by Day Leclaire
Ariana wrapped her arms around her father’s neck and buried her face against his shoulder. “He doesn’t like me,” she said. “Fix it, Papa.”
Vittorio chuckled, shooting a swift grin toward Dominic Dante, surprised when his friend didn’t share his amusement. “You want me to make Lazz like you?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry, bambolina, it doesn’t work that way.” He signaled for his daughter’s nanny. “Go with Rosa now. She’ll play with you. Or you can ask Grandmother Penelope to read you your favorite Mrs. Pennywinkle book. She’s in the garden painting or writing.”
Ariana didn’t protest. She struggled to master her tears before giving her father a dutiful kiss on the cheek. With a final forlorn glance in Lazz’s direction, she took Rosa’s hand and trotted off.
Vittorio turned to Dominic, stiffening at his friend’s expression. “What’s wrong? You look quite ill. Can I get you something?”
Dominic shook his head. “No, no. There’s nothing you can get me. Damn it to hell. It’s The Inferno,” he murmured. “My God. It may not be how it’s experienced as adults, but I’ll bet every last fire diamond the Dantes possess that we just witnessed the beginnings of The Inferno.”
“You mean that silly zapping game? Don’t be ridiculous, Dom. Ariana is still a baby and Lazz a boy.” Vittorio hesitated, striving for delicacy. “I know you said something about The Inferno in passing when we were in college, but—”
A reminiscent smile flickered across Dominic’s face before fading to grimness. “I believe we were blind drunk at the time or I’d never have mentioned it. We don’t speak of it, except with other Dantes. I’m surprised you remember.”
“The concept of The Inferno is a bit hard to forget,” Vittorio said drily. He tilted his head to one side. “But surely you don’t believe it? You claimed it was nothing more than a Dante family myth.”
“It’s no myth, despite what I told you. I felt it myself not many years later.”
Vittorio smiled. “I believe that’s called love, though some call it lust. Or infatuation. A lightning bolt from heaven. Or as it eventually turns out, from hell.” He slapped Dominic on the back. “Your family has simply chosen a more clever name for it. But everyone has those romantic stirrings toward their wife.”
“It wasn’t with Laura,” Dominic instantly denied. “I decided to ignore what I felt toward the woman The Inferno chose for me and married for business reasons. As it turns out, my life and marriage have been nothing short of a disaster.”
Vittorio stared, shocked. “Surely not.”
“My father warned me. He said I’d regret it if I didn’t marry where The Inferno struck. I didn’t listen.”
“It was Primo who put those ideas in your head in the first place,” Vittorio argued. “Of course he’d warn you.”
“You still don’t understand.” Dominic spun to confront his friend, his eyes black with a combination of pain and fierce determination. “I didn’t listen to The Inferno, and I’ve been cursed ever since. I can’t allow that to happen to my children. I’ll do whatever it takes to make certain they don’t suffer my fate.”
“I don’t like the sound of this.”
“I’m not proposing anything that hasn’t been done for centuries.” Dominic spoke fast and low, with a worrisome underlying urgency. “I want to betroth our children. Draw up a contract to that effect.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Vittorio allowed a hint of sharpness to color his words. “Even if I were to consider it, we couldn’t force our children to honor such an outrage, not if they were unwilling.”
“If I’m right, we won’t need to force them. The first time they touch as adults they’ll be bonded. They’ll be only too happy to marry. And even if there’s an initial reluctance, they’ll change their minds after a few months of wedded bliss. All we have to do is get them in front of a priest.”
Vittorio shook his head. He couldn’t believe he was listening to this insane scheme. “And how do you propose we get them to the altar?”
“Like I said. We offer an incentive to sweeten the deal.” He hesitated and lowered his voice to a mere whisper. “Have you heard of Brimstone?”
Vittorio stiffened at the mention of the infamous fire diamond. “I’ve always wondered if it were real or another Dante legend.”
A small smile played around Dominic’s mouth. “It’s real enough.”
“I’ve heard the diamond carries a curse.”
“Or a blessing. It depends on your perspective.”
“And your perspective is?”
“That it’s up to the individual person and how he or she chooses to use the diamond.”
“And how do you intend to use it?”
Dominic’s smile grew. “Now that my father has given me control of our family business, I also have control of Brimstone. I propose that we make the diamond part of the contract. We’ll put the stone in a bank deposit box for safekeeping. If Lazzaro and Ariana marry by the time your daughter turns twenty-five, the diamond will be split between the two families.”
“Literally?” Vittorio asked, intrigued.
Dominic shook his head. “No, that would be very bad luck. Dantes will pay you half the worth of the diamond.”
“And if the two refuse to marry?”
A fevered expression glittered in Dominic’s eyes. “Then Brimstone will be sacrificed, thrown into the deepest part of the ocean.”
“You’ve lost your mind.”
Dominic laughed. “My soul, perhaps, but not my mind.”
Vittorio hesitated, weighing the pros and cons despite himself. “The truly frightening part of this is that I’m actually considering your offer.” The distinctive squeak of a wheelchair came from nearby and Vittorio glanced over his shoulder to make certain his mother-in-law wasn’t close enough to overhear. There would be hell to pay if she caught wind of this.
“I’m hoping you’ll do more than consider it,” Dominic replied. “I’m hoping you’ll agree.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree to your proposal.”
A hint of contentment settled on Dominic’s face. For the first time since the Dantes had arrived in Italy, Vittorio realized just how stressed his friend had become over the past few years. It saddened him to see Dom change from the charming, carefree schoolboy he’d once known to this hardened businessman. It also filled him with a vague unease. Maybe there was something to his story. Maybe the Dantes were cursed. Perhaps the fates had chosen to balance the Dantes’ astonishing good fortune in the business world with a cursed personal life.
Vittorio crossed himself surreptitiously. “I want to make it clear, Dom. I refuse to force Ariana to the altar if she chooses not to marry.”
“She’ll marry Lazz. They both will agree to it, if only to keep a priceless diamond from being destroyed.” He shot Vittorio a confident look. “If I’m right and that spark between children grows to an Inferno between adults, you’ll benefit financially while I’ll have the greatest gift of all.”
“And what’s that?”
Dominic stared at where his sons were heaped in a pile with Vittorio’s son, Constantine. They formed a squirming mass of arms and legs, heads and tails. Their laughter rang out, the sound more precious than anything else in his life. “I’ll have gained peace of mind.”
Chapter One
Date: August 04 08:02 PDST
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Marriage Contract, Premarital Conditions
Ariana, as discussed in our recent phone conversation, I’m sending my first marital condition.
Condition #1: Absolutely, positively, unequivocally no secrets.
Sincerely,
Lazarro Dante
CFO, International Finance
Dantes
August 7
“I hate secrets.”
Lazzaro Dante made the statement so emphatically that it caused Ariana Romano to fal
l silent. Honesty compelled him to admit to himself he hated secrets almost as much as he hated The Inferno—a myth his family considered a reality. The Inferno, or rather what his brothers and their wives perceived as some nebulous and fiery connection between soul mates that struck at first touch, had recently formed an exclusive club to which all his family members belonged, except him. As far as he was concerned, the family “curse” didn’t exist, and nothing anyone could say or do would change his mind.
Ever.
He could hear his fiancée’s breath catch through the phone line and sensed her searching for an appropriate reply to his pronouncement. “I realize we’ve never met, but you are aware you’re marrying a woman, yes?” she asked in her uniquely lyrical voice. “Secrets and women go together like handbags and heels.”
Her comment caught him off guard. Perhaps it was the way she said it, with a hint of gentle humor sweeping through her words. Her English, which she’d acquired from her British grandmother, carried the upper-crust echo of tea and crumpets and combined with the sunny warmth of her native tongue, an Italian lilt that orchestrated her every word.
“And you do realize I’m not Marco, right?” he reminded her.
“Your brother has explained as much,” she replied with far too much equanimity. “He’s visited us many times on Dantes business and says that despite being twins, the two of you are as different as night and day.”
“True.”
“For instance, he’s charming and you are not.”
Lazz straightened in his chair. “I’m logical.”
“He is amusing. You . . .” He could practically see her shrug. “Not so much. I believe that is the way Marco puts it.”
“When I see my brother, I’ll be sure to explain precisely where he can put it.”
If she heard the muttered comment, she didn’t respond to it. “Marco is also handsome and intelligent and kind. Not to mention an excellent kisser.” A pregnant pause followed the pronouncement. “Should I expect my future husband to be none of those things?”
He locked on to the most vital portion of her comment. An irrational anger exploded through him, an emotion far out of proportion to the situation. Not again, an insidious voice whispered. No way would he share another woman with his brother, especially not someone he planned to marry.
He’d been through that with Caitlyn, a woman he’d been on the verge of proposing to, when Marco had tricked her into marriage by posing as Lazz. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—marry Ariana if she expected him to be a stand-in for Marco. Logic be damned, he flat-out refused to be a substitute for any man.
“You and Marco kissed?”
She must have heard the edge in his voice, because she answered promptly. “Before he met Caitlyn, yes. But it didn’t rock either of our worlds.” Her use of the idiom would have amused him if the circumstances had been different. “Despite his expertise, it was like kissing in the hopes of finding a lover and finding only a good friend. Do you know what I mean?”
“No.”
“Ah, well. Perhaps it’s never happened to you.” Again came that tiny pause, and he had the strong suspicion she was laughing at him. “Are you . . . inexperienced?”
“Hell, no!”
“I thought since you’ve been so insistent that you’re Marco’s complete opposite that perhaps this is another area in which you are lacking.”
She was poking at him, the same as when she’d been a child, he realized with equal parts amusement and annoyance. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he warned. “Jerk a kitten’s tail, and Marco might scratch you. Jerk my tail, and you’re dealing with an entirely different kind of animal.”
Her breath escaped in a soft laugh. “Touché. I have gathered as much from our negotiations. Your list of marital demands have been quite interesting.”
“As have yours. Particularly your latest, which is why I’m calling.” Lazz regarded the printout he held with a basic masculine confusion. “Why do you want your own room? I can understand your own bedroom, but—”
“I require a room with a lock and a guarantee of utter privacy. Did I phrase my request in a way confusing to you?”
“Not at all.” Suspicion roared to the surface. “You phrased it in a way that makes me wonder what you’re hiding and why.”
“I am not hiding anything. I’m being quite explicit. This is not a matter for one of your infamous negotiations. Refuse my request and it’s a deal-breaker.”
“Why?” he repeated.
Her laugh came to him, rich and earthy and filled with a honeyed warmth. “How many times must I tell you? I am a woman. Women need their privacy.”
“Your own bedroom isn’t private enough?”
“I can’t do what I have in mind in a bedroom.”
“That’s a relief,” he muttered.
Ariana’s laughter teased him again, decimating the barriers of logic and rational thought Lazz had worked so hard to erect. He struggled to remember what she looked like, but nothing came to him, possibly because nearly two full decades had passed since he’d last seen her. Maybe he’d ask Marco. His brother had conducted protracted business dealings with the Romano family. Worse, Ariana and Marco had kissed. No question he would be able to describe Ariana. Knowing Marco, he’d be able to do it right down to the last tiny freckle.
Lazz grimaced. Or perhaps he wouldn’t ask his brother a damn thing, since he suspected Marco would use the opportunity to either give him some serious grief, or even worse, try and talk him out of honoring the contract their father had signed with Vittorio Romano. And all because of that ridiculous Inferno nonsense.
“Are you going to tell me why you need a private room?” Lazz asked again.
“No.”
“You simply expect me to comply with no explanation or clarification?”
“Yes. I expect you to comply the same way you expect me to comply with your marital demands.” She paused, before asking delicately, “How many are we up to now? Ten?”
“Five,” he corrected. “Six, if you count the one I’m sending you later today about the disposition of Brimstone.”
“But of course that one counts. And how many have I made?”
“Three.”
“Which leaves me with three to spare, should I choose to use them. And maybe I will. Maybe I’ll save my extra three demands for after we’re married. You can be the genie to my wishes.” Her sigh of pleasure drifted across continents. “I quite like that idea.”
For some reason that sigh caused a hunger to gnaw at the pit of his stomach. “That’s not how it works.”
“It works however we say it does. You claim you are the logical one.”
“I am the logical one.” He always had been, and marriage to Ariana wouldn’t change that fact, a point he intended to make crystal clear. He attempted to get them back on topic. “About the room. If you’d just explain—”
“Are you worried I intend to take a lover? Would you feel better about my request if I tell you I promise to honor my vow to remain faithful to you for the duration of our marriage?”
Yes. He closed his eyes at the silent acknowledgment. He knew where his suspicions came from. Understood his knee-jerk reaction to anything that hinted at a secret or a hidden agenda. He could lay that little issue squarely at Marco’s door—and at his own.
Just as Marco had used subterfuge to sweep in and carry Caitlyn away, Lazz had been every bit as guilty of a few secrets and deceptions of his own in the course of that entire debacle. Still, it had been quite a blow to his pride when the woman he’d hoped to marry had chosen his twin brother over him.
The entire incident had left a sour taste in Lazz’s mouth and created a general distaste for lies and deception. And yet, here he was embroiled in just that. It might have been of his father’s making, but he’d chosen to keep the reasons for his impending marriage a secret from two of the people he loved most in his life. And though he attempted to rationalize his decision, there were certain lines that couldn’t
be smudged.
What he was doing was wrong and he knew it.
“You’re not going to tell me why you need a private room, are you?” Lazz asked. “Despite my condition that we not have secrets from each other, you still refuse to explain.”
“I am sorry, Marco.”
“Lazz,” he corrected with soft emphasis.
“Now I really am sorry.” There was no mistaking her sincerity. “I swear I wasn’t ‘jerking your tail’ as you called it. Using your brother’s name was an honest mistake. You sound so much like him.”
“I look like him, too,” Lazz warned. “But I’d appreciate it if you’d remember my name by the time we marry. My grandparents might find it a bit suspicious if you keep calling me Marco. They believe we met and fell in love the last time you were in San Francisco, and it’s imperative they continue to believe it for the duration of our marriage.”
“Of course. You made it a condition, one I heartily approve of.” A note of formality stole the summer warmth from her voice. “I will be very careful to play my part. Believe me, I do not wish my grandmother or my mother to find out about this devil’s contract any more than you want your grandparents to discover the truth.”
“My grandparents would do everything in their power to stop the wedding if they knew about the contract.” Primo had once told him that to marry without The Inferno would turn a blessing into a curse. So Lazz had allowed his grandparents to believe he and Ariana had experienced what he privately denied.
“Don’t you find it disturbing you’re marrying a virtual stranger,” she asked, “knowing nothing about what sort of person I am?”
“It’s not forever, Ariana. And it enables us to achieve the same goal. We both want to prevent Brimstone from being thrown away.”
“So we marry for profit.”
Her concern came through loud and clear. She sounded on the verge of backing out, something he couldn’t allow to happen. “If privacy is what you need in order to make all of this more palatable for you, you can have it. I agree to your third condition. I also promise we won’t stay married a minute longer than necessary.”
