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Bound by the Italian's Contract(59)

By:Janette Kenny


                “Playing shrink again?” he asked.

                “Being a friend. I care about you,” she said and thought, far too much at times. “I know how the bad memories can haunt you.”

                One dark eyebrow lifted over a discerning blue eye. “Do you?”

                His doubt was understandable. And really, why had she even brought her own problems into this mix?

                “I don’t know what it’s like to experience what you and your brother did, but my life hasn’t been devoid of heartache.”

                He clasped her hand and pulled her close, his other hand lifting to cup the back of her head, his long fingers gently massaging at the tension that gripped. “We have both had our trials and tribulations since birth. Wealth or lack of it made no difference. Agree?”

                She filled her lungs and heaved out a breath, nodding. “Agree.”

                “Would you like a drink? Wine? Scotch?”

                Liquor was the last thing she needed, as she wanted her wits sharp as tacks, yet as wound up as she was she doubted she would find any peace this night. “Scotch but light,” she said at last.

                He obliged with a nod, pressing a thick glass into her hand, before raising his own. “To the launch of your therapy program worldwide.”

                “To your astute help achieving it,” she said and clinked her glass with his.

                It should be just this simple, thanks to his financial assistance on the project she’d poured long hours into. But Mario’s presence changed everything. It sullied her dream and left her too skittish to concentrate.

                She simply couldn’t get around it. That left her one choice. Get rid of the problem or bail, and she sure didn’t want to run away again.

                “I spoke briefly with Julian today,” she said. “He mentioned you might have hired an architect to work at the lodge.”

                He frowned, staring into his half empty glass. “As of this point, I haven’t decided whether I should go with Godolphin’s firm.”

                She bit her lower lip, biting back what she wanted to say. This was her problem. Not his. And yet to think that Mario Godolphin would have his name tied to any part of her program made her sick.

                “I thought he was a close friend of yours,” she said, as if that was reason enough to hire him for the job.

                “I’ve known him all my life, but he is a closer friend to Julian than to me.” His frown deepened. “Mario was a rival on the slopes and has proven to be a challenging businessman, branching out from his initial architectural firm.”

                So there was a chance to oust him. “Are there other companies you’re considering?”

                “Several, including the firm that built the lodge.”

                “Not that you asked, but I’d suggest you stick with the same firm so the design is exact instead of similar,” she said, then dropped the subject before she said too much. “Have you any idea when the rest of the equipment will arrive? It’s imperative we get this done as quickly and efficiently as possible.”

                “You’re that anxious to get away from me?”

                “No, I...” She just wanted to put distance between herself and her attacker. Wanted desperately to slam the door on that dark moment in her past forever. “It’s complicated.”