Worth Everything (6 page)

His view at this very moment was pretty damn spectacular. The oversized black top Stasia wore sloped off to the side, revealing one smooth shoulder, the bright pink strap of her bra. Cropped jeans and casual black woven sandals completed her look, accentuated with a delicate gold chain hanging from her neck, a matching chain around her right wrist.

So effortlessly put together, she was beautiful. Women were most likely jealous of her and men without a doubt lusted after her.

Much like he did.

He was grateful for the wave of lust. It momentarily distracted him from her grinding the gears as they headed up the hill toward the Renaldi Villa. Kept him from thinking too hard as to how high they were climbing, or how close to the edge of the cliff she was driving. One wrong move and they’d be pitched into the Mediterranean. Not the way he’d want to start this business meeting/semi-vacation they were embarking on.

“I wish we were staying longer,” she said with a wistful sigh as she turned onto an even narrower street.

He finally glanced around, relieved to see nothing but elaborate gates that most likely hid gorgeously expensive homes. Well-manicured flowerbeds lined the street and bushy olive trees offered plenty of shade. They drove through a small, affluent neighborhood, so at least it didn’t feel like they were gripping the edge of the mountain.

“I can’t get away for longer than four or five days. Shouldn’t that be enough time?” he finally asked.

“Oh, for talking to my mother, definitely. Now that we’re here, though, I’m realizing how much I missed it. I’d love to stay here for a few weeks. It would be so relaxing.”

“I’m sure.” Jealousy coiled in his gut. He knew she’d worked since she was a teen, though it had been for the family company, so she’d been handed the position. And he knew she had nothing now, no job, no family support, no money besides whatever she might’ve had in her bank account when her father died. His feelings were irrational, he shouldn’t be jealous of her.

But he was jealous—of her past. She’d grown up with everything her heart desired. Whereas he’d grown up kicking and fighting for every single thing he got. And when he’d been young, he hadn’t got much.

“I spent many a summer here as a child, through my teens.” She sounded wistful. “I used to beg my brothers to take me down to the beach so we could spend all day there.”

“Sounds amazing.”

“Oh, it was. It still is.” She sent him a quick warm smile. “If we can, I’ll take you there. We should at least spend a few hours on the beach. You’ll never want to leave.”

He should tell her no, he had too much work. It wasn’t appropriate. Spending a few hours at the beach with Stasia wasn’t proper business behavior. Seeing Stasia in a skimpy bikini? Because he knew she wouldn’t cover up that gorgeous body. The thought was tempting as hell, absolutely. Dangerous as hell?

Also absolutely.

“You’re probably not the beach type.” She wrinkled her nose. “You probably have legal briefs to read and phone calls to make.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t know what else to say. She was one-hundred percent right. Though he hadn’t lied when he’d told her it was a slow time for him at the office, he always had work to do. Always. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a vacation. Not even a weekend away.

He’d been accused more than once that he didn’t know how to relax. Past girlfriends had left him for that reason alone. He didn’t know how to make time for a relationship. Had worked too damn hard to get where he was to let it slide by for a vacation here and there.

That had probably been a mistake. What the hell was wrong with a vacation? He was twenty-fucking-nine-years-old and he’d never taken one. Ever. The last time he’d left the city was for a weekend jaunt to the Jersey Shore in his early twenties with his college buddies, where they’d screwed women that they’d picked up at the local bars like wild beasts.

After college graduation, he’d worked. And worked and worked and worked. He had a reputation at his law firm for turning in the most billing hours. He’d climbed the promotional ladder in record time. He was proud of that. Damn proud.

But what sort of personal life did he have? None. He’d sacrificed it all for his career.

“You probably don’t want to hang out with me at the beach anyway. You don’t even like me.”

“I never said that,” he started but she cut him off with an unladylike snort.

“You didn’t have to.”

No, he supposed he didn’t. He couldn’t admit the reason he argued with her so much was as a defense mechanism. A way for him to avoid what he really felt for her.

Not that he
felt
anything. It was based on attraction, nothing else. He’d been attracted to plenty of women before and never acted on it. Stasia was no exception.

“Here we are,” she said brightly, thankfully changing the subject. She turned left onto a driveway and stopped before the massive, sleek wooden gate painted white. Within seconds it was opening, allowing them entry, and she pulled in, a large, two-story house looming ahead. As they drew closer, he saw the rounded arches, the bright flowers blooming everywhere, vivid against the stark white of the house. And in the near distance, the glimmering blue ocean, dotted with boats that looked like toys floating in the water.

He whistled low, catching her attention.

“I know, it’s gorgeous, isn’t it? I always forget just how wonderful the view is until I return. It takes my breath away every single time.”

“I can see why.” It was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. Of course, he’d rarely been out of the city, so this was a new experience for him.

Made him realize there was more to life than the four walls of his high-rise office in midtown Manhattan, that was for damn sure.

She parked in an open carport, hopping out of the car the moment she put it in park and shut off the engine. He followed her and exited the vehicle, squinting against the intense late afternoon sun. He’d forgotten his sunglasses, a huge mistake.

“I’m sure my brothers left a few pairs of sunglasses around,” she said when he shielded his eyes from the sun. “I’ll find you some.”

“Thanks.” He was pretty sure the Renaldi brand licensed sunglasses, so he didn’t doubt she’d find some.

As they walked toward the house, one of the double doors opened, an older gentleman dressed in khakis and a faded denim shirt stepping outside. An enthusiastic grin stretched across his face at their approach and he headed straight for Stasia, his arms opening wide. “
Ciao,
Anastasia,
mi carina
.”

She walked easily into the man’s embrace, hugging him tight. “
Ciao,
Renzo.” The warmth, the happiness in her voice was unmistakable.

And that was all he caught. They spoke in rapid fire Italian when they broke apart, talking animatedly, their hands flying and accompanied by plenty of laughter. Gavin took it all in, marveling at how even more beautiful she was when happy. She’d only been somber during his interactions with her. Returning home, to Italy, brought her joy.

Secretly, he wondered what it was like, to make her smile like that. Feel like that.

Despite the warning alarms going off in his head, he was curious to find out.

Renzo was kind enough to bring in their luggage while Stasia showed Gavin around the main house. She tried to imagine what it must look like through a stranger’s eyes. The interior was pure, stark white, calm and with soft lines. White walls, white couches, accented with wood coffee table and end tables, mellowed warm with age. The occasional pop of color appeared. Bright yellow and blue printed pillows dotted the couch, a vibrant bottle blue vase bursting with a bouquet of colorful flowers on the otherwise pristine white tile countertops in the kitchen.

Her mother had worked with one of the best designers on the coast, laboring over each and every choice. She’d wanted the house to have a particular look and feel, and after many years, she’d finally mastered it.

Even when she was young, Stasia had known to be careful, to treat every item in the main house with care. Her rowdy older brothers respected the house as well, never tracking in dirt or grime, though it had never felt like a museum, oh no.

Villa Renaldi had been a happy place, filled with fond childhood memories that Stasia cherished. Despite coming here under such unpleasant circumstances, she was still happy. Excited to show Gavin everything the villa had to offer.

“Wait until you see where you’re staying,” she said as she opened one of the French doors that led onto the back terrace.

“I’m not staying in the main house?”

“No, I had Renzo prepare the tower for you.” It had once been a crumbling relic from centuries ago, a pile of stones destroyed by years of neglect. But now it was a one-bedroom, one-bathroom guest quarters. Gorgeous in its simplicity, it had the best view from its bathroom—and with a giant sunken-in tub to sit in and enjoy it too.

“The view from here is pretty damn unbelievable.” The awe in his voice made her smile. He followed diligently as they walked down the cobbled steps toward the tower, the sea before them majestic. The sun cast the brilliant blue water in hazy golden shimmers, and she swore she heard the calls of children playing and splashing in the water from below. Overhead, a bird cried as it flew over them, and the gentle breeze swept through the nearby olive trees, the rustling leaves like a sweet childhood melody. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it? I’m excited to show you the view from the tower bathroom. It feels like you’re about to step into the water, right from the window.”

The large wooden door to the tower was unlatched and she pushed it open, stepping to the side so Gavin could enter first. “Tell me what you think.”

He entered the room and stopped in the center, slowly turning so he could take everything in. The glossy cream tiled floor shone so brightly she could see his reflection, and the floor to ceiling windows were open, allowing that delicious ocean breeze inside. Filmy white curtains billowed, the king-sized bed was made up with crisp white linen and there was a small seating arrangement near the balcony door, two overstuffed chairs covered in elegant, pale gold velvet, a small round wooden table sitting in between.

“This is my room?” He sounded shocked.

“All yours for the next four nights.” She glanced toward the bed, had a fleeting image of his dark head resting against the plump white pillow, draped with a sheet and wearing nothing but golden skin. Was he muscular? He appeared so, even through the fine suits. She bet he had a delectable body, one that would certainly know exactly what to do to make hers sing with pleasure…

Her skin grew warm and tight, as did her nipples. She jerked her gaze away to find him headed toward the bathroom, a rather loud expletive escaping when he entered the room.

She followed, found him staring at the tub in wonder. It was large and constructed in a half-round, butting up against the wall below the giant window that overlooked the ocean. The view was magical, indeed appearing as if one could step directly out onto the sea. As a child, she’d begged to stay in the tower after it had been remodeled, her parents allowing it only on very special occasions.

She’d thought of it as hers, an escape from her brothers. A place to call all her own, where she would sit and dream, pretend she was a princess locked away in the tower, waiting for her knight in shining armor to come and rescue her.

Silly, childish dreams she couldn’t help but still hold on to, especially considering what had happened. She needed a rescuer, needed someone to stand tall beside her and help her fight the battles so she could conquer the war.

Someone like Gavin…

“I thought you might like some privacy and a space of your own,” she said to fill the sudden too-long silence. She needed to banish her foolish thoughts. They were pointless. He didn’t like her. Despite his earlier protests, she didn’t believe him.

Did he not like the tower? Or even worse…did he think it too much? As if she might be showing off, flaunting her wealth and prosperity? She was merely proud of her heritage, of this house on the cliffs that had been in her family for generations. Her brothers constantly brought guests and friends to the villa, though she rarely did.

Not that Gavin was a friendly guest. This was a business trip, nothing more. She needed to remember that.

“I appreciate the thoughtful gesture.” He met her gaze, wonderment making him look a little dazed. Relief flooded her at that look. He liked the space, thank goodness. “I almost feel like you went to too much trouble.”

“Absolutely not. It was no trouble at all.” She’d made a phone call and that’s all it took to make it happen. “Oh good, Renzo is here with your luggage.”

Renzo set Gavin’s single black suitcase next to the dresser, then set his computer bag on top of it. “You find it to your liking, eh?” His gravel-voiced question was aimed at Gavin.

“It’s amazing. I appreciate the hospitality.”

“Anything for Miss Renaldi’s friend,
si?
She’s never brought any friends like you to visit. A few girlfriends, but when she was still a girl in school. I assume the two of you are…” Renzo left the question unspoken, but there was no denying the twinkle in his eye, the raising of his white, bushy brows.