The Vendetta (6 page)

She retrieved a mug, poured herself some coffee, and moved to the other end of the counter to examine the offering. The rose bloom was an unusually delicate peach color. She picked it up and held it to her nose while she stared at the note with her name on it.

Cara Lisa,

This rose reminds me of the lovely flush that bloomed on your cheeks when I held you last night. You have discovered by now that the storm will keep us inside today, but I have a surprise for you. Can you be dressed and ready at noon?

He had signed the note simply “Nick.”

She flipped the sheet over to look for more, but that was all. A surprise?

She heard a rattle at the door of the suite. Panicked, and unwilling to face Kimmi’s eager questions, she grabbed the rose and the note and fled to her bedroom. She locked the door, pressed her back to it, and squeezed her eyes shut. What did he mean a surprise? A picture of his hot, smooth skin flashed in her mind. Her nipples tightened at the thought.

God, get a grip, Lisa
.

She padded to the bed and sat down on the edge. The rose gave off a gentle scent, swirled with color. Her finger touched her name scrawled in Nick’s bold handwriting. She was overreacting. He’d said dressed and ready in his note. She could handle this. She could handle him.

She stood up and reached for her jeans. She would be ready for him, she decided. Her body was ready for him right now. She would just have to protect her heart from whatever he had in mind.

After all, it wasn’t the first time she’d attempted something she knew to be impossible.

* * *

Nick held Lisa’s hand as they crossed the hotel lobby. The blizzard outside had lightened, but the snowy cold still battered the windows. It had been a piece of good luck that one of Telluride’s foremost galleries was open for the day.

For reasons he’d not wanted to examine too closely, he’d called an abrupt halt to last night’s seduction. Maybe it had been his conscience or maybe it had been something else, but in the face of last night’s failure, this morning he’d felt a need to test the principessa’s claim about Lisa’s attachment to art. The paintings in the gallery-coffee shop Lisa worked in could not invoke the kind of emotion he was looking for, but he hoped this showroom was different.

A small bell jangled on the door as they stepped into the gallery. The space had an immensely high ceiling, with light wood paneling that complemented but didn’t overpower the paintings and sculptures.

He looked down at Lisa. The jolt from her green eyes, this time sparkling with pleasure, zapped him again. He was growing used to that jolt.

“You could have told me what you had in mind in your note,” she said.

“Yes, but then I wouldn’t have been able to see your reaction to my surprise. As I said yesterday, I find myself fascinated by you, Lisa.”

Her grin of delight faded, and a look of wariness shadowed her face. Nick wondered what circumstance had made her doubt her personal attractions. Or what person. But, he reminded himself, perhaps she had every right to be guarded. His aim was not, after all, simple entertainment on a snowy day.

Last night he’d found her physical response to his lovemaking surprising. He’d had to tear himself away, in fact. But his purpose here was to persuade Lisa to come back to Rome, and he had little time to convince her the trip would be in her best interests. He swept the gallery with his gaze. If the principessa had been correct, then he and Lisa had at least this in common. He hoped Lisa could be seduced by art, or else their trip to this little art space would be wasted.

A tall, gray-haired man dressed in boots and denim approached them from the back of the gallery and offered his hand to Nick. “Mr. Carnavale, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Mr. Decker.” Nick shook the man’s hand, liking his direct approach and lack of fawning pretension. Art dealers, in Nick’s experience, were a complicated breed, but there were a few who truly dedicated themselves to the artists and the work. Decker’s gallery was small-time by some standards, but his reputation was sterling—a fact Nick had discovered with a few well-placed phone calls this morning. Nick turned to include Lisa, making the introductions.

“I appreciate you opening your gallery for us during this blizzard, Mr. Decker,” said Lisa. “I hope you didn’t have to come too far to do so.”

“Please, call me Mac.” Decker grinned. “And I live upstairs. So, it was no trouble at all.”

Lisa laughed and her eyes shone at the older man’s attention.

Nick clenched his fist, marveling when he recognized the tension building inside him as possessiveness.

Decker looked back at Nick. “Is there a particular work or artist that interests you? Or would you prefer to take a look around on your own?”

Forcing himself to relax, Nick glanced at Lisa. “I think we’ll browse for a little while.”

Decker nodded and then, with a comment to come find him if they had questions, he retreated to a small office at the back of the gallery.

Nick stepped away from Lisa to look at a series of canvases that were abstract in form, but managed to convey the vast space of the mountain countryside, or perhaps the awesome surge of some dark emotion. He left Lisa to peruse the gallery on her own. Art, he knew, was an individual experience. It would not serve his purpose to hover. They drifted apart in the wide space of the gallery.

Eventually, they came back together in front of a swirling bronze sculpture titled,
The Lovers.
The statue’s form was indistinct, almost abstract, but the male and female figures managed to give the impression of enraptured bliss.

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” Lisa gestured to the sculpture. “I hadn’t figured you for contemporary art.”

He shrugged. “Rome’s not really known for the contemporary scene.”

She looked at him sharply. “That’s not really an answer.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “To me an art collection is about vision, and above all, personal preference. I have some contemporary pieces, but none of the really big names.”

“Why did you publicize your purchase of the Titian? Most collectors of Old Masters take pains to remain anonymous.”

He had done it, of course, for the vendetta. The more he positioned himself as an avid, even reckless, collector of Old Masters art, the more Van Alstrand would seethe with envy and avarice, the combination of which would lead eventually to a mistake. And then, when Van Alstrand hung stretched out over thin air, Nick would push him over the edge.

He shrugged. “Great art deserves a stage. I gave it one.”

She raised her eyebrows, clearly skeptical. “And then you hung it in your bathroom.”

He grinned. “As I said last night, you should see my bathroom before you pass judgment on the placement.”

Lisa blushed and looked away. Dio, he could not remember the last time he had met someone whose reactions were so unstudied, and yet so clearly revealed. Each individual emotion showed in her face and lent its honesty to the one before. The memory of her body’s response to him last night took on more weight in his mind.

He reached out and took her hand, raised it to his mouth. Her wide, green gaze met his as he drew her toward him.

“Nick, I—”

He squeezed her hand in warning as Decker approached.

Decker looked at
The Lovers
with a fond expression. “The artist is Miriam Charteris. Fortunately for us, she is an avid skier, and comes here to enjoy the summer season sometimes too.”

Lisa moved away from Nick to the other side of the statue. Her hand hovered over, but didn’t quite touch, the smooth bronze figures. “She is one of my favorites,” she said. “But I’ve never seen her in Telluride. Does she have studio space here? I would love to meet her someday.”

Decker shook his head. “I don’t know that she has ever done any work here. I think she comes to relax and get away from the daily toil. She was here for a short while right after the holidays.” Decker glanced at Nick, a slight frown on his face. “In fact, I was sure she mentioned—”

“I’ll take it.” Nick fought to remain relaxed after the words popped out of his mouth.
Maledizione.
What the hell was he doing? He hadn’t liked the direction of the conversation, but to just buy the artwork outright like that? The gesture marked him as a novice.

Nick gave Decker credit for urbanity. The experienced dealer didn’t hesitate to close the sale.

“I’ll prepare the paperwork immediately, Mr. Carnavale, and send it up to your room. No need to wait here. You can let me know then where you would like the piece shipped.” Decker offered his hand and a wry smile. “It has been a pleasure doing business with you.”

Nick’s mouth lifted at the corner as he shook Decker’s hand. After a few more pleasantries, Nick ushered Lisa out of the gallery. He could not remember when he had been so distracted during an art transaction. He didn’t even want the damned statue, although it was a fine piece.

Maybe he would offer it to Lisa, with the hope that the artwork would keep her thinking of him. And maybe that would push them past whatever was holding them back, because he still needed her to come to Rome. But he was starting to see that his need wasn’t just about the principessa anymore.

* * *

Lisa snuck a glance at Nick as they walked down the hotel corridor to his suite. He’d bought the statue. The original Miriam Charteris sculpture. But then, what she was sure was a six-figure price tag was a mere nothing to a billionaire like Nick.

God
. She’d never had such an experience in her life. The acquisition of the sculpture had been thrilling, almost sexual in its power. The encounter had given her a small glimpse of what she would have to get used to if she ever owned her own gallery. She had always thought of her ambition in terms of the artists, but now she was fully aware of the naïveté of that perspective. Who did she think was going to pay for the art, after all?

While she’d chatted with the gallery owner about the artist and the art culture in the town of Telluride, Nick’s tension had been palpable. Had it been it the art? The sculpture? Or was it her? She couldn’t comprehend his behavior, but she did know that with every minute she spent with him, her awareness of him increased exponentially. And that awareness was about to be tested.

She held her breath as he closed the door to his suite, and then he grabbed her and pushed her back against the panels. The intensity in his expression emphasized the heat radiating from him. Where their bodies pressed together, she burned. Pressure built, making her reckless and desperate.

She breathed in sharply, drowning in his spicy scent. He lowered his head. His lips were scorching, but questing too. Her hands came up to cup his face, her palms tingling at the texture of his skin. The shape of his jaw moved and changed as he pleasured her mouth, using his tongue and teeth to draw out her response.

And then she was no longer content to just touch him. She wanted to grab, to sink her fingers in deep. His arms slid around her shoulders, and she arched into his hold, plunging her hands into his hair.

Lisa stopped thinking about anything but this and now and Nick. He released her lips to trail his mouth down her neck to her collarbone.

“Lisa, you’re so beautiful, carissima. Let me…I need to touch you.”

“Yes.”

The sharp buzz of the hotel phone jarred Lisa out of her haze of desire, and she jerked away from him. She was aware of Nick’s stare, but she couldn’t return it, and finally he answered the persistent ringing.

Lisa tried to get a hold of herself. She was panting like a dog on a hot summer day, for God’s sake. She had never, ever done anything like this.

Nick spoke quietly for a moment, his words indiscernible, but urgent and almost angry. He hung up the phone and turned to her.

“What do you want first, the good news or the bad news?”

She crossed her arms over her body. “Good news, definitely the good news.”

“Sam Berger is going to be all right.”

“Oh, thank God.” She went over to the plush sectional and sank onto the soft cushion. She had not realized how much she had been waiting for a positive report on Sam Berger. She looked up at Nick.

“And the bad news?” she asked.

He took a step toward her, but didn’t touch her. “I have to leave.”

She frowned. “When?”

He slid his hands into his pockets. “Ah, in five minutes.”

She gaped. “Five
minutes
?”

“Yes, they’ve cleared the runways. There’s a commercial flight leaving in half an hour, and I have a seat on it.” He took another step toward her. “I’m sorry, Lisa. My secretary called earlier about a problem with one of our vendors. I have to make this meeting in Los Angeles.”

She stared at him, her mind a complete blank. “I see. Well, then. Thank you for everything, Signore Carnavale. I found the experience…enlightening.”

“Lisa, please. You must come to see me in Rome. I’ll be back there within the week.” His mouth lifted, and he made a smooth gesture with his hand. “I won’t rest until you do.”

Rome. Could she even contemplate it? No, Rome was too risky. It was a place she associated with the one person on the planet she’d do anything to avoid. Her grandmother.

But now Nick would be there too. That knowledge was a surprising enticement.

“I’ll think about it, Nick. But don’t hold your breath.”

She exited the suite, her body jolting when the door shut behind her. A sharp pain now bloomed just under her breastbone. This feeling at least was familiar to her, much more so than the crazy rush of desire and longing that still sparked through her body. People left. It was a fact of her life. She rubbed her forehead and squared her shoulders.

As she walked toward the elevators, she told herself she was grateful for her escape, but deep down she had trouble believing it. A scorchingly sexy night with Nick Carnavale was a once-in-a-lifetime experience that she’d really wanted to try on for size.