“Don’t reject this out of hand,” he said.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do,” she said, and walked from his office with her head high and her heart heavy.
* * *
She’d rejected him. Rejected him.
For days the thought had haunted him. He was, in a sense, off the hook. Relief should wash over him instead of these needles of anxiety. He should brush it off instead of dwelling on her refusal. But he couldn’t.
Annoyance pinged his taut nerves as he crossed to the window and stared out at the hard, unyielding mass of mountains, feeling cold and remote inside. This sense of aloofness closing around him wasn’t new. He’d gladly embraced it after his divorce. He’d worn it like a shield, never wishing to cast it off.
He liked his life the way it was, without commitment, without a woman complicating his life. He’d proposed to Caprice to protect her. That’s all.
Yet she’d refused him. And his protection.
He blew out a long sigh and hung his head, determined to get back on track. For weeks he’d tried to put Caprice in the same class as Isabella, out to get his money and entrée his name would lend. But she was nothing like his ex-wife.
Caprice had abided by the letter of their contract.
He would not complain about that.
She wanted a premier facility in Colorado and he would see that she got it. He could see now that she wanted to enjoy sex with him.
It had been good. Amazing for him. But was she able to say the same?
His intercom beeped. “Sorry to bother you, Luc, but you wanted to know when the therapy equipment had been set up.”
“Thank you, Eva.”
In a matter of minutes, he arrived at the therapy pod for a quick inspection, frowning as resonant clicks and whirs echoed from deep in the unit. Was someone using the equipment unsupervised?
He crossed to the sounds coming from the far room, only to pull back around the privacy wall. Julian was strapped into a harness that allowed him to stand on a massive machine while Caprice supervised.
“That’s it,” she said. “Stretch slow and steady again, holding when you reach the point of peak endurance.”
A masculine grunt, then a loud clank. “I can’t do this.”
Luc peered around the corner, careful to remain hidden. The defeat on his brother’s face stabbed at his heart. And then he looked at Caprice and saw the compassion glittering in her eyes as she patiently readjusted the straps on the pulleys and handed the ends to Julian.
“‘Can’t’ isn’t a word we use here,” she said softly, pressing a palm to Julian’s muscled bicep, as if encouraging him to try again. “It’s going to pull, hurt and resist. You have to work at this. You have to want it.”
Julian gave a short nod and began using the equipment again, face contorting as he exerted upper body strength. Slowly, minutely, his legs began moving back and forth, mimicking the motion of cross-country skiing.
Julian barked a laugh and Luc smiled. “I can’t believe it. As my legs are worked, the tension in my shoulders eases.”
“That’s because your entire body is moving as it should in motion,” she said. “You’re doing great. But another minute then you stop for today, okay?”
“No problem. We’ll do this again tomorrow, right?”
“Right,” she said.
Luc stood there a moment longer, watched the satisfaction on Caprice’s face reflected from the serious intent of Julian’s. She wasn’t all talk and no action. She was the perfect package, doing just as she said she would for his brother by implementing her unique program with specialized equipment.
Absently he rubbed the weak area of his leg. Was there a chance she could help him as well? Probably so, but he wasn’t going to think of himself or of his brother.
Right now was about Caprice. He wanted to return the favor, do something special just for her.
A moment later he knew just what that would be. He would give her a night to remember. The perfect night she’d been denied.
* * *
Toward dusk, Luc strode down the executive hallway, a box of Noka chocolates and a bottle of Dom Perignon vintage brut champagne in one hand and a bloodred rose in the other. If it looked like an apology, so be it.
He hadn’t been able to think of anything else, other than a diamond ring and undying professions of love, that would embody amore better than what he’d chosen. Besides, after his divorce, he’d vowed he would never risk his heart on a woman again.
So he decided to shower Caprice with romance. Indulge her passions. Prove to her she was a very desirable woman whom he respected and wanted.
He didn’t count the sultry nights spent in each other’s arms, indulging in sex. He certainly didn’t want to revisit that first time, which had been a rushed, frenzied affair.
Every sexual encounter they’d shared had come before he’d known about her attack.
It became clear to him then that she deserved to be pampered and indulged. Made love to deeply and passionately, focusing on her wants and needs and desires instead of his own.
Which is what had brought him here bearing romantic gifts.
He rapped on her door, gripped with an odd nervousness he hadn’t felt in years. Perhaps because doing this for her meant so much to him.
This was to be her night of decadent indulgence. This was to be the one she would remember instead of the painful one, and the harried times they’d made love. This would be the time that she was given all and expected to do nothing but savor each moment.
She swung the door open, her smile a bit uncertain. “You’re right on time.”
“And you are lovely,” he said, visually caressing the blue dress that draped her full bosom before nipping in at her waist to hug her from hips to hem.
“Thanks. You look amazingly handsome as always,” she said.
“For you.” He handed her the rose and chocolates before lifting the bottle. “I thought this would be an excellent time to have a pre-celebration drink to toast the near completion of our therapy pod.”
“Good idea. The work has been intense the past week but well worth the effort,” she said, taking a leisurely inhalation of the rose and smiling. “Wow! I never expected this. Thank you, Luciano.”
“My pleasure.” He motioned her to precede him into the sitting room and waited until she’d chosen a seat, hiding his surprise and relief when she eased onto the sofa.
He uncorked the champagne, splashed some in two crystal flutes and joined her. “I’ve taken the liberty of reserving a table for us in the village.”
She took the glass, her smile fading. “I’m not sure I’m up for going out tonight.”
He moved closer and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Are you worried you will run into Mario?”
She shrugged, staring at her lap, reverting to the restrained woman he preferred not to see tonight. “A bit.”
“You won’t find him here or in the village,” he said, drawing her close and dropping a kiss on her forehead. “But if you really don’t wish to go out, we can dine in. Your choice, bella.”
Her brow puckered and she fidgeted with her fingers, her body far too tense to find pleasure in anything right now. “I won’t let that man keep me a prisoner here or anywhere else. You’ve made the reservation so let’s go.”
He lifted his glass to hers, marveling again at this woman he’d underestimated. “Well said, bella. You are strong. Smart. Beautiful. To you and all you wish for.”
“And you as well,” she replied, clinking her glass to his, her smile quivering the slightest bit, as if she were fighting tears.
But she wouldn’t cry. He knew that much about her. This moment didn’t warrant tears. Within fifteen minutes they arrived at the ristorante in his limo and were prompt
ly escorted to a private nook. The space was small and the lighting subdued. Perfecto!
Luc assisted her to her chair and took his own, still struggling with that odd sense of imbalance. “I’ve ordered a pinot grigio, but if you prefer something else...”
“That would be heavenly,” she said, looking relaxed.
He tasted the wine and accepted it, then asked for a selection of appetizers, gaining Caprice’s okay, which again came readily. And wasn’t that exactly one of the things he liked most about her? They were in sync on preferred designs, adventurous palettes and the hunger of carnal pleasures, the latter being what he wished to explore leisurely with her tonight.
His wish was for her to walk away from him and Italy feeling very much in control of her mind and fully attuned to the needs and provocative charms of her body. Together they were a powerful aphrodisiac possessing the power to bring him down to his knees.
He jerked when her hand pressed over his. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, fine,” he said, closing the door on emotions stirring to escape.
His feelings had no place here. This was her night. The one she’d deserved from him seven years ago.
“I want this to be a good night you will recall with pleasure,” he said. “Would you prefer a menu?”
She leaned back in her chair, her glass cradled in her hands, her gaze drinking him as if she were parched. “It seems you’ve designed this night for me. You decide, Luciano.”
“To your pleasure,” he said, just barely tipping his glass to her and liking this surety and boldness about her.
My God, he admired her strength. Whatever it took he would make this night very special for her.
They dined on a medley of vegetables, cheese and crusty breads reminiscent of Austria, and he placed their entrées along with another bottle of wine.
“This is fabulous,” she said, scooping a generous portion of parmesano polenta dressed with wild mushrooms, sausage and tomatoes onto crusty bread.
She held it out, tempting him to lean close, to take it from her fingers.
And he did. Slowly. Ending with a swish of his tongue over pale skin that tasted sweet. “Delicious,” he said.
Her tongue flicked over her lush lips; then she leaned forward, her grin challenging, her eyes sparkling with devilment. “My turn.”
That remark crumbled any remaining awkwardness lingering between them. They ate. They drank. They flirted outrageously.
When the generous plate of carpaccio of beef and greens arrived, they laughed and ate and drank and let go, enjoying the moment. Laughter grew softer as did the few words spoken. And through it all the wine flowed.
“What is your dream?” he asked her when the plates were cleared and the dessert they would barely touch had been ordered.
She smiled and laughed, but the exuberance was gone. “Part of me will always long for a home and family. Normalcy. But with my career—” She shook her head, her laugh far too brief. “You were my dream, Luciano. Nothing will ever compare so I will never try. But would I anyway? You’ve made sure my career is set. I can’t complain. Ever.”
But did she want to? “You humble me when I don’t deserve it.”
“But you do.” She looked away, pensive. “We come from different lives. Different wants and dreams. We end when the job ends because we must.”
“Yes,” he said, nodding yet unsettled she’d grasped what was obvious so easily. “You’re right. It is the only way. So let’s make the most of this night.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
The decadent dessert was left, as was an uncorked and untried bottle of wine. Luciano clasped her to his side and ushered her to the limo, pulling her into his arms.
“That was so good, so good,” she said, lifting her face to his, her fingers tracing long, lazy figure eights on his back.
In what seemed a blip in time, they reached his lodge. “We’ll take the back elevator up to my suite,” he said, guiding her into the lift.
“You’re just full of surprises,” she said, pulling away from him and stepping back from the glass enclosure that offered a bird’s-eye view of the lodge and the Alps.
He laughed. “It is one-way glass, bella. Come,” he said when the doors whispered open.
In a moment, they were secluded in his suite. He pulled her into his arms, backing her into his bedroom, ravenous to taste her, to get drunk from her kisses.
His lips found hers in a melding of lips and tongues that was pure carnal abandonment. Hands joined in, lifting her onto his massive bed and following her down, fingers sneaking beneath the constraints of clothes, finding flesh that was hot and wet and wanting.
“Yes,” she breathed when his forefinger skimmed the heat of her core while his thumb found her pleasure point.
“Oh, God,” she moaned, arching her back, shivering with desire.
He peeled her thong away and pushed her skirt up, wanting only to pleasure her. Taste her. With seductive precision, he opened her to him with his tongue and finger before he thrust inside her, playing a game with her libido and his own, gambling which one of them could hold out. God, he could draw this moment out. Embed memories of a night that would never be triumphed.
She would remember her first lover, the first encounter with sex not counting because it had been taken. This was given to her.
He clasped her buttocks as she arched her back, surrendering the passion locked in her. So sweet. So tight. His gift.
What they shared was a moment she would bank away for the future if loneliness overcame her. He hoped she would remember the very good and not the bad, that those images of a beast abusing her would vanish. God knew he would banish them for good if he could.
Caprice was just rousing from her climax, supine and drowsy in his arms.
“That was beyond wonderful,” she said. “Now I believe it is your turn.”
He caught her before she could move, drinking from her lips until he was drunk on passion, until his own plans of setting her away from him seemed flawed.
“You make leaving difficult,” she said.
“I could say the same.”
Their mouths met and melded again in a moan, lips dueling an erotic melody while their hips swayed to the same wanton rhythm. Whatever time they had together, he would give her his all. He wouldn’t regret this decision.
She deserved this from him and so much more.
And yet was this lovemaking that much different?
Yes, because his attitude was different. He’d given without expecting compensation.
Her head lulled back, a sigh whispering from her. “I feel boneless,” she said, clearly basking in the sensations rocking through her while he did the same just knowing he’d given her this release.
He pulled her flush against him, the hard length of his erection pressed to her belly as he kissed her neck before his lips found her ear and his tongue traced the contours, pleasuring her until she cried his name. Only then did he look up into her face and catch her wide smile of pleasure.
And he smiled, knowing he’d succeeded, that she had indulged in passion. Remember me, he thought before he tucked her close and sought the same sleep she was quickly falling into.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CAPRICE STRETCHED IN the massive bed, silk sheet under her bosom, her mind clearing from the sensual haze she’d reveled in last night. Talk had been minimal after that last amazing joining of bodies and souls, or at least it had felt that strong and good for her.
Now her affair was closing. Luciano had said so in so many words. But she didn’t balk. She had to get away from here and return home so she was grounded. Had to get away to where the likelihood of running into Mario was incredibly small.
She could manage. She had in the past seven years.
; The bathroom door opened and he stalked inside, looking painfully contemplative. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to return to Colorado,” she said.
He swore and stormed toward her, towel cinched over his lean hips. “Why?” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It would be safer if you stayed here awhile longer.”
“Where I could run into Mario at any time?”
“I’ve barred him from coming to the lodge.”
“But you can’t keep him out of the village.” She stared at the intricate swirls of blue and red that outlined the exquisite black geometric designs in the Turkish carpet, waiting for him to deny it. But he couldn’t because it was true. “I can’t stay here.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
She signed, not wishing to delve into this discussion on the tail end of a marvelous night of celebration. “Won’t. This isn’t just about Mario. If I’m to make a success of my business, I need to complete my work here and return to Colorado.”
He cupped her chin and forced her to look at him. Had blue eyes ever seemed so intense? This assertive? “The lodge isn’t finished yet. Where will you go?”
She pulled back from the touch that felt too comforting and the eyes that probed far too deeply. “I have friends in Colorado that I can stay with until the lodge renovations are completed.”
“You’re certain?” Luciano asked, jaw set tight.
“Yes. As soon as my work here is done, I’ll go home.”
* * *
The following week Caprice saw little of Luciano. It was unbelievable how the time had zipped past in a flurry of last-minute details she had to attend to on the therapy pod. The grand opening was a week away. The first therapy guests would arrive in a few days.
She would return home to stay with friends. Yes, staying here in Italy would be easier, but wasn’t that the problem? Everything she experienced here with Luciano wasn’t real.
It wasn’t love.
It wasn’t commitment.
What they had together here was amazing sex. Nothing more.
That wasn’t enough to keep her here. In fact it was the very reason she should go. Leaving here would break this addiction she had for Luciano and force her to take back control of her life and business.
Bound by the Italian's Contract Page 13