“And you didn’t want to?”
“On the contrary, I’d consider myself the luckiest man in the world to marry her.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I live here, sir. I work for you, sometimes twenty-four hours a day. I couldn’t do that if I had a wife. We’d have to find our own place and…”
“Why?” Luca asked.
“Sir?”
“I’ll agree that you wouldn’t be able to work for me twenty-four hours a day if you were married. It wouldn’t be fair to your wife. But then working that much for me isn’t all that fair to you, either, is it?”
“I enjoy working for you, sir.”
“Glad to hear it. I hope you continue to work for me for a long time to come. However, that does not mean you can’t have your own life. The guesthouse in the back is empty. It’s yours if you want it.”
Joe’s jaw dropped. “Sir…I couldn’t…”
“Of course you can. You live on the property anyway. Now you’ll just have a little more space. Plenty, I should think, to bring along a wife.”
“Yes, plenty, sir.”
“And I’ll work on needing you a little less.”
Joe laughed at that. “I’ll believe that when I see it, sir.”
Luca snorted again. “I said I’d try.”
Mrs. Lasko knocked on the door again and entered with a package. “This just came for you, sir.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Lasko.” She nodded and went out, her steps light, a hum on her lips. Well, at least someone was happy because he was pretty sure his day was about to go from bad to seven circles of hell worse.
He took the package and opened it, his heart already sinking. Another gift for Constance returned. This one he’d been sure she’d keep. He’d chosen it with special care and she’d just sent it right back. He couldn’t even tell if she’d opened it and seen what it was. He slammed the diamond locket in its velvet box into the trash with a curse. Joe fished it out and calmly laid it on his desk. It made Luca want to throw it away again.
“I don’t know what the damn woman wants!” he shouted, shoving his hand through his hair and nearly pulling out a few stands in his frustration.
“I don’t think Miss Constance wants anything, sir.”
Luca scowled. “I know that. I just meant I don’t know what will make her happy. I’ve apologized, over and over. I’ve sent her flowers, jewelry, even first edition books from that god-awful author she loves so much. I’ve shown up on her doorstep and begged. Nothing works. She’s sent me away and returned everything I’ve sent. What’s it going to take?”
“To make her happy? Or to make her forgive you?” Joe asked.
Luca stopped pacing and stared at him. He’d hit the nail on the head, as usual. Luca dropped into his chair. He’d waited a whole two days before he’d started his campaign to win Constance back. That had been a month ago and she hadn’t caved one inch. She’d refused to see him, and standing on her porch begging her to talk to him upset her, which upset the children, so he’d stopped showing up in person. But she’d sent back every gift he’d sent, wouldn’t answer his texts or emails. He’d even resorted to sending an actual letter through the mail. It had been returned unopened.
“I don’t know what to do, Joe. I know I should probably let it go, leave her alone like she’s asked. But I…can’t. I need her…maybe it really is too late.”
Joe watched him for a minute and then sat down in the chair in front of the desk. Luca glanced at him, startled. He couldn’t remember the last time Joe had sat without Luca forcing him to.
“May I speak frankly?”
Luca nodded. “Of course.”
“You’ve been trying to win Miss Constance back by doing what you’d like. Or what other women in your past have wanted. Miss Constance isn’t like anyone else.”
A hint of a smile touched Luca’s lips. “No, she’s not.”
“She didn’t love you because of your money.”
Luca’s gaze shot up again. “You think she loved me?”
Joe gave him an indulgent smile, the type a father would give a son who’d finally figured out how to tie his own shoes. “Yes, sir. She did. I think she still does, but you won’t win her back by throwing money at her. She doesn’t care about your money. She never did.”
Luca frowned and rubbed his chin, thinking. No. She’d had fun with some of the things his money provided, but it wasn’t what she’d cared about.
“If I want to show her I love her, I need to show her I care about the things she loves.”