Will remained belligerent. “There was enough in those expense accounts alone. I never took a dime away from the special accounts for your brats.”
“And that makes it all right?”
Will balled his fists, punching out at the air. “Damn that wench, Minka!”
“You’re a dead man if you go near her.” Qasim’s cool veneer turned noticeably rigid.
Will feigned surprise. “Should I tell my lawyer I’ve just been threatened?”
“You’ve been guaranteed. Guys?” Qasim called to his guards. “Do I stand by my guarantees?”
“Absolutely, sir,” the men chimed in enthusiastic smugness.
One of the guards opened the office door. The other waved a hand before Will.
“Sir?” the man prodded.
Qasim maintained his barely restrained anger until the guards had escorted Will from the office. Alone, Qasim spent long moments inhaling and working tight knots of frustration from his neck and shoulders. He tried to ease Will’s betrayal to the back of his mind, but only found his temper stirring more as a result. Finally, he realized only one thing—one woman—had the power to settle whatever riled him.
If Oscar Bauer thought it strange that his daughter called suddenly to request information on his potential retirement digs along the Italian coast, he made no indication of it.
Vectra was glad since she didn’t really know what to make of it herself. The word “coward” came to mind, but she didn’t begrudge it. Leaving for Lake Misurina, Italy, may have been a touch much, but her father had asked her to make the trip, hadn’t he?
Of course, Vectra knew that wasn’t why she suddenly insisted on snagging a flight and leaving the house two hours after Qasim’s heated departure. No doubt he’d been enraged, she thought, recalling the livid glint in his midnight gaze when he’d stormed out. A flurry of vile curses had streamed after him.
Leaving the way she had hadn’t been necessary, but she’d panicked. Old memories hastened her departure in spite of the fact that a trip was already in her immediate future. After Italy, she’d be headed to Miami, where she’d oversee the final preparations for Yancey Croachman’s next showing. There wouldn’t be much to handle, she knew. Once the artist’s vision for the first show was underway, the Miami staff would take its cues from the event. The follow-up show wouldn’t require nearly as much extensive planning.
So why was she adding another leg to her trip?
Vectra wouldn’t allow herself to mull over the answer for long.
Lake Misurina was a dream. Vectra had decided her father had made an excellent choice within minutes of her arrival less than twenty-four hours earlier. The lake, site of previous Olympic speed skating events, was known for its crisp, clean air that beckoned asthma sufferers and athletes alike.
Oscar Bauer’s intended digs were just as beckoning. The villa overlooked the lake and the Tre Cime di Lavaredo in the distance. From the master bedroom terrace, Vectra inhaled, accepting the air’s rejuvenating effects while soaking in the glory of the mountains.
As beautiful as it all was, though, she only wanted to be back in her bed waiting for Qasim’s return.
Boy, you really screwed this one up, didn’t you, Vec?
She really had, but the knowledge didn’t erase the fact that too much of her past was still hanging around.
So, now what?
She turned her back on the view, leaning along the rail as she bit at her thumbnail. She thought—hoped—she was beyond all that, beyond second-guessing or examining everything she did for signs that it was all prompted by her past.
It all came down to disclosure, full disclosure. She’d never been able to do that, not with her family, not with anyone. She hadn’t wanted to ever be reminded of how weak she’d been during that entire mess with Keith Freedman.
Was it fair to ask Qasim to wait around until she was ready to share? And what if she was never ready to share it? What a mess... And she was the one who had created it. If only she had kept quiet about her more-than-friends desires for Qasim.
Then, she never would’ve known she still had the ability to love someone. Discovering that had made it all so worth it. Even so, she needed to come clean with Qasim. Of course, she was terrified to bare her soul that way, but he deserved to know all there was. That, after all, was what it meant to love.
She dug her phone out from the back pocket of her jeans and sent her father a text to bestow quick blessings upon his oasis of choice. Then, she logged into the airline website to confirm details for her return flight to the States. First Miami and then back to San Francisco. She could only pray she’d use the time away to figure out what to say to Qasim when she saw him.