Dante's Ultimate Gamble

by Day Leclaire

  But it wasn’t. She could see it wasn’t. The incident had struck hard and deep, and left wounds that still hadn’t healed, just as hers hadn’t. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  He looked at her with tarnished eyes, the expression so distant. So emotionless. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She shivered despite the warmth of the water. “Yes, you do.” She’d never been more certain of anything in her life. “Something else happened that day. What was it?”

  He hesitated, then offered a cool smile. “Okay, fair enough. It wasn’t part of the accident, merely a decision I made as a result of it. Just like you made the decision to fill in for your parents.”

  Every feminine instinct she possessed warned her to let it go. To change the direction of the conversation. To offer some lighthearted quip that would cut through the thickening tension. But she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Not while that look of pain and grief darkened Luc’s eyes. Not while the poison still swept through his veins, infecting every aspect of his life. Not while her palm itched and throbbed, warning that whatever existed between them would always be tainted by the hideous events of that day.

  “Go on,” she whispered. “Tell me what you decided.”

  “I decided that I’d never marry.”

  With that, he shifted her to one side and erupted from the hot tub. He padded across the deck like some great, sleek jungle cat to where they’d discarded their robes. He shrugged into his and held the other out to her.

  “I gather we’re done soaking?” she asked in a neutral voice.

  “Since this is a bed-and-breakfast, I thought we’d go and find the breakfast portion of our stay. According to my stomach, that pizza is a fond but distant memory.”

  Téa didn’t bother arguing. One look at Luc’s face convinced her of that. She switched off the jets and hurried from the steaming warmth of the tub into the protective covering of her robe, doing her best to limit her exposure to the crisp mountain air. Luc opened the French doors that led into the living area of the cabin and picked up the phone. Téa waited while he spoke to the owner.

  “It would seem that one of the benefits of the honeymoon cabin is private dining,” he explained once he’d hung up. “They’ll bring breakfast to us.”

  “I guess we should dress.”

  “Then I need to arrange for a rental car. We should also decide if we’re staying another night or returning to the city.”

  He spoke calmly, as though his earlier announcement was of little concern. Maybe it wasn’t to him. But she’d always been hampered by a logical nature and she didn’t understand the connection between the two incidents. Deciding to bide her time, she returned to the bedroom to dress. Luc was on the phone arranging for a car to be brought in from Lake Tahoe when a staff member arrived with a loaded tray.

  “There’s a coffee machine in the kitchenette,” he informed Téa. “I’ll start a fresh pot for you. Or would you prefer tea?”

  “Coffee is fine,” Téa confirmed.

  As soon as the coffee finished brewing, she and Luc took their breakfast onto the deck. The temperature had crept upward, warmed by the sunshine splashing down from a cloudless sky. They fell on their meal as though they hadn’t eaten in a week, polishing off every bite before relaxing in their chairs to enjoy a steaming cup of coffee.

  “Go on,” Luc surprised her by saying. “Ask.”

  She didn’t bother pretending. There wasn’t any point. Plus, there was that small matter of being, quote, the world’s worst liar, end quote. “Fine. I’ll ask.” She tried for an indifferent attitude, as though she couldn’t care less. She suspected she failed miserably at the attempt. “What has the accident got to do with your decision to never marry?”

  He hesitated. “You have to understand my world. The Dante world,” he offered on a roundabout way. “Primo and Nonna. My parents. My uncle and his disaster of a marriage.”

  Téa lifted a shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m not following.” Her brows drew together. “Wait. Is this about The Inferno?”

  “Yes.” He refilled his coffee cup and topped off hers. “All my life I’ve heard about The Inferno. Lived with The Inferno. Had it stuffed down my throat.”

  Téa attempted a light laugh. “Luc, it’s just a story. A charming family legend.”

  He shook his head. “It’s more than legend for the Dantes. You’ve seen my grandparents. They’ll turn eighty soon and they still can’t keep their hands off each other. My parents aren’t any better. Nor are my cousins. And every last one of them claims it’s because of this damn Inferno.”

  “What about your uncle?” Téa strove for normalcy. “You said his marriage was a disaster. Doesn’t that prove The Inferno doesn’t always work?”

  He laughed without humor. “Uncle Dominic proves just the opposite. You see, he didn’t marry for love, even though he was madly in love with one of his jewelry designers and had a torrid affair with her. Instead he married Aunt Laura for her money. Primo warned it would end in disaster. And it did. Uncle Dom and my aunt were killed years ago in a boating accident while in the throes of a divorce discussion. I gather he’d decided to marry this jewelry designer, after all. When my aunt and uncle died, my grandparents took in Sev and my cousins and raised them.”

  So much tragedy! “Oh, Luc. I’m so sorry.”

  “Of course, that only solidified the legend in everyone’s eyes. Turned your charming fairy tale into truth.”

  “But it’s not,” she insisted.

  He reached across the table and took her hand in his, intertwined their fingers so their palms met and mated. “Isn’t it?”

  She shuddered. “I—” She snatched an uneven breath. “What we’re experiencing is just a bad case of physical attraction. Anything else would be illogical.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that. Because that’s what it’s going to stay,” he warned, even as a spark of desire caught hold and roared to life. “I won’t be forced into a marriage I don’t want because of a make-believe fairy tale.”

  “No one is forcing you to do anything,” she protested.

  “Aren’t they?” He released her and sat back. A hint of cynicism played about his mouth and burnished his eyes. “Maybe it would have occurred to me sooner if I hadn’t been so distracted. But there’s a lot that doesn’t add up. For instance, why have I been hired as your bodyguard?”

  She offered a self-deprecating smile. “Apparently because I can’t put one foot in front of the other without tripping over it.”

  “Funny.” He cocked his head to one side. “In the couple of weeks we’ve spent together I haven’t noticed that about you.”

  “The first time we met—” she began.

  “Had me worried,” he agreed with a nod. “But how many incidents have there been since?”

  “Well, none,” she admitted. “But I assumed that was because you were there.” She broke off with a frown. “Now that I say that out loud it doesn’t make the least bit of sense, does it?”

  “No, it doesn’t. I’ve just recently concluded there’s only one reason we were brought together.”

  She gave a disbelieving laugh. “You can’t think it’s because of The Inferno. How could anyone possibly know that we’d be a match?”

  Luc lifted his cup and stared at her over the rim, his gaze enigmatic through the steam. “That stopped me, too, until it occurred to me that we met once before, remember?”

  “That was ages ago,” she said with a dismissive shrug. “We were children.”

  “Really? Lazz and Ariana first met as children. Primo claims that Uncle Dominic saw early signs of The Inferno even then. As a result, he and Ariana’s father contracted a marriage between them right then and there.”

  Téa’s mouth opened, then shut again, before she managed to say, “You must be joking.”

  “Not even a little.”

  “And you suspect your parents or grandparents caught something similar between us? How is that possible?” she scoffed. “
We hardly said two words to each other. We despised each other at first sight.”

  “Don’t you remember why?”

  “I…” She thought back, struggled to recall that miserable, uncomfortable summer. “You kept pestering me. Teasing me.”

  “Zapping you,” he said softly.

  “That’s right. I remember now. It was like you were filled with static electricity. And you loved jumping out at me when I least expected it to give me a shock.” Her eyes narrowed. “Brat.”

  “Think about it,” he urged. “Wouldn’t that be a gentler, more childish version of what we experienced when we first touched as adults?”

  She drew back in her chair, closing in on herself. “I thought you didn’t believe in The Inferno,” she accused. “I don’t.”

  “Then—”

  “But my parents and grandparents believe implicitly.”

  Her eyes widened in outrage. “And because of that zapping…”

  He nodded. “I’m now guessing they decided we were experiencing The Inferno. Primo made me stop and told me not to go near you for the rest of your visit. And when Primo lays down the law…” Luc lifted a shoulder. “So, the years passed. I’m willing to bet Nonna and Madam decided it was time to put us together again and see if anything happened between us. I’m also guessing they drummed up your distraction as the perfect excuse.”

  Téa returned her cup to the saucer with a sharp click. “Fine. Let’s say for the sake of argument that the reason we’re in our current predicament is because of what happened at the lake all those years ago. That certainly doesn’t mean we have to act on it. And I still don’t understand what The Inferno has to do with the car crash and your decision not to marry.”

  Darkness settled over him and she could tell he wasn’t seeing her. That she’d lost him to those long-ago events. “The Dantes believe that once mated through The Inferno, it’s a lifetime love affair. One man. One woman. One love.”

  “Isn’t that the idea with all marriages, at least going in?” she asked gently.

  He nodded. “That’s how it was between the Jorgens. Even I could see that much, despite the limited amount of time we spent together. One second they were a loving family. The next she was alone. Her life ended when theirs did, but she was still alive. Empty. Broken. And forced to live that way for the rest of her life—a life she appeared determined to end.”

  Téa struggled to put the pieces he was showing her into a logical whole. “And you’re afraid that will happen to you?”

  Luc focused on her. “Sonya gave every part of herself to Kurt and their son. When they were gone there was nothing left. As far as she was concerned, without them her life had ended. Someone had just forgotten to turn out the lights for her.”

  “Sonya isn’t you,” Téa argued.

  “No, she isn’t. Because I won’t surrender that much of myself to another person. I watched Rafe do it with his wife, Leigh, and watched her gut him on her way out the door. I won’t be another Sonya. I won’t be Rafe after the death of his marriage.” He turned his haunted gaze on her. “So, I won’t marry.”

  Téa shook her head. “You’re wrong, Luc. It’s not that you won’t marry. What you’ve decided is that you won’t love. Funny thing about love.” She shoved her empty coffee cup aside. “You’re assuming you have some control over it.”

  “I do.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” She pushed back her chair and stood. “Unfortunately for you, love chooses. And it chooses whether you’re willing or not.”

  With that Téa turned and forced herself to walk away from what she’d just discovered she wanted most in the world.

  Eight

  A couple hours later, the rental car was delivered and Luc signed the necessary papers to take possession. The owner of the bed-and-breakfast asked if they wanted the cabin for a second night and Luc glanced at Téa.

  “It’s your call,” he said without expression.

  Téa hesitated. “I don’t know how long it’ll take to locate the former manager of our plant and convince him to talk. Plus, Connie expects me to be gone at least two days, if not three. I’d rather he not find out I didn’t go where he requested.”

  “There’s weather moving in late this afternoon,” the owner offered tentatively. “Don’t want to be on these mountain roads when it hits. Should be clear again by tomorrow morning.”

  Téa gave a decisive nod. “We’ll stay another night, if that’s all right.”

  The owner beamed. “Our next reservation doesn’t arrive until Friday. We’d be happy to have you until then.”

  Téa shook her head apologetically. “One more night should do it.” She spared Luc a wistful glance, one that clearly told of her preference to remain for the entire week. That look—one that said that a single word from him would be enough to have her prolong their stay—would have slayed a weaker man. He forced himself to remain impassive beneath it. She sighed. “There’s a lot of work sitting on my desk. Plus I have to replace my car.”

  No doubt an added expense and distraction she didn’t need right now. “I’ll help with that.”

  “That’s not necessary,” she replied with cool politeness.

  “It’s the least I can do considering I’m the one who crashed it,” he replied just as politely.

  She let it go and turned to address the owner who’d been watching their byplay with an indulgent expression. “Could you give me directions to the town of Polk?”

  Luc waited patiently while the two women inched their way over Téa’s map book. A short time later they were on the road again. He shot her a fleeting glance. She appeared a shade paler than usual, her slight dusting of freckles standing out more sharply than usual, and she had a grim set to her mouth. More telling, her hands were laced together in a death grip, her knuckles bleached white.

  “You okay?” he asked after the first series of hairpin turns. He’d deliberately kept their speed a full five miles beneath the posted limit. “I’ll survive.”

  They arrived in Polk shortly before noon and Luc suggested they have lunch before tackling the manager. Téa settled on a local café with boxes of colorful flowers outside and a homey setup inside. The menu was varied and their lunch choices were attractively plated when they arrived.

  “What’s this guy’s name you plan to visit?” Luc asked while they ate.

  “Krendal. Douglas Krendal.”

  “Does he know you’re coming?”

  She hesitated. “I thought I’d surprise him. I called to make certain he was in. Pretended I was a telemarketer.” She winced and rubbed her ear. “Mr. Krendal doesn’t mince words.”

  “You may find that helpful when you talk to him.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping.” She hesitated, playing with her fork and pushing her lunch around her plate. “Listen, I want to speak privately with him. I suspect he’ll be more open if it’s just the two of us.”

  Luc cocked an eyebrow. “In other words, the conversation is none of my business?”

  “Okay, yes.”

  “No problem.”

  “Really?” she asked skeptically. “You’re not going to argue the way you have about Connie?”

  He shrugged. “The situation with your cousin is different. I don’t trust the guy. So, I’ve made a point of sticking close whenever he starts yanking on the puppet strings.”

  She stiffened. “I gather I’m the puppet?”

  “Time will tell.” He gestured toward her plate. “You done?”

  “Yes.” She shoved her half-eaten lunch to one side. “Let’s get this over with.”

  They found the Krendal place without too much trouble, the cottage perched on top of one of the endless hillsides that surrounded the town of Polk. It was a small rambler on a large piece of property, tucked beneath a towering stand of pine trees. Luc pulled into the driveway and parked along one edge of the small circle of gravel on the side of the house. Téa exited the car and followed the cement walkway to the front door. He watc
hed while she knocked and the door opened. Saw her introduce herself and Krendal’s grim resistance. Caught the instant it began to fade beneath Téa’s warmth. At long last, the door swung wide and she disappeared inside.

  His cell phone vibrated about five minutes into the wait and he checked the caller ID. “Yeah, Juice,” he said by way of greeting. “What did you find out about Billings?”

  “The man or the business?”

  “Okay, now you’ve got my attention.” Luc frowned as he listened, his frown deepening with each new revelation. “Well, hell,” he said when Juice completed his report.

  “That was my reaction. What are you going to tell the de Luca woman?”

  “Everything.”

  “She’s not going to be happy.”

  “Furious would be my guess.”

  “Glad you’re the one handing her the news and not me.”

  “Chicken.”

  “Cluck-cluck.” And with that, the line went dead.

  Twenty minutes later Téa emerged from the house. She shook hands with Krendal and then returned to the car, her heels rapping out a hard, staccato beat on the walkway leading to the gravel driveway. She climbed into the car and slammed the door closed. “That bastard!”

  Luc folded his arms along the top of the steering wheel and assessed the level of her anger. If he were to guess, he’d say steaming, bordering on, “thar she blows.” “I hope that comment’s aimed at Cousin Connie and not Mr. Krendal,” he said.

  “Oh, it’s definitely aimed at Cousin Connie…or maybe I should say Cousin Con Artist.” She gave an imperious wave of her hand. “Let’s go. I need to drive off some of this mad.”

  Little did she know. “Okay.”

  He headed back toward their rental cabin in silence, giving her the opportunity to stew. Maybe once she’d come to terms with the information Krendal had dumped on her, she’d be in a better position to deal with his news. In the distance, the first evidence of the storm they’d been warned about boiled up over the tops of the nearby mountains, the clouds filled with threat and turmoil. They were a perfect punctuation mark to Téa’s mood. He checked his watch, judged the distance and decided they’d get to the cabin with time to spare.