by Day Leclaire
“You remember us?”
She regarded him uneasily, regarding her husband in an entirely different light. She’d sensed his power, witnessed his affluence. But it never occurred to her that he moved in such elite circles. Or that she did. How could she possibly live up to what would be expected of a Dante wife?
“I wouldn’t say I remember, exactly,” she finally responded. “I know about Dantes the same way I know who the current president is. I retain general knowledge, just not specific memories about my past. I’ve heard of Dantes. I mean, who hasn’t?”
He appeared to accept her comment at face value, though it troubled her he continued to question her amnesia. She kept feeling as though he was concealing something from her. Was it something he hoped she’d remember? Or something he preferred remain forgotten?
“Dantes Exclusive is the part of our retail operation for our high-end clients. It’s by appointment only. I thought you might enjoy seeing some of our more select designs.”
She managed a smile. Had he sprung this on her last time? Is that why he’d brought her here, today? “I’d enjoy that. Thank you.”
He led her through the sitting area, past an impressive glass-and-mirror wet bar offering every possible libation, to a barely visible door set into the wall and protected by an elaborate security system. Nicolò removed a card from his wallet and swiped it across the device, before unlocking the mechanism with a combination of voice and thumbprint. The door clicked open and he escorted Kiley into a glittering fantasyland.
She stared around, wide-eyed. “Oh,” she managed to murmur.
“Feel free to look around while I see if any of the family’s here.”
She looked at him in alarm. “Your family?”
“Don’t panic. They won’t hurt you. I promise.” He started to leave, then hesitated. “Unless you want to be hermetically sealed in here, I’d look but not touch.”
Kiley whipped her hands behind her back and interlaced her fingers. “I wouldn’t dream of touching.”
The minute he disappeared, she made a slow circuit of the room, feeling more overwhelmed with each step she took. Case after case displayed jewelry sets of stunning beauty. Not to mention astronomical expense. Is this the world to which she belonged? She shook her head. No, it didn’t feel right. Surely, she didn’t live a life of such wealth and opulence.
She paused in front of a particularly gorgeous display. Voices drifted to her from the doorway through which her husband had vanished. Nicolò’s low murmur sent awareness rippling down her spine. Then came the higher-pitched reply of a woman. At first Kiley couldn’t hear the actual words, but the contentious intonation came through loud and clear. Then the woman raised her voice.
“Forget it, Nicolò,” she said. “I won’t be party to—”
Nicolò interrupted, speaking at length in a soft, hard voice.
Then, “Okay, fine. But this is the one and only time.”
Kiley hastened away from the doorway, worry balled in the pit of her stomach. What in the world did Nicolò want, and why wouldn’t the woman he spoke to be party to whatever he’d suggested? Of even more concern, did their conversation involve her?
She paused by another display case, focusing all her attention on the glorious necklace, earrings, and bracelet. She was enthralled by their stunning appeal, despite her apprehension. A moment later, Nicolò entered the room, followed by a tall, elegant blonde with dark eyes. She offered a forced smile that left Kiley feeling intensely uncomfortable.
“This is my sister-in-law, Francesca,” Nicolò said. “She’s Sev’s wife and Dantes’ top designer. You’re looking at one of her designs.”
“It’s incredible,” Kiley said as they shook hands. “Simple, yet elegant. And—and warm.”
Her utter sincerity must have come through because Francesca’s smile softened and the cool wariness eased from her gaze. “Thank you. It’s part of a collection I created called Dante’s Heart.”
Kiley turned back to study the display case. “I think it’s my favorite of all the ones I’ve seen here today.”
“It’s the fire diamonds,” Francesca stated. “Working with them makes even the most ordinary piece extraordinary.”
“Is that what you call those particular diamonds?” Kiley peered closer. “Oh, wow. I see it now. It is almost as though they’re on fire.”
She didn’t know what alerted her. Perhaps it was the fierce stillness emanating from Francesca and Nicolò. Or perhaps she felt the intensity of their joint gaze. Kiley glanced up at them and slowly straightened.
“Could you please tell me what’s going on?” she asked. “It’s bad enough that I don’t remember. But I also don’t understand the silent subtext between you two.” She focused on Nicolò. “Is there some reason I’m here other than your wanting to show me the family business and introduce me to Francesca?”
“I was hoping that seeing the fire diamonds might prompt a memory.”
“What memory?”
“Any memory.” He tilted his head to one side. “But it doesn’t, does it?”
“Not even a little.” She offered a strained smile. “I wish I had your talent, Francesca. It must give you such pleasure to create these spectacular—” And then a possibility struck her, one that left her trembling with excitement. “Oh, my God. Am I a jewelry designer, too? Is that why I’m here? Is that why you’re acting so strangely? Am I supposed to recognize something I created?”
Struggling to contain a wild thrill of hope, she looked around with a hint of desperation before darting toward a wall full of display cases. She scanned them swiftly, praying that one of the sets would jump out and connect with her the same way she’d connected with Nicolò.
“I don’t recognize anything. I’m trying. Really I am, but—” She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze clashing with Nicolò’s. “Please. Please help me.”
He reached her side before she’d even finished speaking and wrapped her up in a tight embrace. “Hell. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He held her close, comforting her with his warmth. “It’s nothing like that.”
“Oh.” Kiley struggled to conceal the magnitude of her disappointment, praying she could blink back the tears before he saw them. She might have hidden them from Nicolò, but she had less luck with Francesca.
The other woman joined them and caught Kiley’s hand in hers. “I am so sorry,” Francesca said. “It didn’t occur to me that you’d jump to that conclusion. Though now that you have, it seems such an obvious leap to make. I can’t apologize enough for being so cruel.”
“Don’t—” Kiley could feel her emotions escaping her control. She waved a hand in front of her face. “Ignore me. I probably overdid today and it’s all caught up with me at once.”
“Nicolò,” Francesca whispered fiercely, more than a hint of anger coloring her voice.
“This is my fault,” he replied. “I’ll deal with it.”
He glanced down at Kiley. One look at her face had him swearing beneath his breath. She buried her face against the front of his shirt and he jerked his head at Francesca, who left without a word, though her infuriated expression spoke volumes.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really screwed this up. I meant for you to look at some of the wedding ring sets and see if anything appealed.”
“It’s too much, Nicolò. Too overwhelming and way too soon.”
“I realize that.” He grimaced. “At least, I realize that now.”
“Should I assume that our first date didn’t end like this?” she asked in a muffled voice.
“With you in tears? No, it didn’t, thank God.”
She released a watery laugh. “I’m relieved to hear it.” She peeked up at him. “Just out of curiosity, how did it end?”
He closed his eyes, fighting an inner battle. A losing inner battle. “Like this . . .”
Chapter Five
He cupped her face, lifted it to his, and kissed her. She tasted of sweetness and tears, heat and hope, all mixed with white-hot desir
e. He shouldn’t touch her. He sure as hell shouldn’t kiss her. He’d thought by bringing her here, to the heart of Dantes’ wealth and power, he’d catch a glimpse of something. Avarice. Delight. A quick hungry look she couldn’t quite conceal.
But she hadn’t shown a bit of that, not even after he’d left her alone in the room and watched her on the close-circuit cameras. If anything, she’d appeared nervous and uncomfortable, as though she’d rather have been almost anywhere other than stuck in a room with countless millions of dollars’ worth of the world’s most stunning jewelry.
She melted against him, her mouth parting beneath his. Unable to resist, he dipped inward. The flames from The Inferno roared to life, raging through him like wildfire. If they’d been anywhere else, he’d have said to hell with it and taken her right there and then. And based on the way she clung to him, wrapped herself around him, opened to him without hesitation, she wouldn’t have lifted a finger to stop him.
“I’d like to see you in one of these designs,” he told her between kisses. “Clothed in fire diamonds and black satin sheets.”
She shivered against him. “That would still leave too much between us. Let’s skip the diamonds and sheets. I’d rather be clothed in Dante. Or at least, one particular Dante.”
“Much as I’d like to accommodate you, we can’t. Not until you’ve had time to heal. Until then,” He snatched another deep, penetrating kiss. “Let’s go home.”
Disappointment filled her, despite knowing he was being sensible. Cautious. Right now, she preferred reckless and passionate.
“Home it is,” she reluctantly agreed. Though she remained tucked close by his side, she didn’t speak again until they were in the elevator, returning to the underground garage. “So, what’s your plan for tomorrow?”
An excellent question. Based on Francesca’s reaction, he realized he needed to take Kiley away from San Francisco for a short time. Just long enough for Juice to complete his investigation. It would involve a quick phone call to an old family friend, Joc Arnaud. But Nicolò didn’t anticipate any problems from that end of things.
The Dantes and the billionaire financier had enjoyed a long-term friendship. They’d even designed his wife’s wedding rings, as well as the jewelry set Joc had presented to Rosalyn on the birth of their son, Joshua. With luck, he’d assist Nicolò now, allowing him to stay on Joc’s private island, Isla de los Deseos, while Nicolò decided how to handle the disastrous situation he’d created.
He pulled out of the garage, sparing Kiley a swift glance. She looked pale and exhausted. He’d pushed too hard today and could kick himself for his stupidity. “I have to call a friend in order to set something up. Fair warning, it might take a day or two.”
“Is this another of our dates?”
He forced out the lie. “It preceded our marriage. In fact, it was what convinced you to marry me.”
“You convinced me to marry you on our second date?”
“No. After today’s disaster, I’ve decided to move our agenda forward a few weeks.”
“A few weeks?” she repeated faintly. “You weren’t kidding about our having a whirlwind affair, were you?”
“I did warn you that we didn’t know each other very long.”
She leaned back against the headrest and closed her eyes. “How strange. I must have been an impulsive person. Which explains the dash to beat out a cab.”
“That explains you,” he muttered. “Now try and explain me.”
“I guess we have to blame it on The Inferno. It does seem to have a rather strong effect.” She opened her eyes long enough to shoot him a look brimming with laughter. “On both of us.”
“No question about that,” he agreed.
She was right. The Inferno did have a strong effect on both of them. It also created a dozen problems. How did he put an end to the physical need clawing at him? Because when Juice found the evidence of Kiley’s guilt, he’d have to put an end to their relationship. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—join himself with a woman he didn’t trust. Not that it would be a problem. As soon as she regained her memory and discovered how he’d scammed her in return, she’d pour ice water on any remaining embers.
And if she didn’t regain her memory? He refused to consider the possibility. It would come back. He didn’t doubt it for a minute. And when it did, he’d watch a woman with a nature full of sweet generosity transform into a sly, devious creature who made a living by her wits and dishonesty. Perhaps that would put a rapid end to The Inferno.
He could only hope.
Kiley could barely contain her excitement when two days later Nicolò escorted her onto Dantes’ corporate jet.
“Where are we going?” she demanded.
He regarded her with a lazy smile that made her long for them to be back in bed where maybe—just maybe—he’d surrender to the passion scorching them both with its relentless flames. So far that hadn’t happened. He’d shown a disgusting amount of self-control, determined to wait until the right time and place before making love to her. She didn’t have a clue when or where that might occur. As far as she was concerned, here and now would do just fine.
“We’re going to Isla de los Deseos,” he informed her.
Her tongue savored the syllables. “What a romantic name. What did we do there?”
As expected, he shook his head. “Not a chance. We’re going to relax and enjoy ourselves. Nothing strenuous. Nothing that will wear you out. This will give you the opportunity to recoup from your accident. Plus, we’ll have the time and privacy we need to get to know each other better.”
“We’ll also get to reenact the dates that led up to our marriage.” She nodded sagely. “I have to hand it to you, Nicolò. Recoup, reacquaint, and reenact. Not many are so adept at killing three birds with one stone.”
“Four, but who’s counting.”
She tilted her head to one side, intrigued. “What’s the fourth?”
His eyes grew uncomfortably direct. “Recover. As in, your memory.”
“Oh, right.”
For some reason that put a damper on her spirits. She didn’t understand it. She wanted to recover her memory, didn’t she? So, why did she shy away from the mere suggestion? Part of it resulted from a vague impression she picked up from Nicolò, as though he knew more than he’d told her.
No doubt there was. And no doubt when the time was right and she could handle the information, both physically and emotionally, he’d tell her whatever dark secrets he kept locked away. In the meantime, no matter how difficult she found it, she’d have to remain patient and wait until he felt comfortable sharing the information.
She slept for long periods of the flight to Deseos, wrapped in Nicolò’s arms, held safe and secure. The rest of the time, they talked, their conversation quiet and intimate. He discussed his past while kneading his palm in an unconscious gesture, explained how he’d been taken in by his grandparents after the sailing accident that had claimed the lives of his mother and father. He spoke of Sev and how hard his eldest brother had worked to recover the family fortunes. He told her about the twins, Marco, the passionate charmer, who had tricked his bride into marriage by pretending to be his twin brother, and Lazz, the analytical loner. And he described his grandparents, how after The Inferno struck, Nonna had broken her engagement to another man and emigrated to California with Nicolò’s grandfather, Primo.
She could picture Nicolò so clearly as a youth. Feel his pain. Sense his determination to solve the unsolvable, perhaps as a result of being unable to ease his family’s sorrow after his parents’ death. She suspected he possessed that same determination to fix her situation. The thought brought a misty smile to her mouth, a mouth he instantly captured with his own.
“I like it when you smile,” he told her.
“You say that so reluctantly,” she teased. “Are you afraid I’ll use it against you?”
“Would you?”
“Yes.” She tightened her arms around his neck. “If it made you kiss me ag
ain, I’d use it against you on an hourly basis.”
She leaned forward to demonstrate when the flight attendant made an appearance, warning they’d be landing in a few minutes. Kiley released her husband with a disappointed sigh and buckled up just as the plane banked over a lush mountainous island dotting the surface of an aquamarine sea. They landed on a private airstrip and were driven to a secluded cabana sitting within the embrace of a stand of palm trees, steps from a private lagoon.
The cabana took Kiley’s breath away. Decorated in vivid colors, typical of the Caribbean, it boasted a bamboo floor and every possible modern convenience. “How long are we staying here?” she asked.
Nicolò shrugged. “As long as we want.”
She turned in alarm. “I only packed an overnight bag. I don’t have enough clothes.”
He shrugged. “Not to worry. They don’t wear clothes here.” He waited a beat before laughing at her expression. “I’m kidding.”
“Thank goodness,” she said faintly.
“We can buy anything you need.”
Her brows drew together. “That seems rather excessive. If you’d just told me, I’d have been happy to—”
“You won’t need much. A couple bathing suits. A couple dresses for the evening. We’ll check out the shops in a little while.”
First the wardrobe full of designer clothes, then Dantes Exclusive, and now this. She regarded him with a troubled expression. “I need to ask you a question and I’m not quite sure how to phrase it.”
“Just be direct,” he suggested.
“Are we . . . rich? Or rather, are you?”
“Yes.”
So brutally frank. “Was—was I?”
He hesitated before shaking his head. “No.”
She nodded in relief. “That makes sense. This feels . . .”
His scrutiny intensified. “What?”
“Different,” she admitted with a shrug. Then she brightened. “But considering how short a time we’ve known each other, perhaps that explains it. I’m probably not accustomed to such a lavish lifestyle.”
He turned to face her, folding his arms across his chest. She’d always been aware of his impressive size, especially in comparison with her own. But for some reason his current stance made her even more aware of it than usual. “You know that much about yourself, even though you have amnesia?” he asked.
