Bound by the Italian's Contract(46)

                She knew any relationship with him would simply be carnal lust. No emotional ties. No commitments. No promises.

                His women were conveniences. Well paid, if the rumors were true. And well loved, if only physically. Now she was one of them.

                “Good.” He stalked to the door and paused to look back at her. “You should be able to find suitable clothes in the closet. When you’re dressed, meet me in the great room.”

                Then he was gone, not giving her the option to agree or balk. But then why would she?

                She’d gotten what she asked for. No more. It was time to view this amazing design that may, or may not, be suitable for the therapy pod. Then she would get back to the lodge and reality.

                Solitude. That’s what she needed to put all of this back into perspective, and soon.

                Fifteen minutes later she found jeans and jerseys, still bearing tags, hanging in the closet. Considering she had nothing to wear, and refusing to belabor the point of wearing something intended for another woman, she rid them of the tags and dressed, then finished towel-drying her hair.

                She was clean and incredibly charged with energy, considering the day’s events, when she walked into the great room. And stopped.

                The amazing expanse of glass on either side of the massive stone fireplace, complete with roaring fire, made it feel as if they were suspended over a fathomless gorge, as if she were hanging on to this primitive ledge. She couldn’t image a more perfect view.

                “I’ve never quite seen anything like this,” she said, near breathless.

                “Is that good or bad?” he asked, the warmth of his body against hers telling her he was far too near again.

                “Good. Has this place been in your family for long?”

                Again, the crooked smile that made her skin tingle and her stomach tighten. “No. I acquired it after my first World Cup win with intention of restoring it to a quality rifugio.”

                “But you didn’t,” she guessed.

                He shook his head, his smile disappearing like the clouds that suddenly shrouded the jagged peaks in the distance. “Because of the disrepair here, it took undue time restoring it. So long, in fact, that I’d begun to long for a secret place to get away from the world. But the wait was worth it.”

                She took it all in, understanding his need for a retreat and finding this very nice, very relaxing and cozy. “Is this the design that you thought I would love?”

                “No, that is upstairs. After you,” he said, making a sweeping motion toward the multiple landings of the long staircase that separated the great room from the galley area, suddenly treating her as a guest.

                The low risers between the trio of landings said more about his need for rest than any explanation could convey. Each landing provided a place to pause with an arresting vista that differed from the one before it. They were a reminder of the majestic mountains and challenging runs that would call to any accomplished skier.

                Yet Luciano hadn’t gone back. This was the retreat he’d designed for himself. Where he could hide and heal his broken body. But what about his troubled soul? she wondered.

                That question troubled her as she reached the top level. It took her a moment to scan the massive space. Peaceful was the only word that came to mind. The furnishings were dressed in variant blues and browns and whites, colors that melded in with artistic murals and the living landscape vista just beyond the two walls of glass, which opened naturally onto the vast sky and rugged mountain range.