Bound by the Italian's Contract

Hard to guess as she rarely read anything about him in the tabloids either. It was as if he’d dropped out of sight. She rose from the sofa and walked to the stunning vista offered by the windows. She needed the space between them to think.

“Will Julian’s transformation free you to live your life again?” she asked.

His jaw clenched. “My life is as I wish it. Your answer, Caprice,” he said, his intense gaze locked with hers in silent challenge again.

She nodded, mentally kicking herself for getting sidetracked over the state of Luciano’s health instead of getting on with her business with him. But she wasn’t fool enough to accept his word at face value and snap up the chance to work with him, forgetting the slights.

“If we agree to this on paper, you’ve got a deal,” she said and extended her hand just like she would to wrap up any business deal.

His lips curved in a rare smile that brought back memories of the fun-loving man she’d known. Just as quickly it vanished behind that wall of indifference that he wore so well.

“Excellent. I’ll arrange for us to meet with my interior design team as soon as possible. Once they are made aware of what we require, they will be able to come up with a plan for my lodge by the end of next week.”

“Whoa! I thought I was to decide how my program should be designed and implemented at your lodge.”

“You’ll have a voice at the meeting.”

A voice she intended to use. “I suppose you plan to sit in on the design meeting for Tregore Lodge as well?”

“Of course I am. I’m financing it,” he snapped, brows drawn in a dark frown. “Why are you being so contrary?”

“I don’t mean to be difficult. It’s just that this is all very important to me.”

“Do you think it isn’t for me as well?”

“I really don’t know what you’re thinking.”

He muttered something she didn’t catch, rose and strode toward her, his long legs moving with fluid grace, the broad width of his shoulders a shifting wall of lean muscle. Each step exuded power and masculine grace and purpose, like a cougar stalking the canyon rim in search of prey.

She stepped back, startled by the power that was all Luciano. He was a force to be reckoned with and she would do well to keep that in mind at all times.

He stopped, his larger hand grasping hers in a warm, but clipped shake. “I am thinking I made a very savvy deal with a very smart woman who I admire.”

“Thank you,” she said, pulling her hand back and hoping it didn’t appear as if his touch disturbed her. “To our mutual success.”

“It will be.”

“You’re that sure of yourself?”

His smile was brief but oh so cocky, just like the man. “I play to win, Caprice. In everything.”

She nodded, not needing to be reminded of that. “This isn’t a game to me either. It’s business. It’s what I’ve wanted to do for years and have put all my efforts into.”

“Your business is your life,” he said, his features hardening into a benign mask.

“I’ve put a lot of time into the lodge while my father was ill,” she said, hoping he understood. “The past year it demanded most of my attention because my program is a fledgling operation and I couldn’t afford a mistake.”

“If you hope to succeed, you need to learn how to delegate,” he said, advice she’d received before and ignored.

“Nobody knows my business like I do,” she shot back in defense.

He frowned. “Still the same need for control, Caprice?”

If only this wasn’t the first time she’d been accused of that, she thought, face burning. “I have to be picky when my reputation as a therapist is on the line.”

One dark brow lifted. “You need to learn how to play the game.”

That word again.

She had no doubts that he referred to business and pleasure, her heart kicking up its pace at the thought of the latter, which was totally unacceptable. Under no circumstances would she fall victim to his charm again.

So what if her business was her life? It was her choice, though she didn’t expect him to understand what she had gone through to get where she was at now.

“I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again. This isn’t a game to me, Luciano. This is my future. My dream. I couldn’t have gotten this far with the few resources I have available if I hadn’t focused on getting my program started,” she said, gaze fixed on his.

He huffed a breath, shaking his head. “I do understand.”

He couldn’t. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t looking for friendship with Luciano Duchelini. Wasn’t looking for pity. All she needed, wanted, from him was a fat check for setting up her program in Italy and renovating Tregore Lodge before she returned to Colorado.

She needed his business acumen and financial support. Her best chance to get both was to remain immune to his charismatic charm as she solidified this deal. She couldn’t let her judgment be clouded by emotions she had no intentions of pursuing.

“Where do you suggest I start delegating?” she asked, determined to move forward.

“Now. Let me be in charge of the renovations from start to finish,” he said.

She stiffened at the idea of handing over control to him. “You don’t want my input in my own lodge?”

“Your ideas are welcome,” he said, though the impatience creeping back into his voice belied it. “But there is no need for you to remain in Colorado to oversee the project.”

He was right. She couldn’t devote full attention to her ski program if she had to deal with the building issues at the lodge. “You must understand that there are certain structural specifics I need in place to make my program work—”

“I get that,” he interrupted, tossing his hands upward. “As I said before, you will sit down with my design team and list what is needed. When the plans are drawn up, you will see them again to ensure all your needs are met.”

“I get final approval?”

“Of course.”

She bit her lip, searching for a shadow to pick apart and finding none. “That sounds good.” Perfect, actually.

“It is. I will bring this renovation of your lodge to fruition.” He leaned forward, riveting gaze locked with hers, mesmerizing yet commanding. “Trust me.”

“That’s hard for me to do again.”

He spread his arms wide. “Why? I was nothing but honest with you.”

And he had been. It was she who’d raised her expectations.

My God, had she been that starved for love that she had grasped for scraps? Was she still that emotionally deficient?

“I ended up hurt the last time I put my faith and trust in someone,” she said simply. By my mother first. By you, lastly.

To her surprise, a ruddy flush streaked across his olive-hued cheekbones. “Believe me when I tell you I never intended to hurt you. I was—” he made a face, accented with a sharp upward jerk of one hand “—behaving abominably before the end. I regret hurting you, Caprice.”

Dare she believe him? She wanted to continue thinking he didn’t care about anything but himself.

Except that really wasn’t true. He had come here to enlist her aid to turn his brother’s life around. He was offering her a golden opportunity, albeit with him pulling all the strings.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. Not now and it didn’t. It couldn’t.

“You have my word it won’t happen again,” he said.

She swallowed hard. Those were just the words she’d vowed to herself, with the added caveat to avoid Luciano’s company. Now here she was, straddling the fence about taking his offer when she’d already decided this was her best bet. He was a genius at what he did. In that, she had to trust him.

“Then I will take you at your word,” she said.

“Good.” His magnetic eyes grew more intense. “The length of time the lodge is closed will depend on how long it will take you to establish your program at my Alpine facility as well as my brother’s progress. A month is a generous estimate, considering Julian’s manner of late.”

She shook her head, saddened. “Julian may have appeared laid-back, but I remember him being a force of pure energy,” she said. “He was always moving.”

“People change, Caprice. My brother isn’t the man you remember.”

She would be stunned if the crippling fall hadn’t changed the daring young skier. “I’m aware how an accident can affect an athlete physically and mentally. But I’m an optimist.”

He stared at her, his features vague, unreadable. “I’m a realist. By proceeding with renovations here at top speed and avoiding problems, it will take at least two months to turn Tregore Lodge around.”

Not what she wanted to hear, but there was nothing she could do to change it. Her lodge needed intense work and she needed Luciano’s backing.

“I still intend to return to Colorado within a month when I’m finished with my part of our deal.” She would find a friend to crash with until her lodge was completed.

“An aggressive prediction,” he said, his intense scrutiny stretching the moment and her nerves to the max again. “The timeline doesn’t matter to me. I want my brother to have the chance and drive to live life again.”

“I’ll do what I can to help him, but he must put forth the effort as well,” she said.

“Therein lies the challenge.” He shook his head, firm lips pressed in an unyielding line.

She blinked, unsure what to say. In her profession she had been quick to teach that a family member shouldn’t set the bar so high. Each patient must enter into the rehabilitation process because they wanted change.

Whether that was the case or not, it boiled down to two things. She couldn’t renovate her business without Luciano’s help. Nor could she ignore this opportunity to help his brother.

Julian had been there for her once when she’d needed a friend, helping her get away quickly and quietly. She owed him, at least in her mind. It was time to cease arguing with Luciano over minor points and repay his brother’s kindness.

“Okay. When do we start?” she asked.

“Now. I’ll get the team in place here, then we leave for Italy immediately.”

CHAPTER TWO

SHE WANTED HIM for his connections and his money.

Luc dug his fingers into the leather-covered steering wheel and shot Caprice a pointed glance. She perched beside him in his rented Mercedes, attention trained on the netbook on her lap, oblivious of his annoyance. And why should she pay him any mind?

She’d gotten exactly what she’d wanted from him—a financial backer with the added bonus of using his name and reputation in connection with her lodge. In that regard, she was just like Isabella, using him to better her own lot in life.

The comparison had him clenching his jaw so hard it ached.

Seven years ago he’d put Caprice from his mind for one reason. Her congratulatory kiss had stirred feelings in him that mirrored those he’d felt for Isabella. Feelings he’d buried with his wife and refused to ever revisit again.

Now that Caprice had reentered his life, the image of the bright-eyed young woman he clearly recalled was replaced by a determined businesswoman who sought to align with him for her own benefit. Nothing more, nothing less.

Strictly business. He got that. Understood it. Respected her for her drive.

He shouldn’t find her attractive in the least. But he did.

It was her aloofness and passion for her program and her old lodge. That was the only plausible explanation for his fascination with her.

The only difference between Caprice and the score of women hoping to snare him into marriage was the simple fact she could help his brother. That was why he’d agreed to meet with her. That’s the only reason why he didn’t stop this car now and call the whole thing off.

He needed her to help Julian as much as she needed his money and the connections his name would lend to Tregore Lodge and her program. From a business standpoint, theirs was a win-win situation. As long as he kept her at arm’s length, everything would be fine.

No problem, as she’d made it clear she wanted nothing personal to do with him. Their association was all business. Good. That’s all he wanted from her as well.

As they headed toward the airport and Italy, she appeared content to immerse herself in her miniature laptop before the flurry of their combined work began. Unlike his previous traveling companions, she showed no interest in making small talk during the past three hours as they prepared to leave Colorado.

Not that he was complaining.

He just wanted to get home to Italy and back to business while she delved into doing what he’d hired her to do. With space between them, he could find peace of mind.

That was what he wanted. It remained to be seen if he would achieve it after putting himself through so much personal hell.

* * *

Caprice stared out the window, more frazzled over being secluded with Luciano than she was unnerved by the Denver traffic they whipped past. Seven years had passed since she’d spent this much time alone with a man.

She’d vowed never to leave herself vulnerable again. Yet here she was, traveling for over an hour with him. So close she could reach over and touch him.

Not that she would. Even if she had the desire to do so, there was absolutely nothing welcoming about his stern expression.

Which was just as well. Too much was riding on the success of their mutual deal for her to relax.

She wanted this job done as soon as possible. Only then could she return home.

If Tregore Lodge was still under construction, she would cope with the inconvenience. Heavens knew she had a lot of details to see to before the launch of her renovated facility and a return to total independence.

No matter what faced her in Italy, she would see it through. And really would her being in Luciano’s company again be that bad?

Difficult to guess, she decided as she stole a glance at him behind the wheel of the gleaming silver Mercedes he’d rented. As they reached the brighter lights leading to the airport, his deceptively relaxed pose was at odds with his hard-as-nails expression.

He’d always been demanding, a fact she attributed to his aggressive personality and his station. But he’d changed as well and she couldn’t tell if it was for the better.

One thing was for sure, she would be right back in the thick of the elite world. Just like she was now, arriving at the private airport terminal in a rental car worth well over what she made in a year, scheduled to fly out on a private jet that cost at least a billion dollars.

He swerved to pass a slower car, and she noticed the imperceptible way he favored his right shoulder. Had he always done that?

At the lodge, she’d blamed his obvious discomfort on the hurried way he’d loaded her baggage into the car. Now it was obvious his shoulder was bothering him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, noticing his chiseled features were more haggard under the flash of streetlights as he whizzed around the curved interior airport roads with the ease of a racing car driver.

“Nothing,” was his clipped reply.

A lie, she was certain, if she’d read correctly that terse tone and body language that screamed pain. “Something is bothering you.”

He wheeled into a parking space and cut her a scowl. “I have had very little sleep in nearly two days.”

And lack of sleep had never bothered him before. But it clearly did now.

Luciano looked physically drained. Given his wicked reputation, she assumed it was from a combination of overindulgence and mental exertion while he was touring the U.S.

“How long have you been in Denver?” she asked.

“My plane landed at seven-thirty this morning, your time,” he said.

She blinked. That only gave him four hours before their meeting, and he’d admitted to having an appointment before hers. “You flew here from Italy and went straight to a meeting?”

“I did not wish to waste time in the States.”

That wasn’t the Luciano she remembered. He was a party animal. The playboy who had the stamina to keep late hours and still perform with championship precision.

“Let me signal a skycap,” she said as she followed him to the opened trunk of the Mercedes.

“Don’t bother, I’ve got it.” Yet, as he removed her bags, his movements seemed stiffer and his olive skin paled considerably.

She doubted his condition had anything to do with him loading her two suitcases into the rental and driving them to the Denver airport tonight. Nor was it the result of anything recent.

Under the brilliant glow cast by the private parking lot, she studied the lines of strain marring his handsome face, etching deep grooves around his piercing eyes and sensual mouth. Toss his terse attitude into the mix and it equaled a man who’d grown used to living with pain and hating it. Lingering pain. Reoccurring pain. Phantom pain.

She saw enough of it in her profession to be able to recognize it after a few minutes of observation. Luciano was gripped with the first two. Considering he’d been a world-class champion with a reputation for taking daring jumps and going at lightning speed down the slopes, it wasn’t unusual it had left him with tangible scars from his years of fierce competition.

All of that abuse had come before the accident that had ended his career.

“I can read the signs, Luciano,” she said, slinging her carry-on over her shoulder before he could add it to the wheeled cases he seemed intent on maneuvering alone. “The muscle in your left shoulder is cramped and the fingers of your right hand have gone numb, or at least they are in some sort of tingling paralysis. Right?”

He threw her a frown—no, a scowl befitting a warrior. “Again, my error is forgetting how perceptive you are.”

She took the backhanded compliment with a smile. “It’s my profession to recognize these problems with my patients.”

“Which I am not,” he said with a good deal of heat. “You’ve agreed to lend your professional services to my brother. He’s the only Duchelini you will be attending.”

“I wasn’t offering to take you on as a client,” she snapped back, which wasn’t true because if she could help him...oh, what did it matter? “I understand athletes detest showing weakness. The majority of them I’ve encountered consider pain from an injury a weakness to overcome. Am I right?”

“Yes,” he hissed out. His long legs carried him across the drive toward the terminal with her two cases in tow. Then he stopped and cast her another impatient look. “Come on. The plane is waiting.”

No surprise he wanted the subject dropped now, she thought as she beat him to the door and opened it for him, determined to have her say. “For one thing, you’re wrong. Pain is not a weakness. Second thing—I believe you could benefit from therapy.”

“I don’t,” he spat, every viral inch of him rigid with anger. “There is nothing that can be done to help me. Nothing.”

The words plummeted like granite slabs on the concrete, shattering her tenuous confidence. She hadn’t just touched the surface of a major sore spot with him. She’d raked over it with claws and flung salt into the wounds.

Crawling back into her protective shell and keeping her thoughts to herself would be smart. But she knew how the body reacted to pain, both physically and mentally. To a degree, she knew Luciano Duchelini—at least she knew the fiercely competitive athlete he had been.

“Okay. You’ve explored all avenues to alleviate your pain and nothing worked,” she went on doggedly, just like she would with her patients. “But you’ve said it yourself. My program is different from the standard. If you utilized it to the fullest, there could be a chance for you to see physical improvement.”

He bit off something in Italian, likely a curse aimed at her. “Not enough to waste my time trying. I have learned to accept my limitations, Caprice. There is a difference.”

“So that’s it? You just give up?”

“This isn’t about me. It’s about Julian, and his injuries are life altering. All of the reports and reviews I’ve read about your program are glowing, and the professional techniques you’ve implemented are revolutionary. Focus on helping him with them.” He motioned her inside, a muscle pulsing wildly in his jaw. “After you.”

She looked away from his probing gaze and hurried through the doorway. Maybe he was right. Even with the best therapeutic programs out there, recovery from injuries hit a wall at some point. She knew that. Taught it often. So why was she pushing the issue with him? Why was she eager to discover his injuries?

The answer eluded her as she moved past him into the spacious waiting area of the airport with its welcoming chairs and scattering of passengers. She hadn’t been here in fifteen years, but it hadn’t changed except for an upgrade in the interior design.

She looked out the expanse of glass spanning the outer wall of the private concourse that lent a fabulous view of the private planes waiting to be boarded or disembarked by the rich or famous or a combination of both. The only time she’d been here was when she was twelve, and she was still haunted by the painful memory from her childhood leading up to that first trip to Denver.

She’s of the age to be sent to boarding school, her mother’s latest lover for the past six months had said one day as they’d readied for a trip to Jamaica.

Fine. Pay her tuition and I’ll sign the papers, her mother had shot back.

She’s not my daughter, he’d said. Let her father assume her support or remain with her.

And at that ultimatum, her mother had packed up Caprice and her possessions and flown to Colorado. She would never forget the shock twisting the reserved man’s face when her mother marched her into Tregore Lodge, announced that Caprice was his daughter and ceremoniously dumped her into his care. She would never forget the sense of abandonment that haunted her still, despite the fact her father had accepted his responsibility and raised her well.

“This way,” Luciano said, her body jolting as he pressed his right palm to her back.

For an insane moment, she wanted to lean into him. Wanted the heat radiating from his touch to melt the chill locked deep inside her. Wanted to feel needed and coddled just once in her life.

Sanity prevailed and she stumbled forward, breaking the odd hold. Already, being with him felt too familiar, too personal.

She moved to the aisle, walking slowly and purposefully when part of her screamed to run from the vortex of emotions swirling inside her. But there was no escape from memories, she knew as she continued toward the attendant standing by the door.

The woman’s hungry gaze touched briefly on Caprice before devouring Luciano. The fact he always got that response from women didn’t surprise her. The sudden tension and annoyance bubbling up inside her did, catching her unaware.

A denial screamed inside her brain. She wasn’t jealous. She couldn’t be. She wouldn’t let herself be.

“Good evening, Mr. Duchelini,” the attendant said in a soft purr. “Your plane is ready. If there’s anything else I can do...”

“Grazie,” he said, and pressed several bills in her hand.

The woman loosed a throaty laugh that set Caprice’s teeth on edge. “If you ever need another assistant for your fleet, or anything else,” she added, stepping closer to him, “please let me know.”

“I will bear that in mind,” he said.

Caprice had no doubt that he would. There was never a shortage of willing, beautiful women in Luciano’s world.

She took a step away from the pair only to be caught by a strong yet gentle hand on her arm. Her gaze lifted to his, questioning.

“We must leave,” he said, his crushed-velvet voice warm against her ear.

She shivered, her breath catching in her throat. “Sure. Fine,” she managed to get out.

In moments he hustled her across the tarmac to the waiting jet. This gleaming plane dwarfed the local charter ones she’d taken with the ski team from one regional airport to another. The Duchelini jet was close in size to the spacious connection planes she’d taken on short jaunts between major terminals.