Hired:The Italian's Bride

“Did you need something?”

At the sound of her voice he dragged his gaze from her lips. “Need? I heard back from the designer, Dean Shiffling.” He couldn’t keep the annoyance out of his voice. “He can’t make it until day after tomorrow. I told him we’d send a car to meet him at the airport.”

They’d taken half a dozen steps down the hall but she halted abruptly. “Luca, we don’t have a car. We have a shuttle van.”

“Fiori does not herd guests into a, what did you call it? A shuttle van.” He muttered something under his breath. There was much to be said for the old Inn, but things needed to change to bring it up to Fiori standards. “I shall look after getting us proper transportation.”

He started walking again, knowing she’d have no choice but to follow after him. Already he could see the adding machine whirring in her head, working sums. A smile played with the corners of his lips. Perhaps it was wrong, but he had to admit he enjoyed putting her off balance. It had been too long since he’d had a worthy opponent to butt heads with and he got the feeling that Mari would be up to the challenge. It was worth it to see that firelight in her gray-blue eyes and her color rise. So much better than her icy withdrawal.

They stepped into the lobby area. “What did you want to see me about?” he asked, surveying the lobby. He looked at the floor. They’d get rid of some of those fussy carpets, polish the stone beneath. And the lighting was wrong. This lobby was comfortable but cluttered. It needed space, and light amongst the richness. Let them play off each other.

“I didn’t. You ran into me, remember?”

“Ah, yes. A happy accident indeed.” He let his eyes twinkle at her. “And you were in a spectacular rush.”

“I thought of something this morning that may come in handy during your redecorating.”

“Yes?” She had his attention.

“And you’re noticeably agitated that your designer isn’t at your beck and call within the hour.”

His eyebrow raised at that. She was going to keep him on his toes. She was correct. He’d wanted to get started right away and he was being forced to wait.

“Perhaps.”

“And people always do what you tell them.”

“Usually, yes. With a notable exception.” He aimed a pointed glare at her.

She held up a key.

She was playing with him now and it amused him as much as annoyed him. She’d never once in their meetings shown a fun side. “I’m assuming that is to a door. A door you’re going to tell me about.”

The faintest of smiles cracked her face. She looked very different when she put away that cold façade. Her eyes lightened and she seemed almost like a precocious child. Like there was more to her than fusty suits that covered as much skin as possible and prim hairstyles. He stared at the utilitarian twist and wondered what it would look like if she let it down. If it would be soft and pliant. Like her skin. He remembered the feel of the nearly translucent skin just beneath her palm. Would the rest of her be as fragile and soft?

Now that wouldn’t be wise at all. Even if a man couldn’t help but wonder.

“I was going to check it out first, but I suppose you want to come along. It’s to the attic.”

“You’ve an attic?”

Her smile grew as she nodded. “We do. And if we find what I think is there, you’re going to be happy I thought of it. Then you can stop obsessing about getting your designer in and focus on something else.”

He ignored the barb, too excited by the idea of a treasure hunt. “Then lead on, by all means.”

They took the service elevator to the top floor. Stepping out into a windowless corridor, Mari stepped to the right toward a large double door. “This is our storage area. I remembered it this morning. Something you said last night twigged with me, about a golden age.” She turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open.

Inside was like finding buried treasure. A film of dust covered everything: chairs, tables, desks, divans, even paintings and sculptures. A room full of potential, waiting to be rediscovered. The hotel must have been a glory in its early days, Luca thought, before someone came along and decided to change it. His eyes lit on a particularly fine tallboy. Whoever had relegated it to the attic should have been whipped. It was too fine, too valuable, to be hidden away in an airless, forgotten room.

“Dear God.” Luca stepped inside. There was little order to it, but he knew already she’d uncovered a gold mine. Excitement drummed in his veins. He wasn’t changing the hotel at all. He was restoring it. The idea thrilled him. He enjoyed the creating part of his job so much more than the management. It was a large reason why he wanted to step out of his father’s shadow. “Why are these things not displayed?”