Hired: The Italian's Bride (11 page)

“He’s on parole, you said. Would he come after you? Damn it, Mari, I could have protected you! You should have said something, rather than go through this alone!”

“What would I have said, Luca?”

He put down his glass. “If I had known you were scared, if I’d known the reason you didn’t like contact, I swear Mari, I wouldn’t have pushed. I’m not cruel.”

“And said what? ‘Hey, Mr. New Boss! Please don’t mind me, I just don’t like any physical contact because my stepfather was a sadistic freak that beat me for the hell of it?’ Nice ice breaker, don’t you think?”

His eyes closed for the smallest of moments.

“All the times I held you, all the times I could feel you trembling.
Dio,
Mari, I’m so sorry.”

He was blaming himself now and Mari was sick and tired of Robert Langston having all the power. Could she be honest with Luca? Could she tell him how she felt?

In the end she knew she couldn’t reveal it all, yet she also felt he deserved a partial truth.

“I wasn’t shaking with fear, Luca. Not with you. Don’t you realize how much it means to me that you stood up for me today? No one’s ever done that for me before. I…I…” But she stopped. She couldn’t tell him how she felt, it was too new, too tenuous. “Please, don’t ever think I was afraid of you. I
never
felt like I was in physical danger.”

Only in danger of what I feel for you,
she thought. That was the part she couldn’t tell him. That was the one thing she couldn’t let him know. She had known from the beginning that there would never be anything serious between them. He was Luca Fiori, based in Florence, heir to the empire. They were from two different worlds and were simply in the same place at a particular time.

He couldn’t know that with each passing day, with each gesture, she was falling deeper in love with him. What was she to do with those feelings? She certainly didn’t feel equipped to handle them, let alone share them. The one thing that she was sure of was that it wouldn’t turn out well. And she valued him too much to let things turn bitter and angry.

“Are you afraid now? Of your stepfather? What about your mother? Where is she?”

She wasn’t sure how much to tell him, how much he could handle. It wasn’t a pretty story. She paused too long and he backed away.

“I apologize. I’ve overstepped. You don’t want to talk about it, and I respect that.”

“No!” Mari got up from the sofa. “I’m not trying to shut you out, Luca…you must understand. No one here knows about this. I started a new life, built it from scratch. And I thought I’d left it all behind me. I did therapy. I thought it was all okay. Only I have just realized I can’t leave it behind—Reilly showed me that—and right now…”

She needed him. Luca, complicated, arrogant, and temporary—wasn’t that a kick in the pants.

“Right now—” her voice shook “—you’re the only one keeping me from losing it. Today brought it all back, all of it. I…I need you, Luca.”

She half expected him to run screaming. What man would want an emotionally crippled woman clinging and crying all over him?

“Tell me,” he said softly, holding out his hand.

She took it. “Robert Langston spent seven years in prison for the attempted murder of my mother…and of me.”

L
UCA
sat beside her on the plush sofa, tucking one leg beneath him so that he was sitting sideways, facing her. His warm hand enclosed hers and she clung to the thought of it, a link that kept her from feeling groundless and out of control. Now that she said the words they sounded surreal. Like it couldn’t have possibly happened. But it had, and she squeezed his hand in response.

She didn’t talk about that day. Not ever. But perhaps now she needed to. This afternoon had taught her that it wasn’t behind her as she’d thought it was. And the scary truth was Robert
was
out of prison and knowing it had chipped away at her safety barrier more than she cared to admit. Being with Luca was the only thing holding her together right now.

She looked up at him. His dark eyes were steady on hers, waiting for her to begin, giving her the time she needed. There was such a strength about him, even now when he was being gentle and nurturing. Luca was a man to be relied upon, so much more than the media’s Fiori heir who liked fast cars and beautiful women. That wasn’t the real Luca.

The real Luca was sitting before her now, a safe port in the storm, willing to be whatever she needed.

She stared at the sensuous curve of his lips, feeling a little wonder that a man like him had kissed a woman like her, and
on more than one occasion. Things like that didn’t happen. Real life wasn’t like that.

They certainly didn’t happen to a plain Jane from Ontario. Not one who was mediocre at best. But here he was, waiting. Not running. Not arguing. He was caring for her, and knowing it unlocked something she kept hidden deep inside. For the first time in her life, she wanted to
give
of herself to another human being.

“Mariella, you don’t have to tell me if it’s too difficult. It’s okay.”

She was brought back by the warm sound of his voice. She lifted their joined hands and kissed the top of his, holding it against her lips. She closed her eyes, grateful he was there. Even now he was being understanding and her appreciation ran long and deep. When she was with him, Robert somehow lost his power.

“When I was six, my mother married Robert Langston.” She focused on Luca’s face to keep the images away. “I never knew my real father. She’d brought me up on her own all that time and she said that things would get better, we’d have a new family. Only it didn’t turn out that way.”

“It wasn’t the fairy tale you expected.”

She nodded. “The abuse didn’t happen right at the beginning, but that doesn’t matter now. What is important is that when it did start it escalated quickly and completely, and we were essentially terrorized. He had complete control. He ruled us with fear, and it was awful. The years were…”

But she couldn’t go on. Her throat closed over as memories flooded back; cowering in a corner while he yelled at her mother. The rage on his face as he used his fists on her. Mari had foolishly spent too many evenings trying to defend her mother, only to receive the same treatment.

The years of long-sleeved shirts and makeup. Being scared to speak up and feeling guilty listening to the sound of
punches on the other side of the wall, too paralyzed to do anything. Of tiptoeing around, always afraid of saying the wrong thing or doing something not quite the right way.

Years of waiting for her mother to tell her it was over, but that moment never came. She’d remained trapped in the living hell of her childhood.

For the first time, Mari forgot all the police reports, all the therapy, all the ways she’d been told she’d made progress, and she simply cried—quiet, cold, devastating tears.

Luca pulled her into his arms and held her…warm, solid, sure. She cried for the childhood she’d lost, the guilt she still felt, the fear that never quite went away, and the fact that today of all days it had finally reached the point where she could grieve for it all.

Luca had made that possible. By some miracle, he’d pushed himself into her life and had shown her what was real.

After several minutes she slid backward on the couch, wiping her eyes. Luca went to the bathroom and brought back a box of tissues, offering her two and waiting patiently.

“I’m sorry for crying all over you that way.”

“Please don’t apologize.” He sat on the edge of the coffee table, facing her. “I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

At that moment the telephone rang and Luca scowled. “Answer it,” Mari said, but Luca shook his head.

“It can wait.”

The ringing persisted and he sighed, rising to answer. Mari watched him from her position on the couch. She was tired, so tired. Only once before had she been this drained, and it was the day she’d had to testify in court.

“It will have to wait.”

Mari heard Luca speaking into the telephone. His eyes remained fixed on her and she tried tucking the hair that had come loose back behind her ears. She must look a fright. His voice came again. “I’m sorry, but I’m in the middle of some
thing more important right now. You’ll have to take care of it. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He hung up the phone and came back, sitting on the table again and taking her hands in his. “I’m sorry about that.”

She was still trying to absorb the fact that he’d put off whoever it was to look after her. “If you need to go, it’s fine. I’ll be okay.”

“You’re not okay. And it can wait. Right now looking after you is my priority.”

Never, not once in her life had anyone said those words to her. Never had anyone put her first. But Luca—driven, workaholic Luca—had just put off whoever had been on the other end of that call. She licked her lips, unsure of where to start.

“Today I forgot all the things I learned from counseling and only felt the fear, the responsibility. If only I’d done something differently it wouldn’t have happened. I…” She swallowed, having difficulty going on. “Oh, Luca, I thought I was far beyond that. I worked so hard and all of a sudden it was like no time had passed at all. And then you were there. I was so glad to see you.”

“He put his hands on you. I couldn’t allow that.” He lifted his other hand and grazed her cheek with his fingers.

“In that moment I was trapped, back seven years ago. That day…” Her voice faded away for a moment. It was all in the police report. It was in her medical files after she’d gone through intensive counseling. But she’d never willingly offered it to someone who hadn’t been paid to hear it.

“What happened that day, Mariella?”

His voice encouraged her, invited her. After all he’d done, telling him seemed the next logical, if difficult step.

“I had moved out, and felt torn because on one hand I had left my mum behind. On the other I was away and safe. Mum had called and had said she was finally leaving him.” Mari realized her eyes were bone-dry; she must have cried herself
out earlier. She remembered being so relieved, so happy that her mum was getting away. Happy at the thought that maybe, just maybe, they could start building a relationship. “I said I’d come and help. But when I arrived, he’d gotten there first. Caught her packing her bags and when I found her she was bleeding, unconscious on the floor, with a broken arm and a cracked skull. Her clothes were strewn everywhere, slashed to ribbons.”

“Dio Mio.”
Luca’s low exclamation drew her out of the memory.

“It happens, Luca, far more often than it should.”

She put her other hand over his. Telling him was sapping her strength but it needed to be said. Perhaps she could finally be free of it. Perhaps with Luca beside her, she’d stop blaming herself. Perhaps Robert would lose his power over her for good.

“He found me there, grabbing the phone to call the police. He ripped it from my hand and started in on me. By the time it was over, my mum was still unconscious and I had a concussion, broken ribs and internal injuries from where he—” Her voice broke a little. “From where he kicked me over and over. He left us there, Luca. Left us to die. But the postman noticed bloody handprints on the front door and the stair railing. He called the police and the rest is history.”

“Only it’s not history.” He gently tipped up her chin with a finger. “Nothing like that can ever completely go away, can it. Oh, Mari.” He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed the backs, his eyes closing. She stared at the way his lashes lay on his cheeks, the tender way he cradled her fingers. Where had he come from? How was it that he was here, exactly what she needed, at exactly the time she needed him?

“I am so sorry. No one should ever go through something like that.” He whispered the words against her fingertips.

And then he leaned forward and touched his lips to hers.

She went into his embrace willingly, their knees pressed
together between the sofa and table. He was strong, and somehow a barrier between her and the ugliness of her past. When she was with him she was the Mariella she’d always wanted to be, free of the hold Robert Langston had held over her for so many years.

The kiss was soft, tentative, sweet. She hadn’t known he was capable of sweet.

She hadn’t known she was capable of love, but here it was. She loved Luca. And being completely out of her depth, she had no idea what to do about it.

“And now he’s out of prison…are you afraid he’ll come after you? What about your mum?”

His voice drew her back into the present. “The authorities keep me up-to-date while he’s on probation. Of course I think of it, and wonder if he hates me for my part in sending him to jail. But I can’t let myself think of it too much or it becomes overwhelming. I spent too many years looking over my shoulder. And it’s not one of those things you ever really get used to.”

“And what about your mother?”

Mari shook her head. “I don’t speak to my mum that often…there seems to be a wall between us now. I don’t even know where she’s living. I…” Mari cleared her throat. “A part of me still wonders how she could have let it happen. How she could have stayed with a man who beat her. Who beat me. Why didn’t she try to get out?”

She looked up at Luca. “What kind of mother hurts her own child that way? What kind of mother doesn’t put the welfare of her child ahead of everything? There have been times I’ve thought about the home I want, the children I might have someday. Could I put them through that? I know I couldn’t. I’ve tried to understand it, but I just can’t. The only thing I can come up with is that she was too afraid to do anything else.”

Luca shook his head. “I don’t know, either. I barely remember my mother myself.”

“You said she left you and Gina. That must have been difficult.”

“I only remember feeling like we never mattered.” Mari’s eyes widened at the loathing in his tone. “She left us when I was a boy. My dad raised Gina and me.”

He stood up and walked over to the window.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, “That must have been horrible for you. Did your dad ever remarry?”

He cleared his throat. “It’s not important, Mari. It was a long time ago. And it was nothing compared to what you went through. Nothing.”

He spoke with such vehemence that she knew he was hiding his own hurts.

And for a moment, she forgot about herself and wondered about the boy he’d been, and how he’d suffered in his own way. Perhaps that silver spoon he’d been born with didn’t gleam as brightly as she’d thought. How she wished she could help him as he’d helped her today.

How had this happened?

She’d fallen in love with Luca Fiori, and it was the one sure thing to break her heart. Luca cared for her, yes. She knew that. But love? By his own admission, Luca didn’t
do
love.

She had to take a step back. This baring of souls—well hers, anyway—was all well and good, but even she wasn’t fool enough to believe there was a happy ending in all of it. Luca didn’t live here. He didn’t belong here. He belonged at his villa in Italy with his family and the Fiori empire and what was happening between them now was a blip in their lives. Necessary, perhaps, but still temporary. How could she tell him her true feelings?

She stared at his back, trying to puzzle it out but not getting very far. Perhaps she was just raw from everything that had happened. What if these feelings were just a byproduct of a process she should have gone through years ago? It would be
foolish to make this into more than it was, and Mari was smart enough to know her perspective was skewed.

“You’re categorizing.”

Luca’s voice reached her. He hadn’t turned back around, but stared out into the growing darkness.

“I can practically hear your mind working, Mari. Please don’t. Just let things be.”

Mari rose and went to the window, standing behind him. She wasn’t sure anything would be the right move, so she simply did what she felt like: she put her arms around his body and pressed her cheek into the warmth of his back.

Luca swallowed against the lump that had formed in his throat. Anything he’d gone through as a child was nothing, nothing compared to the hell that Mari had experienced. He tried to picture her on a floor, battered and bruised, and couldn’t. It seemed too wrong, too horrific. What sort of man did that to another human being? To a woman he was supposed to love?

And yet, here she was, somehow comforting him.

“It’s snowing,” he murmured. Soft flakes fluttered past the balcony railing, settling on the ground in intricate patterns. He was reminded of his grandmother’s lace and wondered what she’d think of this mess he’d got himself into.

Why was it that people hurt the ones they were supposed to love? He knew he couldn’t let Mari do this alone, yet it brought back memories he hated, ones of comforting Gina when their mother had abandoned the family.
Nonna
had always been there to help. What would she say now, if she could be here?

He knew exactly what she’d say and he didn’t like the answer. She’d tell him to stop holding a grudge and forgive.

Mari sighed against his back and he closed his eyes. What a day they’d had. He was glad now that he had handled Reilly the way he had. If this was what Mari was carrying deep inside, a physical response would have only frightened her more.