Chapter Twenty-Two

The words “emergency” and “meeting” never brought good news.

“Mom, just tell me what this is about.” Walking toward the conference room with her mother, Chase ran her hands down the front of her Herve Leger bandage dress. The habit filled her head with memories of biscotti and Italian accents. She pushed away the emotions that accompanied the memories with such force even the Dragon would be proud. Damn it, every time she shoved the thought of him away, he sneaked right back in. Her chest ached, and she rubbed a hand absently along the space above her breasts. “I was on my way to a meeting,” she said.

“This couldn’t wait.” Her mom smiled, then directed her into a conference room.

They walked through the double doors together, and Chase’s eyes fell on the tall, dark-haired figure casually leaning against the far wall window, taking in the view of the ocean below. Déjà vu swept over her, and she stopped in her tracks. She was imagining him in Malibu? Goddammit.

She blinked. But the vision stubbornly remained. The room spun, and she grabbed the back of a chair to steady herself.

Her father’s voice broke through her panic-laden haze. “Good, now that we’re all here, let’s get started.”

Drago turned from the window. As his eyes fell upon Chase, he stopped and stared with a look that tore straight through her heart.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. His eyes were as dark and intense as she remembered. They wavered with trepidation, then hardened in determination.

Her heart picked up a solid and distracting beat in her chest. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s why we’re all here,” her father answered.

She ignored him, wringing her hands at her waist. “Drago.”

He approached her, and she stiffened. With a slight frown, he kissed both of her cheeks. His scent surrounded her, and it was all she could do not to breathe him in. Her chest squeezed as memories crashed through her strong resolve.

He paused close to her ear and whispered, “I’ve missed you.” His warm breath sent treasonous shivers up her spine, but she gritted her teeth and clamped down on them with ruthless determination.

Mr. Huntington cleared his throat. “Kids, we’re on the clock here. I have to be at the airport in an hour.”

That got Chase’s attention. “What? Where’re you going?”

“Barcelona. Checking out the property there. We’re working to guarantee another five-star rating in the travel magazine but have a few angles to smooth out.”

Her mother glared. “You’re doing nothing of the sort, you’re—”

Chase slid into a chair next to her mother and patted her hand, thankful for the distraction. She watched Drago round the table to the other side and sit down. She wished he weren’t right across from her. It took everything in her not to stare.

“Good. Now, Mr. De Luca has come to us with a very interesting proposition.”

“A proposition from the Dragon? Is that really the best thing to consider?” she asked.

“Chase.” Her mother reprimanded with surprise.

Drago raised a hand. “No, she’s right. From evidence presented to her, considering any kind of deal from me would be risky. But”—he looked at her closely—“I come as Drago De Luca, not the Dragon.”

She looked away, speaking in a soft tone. “What’s the difference? They both work from the same ‘take no prisoners’ mold, don’t they?” Forcing herself to look at him, she clenched her jaw against its trembling.

He simply held her gaze, and the look in his eyes appealed to her heart so strongly it hurt. She broke away to the safety of her father. “Dad, I don’t think—”

“Mr. Huntington, you mean.”

Biting her lip, she tried again. “Mr. Huntington. I don’t think Huntington House has any further business with Signor De Luca. The hotel’s running, we’re close to finding the perfect director, and Rita is handling things well enough in the interim with the grand opening officially launching in a little over two weeks.”

Her father held her gaze. “Chase, you have denied every applicant that’s come across our desks.”

“Well, I’m not going to hire someone if they’re not a good fit.”

“They can’t all be wrong for the job. Something else is going on.”

She glanced at Drago, then back to her hands. “Look—”

“Mr. Huntington…may I?” Drago pulled out his portfolio and removed a sheath of papers. Passing them out to Mr. Huntington, Chase, and her mother, he turned his own copy around for himself. “I think I know what’s going on. And if I may be so bold.”

Chase snorted.

“Chase.” Her mother gasped.

Good God. Her mother acted as though she’d committed an international faux pas, but she didn’t know how manipulative Drago could be.

“Long story short. When I first heard of Huntington House coming to Ferrara I feared for my grandmother’s inn. But I’ve come to realize your hotel will bring more tourists and business to Ferrara, not less. Huntington House caters to an elite clientele who desire a certain kind of service, but there are also those who want the same service but the experience of our Renaissance city at the same time.”

Hearing the name of the city alone made her heart ache.

He looked from one to the other. “Casa di Nonna owes a great deal to the Huntingtons. Chase’s decency and foresight regarding the importance of the inn to Ferrara has not only secured the boutique’s place in our city, but your daughter’s as well.”

Shifting his attention squarely to her, he continued. “I propose we partner the two, but—”

The beating in her chest left her light-headed. She looked at her father, then back to the man who’d torn her heart in two. She wanted to rail, to scream and cry. To call him horrible names and flip the table to be rid of her pain for a moment, but she couldn’t do any of those things. She was a professional. A Huntington to be exact, and as such was a representative of the brand. So while her heart bled, she kept a serene look upon her face, even though it killed her. She tilted her head in question. “Of course, there’s a catch. Right, love?”

Drago flashed a smile at her, and she regretted the slip of endearment immediately. Gripping her hands under the table, she forced her eyes back to her father.

“Chase is right. We need someone we can trust. Someone who not only knows Ferrara, but truly knows—at its heart—my grandmother’s inn. We want Chase to fill the position of director of operations of Huntington House and Casa di Nonna. The inn would fall under the overall Huntington company umbrella, but retain its name. I would partner with Chase by running the business and investment side of things, focusing mostly on the inn.”

He turned toward her father. “Though I’m happy to extend my expertise in any capacity to Huntington’s holdings.”

“What?” The surprise in her voice sounded harsh even to her own ears. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. I don’t belong in Ferrara. That was made excruciatingly clear.” She blinked a few times, determined to keep a lid on her traitorous emotions. “You didn’t want me. And you tried to make sure no one else would, either.”

Drago’s eyes wavered and fell to his hands. After a brief pause, he pulled out another stack of papers that was stapled at the upper left-hand corner. “That’s where you’re wrong. I was an ass.”

She snorted.

“Well, worse than an ass, I suspect. I can think of many Italian words that would work, but I’m not sure which American word would best suit me, although I invite you to try.”

The corners of her lips lifted at the reminder of a conversation they’d had once upon a time, when she trusted him implicitly and he hadn’t yet broken her heart. Damn him.

“And the people let me know.”

He slid the stack across the table toward her.

With a side glance at it, she stubbornly kept her hands in her lap. “What’s this?”

“A petition to bring you back to Ferrara. Back to Huntington House. All the staff, all the business owners. The townspeople who were taken by the charismatic American heiress. Your family, if you’ll have them.”

She blinked back the tears that threatened and looked toward her mom and dad. They smiled at her gently, but remained silent.

She slowly turned the papers around and read through the list.

Lucinda, Signor Poppa, Signor Giardino, Nonna. Name after name after name. She flipped through the stack. And what was more, there were notes next to the signatures.
Come back to Ferrara. Come home. We miss you.

Her heart took up the now-familiar tempo whenever thoughts of Ferrara filled her head. She did belong there.

She belonged with them.

Her eyes filled against her will, and she swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Who did this?”

“I did.” He stood from his chair and walked around the table. Kneeling before her, he turned her chair until she faced him. His eyes wavered, then pleaded as he looked into hers. “We want you to come home. I’m so sorry I was so arrogant and thought of you as business, when it was clear from the beginning you were anything but.” He took her hand.

Chase could hear her mother sniffle behind her on a small gasp, but her dad remained curiously quiet. She shook her head slowly. “You were willing to destroy my dreams, Drago. You were trying to…and almost did.”

He swallowed hard. “I admit, I was not honest or decent in the beginning, but as I got to know you, it all changed. I was desperate to save Nonna, and arrogant enough to bully my way through as I always had. But you’ve taught me so much about business with people first. And then I tried to erase the mistakes I’d made, but the all-powerful businessman no longer held any weight in a town full of family.”

She wanted to believe, she wanted to open her heart and let him in, because all her pain would disappear and her future would be possible in a way she’d never imagined.

But fear and distrust kept her lips sealed.

Gripping her hands, he gave them a small shake. “I love you. I don’t think I do, I know I do. I always knew I wanted the world, but I didn’t realize until I met you what that meant. You are my world.”

Her heart wavered. Could she trust him ever again? Addi’s words echoed in her mind. Think I’m a good person? Because I was desperate once, too. Chase dabbed at the corners of her eyes with the pads of her fingertips. She looked over the petition and then back at the man she’d loved since he’d pulled the chair out for his grandmother at dinner, way back when.

With trembling fingers, she touched his cheek. “I want to trust you.”

He dipped his chin. “I’ll earn it. It may not be immediate, but I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Turning his face into her hand, he kissed her palm, and she felt it all the way to her heart. She didn’t need to find her way back to Ferrara, because Ferrara had found its way back to her. Home and family had a way of doing that. And home wasn’t always perfect. It was a work in constant progress. But as long as they were both working toward each other’s happiness, they couldn’t lose. She looked at her father, and he dipped his chin. Her mother’s eyes shone bright with unshed tears. Turning back to Drago, she whispered, “Don’t hurt me like that again.”

He blew out a breath, squeezing her hand. “I can’t promise I won’t hurt you, but I promise to spend my life trying to fix it if I do.”

She smiled.

“It’s about time, Coconut,” her father said.

A dainty squeal escaped between her mother’s fingers and she watched expectantly.

Chase’s mouth fell open as she shot a glance toward her father. “You knew?”

Drago grinned. “Coconut? Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Don’t even think about it,” she warned him.

Mr. Huntington harrumphed. “When we sent you there, you couldn’t wait to come home, but when the time came to hand over the reins, you couldn’t let go. It was so clearly more than the business, honey. It was your heart.”

Drago stood, then helped her to her feet. “Then it’s a yes?”

Chase laughed, pulling him down to her. She hesitated, her lips a hairbreadth away from his. “Yes. I miss Ferrara and Nonna and…even the Dragon.”

He growled, then closed the distance between them for a quick, tight kiss.

Her heart swelled as the familiar sensations rocked through her body. This was what home felt like.

Once he set her away from him, he turned to her father. “Thank you, sir. I know this will be a great partnership.”

Mr. Huntington shook his hand. “We’ll look at the specifics later. Maybe a trip to Ferrara is in store so we can meet this Nonna we’ve been hearing so much about.”

Chase grabbed Drago by the hand and pulled him behind her. She looked back at her parents. “May I?”

Her mother grinned. “Go.”

Her father nodded with a small sigh of acceptance, then sent her a determined look. “I’ll set up a meeting with the board. Faced with the work you’ve done and the business sense you showed, I’m certain they’ll agree to your new position.”

Chase and Drago rode the elevator in silence, then she led him through the lobby to the back doors of the hotel and out to the beach. As soon as they hit the warm, humid, salty air, she launched into his arms.

He caught her with a grunt, and she rained kisses all over his face. She found his mouth, then slowed down, sliding her lips against his. “The last few days have been really tough for me.”

Squeezing her to him, he nodded. “I’m so sorry. I was blinded by my own shame and stress. And I put that on you. But then I fell in love. Fell for the amazing, go-get-’em American that Ferrara was so enamored with, and I realized none of my mess was your responsibility.”

“So you’re not going to keep running?”

He angled his head and looked at her through narrowed eyes. “How’d you know I was running?”

“When someone stays away from people who so obviously love them, I figure they must be running from something. What you have in Ferrara is what I’ve always dreamed of.”

He held her face between his hands, his eyes serious and shining with emotion—a sight not often seen from the Dragon. “Well,” he said, “you don’t have to dream any longer.”

…

Chase squeezed Drago’s hand tight as the car pulled into town. An immediate drumming set up in her heart, and she rubbed her chest.

“What’s that for?” Drago asked, pulling her into his side in the backseat of the car.

She glanced at him and smiled. “Something your grandmother told me once. She said that when I felt the pulse of my city in my veins, I’d know I was home.”

“And?” he asked.

Leaning toward him, she placed a kiss at the edge of his mouth. “Welcome home.”

He grabbed the back of her head, demanding much more than the chaste kiss she’d attempted, and she sighed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d ever felt so energized, so wanted and loved.

With great effort, they broke away, resting their foreheads together. Drago’s gaze was light and happy and full of promise. “Come,” he whispered, then tapped the window for the driver to assist them from the car.

“They’ll take our things to the hotel. There are plenty of people who want to see you, Coconut.” Drago put his hand out for her with a wink.

With a strong sense of contentment, she slid her fingers through his. His warmth ran along the strong pulse in her veins right to her heart. They walked to the cathedral and found the market in full swing.

Chase pulled in a deep breath. “I love the smell of Ferrara.”

Signor Poppa waddled to her with a huge grin. “Bella!” He wrapped her in a warm embrace, then handed her over to his daughter, Maria.

The bakery owner, the mayor, and Signor Giardino all embraced her in welcome one by one. Chase had barely lifted her head to pull in a breath as Nonna pulled her in for a hug. “Cara. I’m so glad you’re home.”

And just like that, Chase knew. She felt the pulse of the city, of the people, in her veins. They’d become a part of her, as she’d become a part of them.

Drago slid his arm about her waist and squeezed her in tight. He kissed the top of her head and whispered, “I can’t wait to get you all alone.” He threw her a lascivious grin. “That reminds me…I have something for you.”

She leaned back and eyed him up and down.

Sliding his hand between their bodies, he pulled something from the inside of his jacket, then held it up in between them. She looked at the brown paper-wrapped package with a raised brow. It was about six inches long and tied with a short piece of twine.

“I promised to give you the best biscotti in Ferrara. This is Nonna’s secret recipe. Nothing else like it in the world.”

Chase looked from the wrapped biscotti to the sincerity in Drago’s eyes, trying to control the laughter threatening to spill from her lips as she thought back to the first day she saw him leaning against the light post. She should have listened to her first instinct about him back then—he’d been nothing more than a predator scoping out his prey—but she let herself get distracted by his potential with baked goods.

And thank God she had.

Carefully, she lifted the crisp cookie from his hand and opened the packaging. “I knew from the first time I saw you that you knew how to handle your biscotti.”

Drago’s laughter floated off with the Ferrara breeze as he yanked her to his chest for a swift kiss. “Admit it. It’s the best, and you were tempted from the beginning.”

Chase wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back with all her hopes and dreams fueling her now-favorite pastime. “Best in Ferrara, as you promised.”

As she held him to her and looked around her city, the deepest recesses of her soul settled. There was no telling who seduced whom, and in the end, it didn’t matter.

She was home.

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