by Day Leclaire
Luc Offered Téa A Hand. And That’s When It Hit.
His internal alarm bells went berserk, clamoring and clashing and shrieking so loudly it destroyed all sensations but one—a desire so strong and powerful he literally shook from the desperate need to snatch this woman into his arms and carry her off.
She stared at him in open shock and he had to assume she’d felt it as well. “What… What was that?” she whispered.
Deep down he knew, though he couldn’t quite give it credence. Not yet. Not when it defied logic and understanding. Not when every fiber of his being resisted admitting the possibility of its existence. And yet… It was exactly as his grandfather had described. Exactly as his parents had told him. Exactly the same as what his cousins claimed happened to them. And exactly what he’d hoped would never happen to him.
“That was impossible,” he answered.
Dear Reader,
I’m delighted to have the opportunity to share with you four new books that revisit one of my favorite families—the Dantes. I’m also pleased to reintroduce the legendary Inferno, the family legend that claims that a Dante male can recognize his soul mate the first time he touches the woman meant to be his.
In my previous series, we met the patriarch and matriarch of the Dante clan, Primo and Nonna. They had two sons, Dominic and Alessandro. Dominic and his wife, Laura, offered us four fabulous Dante sons—Sev, Marco, Lazz and Nicolò—and their individual love stories, which comprised The Dante Legacy.
Now we have the sons and daughter of Alessandro and Elia. Meet Luc, Rafe, Draco and the one daughter in several generations—Gianna. Resistance is pointless since The Inferno is intent on joining each of these Dantes with their soul mates.
It doesn’t matter if you’re new to the Dantes or have read all the previous books, these stories stand on their own. Welcome to the warmth of family, the passion inherent in Silhouette Desire books, strong alpha heroes, and the women—the only women—meant to share a once-in-a-lifetime love affair. Welcome back to the Dantes and their overpowering Inferno. I hope you enjoy!
All the best,
Day Leclaire
DAY LECLAIRE
DANTE’S ULTIMATE GAMBLE
Books by Day Leclaire
Silhouette Desire
*The Forbidden Princess #1780
*The Prince’s Mistress #1786
*The Royal Wedding Night #1792
The Billionaire’s Baby Negotiation #1821
†Dante’s Blackmailed Bride #1852
(Severo & Francesca’s story)
†Dante’s Stolen Wife #1870
(Marco & Caitlyn’s story)
†Dante’s Wedding Deception #1880
(Nicolò & Kiley’s story)
†Dante’s Contract Marriage #1899
(Lazzaro & Ariana’s story)
Mr. Strictly Business #1921
Inherited: One Child #1953
Lone Star Seduction #1983
†Dante’s Ultimate Gamble #2017
(Luciano and Téa’s story)
DAY LECLAIRE
USA TODAY bestselling author Day Leclaire is described by Harlequin as “one of our most popular writers ever!” Day’s tremendous worldwide popularity has made her a member of Harlequin’s “Five Star Club,” with sales of well over five million books. She is a three-time winner of both a Colorado Award of Excellence and a Golden Quill Award. She’s won RT Book Reviews Career Achievement and Love and Laughter Awards, a Holt Medallion and a Booksellers Best Award. She has also received an impressive ten nominations for the prestigious Romance Writers of America. RITA® Award. Day’s romances touch the heart and make you care about her characters as much as she does. In Day’s own words, “I adore writing romances, and can’t think of a better way to spend each day.” For more information, visit Day on her Web site, www.dayleclaire.com.
To Mom, whose encouragement is unwavering and who has always believed in me.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Prologue
“I need your help.”
If it had been anyone other than his grandmother uttering those words, Luc Dante would have walked away. But coming from a woman he loved with all his heart, he found himself replying, “What can I do?”
Beautiful hazel eyes, wise from the weight of her years, held a wealth of compassion. There was also a twinkling of the irrepressible humor that was so much a part of her character. She hesitated just long enough for a faint warning bell to sound, an internal alarm he’d long-ago learned to listen for…and respond to with all due haste. “The truth is, it is a friend of mine who needs your help,” she admitted.
“Nonna—”
“Hear me out, Luciano.” In her own way, his grandmother could be as autocratic as his grandfather, Primo. At his nod, she continued. “You remember my dear friend Marietta de Luca, do you not? We all vacationed together one summer at the cabin when you were a boy. You children all called her Madam. Even her grandchildren address her by that name.”
It took a moment to summon the memory from his childhood. Then it popped into crisp focus. The Dante family summer home. The lake. His three brothers, sister and four cousins all running rampant. And three little girls—Madam de Luca’s grandchildren—with frizzy black hair and pitch eyes whom they’d secretly dubbed the three witches.
There’d been a fourth girl, he recalled, with bright red hair, white, white skin and intense eyes, who’d drifted from shadow to shadow and rarely spoke. Most of the time, she had a nose in a book. Showing stunning originality, they’d dubbed her Red.
Even more oddly, she made him…itch. It was the only way he could describe it, that vague jittery reaction he had whenever she came too close. It made him want to poke at her, to try to elicit a reaction. But she’d shied away from all of them, vanishing like a ghost whenever they approached, showing up at mealtimes long enough to nibble at her food before slipping away again. For some reason, her behavior had irritated him. He might have done something about it if not for the watchful eye of his grandparents.
Luc shook off the memory. “I remember Madam,” he admitted. He also remembered thinking that it would make the perfect name for a dog, but decided—even at such a tender age—that it might be wise to keep that particular tidbit to himself. A brief image flashed through his head of an elegant, aristocratic woman with coloring to match her dark-haired grandchildren, a woman who could command obedience with a single black look. “What about her?”
“Her eldest granddaughter, Téa, needs your assistance for a few weeks.”
He wondered briefly which of the witches was Téa, but the bell inside his head sounded another warning, this one louder than before and he focused on that, instead. “What sort of assistance?” he asked suspiciously.
“Well…” Nonna released her breath in a sigh. “To be honest, she needs a bodyguard.”
Luc shot to his feet, his knee screaming in protest at the unexpected jolt. Damn it to hell! “No.”
“Now, Luciano—”
He limped to the bank of windows of Dantes conference room where his grandmother had cornered him and stared out at the city of San Francisco. Any other day, he’d have admired the crystal clear spring morning that offered a stunning view of San Francisco Bay and the startling backwash from a crisp blue sky. Not today. Not this moment. Not when memories tried to crowd their way into his thoughts and heart.
“I can’t.” The words came
out far harsher than he’d intended. “Don’t ask me to go through that again.”
“It was not your fault,” Nonna said quietly.
He pivoted on his good leg, struggling to hold the nightmare at bay. But flashes crept through, no matter how hard he worked to keep them compartmentalized. The urgent rush to escape their pursuers. The SUV coming out of nowhere. The car crash. The child. Oh, God, the child. The husband, gone. The wife, broken. The sound of her weeping. Her pathetic pleas. “Let me die! Just let me die so I can be with them!”
He closed his eyes and forced the memories into the furthest recesses of his mind. “I can’t do it, Nonna. I won’t.”
“It is not that sort of job,” she said with such gentleness that it threatened to overwhelm him.
He waited until he regained his self-control. “It is that sort of job if I need to guard her,” he corrected with amazing calm.
“Attend to me, cucciolo mio. Téa is to receive a large inheritance when she turns twenty-five.” Nonna raised her eyes to the heavens in clear benediction. “If she turns twenty-five.”
Facts first. Refuse later. “Someone wants to prevent that from happening?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. Téa is…oblivious.” Nonna made a tsking sound with her tongue and then switched to Italian. “The girl is highly focused.”
Luc lifted an eyebrow and followed suit, switching to Italian. “Which is it? Oblivious or focused?”
Nonna gave a speaking shrug. “Both. She is very organized and focused on that which holds her attention. Such organization and attention to detail causes her to be somewhat oblivious to all else. It has gotten to the point where she has become seriously accident prone.”
“So, lock her up in a room somewhere for—” He tilted his head to one side. “How long?”
“Six weeks.”
“For six weeks.”
“First, the de Lucas would have to get her to agree, which she will not. Secondly, she is the main support of her family. She cannot afford to take a six-week leave of absence. They are in serious financial straits.”
“Why does that change when…Téa?” He lifted an eyebrow and at his grandmother’s nod, he continued. “When Téa turns twenty-five?”
“On her next birthday, she receives a huge trust fund and ownership in a business which will support the entire family for the rest of their lives. If she does not…” Nonna shrugged again. “The money does not.”
“I already have a job.”
And he did. Sort of. As head of security for Dantes Courier Service, the branch of the business which handled the day-to-day operations of safely transporting Dantes fabulous fire diamonds, gemstones and jewelry, he wouldn’t normally have time for this. But there had been a recent robbery of one of the shipments and while the police and insurance company were investigating, DCS had been temporarily shut down.
Nonna’s eyes flashed with hazel fire. “Do not insult my intelligence.”
Luc sighed, hearing the painful snap of the trap closing around him. “Let me get this straight. You want me to safeguard a klutz so she makes it to her twenty-fifth birthday? That’s it? No danger. No actual bodyguarding. You just want a… What? A babysitter?”
Nonna smiled in relief. “Exactly. Téa de Luca needs a babysitter for the next six weeks and I promised Madam that you would sit on her baby.”
One
Luc lounged—as best as a six foot three inch man could lounge—in the dainty chair at the small bistro table outside a trendy downtown San Francisco restaurant. He struggled to control his impatience. Beside him Nonna and Madam chatted happily in Italian while they awaited the arrival of Téa de Luca, or Witch Girl #1 as Luc had privately dubbed her. Because she was late, a trait that—quite literally—drove him out of his mind, he was in hurry up and wait mode, one of his least favorite memories of his military service.
It was rude. It was self-indulgent. And it gave the underlying message, “It’s all about me.” He despised women who adopted that sort of attitude and avoided them like the proverbial plague.
He reached for a breadstick and pulverized it between his teeth. Where the hell was she? It wasn’t like he had all day to sit around waiting on Her Witchiness. Well, actually, he supposed he did now that he was temporarily out of a job while the cops and insurance company looked into the fire diamond heist. But there were plenty of other things he’d rather do. Like drive a spike between his ears, or tie himself to a railroad track in front of an oncoming freight train, or swim with a pack of voracious Great White sharks.
He cleared his throat and leaned toward Madam. “Where the he—” He broke off beneath the withering glare emanating from his grandmother and rethought his choice of words. “Would you mind trying Téa’s cell again, Madam?”
“Do you have another appointment, Luciano?” Nonna asked. Her tone came across sweet enough, but a hint of hazel fire flashed through her eyes. A warning message he pretended not to notice.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” he lied without remorse.
Madam picked up the pretty lavender cell phone she’d set on the table as gingerly as if it were a landmine. Peering through a pair of reading glasses hanging from a crystal beaded necklace around her neck, she carefully punched in a number. “No, no. That’s not right,” she murmured, her brow furrowing.
“I think if you just hit send several times it dials the last number,” Nonna explained helpfully.
“Would you like me to take care of it?” Luc offered.
Madam passed him the cell with an amusing combination of relief and hauteur, reminding him again why she’d been given her particular moniker. “If you wouldn’t mind, I would appreciate it.”
“Happy to help.”
He pushed the speed dial and waited for the call to connect. While it rang he automatically scanned the busy sidewalk just past the frilly wrought iron fence that separated the outdoor section of the café from the rest of humanity. It was an occupational hazard he’d developed first during his military career, and then when he’d opened his own personal security business. And it had spilled over into his current—he grimaced—or rather former job as head of security for Dantes Courier Service. With luck, the case would soon be resolved and he’d be back doing something useful instead of babysitting Witch Girl #1.
Pedestrians scurried across the intersection adjacent to the café. All except one lone woman who paused dead center in the crosswalk, juggling a briefcase and a voluminous shoulder bag from which she extracted three cell phones. Without quite knowing why, Luc shoved back his chair and stood, the phone still pressed to his ear.
The pedestrian warning signal guarding the intersection began to blink, indicating that the light would soon change. To his concern, the redhead remained oblivious as she sorted through the cell phones she’d unearthed before selecting one that, even from the distance separating them, he could see was a distinctive lavender. A distinctive lavender matching the one in his hand. She flipped it open.
A breathless greeting sounded in his ear. “Hello? Madam?”
Alarm bells clamored with painful intensity. He dropped the cell to the table, took a single step toward the waist-high wrought iron gate separating the outdoor portion of the café from the sidewalk and vaulted over it, careful to land on his good leg. He forced himself to attempt a swift jog, ignoring the red-hot stab of pain that shot from knee to hip. The light changed just then and cars began to move forward.
Get the woman!
The urgent demand roared through him, deafening him to everything else. He remembered his cousin, Nicolò, describing how his wife had been hit by a cab shortly after they’d first met. The driver had changed lanes to avoid a slow-moving vehicle and sped into the intersection, hitting Kiley. Even now, her past remained a blank as a result of the accident, although she and Nicolò were busy building new memories and creating a new life together—which included a baby due sometime in the next few weeks.
Get the woman now!
Luc watched helple
ssly as history decided to repeat itself. A cab swerved around a delivery truck who’d unexpectedly double parked outside a mom-and-pop market. With a blare of its horn, the cab accelerated directly toward the intersection. Clearly the driver didn’t realize the woman was there, probably because he was intent on cursing at the truck driver, while the woman remained oblivious to her danger as she pressed buttons on her cell.
Get the woman now before you lose her forever!
Luc thought he shouted a warning and forced himself into a limping run, cursing a leg that would prevent him from reaching her before the cab. The driver didn’t spot the hazard until the very last instant. He slammed on the brakes with an ear-splitting scream of metal and rubber. Luc forced himself to move even faster, praying his leg would hold him, but he knew he’d never be in time.
A split second before the cab hit the woman, it swerved a few precious feet. It was enough. Just enough. Luc snatched her clear and dove toward the safety of the sidewalk. He twisted so he’d absorb most of the impact, landing hard on his bad hip. Raw pain exploded through him.
“Son of a bitch!”
The woman shoved against his chest, surfacing in a tangle of deep auburn curls, lean ivory arms and legs and countless files and papers. Three cell phones rained down around them. A pair of rimless reading glasses dangled from one ear while teal-blue eyes regarded him in open outrage.
“Did you just call me a bitch?”
“Not exactly.” Wincing, he grasped the woman around the waist and levered her to one side. Cautiously he sat up. His hip screamed in protest. Aw, hell. Not broken, but not in good shape, either. “Do you always stand in the middle of an intersection daring cars to hit you?” His injury gave the question more of a bite than he intended.
