- -
- 100%
- +
About to reach for the glossy image he’d settled on, he paused when his PA rushed to the far side of the room and grabbed the remote.
Javier sighed. Had she not been ruthlessly efficient, he wouldn’t have forgiven her occasional bouts of excitable behaviour. Making a mental note to crush that tiny irregularity out of her, he turned from the view of Manhattan spread beyond his corner-office window and watched her flick on the TV.
‘You asked the PR department to alert you if and when any of our clients make the news. They just called. Carla Nardozzi is on every channel.’
Javier froze.
In all his nearly thirty-three years, only two names had possessed the power to stop his breath. For the first three decades of his life, it’d been his father’s name. The day after his thirtieth birthday, Carla Nardozzi’s had joined the list. Both names sent icy chills of rage down his spine. Both robbed him of the ability to speak.
Three years after the event, his brief dalliance with Carla and how it’d ended still stuck between his ribs like the sharpest stiletto. As much as he detested himself for his weakness, he’d never been able to put it behind him.
It didn’t matter that he knew why. The fact that he’d been unable to do anything about it angered him even more. In the grand scheme of things, Carla Nardozzi should be forgettable. A blip in his memory that shouldn’t be worth his time or effort.
And yet all efforts to consign her to the ex to forget pile had been fruitless. He’d even gone as far as to pull her further into his orbit, just so he could tackle this particular thorn in his side once and for all.
‘That will be all, Shannon,’ he forced out, his gaze on the pictures flickering on the muted screen. He didn’t recognise the building the paparazzi were crowded in front of, but the medical vehicles flashing past had him striding across the room.
His PA’s retreat barely registered as Javier activated the sound.
‘Miss Nardozzi’s condition has now been downgraded from critical to serious but stable. Doctors are monitoring her closely following her awakening from her brief medically induced coma and she’s responding well to treatment at this top medical facility in Rome.
‘To recap events, Carla Nardozzi was airlifted from her father’s estate and training facility in Tuscany following a fall during training. Unconfirmed allegations suggest the world number one figure skater’s trainer, Tyson Blackwell, is being questioned by authorities following the accident...’
Javier flung the remote down. ‘Shannon!’
The door opened a second later. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘Tell my pilot to ready my jet. We leave for Rome immediately.’
‘Of course.’
Before the door had shut, he was picking up his phone. He knew the number by heart, although these days his dealings with Draco Angelis were more business than pleasure. The reason for it pierced another jagged blade of anger through him. Javier gritted his teeth as he pressed the receiver to his ear.
‘You’ve heard the news,’ the deep voice rumbled.
‘When did this happen and why wasn’t I informed immediately?’ Javier snapped.
‘Cool it, amigo. I’ve had my hands a little full on this side of town,’ Draco responded.
Javier’s ire didn’t abate. ‘You have people in place to ensure the right parties know what’s going on. I should be at the top of your list of people to communicate with when it comes to Carla Nardozzi.’
A brief, pregnant pause. ‘Agreed. You would’ve been informed before the hour was out. You just beat me to it.’
‘For the sake of our continued working relationship, I’ll choose to believe that.’
Draco exhaled. ‘Is there anything else going on here I should know about, Santino?’
Javier reined himself in with effort, tightening his control on the emotions rumbling beneath his skin. This was business. Nothing else. ‘Aside from the fact that I’ve invested several million dollars in your client and am about to invest several more? You think I should have to find out about her accident from the media? I don’t appreciate being placed in a position where I’m caught unawares by situations like these.’
A deep sigh echoed down the line, and Javier got the impression that the formidable Draco Angelis had something on his mind. ‘Point taken.’
‘When did all this happen?’ Javier was aware of the distinct bite to his voice but he didn’t soften his tone. Any hint of softness was seen as a sign of weakness. And he’d sworn an oath a very long time ago never to be seen as weak or gullible.
‘Yesterday.’
‘And this induced coma?’ he pressed.
‘It was only overnight until they were sure there wasn’t any brain damage. She’s awake and the doctors are optimistic she’s out of the woods.’
Javier exhaled. He released his death grip on his phone when the plastic creaked. ‘I should be wheels up in an hour but I’d appreciate frequent updates on her condition.’
‘You’re coming to Italy?’ Draco’s voice expressed surprise.
Javier snapped up his briefcase shut and headed for the door. ‘Considering how much I’ve invested in our mutual client, I believe a personal interest in her recovery is well within my rights. I’ll see you in seven hours.’
He hung up and walked past his PA’s desk.
‘Cancel all my appointments until further notice.’
She opened her mouth then immediately shut it.
In his limo minutes later, he tried to wrestle his fury under control.
So what if Carla Nardozzi had rejected him in a way only the father who’d barely acknowledged his existence had done? After years of biding his time, he’d finally found a way to get his own back. The Ice Princess would be taught a salutary lesson. All he needed was to ensure she got back on her feet in order for him to deliver the punishment she truly deserved.
His emotions had nothing to do with this.
This was a matter of business. And of his pride.
Nothing else.
* * *
Carla tried to lift her head off the pillow and was immediately engulfed in a fog of pain and confusion.
‘No, signorina, don’t try and move.’
She relaxed, and the pain receded a touch. But the confusion remained. She’d been sure she was dreaming. And yet the voices and images flitting through her mind had been so vivid, so real.
Her father’s voice had been unmistakeable. He’d been there the few times she’d woken up in the strange, sterile room.
But it was the other, deeper voice she’d heard the last time she’d woken that confused her and made her heart race. The change in the lighting suggested she’d fallen asleep some time after hearing him.
By all accounts that voice didn’t belong here...wherever this cold, grey here was.
The last time they’d met, he’d been icily indifferent, a ruthless businessman intent on one thing—getting her to sign along the dotted line.
Or at least, he had been...until he’d had her exactly where he wanted her. Until that kiss.
Like a blurred lens swinging into sharp focus, the memory of the kiss burned bright and insistent. Along with the recollection of the way he’d looked at her afterward.
Javier Santino had looked at her with pure hatred. And she didn’t blame him. After what she’d done three years ago, he had every right to detest her. It didn’t help that her will power withered away to nothing in his presence. But since that unfortunate day a month ago, she’d summoned enough strength to assure herself nothing would happen.
Javier hated her. She’d dealt his ego a great blow. And a ruthlessly powerful and charismatic man like that would never forget an insult to his pride.
Which bemused her as to why he’d kissed her in the first place.
Or had she kissed him...?
Memory blurred and confusion remounted. Carla lifted her hand to her head. Tracing her fingers gingerly over a particularly sore spot, she gasped as pain ricocheted through her. A dull throb in her other wrist brought her attention to the fact that it was in a cast.
‘Where am I?’ she attempted, swallowing painfully around a dry throat.
The buxom woman bustling around her paused and Carla noticed her nurse’s uniform for the first time. ‘In a private hospital in Roma,’ she replied, smiling her sympathy. ‘You suffered a bad fall and a particularly nasty concussion.’
Of course. Memories of her accident resurged. The row with her father. Then with her trainer, Tyson Blackwell. Her instincts screaming at her in the moments before the accident to walk away. Then the sickening twist and the ice rushing towards her, one arm out in front of her in a vain attempt to break her fall.
She curled her fist and rested it in her lap. ‘How long have I been here?’
‘Three days. You’ve been asleep for most of the time since you came out of surgery, but it’s great that you’re healthy. You’ll be on the mend soon. I’ll get the doctor now, then you can visit with your family. They’ve been quite anxious to see you awake.’
‘They?’ she echoed, puzzled. Her father was her only family. Had been since... Carla swallowed as tears pierced her eyelids, surprising her.
She hadn’t cried since that fateful night when she was ten years old. She’d known then that tears would earn her nothing but a sharp tongue and dire punishment and had quickly wised up.
‘Sì,’ the nurse responded. ‘Your papà has been here throughout. He left about an hour ago, just before your young man arrived. He’s been haunting the halls ever since his arrival.’ The older woman cast her a sly glance. ‘You’re lucky to have such a passionate man in your life.’
‘I...what...?’
The nurse patted her hand. ‘Don’t fret. The doctor will be here soon.’ She exited, leaving Carla in a deeper state of confusion than before.
Pull yourself together.
Grabbing the remote that adjusted the bed, Carla slowly raised herself up, just as the doctor arrived.
‘Signorina Nardozzi, it’s good to see you awake.’
Carla nodded a reply, then lay there patiently as she was checked over, the fog clearing with each passing second, and with it a heart heavy with foreboding and regret.
The accident had happened because she’d been fleeing her demons. Pushing herself beyond her endurance in light of what her father had done and their ongoing rowing. Finally understanding why he’d been even more callously demanding these past few months had done nothing to alleviate the pain lodged beneath her breast.
She had well and truly reached a crossroads with her father.
Carla forced herself to listen to the doctor’s prognosis. The state of her health was directly connected to her career. Despite the changes she intended to make, she needed to ensure her health remained optimal. The very roof over her head was dependent on it.
‘Your father mentioned you’re eager to return to training?’ the doctor disclosed once he’d reeled out his list of dos and don’ts. ‘Your next figure-skating event is in two months, I believe?’
‘Yes,’ she replied. It wasn’t a championship event, but an important one nonetheless.
The portly man frowned. ‘I advise against any form of training for a few weeks. Two weeks of total rest if you heal fast enough. Four weeks just to be on the safe side before you begin any strenuous exercise. Your wrist on the other hand will need a little longer than that.’
‘What about publicity work—photo shoots and such? I have commitments to fulfil.’ Her contract with J Santino Inc. didn’t include lying about in hospital beds. She was surprised Javier hadn’t sent his lawyers after her already considering the stringent clauses in her contract.
The doctor’s frown deepened. ‘I strongly recommend that you take at least two weeks without any stress on your body. After that, perhaps if you agree to engage private care—’
Carla shook her head. ‘That won’t be necessary. I can take care of myself—’
‘She’ll have private care from the day she’s released. You have my word on that, Doctor.’
Carla’s breath caught in her throat at the deep voice that preceded the sleek, powerfully built man who entered the room.
So...she hadn’t been dreaming after all.
Javier approached. From the top of his dark wavy hair to the tip of his handmade designer shoes, he commanded a formidable, absorbing presence that reduced the rest of the room’s occupants to mere spectators as his intense, dark brown eyes locked on her.
Tongue-tied, she watched him approach with measured, self-assured strides until his broad shoulders filled her vision.
‘What are you doing here?’ Her vocal cords, rough from disuse, rasped the words.
Javier’s eyebrows arched, his gaze cuttingly cynical. ‘News of your terrible accident has been all over the media. Your adoring fans are camped outside the hospital. You think me so uncaring that I would stay away at a time like this?’
His voice was smooth. Deep and warm and beautifully nuanced with inflections from his Spanish mother tongue. Mesmerising enough to disguise the vein of cruel cynicism to anyone but her.
Carla heard it loud and clear. It cut right to the heart of her. But she refused to look away. Whatever Javier intended for her—he’d spent the better part of a year dangling the lucrative sponsorship carrot in front of her father just so he could get to her, after all—she would face it head-on. She’d spent far too long bowing her head down. It might have taken her the best part of twenty-four years to stand up for herself. But she was done taking orders from anybody. A part of her regretted that it had taken this long, that her actions might have caused ripples she’d never be able to reverse, but it was better late than never.
‘Thank you for your concern, but, as you can see, I’m in private consultation with my doctor, so if you’d excuse me?’
A nervous throat cleared. ‘I’m sorry, signorina, but I understood from your father that Mr Santino was permitted to be here,’ the doctor offered.
She forced her gaze to remain on Javier’s. ‘The permission wasn’t my father’s to give.’
Tense silence descended on the room. Javier’s eyes gleamed, an almost unholy relish in the mahogany depths before one corner of his mouth lifted. ‘Are you suggesting the doctor throw me out, Carla? Or are you not up to dealing with me right now?’
Her stomach hollowed, the unspoken threat in the words gnawing at her. ‘I’m up to dealing with anything. I just don’t think this is the right time or place. Perhaps you could come back later.’ Or never.
His jaw flexed. ‘I could, but why bother? I think what the doctor was trying to say was that you need further rest when you leave here. In light of what’s happened, I’m prepared to suspend any commitments to J Santino Inc. until you’re well enough to commence your sponsorship duties. You’ll also have round-the-clock care by medical professionals.’
The doctor nodded eagerly. ‘That’s a very wise decision—’
‘That’s very generous of you, but I won’t be needing your help with my recuperation,’ she bit out, hiding her shock that Javier would be prepared to go to such lengths to help her recovery. She didn’t doubt he had his motives for his overt generosity, but they were none she intended to subject herself to.
She held her breath as he moved closer to the bed. She was forced to tilt her head up to look at him; her head swam as the magnitude of his persona hit her full force.
‘You may have forgotten the small print in the contract you signed, Carla, so I’ll refresh your memory. It included my company, and therefore me, being made aware of and taking steps to ameliorate any new medical issues that might adversely affect our agreement. You being out of commission for several weeks has the potential to reflect badly on our association. Unless I choose to be...magnanimous.’
Carla managed to pry her gaze from the sensual mouth that dripped poison onto her skin. ‘I’m sorry that my accident inconveniences you.’
‘It’s unfortunate, yes, but I’m willing to work with you provided you don’t resort to stubbornness. Or perhaps you wish me to get my lawyers to pry that information from the hospital administrators?’
‘How dare you?’ she breathed.
Javier’s narrow-eyed gaze flicked to the doctor and nurse who watched them with unabashed curiosity. ‘If you’ve finished, Doctor, perhaps I can speak to Miss Nardozzi in private? You have my assurance that we’ll reach agreement about the best way forward for her aftercare.’
Carla’s heart climbed into her throat as the doctor nodded almost reverently before leaving, trailed by the nurse, who most unwillingly pried her eyes from Javier’s body.
The moment the door shut behind them, the private hospital room shrank. Every inch of her focus zeroed in on the man who stood watching her in utter, dread-inducing silence, dark eyes piercingly intense.
Slowly, inexorably, his gaze wandered over her, lingering in places that made her breath catch.
She became hyperaware of the thin, insubstantial hospital gown and blanket that covered her body. The almost debilitating weakness in her limbs that had nothing to do with her health and everything to do with how this man made her feel just by being in the same room as her.
It’d been that way from the moment they met, three years ago, in Miami. The weekend from hell was firmly engraved in her mind. A naive twenty-one-year-old, striking out against the rigours that battened her down. A dangerously captivating man who’d represented the exact opposite of the caution she should’ve exercised that night, he’d been like a blazing comet in her dark world.
Except with morning had come the brutal realisation that she’d risked much more than her independence.
‘Suddenly you have nothing to say?’
‘I have plenty to say,’ she rasped through a painful throat. ‘But you seem to be in the mood to throw your weight about. I thought I’d just wait until you tire yourself out.’
A grim smile chased across his lips. ‘Have you forgotten, cara? I don’t tire very easily. Especially when it comes to the things I’m passionate about.’
Raw heat replaced the weakness in her limbs, firing her blood and making her head pound.
He advanced a few final steps, and stared down at her. Then he reached for the water jug on her bedside table. Still keeping his eyes on her, he poured a glass of water, inserted a handy straw and held it to her lips.
‘Drink.’
She wanted to refuse. But her throat hurt. She was beyond thirsty. And getting back on her feet as quickly as possible was imperative. She couldn’t begin to take control of her life from a hospital bed.
She dropped her gaze from his imperious regard, and parted her lips. Sucking on the straw, she drew the cool water into her mouth and shuddered with relief as the soothing liquid assuaged her ravaged throat.
He let her draw another mouthful, then he pulled the straw away. ‘Take it easy, you don’t want to make yourself ill again.’
The sound that emerged from her throat felt blissfully less abrasive. ‘Your audience is gone. Please stop pretending you care about my health.’
He returned the glass to the nightstand. ‘The state of your health is directly connected to the millions I stand to lose if you don’t meet the terms of your contract. Trust me, there’s no pretence on my part. Tell me what happened with your trainer.’
Carla frowned as the unwanted memory sliced across her thoughts. She’d let her emotions get the better of her. Had refused to listen to her instincts even though she’d known training with Tyson Blackwell had been a mistake. Hell, her agent and friend, Draco, had warned her repeatedly about Blackwell.
Further regret made her purse her lips. ‘He was a mistake that never should’ve happened.’
The moment the words left her lips, she felt the blood drain from her face. It took a single glance at Javier to see that he was just as affected by the words.
They were almost identical to what she’d said to him three years ago. The dark curl of his unbelievably sensual lips condemned her poor choice of words.
‘I... I meant—’
‘I’m well aware of what you meant. You seem to make a habit of collecting and leaving a trail of mistakes in your wake. You asked me what I was doing here. It’s quite simple, querida. It’s time to honour the promise I made to you a month ago.’
CHAPTER TWO
CARLA’S STOMACH HOLLOWED. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’
He didn’t answer for a minute. Instead, he strolled to the single window that let in bright sunlight, glanced out for a moment, then turned.
If anything, his silhouette was even more formidable, his almost god-like stature drawing her gaze to his captivating frame.
‘The reason you were chosen to be the face of the J Santino luxury line was because you’re an expert at blending the illusion of innocence with ruthless ambition.’
‘If there’s a compliment in there you expect me to thank you for, I’ll need a moment or two to think about it,’ she replied.
The haloed outline of his shoulders lifted in a shrug. ‘The results speak for themselves. Or at least they used to.’
‘Is there a point to all this?’
‘Your choices lately have been...disappointing, to say the least.’
‘My choices?’
‘You dragged out your negotiations with Draco Angelis’s agency until he threatened to walk away. I’m guessing you realised, almost too late, that playing hard to get with him would get you nowhere? Then you insisted on associating yourself with a trainer whose reputation should’ve made you stay well clear of him.’
Carla swallowed hard against the need to tell him why. But she could see no way to set the record straight without pointing a direct finger at her father. And in a way, hadn’t she also been at fault for desperately clinging to a familial bond that was only in her mind? ‘My last trainer retired. Tyson Blackwell was only supposed to be temporary—’
‘He was known to push his trainees too hard. You should’ve had nothing to do with him,’ he cut across her.
Her breath shuddered out. ‘I didn’t want to. My father made a deal with him without my knowledge,’ she muttered.
Disapproval vibrated off him. ‘Then you should’ve hired someone else.’
She wanted to blurt out that she’d said the same thing to her father, instigating yet another row. A row during which she’d discovered she had no choice but to work with Blackwell because there was no money to hire anyone else. A row that set in motion a series of disagreements that still remained unresolved. Ones she wouldn’t be able to brush under the carpet this time, even though it meant facing the hard truth—that her father loved the prestige and financial reward she brought him much more than he loved her.
Staunching the anguish before it bled into her voice, she replied, ‘We both know why you pursued me to sign with you. So why are we having this conversation?’
‘Because aside from our impending private matters, your father made an excellent case on your behalf by convincing me you were a good bet.’
‘Wasn’t it the other way round? Didn’t you pursue him because you convinced him you were a good bet for my image?’
‘Is that what he told you?’ he enquired silkily, his tone taunting.
She pursed her lips and glanced away. When her fingernails cut into her palm, she forced herself to relax her fist. For the past few months, ever since she had broached the subject of untangling her father from his active role as her manager, their relationship had grown more strained than ever. Tensions had increased until an argument last month when he’d branded her ungrateful and irresponsible. Carla hadn’t fooled herself into thinking the haggard look her father had worn in the past few weeks had anything to do with familial concern for her well-being. Time and hard lessons had taught her otherwise. But she hadn’t known the reason behind her father’s almost visceral reaction to her wanting to take a different path in her career. Not until six weeks ago, after the lavish charity event he’d given in their home in Tuscany. A weekend where her eyes had been opened in more ways than one.