Chapter Nine

Tuesday evening came regardless of the many attempts Drago made at canceling. But neither his grandmother nor Chase would go for any of his excuses, concerns, or suggestions. Since avoidance wasn’t an option, he’d put plan B into place. Managing the two women shouldn’t prove to be too difficult. He would control the evening, keep Nonna and Chase friendly but not friends, and then get the American out of his childhood home before she could screw with his memories there or his plan to save the inn.

Feeling a bit more in control for the first time in days, he went through the motions of putting on a tie. Cross over, back under, loop through, and slide. The steps centered him as they always did. He wasn’t only dressing for dinner, he was dressing for business—for battle.

He’d preferred to pick Chase up but she’d refused with the excuse of work. He hated the idea of her out there in his town without him. Actually, it was the effect she was having on the people of Ferrara he was afraid of. But in the end it wouldn’t matter, as long as she changed the date of the opening. He cracked his neck, then adjusted his cuffs. She was a challenging adversary to say the least—the town falling in love with her certainly hadn’t been part of the plan—but that only made it all the more interesting. He wouldn’t respect her as much as he did if she made it too easy. Or so he told himself, but what his brain really got stuck on was his use of the word “love.”

He scoffed at the empty room. Love was an emotion that blinded men and drugged women. The only time there was any room for it was with a child and their parent, but even then it wasn’t guaranteed. His parents had no idea the affliction even existed. His father’s leaving really hadn’t been the worst of his childhood; it had been his mother’s staying but being completely unreachable. To her credit, she hadn’t checked out physically until he and his brothers had all left for university. He didn’t know what country she lived in at the moment.

Nonna was the one woman—hell, the one person—who was worthy of the usually poisonous emotion. She’d been there for him when no one else had cared. She’d seen through his shit to the heart of the matter, and understood he was hurting.

With one last look in the mirror, he went in search of his grandmother. It was time for damage control before Chase arrived. If his instincts told him anything, it was that Nonna was up to something.

“Nonna,” he called out as he wound his way through the inn to the kitchen, the scent of pumpkin and spices greeting him. As expected, she stood as sparkly as any king’s treasure chest in front of the oven, checking on the golden crust of the twisted X shape of the coppia ferrarese—his favorite kind of bread. It was a secret family recipe that modified the original Ferrara tradition a touch and went back generations. His mouth watered.

She turned from the stove with the smile that told him he was loved whether he wanted to be or not, whether he was comfortable believing it or not. “Oh, buona, buona. You can help me with dinner.”

“We need to talk.” He rounded the table and leaned against the counter. “I’m simply offering my translating services.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You never do anything simply.” She continued to eye him, her expression serious and knowing. Someday he’d have to ask her how the hell she did it.

“I’m keeping an eye on the competition, trying to come up with a means for the inn’s opening to be successful. We only have two weeks left, and our contractors have barely finished with the repairs out front. We still have the inspection and God knows what that may turn up. Look, Nonna, we can’t compete against a hotel like Huntington House out of the gate. Our strength lies in our history and ties to Ferrara, but the newness, the novelty of Huntington will take time to wear off. Time we don’t have.” He gave her a hard stare. “Unless you’ll finally agree to let me give you the money.”

“No.” She put her hand up. Her lips trembled, and she sniffed in an attempt to hold her tears at bay.

“Nonna, why are you being so stubborn? You’d rather lose the inn?”

She shook her head, swiping with a jeweled hand at a tear that escaped. “My heart is breaking, but…” She straightened her spine and smiled as she searched his eyes. “Tell me something, caro. Did you feel loved, taken care of, when you were growing up?”

Shifting from one foot to the other, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Of course. You were always there for me.”

She pressed her hand to her heart with a smile—a concerned smile that left his collar too tight. “That is so good to hear, but what of your mother and father, eh?”

Why was she bringing them into this? Surely she could see he was fine without them. They were all better off, in fact. He scowled with a small shake of his head.

“Exactly. What can be said when a father walks out and a mother checks out?” She grabbed his hand and kissed his knuckles. “They only knew how to take and take. They’ve taken your childhood, they’ve taken money.”

He stared past her at a spot on the wall where the large ceiling beams ended.

Warm fingers pressed gently against his cheek until he met her eyes. She tapped his chin twice. “Caro, you’ve already lost too much from your family, and I refuse to take more.”

“Nonna.”

She stepped back with a raised palm, stopping him from arguing further. “What I need is you, Drago. Your business sense, your time. Please, let me keep what we have together untarnished. You will figure out what to do about Diego and the inn. And as for Chase, she’s a lovely woman trying to find her way in this world like the rest of us.”

It was the look in her eye that left him on edge. She didn’t know his plan, but she knew him. He cleared his throat. “She’s the woman whose family owns the hotel that will close Casa di Nonna. You have to see that.”

“No, what I see…” Her eyes traveled the well-organized, well-loved space with a look that spoke of years of memories. “What I see is a home that will be lost because the family blessed with it didn’t put into it what they took from it.”

Cazzo. He’d probably said those exact words time and again to justify his buyouts. A heavy weight settled on his shoulders and filled his gut. “Nonna.”

She raised a hand. “I take as much, if not more, responsibility. I should have seen what Diego was up to. He’d lived a lifestyle that wasn’t supported by his position, but I never imagined he was capable of stealing from us.”

“And why would you? He was practically family.”

Her lips tipped down, and she glanced away. Pulling in a resigned breath, she once again found Drago’s gaze. “I think we know by now that family doesn’t always mean what it should.”

His chest tightened. He’d give anything to put the smile back on her face. “You have me, Nonna. I know I haven’t been here when you needed me the most, but I’m here now for as long as I can be. Please, let me fix this. Don’t say anything to Chase about the real state of the inn.”

“I won’t lie for you…or myself, caro.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders in a gentle grip. “I’m not asking you to. I’m simply asking that you don’t offer any information. Let me guide the conversation tonight. You can show her a nice evening, and we can send her on her way.”

Nonna eyed him up and down. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so afraid of a woman before.”

Now he scoffed. “Afraid? I’m not afraid of Chase Huntington. That is ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

The lobby bell chimed, interrupting the brilliant and succinct reply that would have surely sprung from his mouth. Afraid? Not in this lifetime. He rubbed the back of his neck again as he went to collect their guest.

“Sera,” he said, stepping into the inn’s small lobby. It was more of a morning room, with its chaise lounges and small side tables. Chase was inspecting the family photographs that he himself used to look over every day after school. Something coiled tightly in his gut.

She spun around and flashed her damn smile his way. “Buona sera.”

He pulled at his collar a bit, annoyed his careful selection of battle armor wasn’t offering the protection he’d expected. Her weapons, however, were locked and loaded at an impossible vantage point in a cream-colored sundress that flared out playfully at the bottom. “Come, Nonna is anxious to see you. But a little warning.”

Chase’s eyes clouded in concern. “Is she all right? I don’t want to impose if she isn’t feeling well, or—”

“No, no. She’s fine. But she’s had a hard time of it. Not only now with the inn but her whole life. I wanted to ask that you don’t make anything harder on her than it is already. It’s better if we table any conversations about the inn or her family for now. We don’t want to bring up painful memories. Si?”

She placed her palm against her chest and stepped toward him. “Of course. I’m so glad you said something. I would be heartbroken to know I’d hurt her.”

He tilted his head. But she was going to hurt Nonna. The day Huntington House opened.

She put out her hand. “I already feel horribly that the hotel opening might affect the inn’s business. But I don’t have a choice.”

And neither did he.

With a calm he did not feel, he offered her his arm. “Come.”

On the way to the kitchen, he gave her a small tour of the main floor. Aside from the lobby, there were two sitting rooms off to each side, a library, an office, a quirky little bathroom whose toilet handle needed to be jiggled when it was flushed, and a cozy den with a state-of-the-art theater system, as well as a handful of main floor overnight rooms. Casa di Nonna was named “Grandmother’s House” for a reason.

Chase grabbed his arm at every turn. The heat of her hand burned through his jacket, and he couldn’t stop himself from flexing with each touch no matter how common he found the action to be. That kind of thing was for college boys. Goddamn, what was happening to him?

In an attempt to save himself from her touch, he grabbed her hand and pulled her through to the kitchen. Her palm felt small and silky in his. She rubbed her thumb over the top of his knuckles, sending a wake-up call straight to his dick. Snapping his head around to look at her face, he found nothing but distracted joy. As they entered the kitchen, she released his hand and headed straight for his grandmother.

“I’m so happy to see you again,” Chase said.

Nonna gripped her face with bedazzled fingers and kissed both cheeks soundly. “Benvenuto, cara. Welcome.”

Chase hugged her, and something turned over in his chest. Looking away, he cleared his throat. “I’m starving.”

Nonna smiled. “Of course you are, caro. Let’s eat. You always were a…what do they say? A pit without bottom? No?”

Chase laughed. “A bottomless pit. I can see that.” She turned toward the counter. “How can I help?”

Nonna handed her a stack of plates with a nod toward him. “Here, you and Drago set the table. He’ll show you where everything is. Do you like pumpkin? We’re having one of Ferrara’s specialties, cappellacci.”

She nodded. “Sounds lovely.”

Grabbing the silver, he jerked his chin toward the dining room. “In here.”

Chase followed him, then placed the plates around a small round table. “Are you okay? You seem tense. You don’t have to worry; I’m not going to say anything.”

“Tense” didn’t begin to describe how he felt at the moment. If she believed his mood was due to being protective of Nonna, so be it. She wouldn’t be wrong, only misguided.

She stepped up to him in a cloud of mango and cocoa butter, once again placing a hand on his arm with a look of concern. “Anything I can do to help?”

It took all his concentration to remain still, relaxed, and calm while the urge to yank her to his chest and kiss her senseless in order to assuage himself of the pent-up stress pounded mercilessly against his control.

The wanting of her mixed with wanting to get her out of town messed with his head. His hand had found its way to her waist, and his fingers flexed against her hip. Her large brown eyes turned almost black, they dilated so wide. She felt it, too. Good. He wasn’t one to suffer alone.

As he lowered his head toward her, she licked her lips and he slowed, mesmerized by the pink tip of her tongue as it glided over the darker color of her gloss. Her breaths matched his, and he wasn’t sure if the pounding he heard was his heart or hers.

“Drago.” Her whisper hit his ears as the dining room door swung open.

“Here we are.” Nonna entered with a flourish, bringing in the mouthwatering aromas of pumpkin and Parmesan.

He dropped his hand as they stepped apart, swallowing his laugh at Chase’s guilty expression. She brushed the front of her dress, then finished laying out the silver next to the plates as his grandmother placed a basket of coppia ferrarese in the center of the table.

Clearing his throat, he stepped up to the sideboard, cursing his grandmother’s timing as he went. Slipping three wineglasses from the hanging rack, he pulled out a bottle of red Bosco Eliceo, uncorked it, then poured it into a wide-based decanter to breathe.

Nonna clapped her hands. “Oh, Chase, you will love this wine. The history of the grapes dates back to 1528 when the daughter of Louis XII brought a vine from Burgundy as part of her dowry.” A dreamy look washed over his grandmother’s face. “It stood the test of time. No?”

“Oh, how lovely. I have a soft spot for history.”

Nonna glanced between the two, letting her eyes rest on Chase as she spoke. “I’m not surprised. Now, let’s eat. Try the coppia ferrarese, maybe with a little olive oil? You will love it, a treasure of Ferrara.”
His grandmother allowed him to pull out her chair and assist with her linen. He took care to make sure she was comfortable and had what she needed, as Nonna had always done for him during the nights he woke as a child afraid everyone had left him.

He pulled out a chair for Chase next, and couldn’t help but admire her rounded backside as she lowered herself into it. He pushed her in with a quick glance back at Nonna.

Shit.

She shot him a look.

With renewed focus, he slid into his own seat. More than anything right now, he needed to pull from every sticky business situation he’d ever been in and find a way to end this dinner—quickly.

“Now, take hands,” Nonna demanded.

Bowing her head, she spoke softly. “Bless this food, bless our souls, and let our hearts beat with home.”

Chase’s hand jerked slightly in his, and he peered at her from the corner of his eye. She had her head lowered, but her lips trembled slightly. He frowned, but refused to think about it.

He served the first course along with the first of many glasses of wine.

“How are things moving along with the opening?”

Minchia! Of course Nonna had to ask.
Chase tilted her head in a small side-to-side motion. “So-so. My list is extensive, and the staff is cooperative one moment, then I feel like they’re actually working against me in the next. It’s the weirdest thing. I’ve been taking your advice, though, trying to get to know the people. I love this city.”

Nonna sent Drago a sharp gaze. “Cara, you should know—”

Drago coughed in his hand. “Sorry, wrong pipe.” Then coughed again until his grandmother put her hands up in a small gesture of surrender.

“I’m with you most times, but if you have any trouble with the staff, let me know,” he said.

Chase lifted an eyebrow. “I’ve seen how afraid of you they are. Why is that? You’ve been nothing but kind to me.”

Holding his linen over his mouth, he pretended to cough once more. “Kind” was not a word connected to his name often, personally or professionally.

Nonna laughed. “Cara, he isn’t known as the Dragon for nothing.”

Chase’s jaw dropped. “The Dragon?” A small chuckle passed her lips. “You’re kidding.”

“In the business world, he consumes the weak and hoards his gold. At least that’s how the story goes,” Nonna explained.

Drago raised a hand. “Come on. You weave stories, Nonna.”

She gave him a look that said he was full of shit, and he returned a tight grin. It might be true, but he didn’t need the questions. As it was, from the way Chase looked at him, he had damage control to do when they were alone. Goddammit, that’s all he’d been doing lately. Putting out fires.

The conversation moved on to safer topics, and they finished off a bottle of red. They asked Chase about her travels and family. He learned she was an only child. As much as his brothers annoyed him, he’d never been alone. And by the sounds of it, she’d traveled as much, if not more, than he had.

They retired to one of the sitting rooms, along with a dessert wine and pastry.

Chase closed her eyes upon the first bite. “Oh my God. This is divine.”

Now that he had an idea what her face looked like in pleasure, he wanted to see how much more intense he could make it. Shifting in his seat, he said, “It’s called crostata di marmellata di albicocche, basically a fresh apricot tart. One of Nonna’s specialties.”

“It’s amazing.” She smiled at Nonna and settled back in the sofa next to her as if she belonged there. Nonna spoke to her in a voice too soft for him to hear. Chase dropped her chin with a smile, then nudged her shoulder like they’d shared a secret.

He looked from Chase to his grandmother, feeling at ease and at home—and that got his attention faster than a new takeover opportunity.

No. He pushed to the edge of his seat and downed his dessert wine in one gulp. His plan to keep Chase away from his people, from his home, was crumbling faster than a neglected business.

Chase did not belong at the inn. She belonged in America.

And he needed to ensure her one-way ticket back.