Once he’d said the words he considered them. Mari moved down the wall, looking at the next pieces and he watched her. Maybe he was making this too complicated. An attraction did not a fairy tale make. And he was the last person on earth to believe in fairy tales. Gina believed enough for the two of them and he was happy for her. But it wasn’t something he was willing to risk himself.
Gina had been young and full of her own grief at their mother’s abandonment. Luca had been a little older. He had seen the toll it had taken on his father. He’d realized his father had truly loved his mother. Time and again he’d seen his father try to win her love only to fail, and in the end losing her had broken Papa’s heart. Luca had never wanted to put himself through that anguish.
Maybe it was doing this job for too long that had him dissatisfied. Tired of the endless travel and rootlessness, of living out of a suitcase and only going home for holidays. Maybe that was what intrigued him about Mari. She knew her place and was happy in it.
He was smart enough to know it wasn’t him she was enamored with. She was taken with the changes; with experiencing new things and it was breathtaking to watch her blossom. But he wasn’t fool enough to believe it was him, as she said.
He wouldn’t take it further than it had already gone, and in the end they’d part as friends. He’d return to Italy.
The idea didn’t seem as charming as it had a few weeks ago. What was waiting for him at home seemed flat and lackluster now. More than ever he longed to break free and take his own place within the company. To step out of the shadows. To be Luca, not just the son and brother.
Mari returned to his side. “Have you finished?” She placed her hand on his sleeve. “I thought I’d do a little shopping of my own before the stores close. But if you’re not…I can stay.”
He wanted her to stay with him, he realized. And he didn’t like knowing it. Didn’t like knowing he’d somehow lost control of the situation he himself had orchestrated. He had to keep it to their original agreement. So that no one got hurt in the end. Maybe he wasn’t looking for love, but he sure wasn’t looking to hurt anyone, either.
“No, you go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You’re sure?”
He leaned over and on impulse dropped a light kiss on Mari’s lips, wondering why in the world they tasted like strawberries. “I’m positive.” He aimed a winning smile at her.
“All right then. Don’t forget, we have a meeting in the morning with the landscape designer for our spring plans.”
“I’ll be there.”
She squeezed his hand and grabbed her shopping bags. He turned around and looked at the painting again, but for the life of him he didn’t see a beating heart.
Mari took a moment to roll her shoulders back and forth, easing out the tension. There had been too many long days in a row, she realized. There had been no more kisses, and she had told herself that was for the best even as she felt the dull ache of disappointment. Reminded herself of it even as she caught herself staring at his perfect lips in meetings or when they met in his office or hers about the renovations.
Once she walked in while he had Gina on speakerphone. She’d paused, unsure of what to do, but Luca had waved her in. His hair stood up in rows where his fingers had run through it and the scowl line was back between his brows. They were speaking in Italian, but at the end, his voice softened. “I love you, Gigi. Ciao.”
The line was disconnected.
“You’re worried about her. Is everything okay?”
His smile was thin. “It will be. She says hello, by the way.”
Their obvious closeness made her wish once more for the family she’d never had. Seeing Luca with his sister, teasing, arguing, and like today—always supportive—made her long for it.
For the first time, she felt free to be herself. Luca had no expectations of her and that was liberating. The way he smiled seemed as if it were just for her. The way he’d held her hand felt like it had always been that way. And his kisses had taken her breath away. Even knowing it was imprudent, she couldn’t help but wish he’d do it again.
The clincher had been when the delivery man had arrived on Saturday morning.
She’d carefully unwrapped the package, staring down at the painting she’d admired during their trip to the gallery. The fact that he had spent so much money to buy it and give it to her said it all. It didn’t require a note, but there was a brief one anyway, scrawled on a plain white card…
When it speaks to your heart, you know it’s the right one.
No one had ever given her such a gift. And it wasn’t the money. She knew now that the price tag meant nothing to Luca. And it hadn’t been for appearances; if he’d wanted to impress he would have given her jewelry. This was more personal. It was perfect.