Signed Over To Santino. Maya Blake
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ushered through a discreet entrance and into the private lift that serviced the penthouse.
Carla walked into the sumptuously decorated room and halted when she saw her father. Beside him, several familiar-looking suitcases were stacked neatly on a caddy, which a butler was in the process of wheeling away.
The ragged notion that she was once again being managed, herded where Olivio Nardozzi wanted her to be, tore through her.
‘I have a few phone calls to make,’ Javier announced once he’d acknowledged her father’s greeting. ‘I’ll leave you two to catch up. Carla, dinner will be served at eight. Make sure you rest before then.’
Before she could respond, he strode off down the hallway. She told herself his abrupt absence didn’t affect her as much as the mild hollowing of her stomach indicated.
She stiffened as her father placed the crystal tumbler he’d been drinking from on a nearby antique cabinet and crossed the room.
‘Mia figlia, it’s good to see you on your feet again. I wanted to be there when you were released, but I was assured that everything was in hand. How are you feeling?’
She didn’t react as he leaned forward and kissed her cheeks. When he stepped back, she glimpsed the tight, haggard look on his face.
‘I’m fine,’ she replied, desperately squashing any heartache she felt over the state of their relationship. Her father had long driven home to her that he abhorred any show of emotion, especially that of weakness. In all things she was expected to be poised, controlled. Emotionless. It was the reason their ongoing rows writhed like a live wire between them.
‘I hope your time in hospital has brought you to your senses?’ he murmured in Italian.
Anguish ripped through her. ‘If by my senses you mean I’ve given up my bid to lead an independent life, then I’m sorry to disappoint you but my wishes remain the same,’ she whispered fiercely. ‘I’m still taking a break from ice skating, and no, I haven’t made up my mind how long that break will be. When I decide, I’ll let you know.’
‘Does Santino know about this ludicrous decision of yours? I don’t believe that he does, or your contract would be in serious jeopardy by now and we’d be on our way to court.’
She bit her lip. Her contract with Javier’s company didn’t specifically state that she couldn’t make the decision she intended to take, but she doubted he would be pleased to learn she might lose her number-one-ranking status before she’d fulfilled the full terms of her sponsorship deal.
‘Contracts can be renegotiated. Nothing is set in stone yet. I’ll tell him when I’m ready. And I’d thank you to stay out of that decision.’
Her father’s espresso-coloured eyes hardened. ‘You forget yourself, girl. You wouldn’t be where you are today without me.’
‘Without your punishing strive for perfection and the strict rules that ensured I had no life outside figure skating, you mean?’ she sniped, the ennui rushing away to be replaced by the haunting reality of what she’d let her life become. And she couldn’t even fully blame her father for that.
‘I moulded you and ensured your iconic place in the history books!’
‘Through fear and intimidation. At each turn you threatened to abandon me just like—’ She pulled herself up short, sucking in a deep breath.
‘Go on, say it. Just like your mamma left you?’
Her hurt escalated until her whole body was engulfed in pain. ‘And we both know why she left, don’t we?’
He slashed an angry hand through the air. ‘I refuse to indulge you in this childish need to revisit the past. Your mamma is gone, and you dishonour her memory with this petty squabble you insist upon.’
‘How dare you accuse me of dishonouring her memory? When you didn’t even tell me she was dead until the morning of her funeral?’
Olivio’s frame tensed, his five-foot-nine stature rigid with banked fury. ‘You had a competition to win. I didn’t think the news would do anything but throw you off your game.’
Her blood turned cold. ‘Every time I think there’s a shred of humanity in you, Papà, you prove me wrong.’
His face tightened into a hard, implacable mask. ‘I don’t know what has got into you these past few weeks. Whatever it is, I suggest you take the time in New York to reassess your priorities. This deal with Santino will be the making of us, if you don’t mess it up. In the beginning, I was against him staggering the payments on the basis of your performance, but now I see it’s a good thing. It might not be enough to save us from the bank’s red letters, but if it helps keep you in line—’
‘You forget I’m no longer a child. Your threats of abandonment don’t frighten me any more!’
‘And I haven’t come this far for you to suddenly develop whimsical delusions. Only has-beens and losers scurry away with the excuse to find themselves. You’re number one and you’ll remain number one—’
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