the pages filled. Each new name lightened his heart, but each and every request dug in his gut.
His feet were killing him, his throat ached, and his eyes burned, but as long as Ferrara was still awake, he’d keep collecting names—no matter how many times he got knocked down in the process.
The familiar chime sounded as he stepped into Lucinda’s boutique. She would be particularly difficult to face. Not because she wouldn’t sign. She would. But because she told him to tell Chase, to come clean, and he hadn’t. He was about to eat some mighty crow.
“Well, well, well. I wasn’t expecting to see your face in here. Not after you ran my new best friend out of town.”
He sighed. “Hello, Lucinda.”
“It’s late. I was about to put the ‘we’re closed’ sign up.”
He held her gaze. “I want to bring Chase home. But I have to prove to her that we want her. I need your signature.”
She shook her head. “Oh no you don’t. First of all, Chase already knows how I feel. Second, the last thing I’m going to do is help you bring her back so you can crush her again.”
His chin dropped to his chest. Denial pushed up his throat, but instead of saying anything, he nodded. “You’re right. But I’m asking you to anyway. I love her, Luce.”
She turned her head, studying him from the corner of her eye. “It’s about time. Men are so arrogant. I wondered how long it would take before you realized how gone you were.”
“I was ignorant and afraid.”
She grinned. “Music to my ears.”
He chuckled. “I’m happy to entertain you. So.” Stepping to her checkout counter, he set the petition down. “Will you sign it?”
Lucinda crossed her arms over her chest. “Say I was right.”
“Come on. Are you going to sign it or not?” He shifted from one foot to the other, trying to relieve his discomfort—from what exactly, he couldn’t say. Or wouldn’t.
She didn’t budge. “Say it. I want to hear the Dragon say I was right. It’ll be the first time ever, and I suspect the last.”
He raised a brow. It was as though he’d entered an alternate universe where he was powerless against these people. A pounding worked away at the base of his skull. He didn’t like it at all, but if it could help bring Chase back where she belonged, he’d do just about anything.
Raising his hands in surrender, he sighed. “You’re right.” He narrowed his eyes. “On both accounts.”
With a flourish, she signed and added a little message, as many had done before her.
Leaving a kiss on her cheek, he collected the papers and walked her to the door so she could lock up behind him. “Thank you, Lucinda.�
�
She held the door for him, then paused. “Go get our girl, Dragon.”
He gave a curt nod, then retraced his steps back to the inn. Though his body ached and his brain buzzed in a numb haze, his heart picked up its pace. He would bring Chase home to Ferrara, but what was more, her return would bring Ferrara back home to him.
Still, a wave of uncertainty washed over him as he went inside. The petition might make Chase agree to come back to Ferrara, but there was no guarantee she’d ever come back to him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The words “emergency” and “meeting” never brought good news.
“Mom, just tell me what this is about.” Walking toward the conference room with her mother, Chase ran her hands down the front of her Herve Leger bandage dress. The habit filled her head with memories of biscotti and Italian accents. She pushed away the emotions that accompanied the memories with such force even the Dragon would be proud. Damn it, every time she shoved the thought of him away, he sneaked right back in. Her chest ached, and she rubbed a hand absently along the space above her breasts. “I was on my way to a meeting,” she said.
“This couldn’t wait.” Her mom smiled, then directed her into a conference room.
They walked through the double doors together, and Chase’s eyes fell on the tall, dark-haired figure casually leaning against the far wall window, taking in the view of the ocean below. Déjà vu swept over her, and she stopped in her tracks. She was imagining him in Malibu? Goddammit.
She blinked. But the vision stubbornly remained. The room spun, and she grabbed the back of a chair to steady herself.
Her father’s voice broke through her panic-laden haze. “Good, now that we’re all here, let’s get started.”
Drago turned from the window. As his eyes fell upon Chase, he stopped and stared with a look that tore straight through her heart.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. His eyes were as dark and intense as she remembered. They wavered with trepidation, then hardened in determination.
Her heart picked up a solid and distracting beat in her chest. “What are you doing here?”
“That’s why we’re all here,” her father answered.
She ignored him, wringing her hands at her waist. “Drago.”
He approached her, and she stiffened. With a slight frown, he kissed both of her cheeks. His scent surrounded her, and it was all she could do not to breathe him in. Her chest squeezed as memories crashed through her strong resolve.
He paused close to her ear and whispered, “I’ve missed you.” His warm breath sent treasonous shivers up her spine, but she gritted her teeth and clamped down on them with ruthless determination.
Mr. Huntington cleared his throat. “Kids, we’re on the clock here. I have to be at the airport in an hour.”
That got Chase’s attention. “What? Where’re you going?”
“Barcelona. Checking out the property there. We’re working to guarantee another five-star rating in the travel magazine but have a few angles to smooth out.”
Her mother glared. “You’re doing nothing of the sort, you’re—”
Chase slid into a chair next to her mother and patted her hand, thankful for the distraction. She watched Drago round the table to the other side and sit down. She wished he weren’t right across from her. It took everything in her not to stare.
“Good. Now, Mr. De Luca has come to us with a very interesting proposition.”
“A proposition from the Dragon? Is that really the best thing to consider?” she asked.
“Chase.” Her mother reprimanded with surprise.
Drago raised a hand. “No, she’s right. From evidence presented to her, considering any kind of deal from me would be risky. But”—he looked at her closely—“I come as Drago De Luca, not the Dragon.”
She looked away, speaking in a soft tone. “What’s the difference? They both work from the same ‘take no prisoners’ mold, don’t they?” Forcing herself to look at him, she clenched her jaw against its trembling.
He simply held her gaze, and the look in his eyes appealed to her heart so strongly it hurt. She broke away to the safety of her father. “Dad, I don’t think—”
“Mr. Huntington, you mean.”
Biting her lip, she tried again. “Mr. Huntington. I don’t think Huntington House has any further business with Signor De Luca. The hotel’s running, we’re close to finding the perfect director, and Rita is handling things well enough in the interim with the grand opening officially launching in a little over two weeks.”
Her father held her gaze. “Chase, you have denied every applicant that’s come across our desks.”
“Well, I’m not going to hire someone if they’re not a good fit.”
“They can’t all be wrong for the job. Something else is going on.”
She glanced at Drago, then back to her hands. “Look—”
“Mr. Huntington…may I?” Drago pulled out his portfolio and removed a sheath of papers. Passing them out to Mr. Huntington, Chase, and her mother, he turned his own copy around for himself. “I think I know what’s going on. And if I may be so bold.”
Chase snorted.
“Chase.” Her mother gasped.
Good God. Her mother acted as though she’d committed an international faux pas, but she didn’t know how manipulative Drago could be.
“Long story short. When I first heard of Huntington House coming to Ferrara I feared for my grandmother’s inn. But I’ve come to realize your hotel will bring more tourists and business to Ferrara, not less. Huntington House caters to an elite clientele who desire a certain kind of service, but there are also those who want the same service but the experience of our Renaissance city at the same time.”
Hearing the name of the city alone made her heart ache.
He looked from one to the other. “Casa di Nonna owes a great deal to the Huntingtons. Chase’s decency and foresight regarding the importance of the inn to Ferrara has not only secured the boutique’s place in our city, but your daughter’s as well.”
Shifting his attention squarely to her, he continued. “I propose we partner the two, but—”
The beating in her chest left her light-headed. She looked at her father, then back to the man who’d torn her heart in two. She wanted to rail, to scream and cry. To call him horrible names and flip the table to be rid of her pain for a moment, but she couldn’t do any of those things. She was a professional. A Huntington to be exact, and as such was a representative of the brand. So while her heart bled, she kept a serene look upon her face, even though it killed her. She tilted her head in question. “Of course, there’s a catch. Right, love?”
Drago flashed a smile at her, and she regretted the slip of endearment immediately. Gripping her hands under the table, she forced her eyes back to her father.
“Chase is right. We need someone we can trust. Someone who not only knows Ferrara, but truly knows—at its heart—my grandmother’s inn. We want Chase to fill the position of director of operations of Huntington House and Casa di Nonna. The inn would fall under the overall Huntington company umbrella, but retain its name. I would partner with Chase by running the business and investment side of things, focusing mostly on the inn.”
He turned toward her father. “Though I’m happy to extend my expertise in any capacity to Huntington’s holdings.”
“What?” The surprise in her voice sounded harsh even to her own ears. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. I don’t belong in Ferrara. That was made excruciatingly clear.” She blinked a few times, determined to keep a lid on her traitorous emotions. “You didn’t want me. And you tried to make sure no one else would, either.”
Drago’s eyes wavered and fell to his hands. After a brief pause, he pulled out another stack of papers that was stapled at the upper left-hand corner. “That’s where you’re wrong. I was an ass.”
She snorted.
“Well, worse than an ass, I suspect. I can think of many Italian words that wou
ld work, but I’m not sure which American word would best suit me, although I invite you to try.”
The corners of her lips lifted at the reminder of a conversation they’d had once upon a time, when she trusted him implicitly and he hadn’t yet broken her heart. Damn him.
“And the people let me know.”
He slid the stack across the table toward her.
With a side glance at it, she stubbornly kept her hands in her lap. “What’s this?”
“A petition to bring you back to Ferrara. Back to Huntington House. All the staff, all the business owners. The townspeople who were taken by the charismatic American heiress. Your family, if you’ll have them.”
She blinked back the tears that threatened and looked toward her mom and dad. They smiled at her gently, but remained silent.
She slowly turned the papers around and read through the list.
Lucinda, Signor Poppa, Signor Giardino, Nonna. Name after name after name. She flipped through the stack. And what was more, there were notes next to the signatures.
Come back to Ferrara. Come home. We miss you.
Her heart took up the now-familiar tempo whenever thoughts of Ferrara filled her head. She did belong there.
She belonged with them.
Her eyes filled against her will, and she swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Who did this?”
“I did.” He stood from his chair and walked around the table. Kneeling before her, he turned her chair until she faced him. His eyes wavered, then pleaded as he looked into hers. “We want you to come home. I’m so sorry I was so arrogant and thought of you as business, when it was clear from the beginning you were anything but.” He took her hand.
Chase could hear her mother sniffle behind her on a small gasp, but her dad remained curiously quiet. She shook her head slowly. “You were willing to destroy my dreams, Drago. You were trying to…and almost did.”