Hired:The Italian's Bride

Reilly squared his shoulders, gathered his bags and strode out of the lobby, cursing the whole way.

Mari looked up at him, her cheeks still devoid of healthy color. “I’m sorry, Luca, I didn’t mean to…”

“Don’t apologize. Come with me.”

She followed meekly. He didn’t touch her anywhere but she felt pulled along just the same. “Where are we going?”

“To my suite, so you can get yourself together.”

He opened the door with his key and she went inside ahead of him. He went to the cabinet and poured a small amount of brandy in a glass. He handed it to her. “Drink this. It will put the color back in your cheeks.”

Mari sipped, opening her mouth wide and gasping as the liquor burned.

He was angry. She’d handled everything wrong and he was angry at her. At least he was going to have the grace to discuss it in private.

“Luca, I’m sorry.” She took another fortifying sip of the brandy and handed him back the glass.

“Sorry for what?”

“It’s my job to deal with our guests and I failed today.”

“For God’s sake, quit apologizing for that ape’s behavior!”

She stepped back at his outburst.

He tempered his tone at her reaction. “I’m the one that’s sorry, Mariella. When I saw him grab you…you looked like you were about to collapse in a heap. It made me insensible.”

“You’re not angry with me?”

He stepped forward and crushed her into his arms. “No, darling,” he whispered into her ear. “I’m not angry.”

Tears stung the backs of her eyelids as they slid closed. His wide hand cradled the back of her head as she leaned against him.

“I saw him touch you and I wanted to grab him by the neck and throw him out,” Luca ground out beside her ear. “But that’s not Fiori. At least that’s not what the hotel stands for. Fiori is class and elegance, not brawling in the lobby. Even if he deserved it.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. I…I hate violence. But I was afraid, Luca. So afraid.”

“It took all I had to hold my temper.”

She stepped back out of his arms. “You may think you were polite, but I saw the look of thunder on your face. Oh, Luca, I was so glad to see you. I knew you wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”

He lifted a finger and ran it over her cheek. “I’d never let him hurt you, Mariella.”

“But I know…I know what men like Reilly can do.”

And then the shakes hit.

Mari felt the trembling strike deep inside and was helpless to control it. Her body went cold and suddenly it was impossible to get enough air. She stared straight ahead but could hear the gasping of her own strident breath.

“Porco mondo!” Mari barely registered Luca’s exclamation as his hands gripped her arms and pushed her down on the sofa. He said something to her in fast Italian. The breaths came fast and shallow and she started to see gray spots.

“Damn it! Mari, put your head between your legs!” He bit out the command and she felt the pressure of his hand against her head, pushing it down. She closed her eyes and fought against the darkness. “Breathe, darling,” his voice came, gentler now, and she concentrated simply on the in and out of respiration.

Reilly was gone. Robert was gone. No one would hurt her.

If she said it over enough, perhaps she’d believe it.

After a few minutes she’d gained control again. The shakes had hit her so hard and fast she hadn’t been prepared, though she should have been. She’d had them often enough before. It just hadn’t happened for a very long time. She’d let her guard down since being with Luca day in and day out. She was safe here with him. He was looking after her and knowing it made her want to cry all over again. She was always alone. This time she wasn’t. Luca was here.

“You…I thought you were going to hit him,” she murmured, bracing her arms on her knees and holding her head.

“And I wanted to, the moment I saw him put his hand on you. But sometimes there are better ways to accomplish things than with fists. He’s gone now, and he won’t be back. Not to any Fiori hotel. I’ll make sure of it.”

At his words a tear snuck out of the corner of her eye and she blotted it. He couldn’t know how much his words meant to her. How much he’d risen in her eyes, just knowing he’d preferred a calmer, more effective way to deal with a brute. Knowing he had had that urge to protect her, yet controlled his temper.

The warmth of his body disappeared for a moment and she heard him over at the bar. When he came back he pressed a glass of water into her hands. “This might work better than the brandy,” he suggested quietly, his fingers cupping hers around the glass.