by Day Leclaire
“How can I possibly refuse such a romantic offer?” she asked lightly.
His grin slid into his voice. “I can’t imagine. So, when are you coming over?”
“Not until right before the ceremony. Both my grandmother and mother are shrewd women. I’m afraid if they see us together, they won’t believe our story of a whirlwind love affair. It took a lot of maneuvering to convince my mother to delay our arrival. She wanted to fly over weeks beforehand. Fortunately, once I explained my problem to my father, he supported my request. We arrive the morning of the rehearsal.”
“That makes sense.” Lazz glanced at the calendar on his desk. “Not long now. Just three more weeks.”
“August 28th. And then we’ll be married,” she murmured.
Lazz’s mouth tightened. “Temporarily, he stressed.
And The Inferno be damned.
“So what’s his latest demand?” Constantine asked his sister. Ever since the contract between their father and Dominic Dante had come to light, her brother had scoured the fine print, watching over the negotiations like a hawk.
“He’s just reiterating one of his older ones. We’re to have no secrets.”
Constantine grinned. “Are you serious?”
“No. But he is.” She dropped into the chair in front of her brother’s desk and lifted her feet to rest on the edge. “I’m beginning to realize that Lazz is nothing like Marco.”
“I like Marco. He’s fun.”
“Maybe a little too much fun, just as his brother is a little too much business.” She released her breath in a sigh. “Isn’t there a happy medium?”
“You’re looking at him.”
Ariana chuckled and nudged a stack of files with her bare toe. They cascaded in his direction, creating a flurry of papers that swamped his desk. “Aren’t we full of ourselves, especially for virtual paupers.”
Constantine busied himself for a moment, straightening the papers she’d knocked over, but Ariana understood. They’d been broke for years due to a series of bad investments their father had made. Since then, they’d lived off their name, as well as off friends who were willing to pick up the tab in order to have the Romanos grace their homes. And though it didn’t seem to bother their father, Ariana had watched with serious concern the impact it had on her brother.
Constantine hated being broke. Hated freeloading. Hated having their maternal grandmother, Penelope, use the money from her Mrs. Pennywinkle royalty checks to keep the Romano estate intact. He had a head for business, but so far lacked investors. And the few who’d shown interest didn’t plan to allow Constantine to run the concern, but simply wanted the Romano name attached to the project and her brother installed as a figurehead.
This marriage offered salvation for all of them. With their share of Brimstone, it would be more than enough to seed Constantine’s business, as well as provide her father with a comfortable retirement.
“Do you think Grandmother suspects anything?” Ariana asked.
“Not at all. She’s downright giddy over your wedding.”
“I’m so relieved she’s well enough to come.”
A light tap sounded at the door, and the object of their conversation wheeled herself through the doorway. “Oh, there you are.” She beamed at her grandchildren. “I was hoping to find you here. I just wanted a word with Ariana about a few wedding details.”
Constantine shoved back his chair. “In that case, I’ll make myself scarce.” He bent over his frail grandmother and kissed her rose-petal-soft cheek. “You call me if you need anything, Gran,” he said before making good his escape.
“Would you like some tea?” Ariana asked. Even though Penelope had left England more than fifty years ago when she’d married her Italian-born husband, she still preferred a cup of hot tea over any other beverage.
“I just had some, thank you.” She regarded Ariana with china-blue eyes that sparkled with good humor. “I have to confess, I told a small fib just now.”
Ariana grinned. “You didn’t want to discuss wedding plans? I’m shocked.”
Penelope waved that aside. “You and my dear daughter are more than capable of handling the wedding arrangements on your own. Plus, you have all of the Dantes at your disposal.”
“So, if this isn’t about my wedding . . . ?” Ariana tilted her head to one side in question.
“You know perfectly well what this is about.”
Ariana blew out a sigh. “Mrs. Pennywinkle.”
“Yes, Mrs. Pennywinkle. You can’t delay any longer.”
The stories her grandmother created were beautifully illustrated tales, all about a china doll named Nancy who passed from needy child to needy child. With each subsequent owner came exciting adventures and heartrending problems for whichever youngster came into possession of the doll. By the end of the book, Nancy had helped resolve the child’s problems and magically moved on to the next boy or girl in need. Ariana even owned the very first Nancy doll to come off the production line. It was one of her most treasured possessions.
“Have you finished the sketches the publisher requested?”
“The portfolio’s ready to go, as is the storyline,” Ariana admitted. “But I’m not sure Talbot Publishing is ready for such a significant change to books that have become classics over the years.”
“Nonsense.”
Ariana curled deeper into her chair. “I’m serious. My artistic style is nothing like yours. I’m not certain children will take to the change.”
“It’s time the books were revamped. Mrs. Pennywinkle has been in serious need of a face-lift for years now.” A tiny frown marred the beauty of Penelope’s English rose complexion. “Sales are dropping. If I don’t find a way to turn it around—” She broke off with a shrug.
Ariana froze, understanding dawning. “Your money? It is running out?”
“It will if we don’t get Mrs. Pennywinkle turned around.” She leaned forward, lines of worry furrowing her brow. “Your mother doesn’t have the talent or the interest. But you do.”
“I definitely have the interest. It hasn’t been decided whether I have sufficient talent. Which reminds me . . .” Ariana hesitated, reluctant to broach the subject. “I asked Lazz for a room where I can work on my illustrations, and he’s curious about why I need both the room and such privacy. Would you mind if I tell him about Mrs. Pennywinkle?”
“You mustn’t,” Penelope cut in, her agitation increasing. “The Dantes attract media attention the way bread attracts butter. It’ll get out. People will discover I’m Mrs. Pennywinkle. It’ll be like it was after my accident.”
Compassion filled Ariana at the mention of the accident that had killed her grandfather and chained Penelope to a wheelchair for the rest of her life. And though she understood why her grandmother preferred to keep her identity private, and respected that decision, Ariana had also made a promise to Lazz. She closed her eyes. There was no question which promise took precedence. Her grandmother’s well-being came before all else.
“If you prefer I not tell Lazz what I’m up to, of course I’ll respect your wishes,” she said gently. “Besides, there’s nothing to tell him. Not until your publisher accepts me as the new Mrs. Pennywinkle.”
Penelope relaxed ever so slightly. “Since I’m no longer capable of continuing the series, thanks to these arthritic hands of mine, he won’t have any choice.”
Ariana wasn’t as certain. Profit was the bottom line in today’s business world, and if Talbot Publishing didn’t feel her talent could change the face of Mrs. Pennywinkle in a way that would enhance the bottom line, they’d find someone else or allow the series to end. She’d do just about anything to ensure that didn’t happen.
She shot her grandmother a concerned glance. She could only hope it all worked out in the end, and that she could keep the truth from Lazz for the length of their temporary marriage. Besides, it was only one tiny secret. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind.
“So, what’s her latest demand?” Marco asked.
> Lazz scanned the printout of Ariana’s email for the umpteenth time. “You’re married. Explain this to me. What the hell does it mean when she says she needs a private room? One I can’t invade, no less. Why does she need an entire room in order to be private?”
“And more importantly, why can’t you invade it?” Marco asked.
“Yes, exactly. I mean, no, damn it! I wouldn’t invade. Much.” Lazz winced at his brother’s bark of laughter. “Does Caitlyn have a private room?”
“Of course. I call it the bathroom, but she’s turned it into some sort of female sanctuary, and God forbid I enter at the wrong time.”
“When’s the wrong time?”
Marco grinned. “Anytime she’s in there.”
“You’re joking around, and I’m asking a serious question here.”
Marco held up his hands in surrender. “Caitlyn has private areas. All women have them. They need places they can go to be alone and enjoy their femininity with all the delightful mystery that entails.”
Lazz crumpled the email in his fist. “Apparently, Ariana needs an entire room in order to be feminine.”
“If it’s such a problem, maybe you should reconsider marrying her.”
“So you’ve said.” Lazz’s voice cooled. “As has Nicolò, twice. And Sev, at least a half dozen times.”
“They’re worried about you.” Marco attempted to placate. “We all are. You don’t have to honor that damnable contract Dad drew up. And you sure as hell don’t have to marry Ariana in order to get your hands on Brimstone. No diamond, no matter how valuable, is worth that sort of sacrifice. None of us expect it of you.”
Lazz lifted an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you all aren’t worried about the curse if I don’t go through with the marriage.”
“That diamond is only cursed if we believe it is,” Marco said with a hint of unease. “Sev has secured our position in the jewelry world. It’s ridiculous to believe that without Brimstone our family will never know true happiness or success. That’s just a silly fairy tale.”
“Just like it’s ridiculous to believe The Inferno is anything more than a silly fairy tale?” Lazz asked pointedly.
Marco’s jaw took on a stubborn slant. “That’s different. One legend has nothing to do with the other.”
“Right.”
“Oh, can the sarcasm, will you? You’re making a mistake marrying Ariana for business reasons, and you know it.”
“So Sev and Nicolò have said.” Lazz lobbed the balled email in the direction of the trash can. It bounced off the rim before landing in the basket. “They think it’s a mistake to marry Ariana because she’s not my Inferno bride.”
“I happen to agree with them,” Marco said with deceptive mildness.
“Fortunately for all of us, I don’t believe in The Inferno or its curse.”
“Blessing.”
Lazz ignored the interruption. “Ariana and I have emailed extensively, and we both agree. We’ll marry. We’ll put on a show for our grandparents for a few months. And then we’ll go our separate ways. At some point, we’ll have the marriage terminated.”
Marco shook his head in open disgust. “I’m surprised at Dad. Considering how miserable he and Mom were, why would he want to force you into a similar type of marriage?”
“How many times do I have to explain? This isn’t a real marriage.” Lazz fought to control his impatience with only limited success. “Ariana and I will fulfill the terms of the contract and then have a friendly parting of the ways. Brimstone will be saved, and we’ll buy out the Romanos’ share of the stone. Nothing could be simpler. Best of all, everyone wins.”
“If you really believe it’ll be that easy, you’re crazy. Primo and Nonna think you’re marrying because of The Inferno. You’ve gone out of your way to give them that impression. Now you’re stuck maintaining the pretense for the duration of your marriage. The minute you and Ariana divorce, they’ll realize the truth.” Marco leaned in, his expression unusually grim. “When that happens, it’s going to crush them.”
“I don’t want them hurt,” Lazz admitted. “But better they think I was mistaken about The Inferno than they find out about Dad’s contract. In my opinion, that would crush them more than my confusing lust for The Inferno.”
“You’re wrong. They’d be more hurt to discover you’re marrying for any reason other than love.”
After a moment’s consideration, Lazz was forced to concede the accuracy of his brother’s observation. “Then I convince them Ariana and I were in love when we married and it simply didn’t work out. I thought it was The Inferno and it wasn’t. A simple case of wishful thinking. My understanding is that Ariana’s grandmother, Penelope, and mother, Carolina, also believe it’s a love match and we don’t want to disabuse either of them of that notion. The fact Ariana and I have only met by email will remain our little secret.”
“I’ll be interested to see your reaction when you two really meet.”
“Why?” The question slipped out before Lazz could prevent it.
Marco shook his head with a mocking smile. “I’ll just let you find out for yourself.”
“You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?”
“I’ll tell you this much. She’s gorgeous. Passionate about life and everything in it. Has a terrific sense of humor. And she has a soft spot when it comes to children.”
“You forgot to mention she’s a good kisser.”
Marco laughed. “Told you, did she? Yes, she’s a good kisser. So, when’s the big meet and greet?”
“Ariana and her family are scheduled to come in the day before the ceremony. We’ll get together privately right before the rehearsal.”
Marco’s amusement faded. “You’re crazy if you think one brief meeting is going to establish enough of a rapport between you to convince everyone you two are romantically involved. You know nothing about each other and yet you think you can fake an intimate relationship—fake it well enough to convince Primo and Nonna, as well as Ariana’s mother and grandmother, that the two of you are madly in love.”
“Since it’s only for one evening, plus the reception after the wedding, I think we can pull it off, assuming everyone keeps their collective mouths shut.”
“Well, good luck. Primo and Nonna will be tough enough. But you’re really going to need to watch your step with Penelope. She’s a canny old bird. Too bad you don’t have my charm.”
“Fortunately, I have the brains you lack.”
Marco stood. “One last question before I leave you to your facts and figures. Have you warned your bride-to-be about The Inferno?”
Lazz regarded his brother in genuine bewilderment. “Why would I want to do that?”
Marco frowned. “Didn’t you tell me one of the conditions of your marriage was that you won’t have any secrets from each other?”
“Fairy tales are not secrets.” With any luck at all, this was one fairy tale he’d never have cause to repeat.
“A word of warning. You may not consider it a secret, but Ariana may have a different view,” Marco said in parting. “Women can be funny about the details.”
Lazz groaned. Damn. He didn’t like the sound of that. He could only hope his brother’s comment didn’t prove to be as prophetic as it felt.
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Meet Day Leclaire
I love family first and foremost, which is why writing a family saga is so much fun. Maybe you can tell that from my books since they always feature the warmth and joy that comes from having a close-knit family. I also love animals and have taken in rescue dogs and cats and fostered dogs for the local animal shelter. And of course, I love writing. All I need is a functioning brain (batteries not included), a pen, and paper, and I can write anywhere. Please don’t let a conversation with me lag because my imagination takes over and I. Am. Checked. Out!
USA Today bestselling author, Day Leclaire is the author of more than 60 novels and has received an impressive eleven nomin
ations for the romance industry's most prestigious award, Romance Writers of America RITA© Award. Day lives in Charlotte, NC and spends her days obsessively writing while vaguely remembering to pay attention to her adorable husband, busy son and daughter-in-law, two tiny grandchildren, and two even tinier Teddy Bear dogs. Not to mention a whole lot of dust!
Thank you so much for taking the time to read The Dante Inferno: The Dante Dynasty Series. I hope you enjoy this very special Italian-American family. I love hearing from my readers. For a personal response, please contact me at [email protected]. And be sure to visit my website. Sign up for my newsletter for my latest releases and insider info available nowhere else!
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Dedication
To Donna Totton, for being the best sister-in-law in the world . . . and for your constant support and assistance.
Thank you!
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