Bound by the Italian's Contract. Janette KennyЧитать онлайн книгу.
a stranger instead of himself. “Julian was the reckless one without ties or obligations while I accepted my duty and became a champion skier and suitably married man with a day-to-day hand in the family business.”
And perhaps he would have remained content in that role if his marriage hadn’t crumbled in his hands.
“Did you resent your role?” she asked calmly reminding him of counselors he’d seen to no avail.
If she only knew the details, Luc thought sourly. But she couldn’t and it wasn’t a subject he wished to go into great detail.
“I did after my ex-wife died,” he admitted, hungry for the punishment a free, grueling lifestyle promised.
She swallowed, going still. “You loved her.”
“Very much so.” He pressed his head against the seat, eyes closed as he allowed old memories and their pain to intrude. “With a bit of pressure, I was able to secure Julian a spot on the Italian ski team. But he didn’t care about Alpine. Extreme ski drove him. Challenged him.”
“Then why did he agree to participate in Alpine?”
“Father exerted his muscle,” Luc said. “Adding to the pressure, the sports world jumped on Julian’s natural ability, touting him as the faster and more daring Duchelini. It was a challenge few men could walk away from.”
“Was he really that good?” she asked.
“Better than good. Off the record, he beat me most of the time.” He fisted his hands on the chair, remembering how jealous he’d been of his brother’s bravado and skill. His freedom. “All champions know it is a matter of time before their records will be broken. I shattered my father’s records and Julian had the potential to best mine, but his heart remained in extreme ski, which is why he turned in such a poor performance at the World Cup.”
“Is that why Julian seemed so upset the day I left?”
He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his knuckles along his jawline, glaring at the ceiling as the jet leveled off at cruising altitude. “No. I realized he got a tremendous high from extreme skiing and told him I, too, was going to compete against him there. He threw a fit. Said I wasn’t prepared. That I hadn’t practiced the quicksilver moves needed to attempt the extreme ski.”
She wet her lips, eyes narrowed and breathing shallow, looking vulnerable, pensive, concerned. That last one got him in the gut like a blow.
“Why? You were a four-time Alpine champion, skilled in tackling the toughest slopes in ungodly conditions. At the World Cup I remember you attacking the slopes with reckless abandon, earning gold in everything you entered.”
He loosed a bitter laugh at his carnal failings then and now, recalling that dark period in his life. If only he could alter time and go back, he might have been able to prevent the tragedy.
“Why doesn’t matter,” he said bitterly. “Alpine no longer thrilled me. But Julian refused to let up. So I challenged him to a race to decide my future. If he won, I would bow out of extreme ski.”
“And if you won, you would compete against your brother in the sport he excelled in.”
“Exactly. So I arranged the meet,” he said, regretting the fool’s bet every day.
“Wow.” She blew out a breath, then another, and he only just stopped himself from reaching over to her, touching her, holding her. “Why did you pick the most treacherous slope in Austria for your challenge?”
“The Hahnenkamm was the best test of our abilities,” he bit out. “I dreaded that mountain as most do and was grateful that winning my yearly race there was behind me. But it tests the best and that’s what this challenge was about. Julian readily agreed, knowing it was beyond reckless to attempt it at the same time. But he lived to test himself and saw this as his means to best me.”
“But he failed,” she said softly.
He closed his eyes and watched that moment unfold in his memory, feeling the amazing rush, the choking fear and the crippling pain that never ended, that rolled on and on like a monster avalanche, clearing everything in its path. “He could have won.”
“Then why didn’t he?”
“It was my fault.” He took a deep breath and huffed it out, gaze trained on the opaque wall but seeing nothing but blinding snow. Hearing nothing but the howl of the wind as he shot over the edge behind his brother and realized he was too low, that he hadn’t launched off as Julian had. “I was behind him by a good twenty seconds when we took a dangerous jump. I miscalculated the distance and lost a ski and the race. And my brother—” He hung his head and broke off, swallowing hard, face carved in anguish.
“Don’t go there,” she said softly, reaching over to lay a hand on his clenched one.
He turned his arm and grabbed her hand, squeezing it like it was a lifeline. “He shouldn’t have looked back. He should have kept flying down the mountain toward the next jump and proved he was the best. But he didn’t. He ignored the most basic rule and glanced back at me sprawled in the snow. I looked up just as he skidded out of control and shot over the precipice.”
“My God,” she whispered as she laid her hand atop his arm. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”
“I can do anything I want.”
“Let me help you—”
For one fleeting moment he wanted to accept her help. But that opened another avenue he wasn’t about to travel with a good woman.
“Helping Julian will help me,” he said, gruffly.
“There are other treatments—”
“No! What is done is done.” He shook his head, accepting his penance, his guilt. “I have had surgeries, followed by long sessions with top physical therapists around the world. My rehabilitation dragged on for two years before I put an end to it. They can do no more.”
“Are you always this intractable?”
“Stop being so optimistic,” he said, and without giving her time to reply, he barked out, “I brought you to Italy to give Julian a chance at a fuller life. You’re under contract do that and no more. In exchange, I will make sure you have an updated, state-of-the-art lodge for your therapy program in your quaint Colorado Rocky Mountains. Remember that.”
“How could I ever forget?”
He hoped to hell she didn’t. Hoped he could find that sweet spot that blinded him to the errors he’d made in the past. But then, in truth, he didn’t want to ease the misery.
It was the penance he lived every day. His due.
Nothing would change that. Nothing.
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