Lazz's Contract Marriage (The Dante Inferno: The Dante Dynasty Series Book 4)

by Day Leclaire

  “Are we all set?” Lazz asked one of the benefit organizers. “I’m hoping this Pennywinkle representative will be an acceptable substitute for the author. Fortunately, the publisher sent free autographed copies of Pennywinkle’s book, so that should please the children.”

  He also hoped the representative didn’t have an adverse reaction to some of the more severely deformed burn victims. Of all the Dantes, he was the most passionate about this particular organization and worked tirelessly on its behalf. He’d hate to think what should have been a special treat for the children might turn into a nightmare of rejection.

  “I believe the rep just arrived,” the organizer replied, nodding toward the ballroom doorway.

  Lazz turned to look, then grinned. “That’s not Pennywinkle’s rep. That’s my wife.”

  “Oh, of course,” the man hastened to say. “I guess it was the Nancy doll that fooled me.”

  Lazz took a second look. Ariana stood near the doorway, shaking hands with the assistant he’d assigned as the “official greeter” for Mrs. Pennywinkle’s representative. And in her arms she cuddled a Nancy doll. After excusing himself, he left the small group of organizers to their last-minute details and joined his wife.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” he greeted her.

  For some reason she didn’t look thrilled to see him. Shocked might be a more appropriate description. “Lazz? What are you doing here?”

  “I sit on the board of the organization. I’m the one responsible for today’s benefit.” He cocked his head to one side. “And you?”

  She hesitated for a telling moment. “Mrs. Pennywinkle is an old family friend. She asked if I’d represent her.”

  Interesting. Why wouldn’t his darling wife have mentioned it? And why the nervousness? Something was definitely up. There wasn’t time to ask further questions, but he had to admit he was curious to know more about the reclusive author. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said simply. “Let me introduce you to the children.”

  She linked her fingers with his, and the distinctive tug hit the instant their palms joined, a ribbon of desire that continued to connect them even as the program began. Over the next hour, lunch was served. While everyone ate, Ariana read from the latest Mrs. Pennywinkle book and cuddled one of the children on her lap. Lazz held the book and turned the pages for her.

  He wondered if she realized her emotional reactions to the situation caused a hint of an Italian lilt to weave its way through her voice. If anyone else picked up on it, they didn’t let on. But he noticed. He noticed something else, as well. He noticed how his wife maneuvered from table to table, never seeming to rush. Never seeming too busy to speak to or hug or laugh with each and every child.

  Toward the end of the event, she joined the very last table and sat with one of the more severely burned children, a painfully shy little girl. Although the child carried a tattered Mrs. Pennywinkle book, she was the only one so far who didn’t also have a Nancy doll clutched in her arms.

  “Does Cecelia not like dolls?” Ariana whispered to the mother at one point.

  Bright color swept across the woman’s cheekbones as she shook her head. “We can’t afford one,” she replied stiffly. “Maybe for Christmas.”

  Lazz watched as tears gathered in his wife’s eyes. Turning to the little girl, Ariana indicated the doll she’d brought with her to the event. “Did you know this is the first Nancy doll ever made?”

  Cecelia stared, wide-eyed. “The very first?” She reached toward the doll’s ruffled skirt before jerking her hand back. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “You can touch her. In fact . . .” Ariana settled the doll carefully in Cecelia’s arms. “This Nancy doll is magical, maybe because she was the first. Her job is to live her life the same way she does in the storybooks. She wants to be with someone she can help. Otherwise her magic will fade away.”

  Cecelia froze, hardly daring to breathe. “She wants to be with someone like me?”

  “Just like you,” Ariana confirmed. “She’s to stay with you until you don’t need her any longer.”

  Cecelia bit down on her lip. “What if that’s a long, long time? What if the operations take years and years?”

  It took Ariana a moment to reply. “Nancy will stay with you for as long as necessary. And when you don’t need her any longer, then it’s your job to pass her on to someone else who does.”

  The little girl stared up at Ariana, a mixture of adoration and determination reflected in her ruined face. “I will,” she promised fervently. “I’ll give her to someone who needs her as bad as me.”

  Lazz could only imagine how difficult it must have been for his wife to give away her treasured doll. But when it was done, she stood, smiled at everyone and then walked away without once looking back. After excusing himself, he went after her and took her arm. She didn’t require his physical support, but there wasn’t a question in his mind that she desperately needed him emotionally.

  “Hang on just a minute. It’s almost over.”

  He stopped at the dais long enough to give a brief speech thanking everyone for attending and wrapping up the event. He didn’t have a moment’s doubt that the children would remember this occasion for years to come. Finally, he gestured toward the side door.

  “Let’s go.”

  “I can manage,” she insisted.

  He could hear the strain dragging through each word. He didn’t reply. He simply ushered her into the hallway. The minute the door closed behind them, he wrapped her up in a tight embrace and kissed her. She stiffened within his hold, resisting him for all of five seconds before dissolving, responding to him as passionately as every other time he touched her.

  Eventually he pulled back and regarded her with a tender expression.

  “Are you all right? I imagine giving that doll away was one of the most difficult things you’ve ever done.”

  She didn’t deny it. “Helping others, paying it forward, it’s what Mrs. Pennywinkle stands for. It’s the message that underscores every single one of her books. How could I not honor the true meaning of the Nancy doll—” Her voice broke and it took her a moment to continue, this time in Italian. “—by passing her along the same way all the children do between the pages of the Pennywinkle books?”

  “You couldn’t. It’s not in your nature.” He draped a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Come on. What do you say we go home?”

  “Yes. This sounds most perfect.”

  When they reached the apartment, Ariana took Lazz’s hand in hers. Instead of leading him to the nearest bed, she paused by the door to the room she’d requested for her third marital condition. She opened it without a word and flipped on the lights.

  He walked in and stared, stunned. “My God.” He took his time, moving through the room, examining painting after painting. “You did these, didn’t you? I’d recognize your artwork anywhere.”

  “Yes, they’re mine. Most of them I painted while in Italy. They’re for a new Pennywinkle book. At least, they might be, depending on what Aaron decides.” She took a deep breath and faced him. “Aaron Talbot publishes the Mrs. Pennywinkle series. That’s why we were meeting at lunch the other day. He’s considering me as a replacement for the previous Mrs. Pennywinkle.”

  “It was a business meeting?” Lazz winced. That finally answered his question about Talbot, and he couldn’t begin to express the relief he felt, as well as his remorse over his earlier suspicions. “I’m so sorry, Ariana. I really am an ass, aren’t I?”

  “Occasionally.” She smiled to soften her response. “And your apology is accepted. Sometimes it’s hard to reach an accurate conclusion when you do not have all the facts.”

  “Sev warned me of that. But it still doesn’t excuse my reaction.” Lazz studied the paintings and shook his head. “These are amazing. I assume Talbot has agreed to take you on?”

  “Not yet.”

  That caught him by surprise. “He hasn’t already snapped you up as the new Pennywinkle?
Is he crazy?”

  Ariana laughed, though he heard a hint of anguish underscoring her amusement. “I happen to think so. So does Gran.”

  Just like that, it clicked. “Penelope. Penny. Pennywinkle. She’s Mrs. Pennywinkle.”

  Ariana nodded. “She started painting as a form of therapy after her car accident. Now that her arthritis makes it too difficult to continue, she wants me to take over.”

  “I don’t understand.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “If Penelope’s the real Pennywinkle, why didn’t she attend the benefit?”

  “One of the side effects of being trapped for two days in a wrecked car is that she suffers from panic attacks. The intense media attention afterward only made her more fearful. She refuses to make appearances in case she has an attack and frightens the children.”

  Compassion swept through him. “Losing control like that would be difficult for anyone, but it must be especially tough for a woman of her strength of character.”

  “Extremely.”

  Lazz returned his attention to his wife’s artwork. He’d been impressed when he’d seen the sketches she’d done while on their honeymoon. He’d even gone out of his way to rescue and salvage her sketch pad because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing such amazing drawings. But those were mere shadows of what she’d accomplished here.

  “You’ve actually shown these to Talbot? And he rejected them?”

  “Not exactly. I showed him a portfolio of my work. He rejected that. He says my illustrations are too whimsical. And those are nowhere near as whimsical as these. What he really wants is for me to copy my grandmother’s style so no one knows there’s been a change in authorship. I tried to do what he asked.” She crossed to a stack of canvasses leaning against the wall and removed one of them, pulling back the cloth covering. “This is how they come out.”

  “Ouch.”

  “My reaction, exactly.”

  “There are other publishers, Ariana, any number of whom would be delighted to produce a new, updated Mrs. Pennywinkle. Have you considered approaching someone else?”

  “According to Aaron, our contract prohibits it.”

  “Why don’t you give me a copy of the contract, and I’ll have my lawyers take a look? If they don’t see an out, we’ll hire a literary attorney.”

  “I’m not sure my grandmother will agree. She has a long history with Aaron’s father. But I’ll ask her.” Ariana gave Lazz a quick kiss, just a swift brush of her lips against his. “Thank you.”

  That one fleeting caress was all it took. If he lived to be a hundred, he didn’t think he’d ever understand exactly what it was about Ariana that moved him so. That took him from down-to-earth common sense and shot him straight into molten need.

  He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He heard the slight hitch in her breathing, saw comprehension darken her eyes to ebony. A light flush gave definition to her cheekbones. And the air around them thickened, grew heavy and scented with the perfume of their want.

  Without taking his eyes off her, he tugged at the knot in his tie and yanked it free. Ariana followed suit, stripping out of the clothes she’d changed into after their return to the apartment. And yet, still they didn’t touch, not until the last bit of silk and cotton carpeted the floor.

  Then they came together. Slowly. Gently. Softly. There in a room that contained his wife’s soul, he joined with her. Gave to her. Gifted her with all he had within him. Just as she had sacrificed her doll, he sacrificed his disbelief. He gave himself up to her, gave himself up to The Inferno.

  He gave himself up to love.

  Ariana moaned. “I don’t think I can move.”

  “Join the club.”

  “I’m also starving,” she confessed. “Why don’t we order in? That way we don’t have to move any farther than the phone.”

  “Dinner? Is it that late?” He checked his watch and swore. “You’re going to have to move a lot farther than that. And faster, too. Your father is due over any minute.”

  She bolted upright, panic shooting through her. The past month had been sheer agony while she’d waited for either the phone call from her father informing her that he’d found Brimstone and saved her from guaranteed damnation or for her world to come crashing down when Lazz discovered how she’d deceived him. It would appear the wait was over.

  She burst into nervous Italian. “Papa? Here? Why is he coming here? I thought he was back home.”

  “I asked him to bring Brimstone over.”

  She went absolutely rigid. “Now? But, aren’t we supposed to split Brimstone on our three-month anniversary? What’s the rush?”

  Lazz shot her a curious look. “In order to determine the diamond’s value, I need to have it appraised. That doesn’t happen overnight. I asked Vittorio to bring the diamond to San Francisco sometime this week.”

  “And Papa agreed? He brought it?” she asked tautly.

  “He flew in today.”

  She relaxed slightly and drew a slow, calming breath. “I wonder why he didn’t let me know. That’s good news.” She grinned, reveling in the joyful relief that washed over her. “Actually, that’s great news.”

  He scooped her close. “And we’re not splitting the stone, remember? The Dantes are buying you out. Very bad luck to split Brimstone.”

  “Really?” she asked, intrigued. “Why is that?”

  “According to legend, the only way Brimstone can be split is if—”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Hell freezes over?”

  He grinned at the play on words. “Close enough. No, according to legend, Brimstone has to split on its own. And diamonds don’t normally do that. Not without a bit of help.

  “So, until that happens, your family plans to keep it intact?” At his nod, she asked, “What do you get when it splits on its own? You do get something, right?”

  “Rich.”

  She smothered a laugh. “That’s what the legend says?”

  “No, that’s what I say. The legend says we’ll receive good fortune and God’s favor until the Dante line is no more. The Dantes are big on superstition, if not reality. Everything from The Inferno to Brimstone.”

  Before she could argue the point, the doorbell sounded and they both jumped to their feet, yanking on clothes with careless haste. Lazz finished dressing first. “Take your time,” he told Ariana. “I’ll delay your father.”

  She joined them just as Vittorio greeted Lazz with a handshake that didn’t quite hide his nervousness. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m a few minutes early.”

  “Not at all.” Lazz gestured toward the wet bar. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Scotch and water,” Vittorio requested. “A double.”

  The request had Ariana’s heart stuttering. She tried to catch his eye, but he refused to look at her. And that’s when she knew. He hadn’t found the diamond, and he’d come here to confess his sins. She shut her eyes. Please, no. Please let her be mistaken. Please don’t let her marriage end before it had fully begun.

  Lazz fixed the drink and offered it to Vittorio. “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

  “I was hoping to delay this conversation for a while longer. But clearly, I cannot.”

  “I assume that means that you don’t have Brimstone,” Lazz said without inflection. “Is that what you’re here to tell me?”

  “Yes.” Vittorio downed his drink in a single swallow. “That’s what I’m here to tell you.”

  Ariana closed her eyes. “Oh, Papa,” she murmured.

  “I tried to call and warn you, bambolina, but—”

  Lazz cut in, fighting to keep his voice level. “What happened to the diamond? Where is it?”

  Vittorio hesitated. “After Dominic’s death, I removed the stone from the safety deposit box where we’d agreed to keep it,” he confessed.

  Ariana dropped into the nearest chair. “After Dominic died?” she repeated in disbelief. No. No, that wasn’t what he’d told her before the wedding. He’d said . .
. She struggled to recall. He’d implied he’d only recently lost it. “It’s been gone all these years?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Vittorio cleared his throat. “Primo had no idea Dominic had taken the diamond in the first place, so after his death I wanted to return it and explain how it came to be in my possession.”

  “Of course,” Lazz said evenly. “It was the only option available to you since disposing of the diamond in any other manner would have been unethical.”

  Vittorio had the grace to redden. “This was my feeling, as well,” he was quick to assure. “But before I could return it, it went missing. I searched everywhere for it. It was as though it had vanished into thin air. I can only assume one of the servants . . .” He trailed off with a lifted shoulder.

  “And you’ve spent the last dozen or more years searching for it? I assume you called in the authorities?” Lazz lifted an eyebrow. “No?”

  “No,” Vittorio admitted, ruddy color flushing his face. “I didn’t say anything when I lost Brimstone because I was too ashamed to admit to my carelessness. On top of that there would have been a scandal.” He spared Lazz an apprehensive glance. “But there’s another reason. A more important reason I allowed the wedding to go through.”

  Ariana crossed to his side and took her father’s hand in hers. “What, Papa?”

  He caressed his daughter’s cheek. “Dominic wanted this marriage with all his heart. He insisted on the contract, even over my express objections.” He addressed Lazz again. “He did it to protect you, mio figlio. And he made Brimstone part of the deal because he knew it was the only way to convince me to go along with his crazy scheme. Now that he’s gone—” Vittorio broke off and gathered himself before continuing. “I wish to honor his wishes.”

  “I’m sure your reasons for insisting Ariana and I go through with the marriage were totally altruistic.” Lazz made the comment in a wintry voice.

  “It was because of The Inferno,” Vittorio continued doggedly. “Out of respect for your privacy I haven’t wanted to mention something so personal, but your father saw a spark between you and my daughter all those years ago. That’s why he insisted on the contract.”