Bound by the Italian's Contract(65)

                “Don’t reject this out of hand,” he said.

                “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do,” she said, and walked from his office with her head high and her heart heavy.

                * * *

                She’d rejected him. Rejected him.

                For days the thought had haunted him. He was, in a sense, off the hook. Relief should wash over him instead of these needles of anxiety. He should brush it off instead of dwelling on her refusal. But he couldn’t.

                Annoyance pinged his taut nerves as he crossed to the window and stared out at the hard, unyielding mass of mountains, feeling cold and remote inside. This sense of aloofness closing around him wasn’t new. He’d gladly embraced it after his divorce. He’d worn it like a shield, never wishing to cast it off.

                He liked his life the way it was, without commitment, without a woman complicating his life. He’d proposed to Caprice to protect her. That’s all.

                Yet she’d refused him. And his protection.

                He blew out a long sigh and hung his head, determined to get back on track. For weeks he’d tried to put Caprice in the same class as Isabella, out to get his money and entrée his name would lend. But she was nothing like his ex-wife.

                Caprice had abided by the letter of their contract.

                He would not complain about that.

                She wanted a premier facility in Colorado and he would see that she got it. He could see now that she wanted to enjoy sex with him.

                It had been good. Amazing for him. But was she able to say the same?

                His intercom beeped. “Sorry to bother you, Luc, but you wanted to know when the therapy equipment had been set up.”

                “Thank you, Eva.”

                In a matter of minutes, he arrived at the therapy pod for a quick inspection, frowning as resonant clicks and whirs echoed from deep in the unit. Was someone using the equipment unsupervised?

                He crossed to the sounds coming from the far room, only to pull back around the privacy wall. Julian was strapped into a harness that allowed him to stand on a massive machine while Caprice supervised.

                “That’s it,” she said. “Stretch slow and steady again, holding when you reach the point of peak endurance.”

                A masculine grunt, then a loud clank. “I can’t do this.”

                Luc peered around the corner, careful to remain hidden. The defeat on his brother’s face stabbed at his heart. And then he looked at Caprice and saw the compassion glittering in her eyes as she patiently readjusted the straps on the pulleys and handed the ends to Julian.

                “‘Can’t’ isn’t a word we use here,” she said softly, pressing a palm to Julian’s muscled bicep, as if encouraging him to try again. “It’s going to pull, hurt and resist. You have to work at this. You have to want it.”

                Julian gave a short nod and began using the equipment again, face contorting as he exerted upper body strength. Slowly, minutely, his legs began moving back and forth, mimicking the motion of cross-country skiing.

                Julian barked a laugh and Luc smiled. “I can’t believe it. As my legs are worked, the tension in my shoulders eases.”