Bound by the Italian's Contract. Janette Kenny
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minutes ago,” he said. “Your promptness is an asset.”
That he knew exactly when she’d walked in the door spoke volumes. So did the fact he’d remained a bit hidden, making her seem the one a bit late and harried.
Not the impression she wanted to impart.
The Luciano she’d known had always run five to ten minutes late. It was a control thing and she’d accounted for it by arriving exactly on time. But he’d been here waiting.
That was a huge surprise. And a miscalculation on her part.
Seven years ago Luciano had been the world champion on the slopes, winning more gold medals than any Alpine skier before him, besting even his acclaimed father. The only things he was ever on time for were competitions.
It had been proven no man could beat him on the slopes. Rumors had flown that his ex-wife had captured his heart and taken it with her to her grave. That he no longer cared what anyone thought of him. That he lived for the moment, in sport and pleasure.
That no woman could reach the heart of the man.
Yet once she’d foolishly fallen for the champion, beset by a strong teenage crush. He was her idol. Her coach.
Her friend. Or so she’d thought.
He’d used her friendship, her naïveté, just as he’d done with his lovers. She’d hated him then for hurting her, and hated herself now because she knew better than to trust his type.
He was a celebrated playboy. Life had been a game to him and he’d played it to the hilt. He laughed. He partied. He took nothing seriously.
Not her. She’d assumed the role of a reckless flirt one time in her life. A stupid act of retaliation that she’d regretted every day since. That one horrific incident convinced her that she wasn’t a player in that world.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” she said, refusing to let him fluster her.
He smiled, though it appeared as practiced as hers. “My pleasure.”
If only she could say the same. She had to strike a winning deal. A position she deeply resented.
She’d worked hard. Saved. Scrimped. Yet it hadn’t been enough to save her when crisis struck. Now she needed this deal or she would lose Tregore Lodge, her heritage, her home, her livelihood.
“I’ve come prepared, Mr. Duchelini,” she said, getting right to the point.
He laughed, a brief, rich contralto that set his blue eyes twinkling and carved his beautifully sculpted lips into a half smile he likely used to charm ladies. “You are a take-charge woman. I remember how expertly you cracked the whip to get me to those pre-event meetings on time.”
She nearly smiled until she recalled how bitterly their last working relationship had ended. “It would have been easier if you hadn’t been a night owl.”
He simply shrugged, just like he’d done back then only lacking the teasing smile. Zero contrition. She expected no less from a rich womanizer who’d skirted conventions all of his life.
“Come,” he said. “Let’s go someplace private to talk.”
Said the spider to the fly? Being anywhere private with him was the last thing she wanted to do, but she said, “I’m ready.”
“As am I. This way,” he said, and gestured to the elevators.
She fell into step beside him and tamped down her annoyance that he hadn’t simply arranged for her to meet him at a set location for their meeting. The sooner this phase was over, the better. No, not over. Resolved, so she could move forward achieving her dream.
“I brought plans for the lodge and a prospectus for my program, Mr. Duchelini,” she said, not wishing to waste a minute, not wanting to be here any longer than necessary.
“Please, you know me. Call me Luciano or Luc.” He motioned to the open elevator and she stepped inside, then stood as far from him as she could though she may as well have not bothered.
The mirrored wall behind made the space loom larger, but it did that to her companion as well. Not that he needed any physical enhancements.
Luciano simply consumed any space he was in with his commanding presence, absorbing the energy of everything around him.
She knew most women would be content to stare at his gorgeous body and classically handsome features because years ago she’d fallen under his charismatic spell. Not now, though it was tempting to admire him. Thank God she was stronger than that, that she’d learned from her mistakes.
“Very well, Luciano,” she said, refusing to use his nickname as she’d once done. That would be too familiar. “To be honest, I’m surprised you didn’t send someone in your stead.”
He shot her a frown, his gaze cool. “There is much business that I attend to personally.”
“You never used to, unless it pertained to competition,” she said, and it was the truth. “What I meant was I hadn’t expected you to fly halfway around the world to speak with me.”
“It was no bother to coordinate my schedule to come here,” he said matter-of-factly. “I was already in Denver to interview a ski therapist, like yourself, when my assistant phoned to let me know you were seeking a financial backer.”
In a second, the stakes skyrocketed with competition thrown into an already tense equation, but she remained calm and determined to win his bid. “Good. I’m eager to discuss business.”
“As am I,” he said with a bite of impatience.
Game on. Having a rival meant she had one way to proceed—full tilt.
“Please,” he said as the elevator door whispered open, motioning her to precede him with a disarming smile that was likely meant to throw her equilibrium askew.
Immune to his charms, she returned his smile with a cool one of her own and stepped from lift. And came up short. She blinked, surprised to be standing in a short hallway with a single door at one end and carved double doors to her right.
“This way.” Luciano escorted her toward the double doors, where he reached around her, swiped a key in the slot and knuckled the door open. “I trust you don’t mind discussing business in my suite?”
“Not at all,” she said, stepping inside to regain the buffer of personal space he’d come too close to crossing.
The amazing view of the mountains from his private suite drew her to the windows. She welcomed the calm their rugged beauty always gave her, this grounding to reality that gave her strength.
“Thank you for showing interest in my proposal,” she said, turning to face Luciano, whose attention seemed riveted to a small laptop open on the desk. “If there’s anything in particular you wish to know about the designs I’ve envisioned for Tregore Lodge...”
“Your property is small and in need of intense restoration,” he cut in, not bothering to look at her.
She cursed the flush burning her face, a show of emotion that she’d never learned to control. “True. Tregore Lodge needs major updating to make it competitive again. But I believe it has much potential...”
“I don’t,” he said, rudely shooting down the momentum she needed to build before she had a chance to explain how she could establish a state-of-the-art rehabilitation facility there.
“If you feel that way, then why did you ask for this meeting?” she asked, the question burning holes in her patience despite her determination to maintain a business mien, despite the determination to finance her program.
“Simple. The only admirable investment on your property is you.”
“Is this some kind of joke?” she asked, needing to know she hadn’t misunderstood him.
“Not at all.”