Chapter Four

Drago returned Chase’s stare. Bite off more than he could chew? Hell, he hoped so. He’d love to service her for the rest of the day and night. Her ivory suit glowed against her skin, making him thirsty for a caffè con panna. Extra cream per favore.

Cream.

Cazzo.

All sorts of images ran through his mind, increasing his already-mounting frustration. Her earlier questions about doing the right thing regardless of his personal outcome still burned him with guilt. A preliminary look at his grandmother’s books that morning had proved the situation was worse than he’d thought. He’d needed to step away before he punched something.

He’d needed to do something. Something productive that would take away the sting of guilt for letting his grandmother’s inn get into trouble in the first place. Visiting the local businesses and making sure they made the American feel less than welcome was a good start toward making her cancel or postpone the grand opening, and looked to be his first success of the day. Accompanying Chase on her venture out into Ferrara was his second.

When it came to gaining trust, he’d found long ago that slow and steady was the best strategy. So he’d given a little help at the paper for that press release. She’d never know he’d already told the clerk that under no circumstances was he to find her anything sooner than a few days before the opening.

He hadn’t counted on her going into the high-end boutique clothing shop, Bella Donna, on her own, but luckily the owner had already agreed to his plan that morning even though she hadn’t been too keen on assisting him. Partly because she was a good woman, and mostly because he’d broken her heart a few years ago. A quick visit to reassure her had been in order.

Now he swept his eyes from Chase’s gold-sandaled toes to the top of her shiny black hair, leaving his body to tighten uncomfortably. Even with the subterfuge, spending time with Chase had made him feel good for the first time since waking up. And she’d made his job a hell of a lot more interesting, especially when she’d squeezed his arm like he didn’t know she was checking him out.

She couldn’t dangle that kind of a treat in front of the Dragon and not expect him to lunge. Early on in his career, the opposing forces of attraction and sabotage would have shaken him, but his father had taught him at too young of an age that business was business. And for Drago, there was business between the sheets and business on the streets. They required a very different kind of finessing, and neither tolerated any kind of emotion.

So if anyone should be afraid of biting off more than they could chew, it was her.

With a chuckle, he gave a sharp nod. “I’m not sure if that’s a challenge or a warning.”

Her chest rose high on a quick inhale, then she blew out a breath through her dark-glossed lips. “It’s a promise.”

Her teasing took him by surprise, and his eyes widened for the briefest second. He stepped close enough to see her pupils dilate as she tipped her head back to look up at him. He said, “What’s next?” He hadn’t meant for his voice to come out quite so low or quite so rough, but if the blush rising in her cheeks was any indication, she liked it. “It’s hard being new in a city, and even more so, a foreign one.”

She let her eyes fall to his lips, then took a step back. “Things are going as planned. Well, as far as my new plan goes, anyhow, albeit more slowly than I’d hoped.”

But her smile was a little too bright, and her voice a bit too high. What was the old American saying? Liar, liar, pants on fire. Things weren’t going as planned for her at all. And he wouldn’t allow them to, he couldn’t, but he could make sure she enjoyed her trip to Italy.

“Buona. Good.” He stepped aside.

She passed him, and a hint of mango and cocoa butter filled his senses. “I’m going to run back to the hotel and make a few calls.”

“Sounds good. I have a few to make myself. We can meet up after. Let me take you to dinner tonight. We’ll align our schedules and see what’s next to be done.”

Pausing, she tilted her head to the side with a narrowed look.

“It’s only dinner,” he said. It was never only dinner. “Business.” And so much more if he had his way.

“Sounds lovely. Pick me up at the hotel? Actually, that’ll be the perfect place to start.”

“See you at seven,” he promised. Before he met up with her that evening, or did anything else for that matter, he had to get a stronger handle on Nonna’s holdings and his plan of attack for Huntington House. This morning had demonstrated the dangers of being out of the loop with Chase’s plans.

With a shake of her head, she left him to admire her curves. The woman sure as hell knew how to work her walk. He rubbed his hand over his chest. A throat cleared behind him, and he turned to find the shopkeeper peeking through the partially opened door.

“I know that look. I almost feel like I should warn the poor girl. She doesn’t know they call you the Dragon, does she?” she said.

“Lucinda, all she needs is a nice vacation in Italy and a quick flight back to the States.”

She tsked, turning her head slowly from side to side. “You have a lot of nerve. Coming back to town after all this time, making demands, expecting things.”

He clenched his teeth as the familiar vise tightened in his chest. “This isn’t for me, it’s for Nonna.”

A quick nod confirmed she agreed. “Which is the only reason any of us agreed to your ridiculous instructions.”

Her words rolled off his back. “I don’t care why you do it, just that you do.” And that was the truth. He’d never been one to worry about his popularity, only his authority. Lucinda confirmed the latter was still strong and thriving. Good. With a small salute, he headed back to the inn. He had a quick appointment, then time to scour those books again and figure out how to get his grandmother out of this mess.

A few blocks later, he walked up the steps to the back entrance of Casa di Nonna, pleased to find the tile mason waiting for him.

“Sera.” He pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket, then handed it to the man. “This stays between us.”

The mason took a quick peek inside, his eyes lighting up. “Of course, Signor De Luca.” Shoving the envelope in the back pocket of his gray overalls, he scratched his head. “You’re sure about this?”

Drago narrowed his eyes.

With an apology, the man put his hands up. “Of course you are. Consider it done, signore.”

With a curt nod, Drago pushed through the large wooden door that opened into the spacious restaurant-grade kitchen. Warm garlic and basil replaced the mango and cocoa butter that had set up shop in his head. “Nonna,” he called, winding his way around the large island. He opened his mouth to call for her again, but the back stairs door swung open, and he caught it right before it clocked him in the head.

“Sera.” Tall and elegant, his grandmother breezed by with an air-kiss to each of his cheeks on her way to the sink. Her Dutch heritage had been very generous in height to the De Luca boys and herself. She washed her hands, then turned to face him, drying them with a towel. Light reflected off the ceilings from the abundance of rings adorning her fingers, but none shone as bright as the smile on her face. It was the same smile in all the photos he’d loved to look at as a child as he made his way through the inn lobby after school. She had the kind of smile that made him feel warm, the kind that felt good on his eyes.

He’d only recently come upon one other smile that did the same thing for him.

“Nonna.” He dipped his head.

She pinned him with a look. “And where have you been?”

There was no way he could let her discover his plan, which would prove more than difficult since she could read him like a book. “Making up for lost time.”

A light laugh escaped her lips, and he couldn’t get over how beautiful she remained. She wore a brightly colored head wrap edged in gold silk, and it left a warm glow against her high cheekbones. Though he’d been home a few weeks now, her dark eyes still glittered with happiness from his return, which only turned the knife that was already deep in his gut. He should have come sooner.

“Nonna, I need the key to Diego’s desk. I’ve been poring through his books, but something doesn’t add up.” Diego had been her accountant, her right hand for years. She’d trusted him; hell, they all had. The man had grown up with Drago’s father. But apparently knowing someone for a lifetime didn’t make them friends. Now Diego was gone on holiday and unable to take any of his grandmother’s or Drago’s calls.

That was fine. He didn’t need the man to fix the mess; growing a failing business was Drago’s playground. The only difference was he couldn’t buy his grandmother out to do it—she refused to let him.

Nonna didn’t know what she’d asked was impossible. Giving her a few million dollars would have been a lot easier and much faster. But she was stubborn, and he respected her more than anyone in his life. So they’d do it her way.

He’d have a plan by dinner, then he’d call Chase. A little celebrating would give him something to look forward to.

“Of course.” Nonna turned her wrist over and tapped through the keys hanging from her charm bracelet. Sliding one off, she handed it to him. He tried to take it, but she held firm. Her lips trembled. “I’m glad you’re here, ragazzo dolce.”

He pulled her in for a hug and kissed her temple. She’d been calling him her sweet boy since before he could walk. “Me, too. I should have come sooner.” But he hadn’t, and neither had his two brothers, Niccolo and Marco. Damn spoiled asses, the lot of them. Too busy building their empires to serve their queen. But he was the oldest, so the responsibility was his more than anyone else’s.

She tipped her head back and patted his cheek. “No. You have a life; your brothers have a life. That’s what I’ve always wanted for you. But I need your help now, so I thank you for coming.” Releasing the key, she shook her head. “I feel foolish. I should’ve called before things got so bad. I should have seen it, but I was too busy being Nonna of the inn that I didn’t make sure I had an inn to be Nonna of.”

“I’m here now. And I’m going to fix it. The inn isn’t going anywhere, so you can stop worrying. Go be Nonna.”

Ferrara needed his grandmother. Way more than it needed some uppity boutique American hotel that only showcased how entitled Americans could be. His town was a Renaissance city, full of history, of stories. They didn’t need white-glove service from an outsider.

She looked around the kitchen, stress pulling the corners of her mouth taut. “The renovations are coming along, but I can’t move the opening date. The inn can’t tolerate a delay, but it can’t tolerate competing with the Huntington House opening, either.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure we open on time.” He grabbed a plate of meats and cheeses from the refrigerator, then made his way back to Diego’s office. Once settled in the chair, he unlocked the lower right-hand drawer to find a collection of hanging files.

He placed the books Diego had left for his grandmother on one side of the desk, then one by one, he sifted through the files in the drawer. And file by file, his dread grew stronger. Diego had been very clever. He’d kept detailed records of every move he’d made, but rather than keeping them in one book that could indict him, he’d produced one page at a time and filed them among everyday receipts of the hotel using a simple backward alphabet filing system.

As the night had drawn closer, and Drago’s eyes more fatigued, he’d almost missed it. But now the truth stared him in the face.

Diego had embezzled his grandmother’s money, and most likely would not be returning from his “holiday.” So not only was his grandmother tapped out by her reno budget, the profits that had been keeping the inn afloat were gone, too. Even waiting for the remaining renovations to be completed would start her out in the high end of red.

It had to be divine intervention that had Chase requesting Drago’s help. Translating for her meant he could make sure she’d have no choice but to move her date. And he had no choice but to make sure Huntington House didn’t open when the inn did, because otherwise, with the state of his grandmother’s affairs, not even the Dragon could save Casa di Nonna without a complete buyout. Losing their clientele to Huntington House would leave the inn unable to keep its doors open.

And if there wasn’t an inn, he feared there wouldn’t be a Nonna.