The Consequence

by Giana Darling

He reached across the little table and brought my hand to his lips. I gasped when he bit one of my knuckles and then gently laved it. “I am unbearably greedy. I have finally captured my siren and I have no desire to let her go.”

  I laughed, my heavy heart lightening under the bright light of his attention. “Careful, or you will spoil me.”

  “Count on it,” he said with a wink as I got up to rummage through my tote bag for my birth control.

  He watched me intently as I popped one in my mouth and swallowed it. I narrowed my eyes at him in question but he only shrugged one shoulder before returning to the paper.

  It wasn’t until I sat down again and plopped my feet in his lap that he asked, “You really like the apartment?”

  “I love it. In fact, I’m going to spend the morning at the gallery and then head over to meet Emma this afternoon. Are you sure you want me to go full steam ahead on the decorating?”

  “Absolutely. Carte blanche as well.”

  ‘Sin…”

  “I won’t argue about this. It will be the home of our future children one day, yes? So, it must be perfect. I’ll leave my card on the counter and I insist you use it for everything. Later today I’ll arrange it so you can have a card in your name on the account.”

  Something fluttered in my belly but I bit my lip to quell the questions that bubbled up inside me. I had been so certain Sin didn’t want kids. Wasn’t it one of the reasons he and Elena were so ill suited?

  The buzz of Sinclair’s phone disturbed me from my thoughts and I watched distractedly as he answered. My Frenchman never really stopped working, it wasn’t unusual for him to take calls at all times of the day and spend extra hours on the site of his new project. It was no wonder that he and Elena had made such a good pairing when she spent 80 plus hours at the law firm each week. Sinclair was sensitive to my mood and I could sense his apprehension whenever he took a call or came home too late for dinner but there was no reason for it. I enjoyed his work ethic and single-minded intensity; they were two of the qualities that he had applied so ceaselessly to his relationship with me. My showing was in less than a week and though I was close to completion, I still had two pieces to tweak before I felt secure in the collection so I was busy as well, especially with the time we had taken off in Paris.

  I was lonely, but it had nothing to with the amount of time I spent with Sinclair. I missed my family with an acuteness that echoed like church bells from my heart throughout my body at every hour of the day. It seemed as though I had been chasing after the dream of a complete and perfect family since I was a child, poor and lonely in a dirty house abandoned by my father, sister and brother, left only with a broken mother and a hostile Elena. But even then, there had always been hope, the belief that sometime in the future we would be reunited and peaceful again.

  I’d eradicated that future like a bug beneath my heel.

  “Stop with the baseless accusations, Paulson,” Sinclair bit out, standing up abruptly and slamming his hand down on the table.

  My head snapped towards him as he began to pace through the small living area of the suite.

  “I did no such fucking thing and you know it. We have been business associates for years. I have known about your proclivities and you mine for years. I would have nothing to gain and everything to lose from telling the press--”

  He cursed under his breath in French and tugged a hand through his overlong hair. I bit my lip as I watched him, apprehension crawling over my skin like a dozen spiders. Suddenly, he stormed back towards the table and slapped open the paper he had been reading to the society section. I caught a glimpse of the name Paulson and a portrait of both husband and wife before Sinclair’s hand crumpled it up under his fist.

  “Believe me, Paulson. I will get to the bottom of this. Give me 48 hours.” He gritted his teeth and hissed an exhale through his clenched teeth. “Fine. 36 hours then.”

  He shut off the phone, threw it to the table and watched as it skittered across the glossed surface before falling to the floor.

  “Fuck,” he roared, roughly pulling both hands through his hair.

  I remained quiet while he reigned in his anger. I’d never seen him so frustrated and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. The relief I felt when he finally turned to me with anguish, and not anger, in his eyes, surprised me.

  “Someone leaked the Paulson’s BDSM life-style to the press.”

  My mouth fell open in a horrified O.

  He nodded and dropped down into his chair with a loud sigh. “He’s blaming my camp and threatening to pull out of the Dogwood Hotels deal. It’s a multi-million dollar contract that I’ve spent two years securing. It means constructing hotels in four countries, including a casino in Vegas, over the next five years.” He closed his eyes. “It would have secured Faire Developments as one of the leading development firms in North America.”

  My heart stuttered. “Who do you think could have done something like that?”

  “Honestly? Not many people. I want to be furious with Paulson for accusing me of doing something so unscrupulous especially when it’s crippling to me as well but I’m one of only a handful of people who know about what goes on behind closed doors in that house and I can’t blame him for not thinking clearly at a time like this. The man’s entire reputation is built on frankly puritan values. This is devastating for him.”

  “And for you,” I reiterated, reaching forward to grab his clenched hands. “What are we going to do?”

  A slight smile pulled his lips to the left. “We aren’t going to do anything, my siren. You are going to continue on with your day, spend the morning at our home, work on your art, visit your sister and I promise to be in a better mood when I next see you.”

  I pursed my lips but I understood. “Probably not tonight.”

  “No, probably not. I can’t rest until I figure this out.” His eyes pleaded with me to understand and I could see by the grinding of his teeth that he was anxious to be off on the hunt.

  I cupped his tense cheek, leaning forward to kiss the muscle jumping in his jaw. “Bon chance, mon chasseur.”

  He smiled tightly but pressed a firm kiss to my lips before he took off, his phone already to his ear as he barked orders to Margot.

  I tried not to despair of our run of bad luck as I downed the rest of my now cold coffee and pushed away from the table to get ready for the day.

  I decided to stop at Cosima’s apartment first. Hades was still there after all and the poor cat needed some food and affection. I felt the echo of my sister’s vibrant spirit the moment I opened the door. The lingering scent of her, rich honey and warm spices, made my eyes tear but in a good way. I knew she would recover from this, not only because I needed her to and she had never before let me down, but also because she was the best and strongest person I knew. She could pull through anything, even a coma.

  Hades squawked at me, tripping me up as I retrieved his food from the cupboard and set some down for him in a clean bowl. While he ate, I sorted through the mail piled up on the kitchen counter, dividing them into urgent and non-pressing piles for both Cosima and myself.

  I frowned when I came across an envelope with my name written in vaguely familiar script across the front with no return address, no postage stamp. With a sense of increasing premonition, I extracted the letter folded inside. Most of the page was blank but for a few words written in red pen.

  I’ve found you again, mia cara.

  Something gentle pressed against my shoulder and I screamed, the paper falling from my hand as I spun to face the intruder. It took my panicked brain a moment to realize that the person that I thought would be standing there, the same person I was almost sure had written the letter, was actually Dante.

  It took me a second more to absorb the fact that he was standing in my sister’s kitchen wearing nothing but an indecently tight pair of white boxer briefs that fought valiantly to contain a morning erection.

  I looked up at him with wide eyes and stuttered, “What, what
are you doing here?”

  He frowned at me. The left side of his thick head of dark hair was sticking up from sleeping on it funny, disturbing the overall effect of his intimidating stature. I focused on that instead of his absurdly defined body. Lord, the man must have worked out religiously.

  “Hades.”

  “Excuse me?” I blinked.

  He gestured at the still feasting cat. “Cosima would have wanted someone to care for Hades. I figured that I would stay here until she was well.”

  “Huh, you just figured that? And how did you get up here exactly?” There was a doorman, a key fob for the elevator and another key needed to enter the apartment.

  He grinned rakishly. “I have my ways.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, absently noting that my primary fear had dissipated. Dante was a big, scary man, there was no hiding that, but after seeing his love for Cosima, it was impossible to think he would truly bring me harm.

  He chuckled, rubbing at his bare stomach. I tried again not to notice that he had something like a twelve pack going on down there. “She gave me a key when she bought the place.”

  “She trusts you.”

  I’d had every reason to believe that before this revelation, but Cosima believed her home was sanctuary and she would never allow anyone less than family to harbor a key. My eyes skirted the long, cut man in front of me with new appreciation. What had this scary man done to make my sister love him?

  “Si.”

  I shook my head. “I want to apologize for my family yesterday and for my reaction now. Cosima is just usually so open with us about everything, it’s difficult to imagine that she would have kept something, someone, like you hidden.”

  Dante stared at me intently, his eyes huge and entirely black. I wanted to shiver, to tear my gaze from his and flee the apartment but I stayed still, letting him take his measure. Before everything with Sinclair, I may have cowered but he had made me stronger and now I relished Dante’s scrutiny, even if he did see the immoral stain of my affair on my skin.

  “Your sister has kept dark secrets from you all your life,” he finally said, his voice a beautiful mixture of British and Italian.

  He sighed, gesturing for me to take a stool at the counter as if this was his home and not mine. Despite his arrogance, I did take a seat because I could tell he was about to open up to me.

  He walked over to the wall where two of my paintings were propped. I watched as he ran a finger down the edge of one canvas, the one of the dark haired woman bound in a shibari-style by ropes of her own hair.

  “Cosima would do anything for you. She has done many things for you in the past, things that she would castrate me for telling you, so I will not. But you must know that she has continually sacrificed her happiness for your own, for your family. She always had a special place in her heart for you though, her bambina.”

  I smiled at her endearment for me even though the fact that he knew it made me shiver. How could he know so much about her, about our family, and yet we had never even known he existed?

  “Are you her lover?” I asked, before I could censure myself.

  I blushed when his eyes slid to mine with heated amusement.

  “No, I have never been with her romantically,” he laughed at my shock, leaning back against the opposite counter as if we were having a normal conversation. “I love her but because she is mia sorella di scelta.”

  My chosen sister.

  “We met when she lived in England. It is a long story, one that I have said before is not mine to tell. The only thing you must know is that she is under my protection.” His expression was fierce as a warrior before battle, his posture that of a soldier. I had no doubt he could protect Cosima, the man was basically a heathen.

  “Why should you need to protect her?”

  He crossed his arms across his expansive chest but didn’t answer.

  I gritted my teeth in frustration. “Fine. Who are you to offer protection?”

  His full lips twitched. “Now, you are asking the right questions. I told you before, you will hear about me. I am Don Salvatore.”

  Even though I had forsaken my country of birth years ago, there was something in my Italian blood that reacted instinctively to the presence of a made man.

  I gasped, scooting back on the stool until I nearly fell over. “You are in the mafia.”

  He shrugged one massive shoulder. “I am in the business of money and power.”

  “Do you know anything about Cosima’s attack?” I demanded.

  His lips thinned. “There is no reason to share details with you. I am working on it.”

  I shivered at the raw threat in his words. Whoever had hurt my sister would pay brutally for doing so.

  “My family won’t warm to you, not when you remain so enigmatic,” I explained. Not to mention, we all abhorred the Mafia, the men who had so ceaselessly stalked us in Italy. My fear was warranted and I was grateful for it, a naïve person may have seen the threat of violence, the money and the power as glamorous. I knew it only meant death.

  I shuddered.

  “Your safety comes before everything else. Cosima would want that,” he countered.

  He was right, so I didn’t argue with him. Instead, I decided to trust in his ability to get to the bottom of Cosima’s accident. No matter his motivation, it was obvious that he loved Cosima and that he was ruthless, a mafia man with the same soulless eyes I had seen so many times around the house in Naples.

  Which reminded me of the letter I had let slip from my fingers. I searched the ground for it, spotting it just beside Dante’s feet. My gaze drew his to it and before I could move, the paper was between his fingers. He glowered at it.

  “Who wrote this to you?”

  I bit my lip, unwilling to tell him. Even though I had my deep suspicions, I didn’t want them to be true. I’d left Paris to escape and I deeply wanted to refuse the idea that he could have found me so quickly again. I closed my eyes though because I had been incredibly incautious about the publicity for my upcoming show. Though I had changed my name to Giselle Moore in hopes of creating a new identity, my cover had been blown when he found me in Paris.

  “Giselle,” Dante called me back to reality. “Who wrote this?”

  “A man,” I said, unhelpfully.

  A man who has been stalking me for the last four years.

  “Christopher?”

  My eyes snapped to his. “How do you know about him?”

  “Your sister. She told me a little about him. This is the man that abused you, si?” His eyes sparked with anger and the hand that held the letter shook with tension.

  “I don’t like to talk about it.”

  “Well you bloody hell should talk about it to someone,” he bit out, his British accent more pronounced. “Does your man know that this sociopath is back in your life?”

  “It may not be him,” I countered but there was a sinking feeling in my gut as I remembered the odd candid photo of myself that had been sent to me, the feeling that I’d been having of being followed.

  When Christopher had found me in Paris, he had confronted me right away. It seemed that now we were playing an extended game of cat and mouse.

  I watched Hades pounce on an imaginary foe on the carpet in the kitchen and swallowed thickly. It was only a matter of time before Christopher confronted me again. I couldn’t imagine what he was waiting for, but whatever it was couldn’t have been good.

  Dante watched me while I digested this before finally shaking his head. “You need to tell your man about this, immediately. Call him while I change. Were you planning on going to the hospital today?” I nodded. “Good, I will escort you.”

  He stalked off into Cosima’s bedroom.

  I desperately didn’t want to call Sinclair. He was dealing with so much already with the Paulson scandal and I was pretty sure I could handle things on my own. Christopher was a sick, twisted man but he wasn’t a murderer, he wouldn’t rape and pillage me. Besides, now that I knew he w
as back, I would take extra precautions to stay in a group or on busy streets. He wouldn’t approach me unless I was alone. There was no reason to make Sinclair crazy with worry over it.

  Happy with my decision, I slipped off my stool and had my coat on by the time Dante came out dressed to leave.

  “You informed him?” he asked me with dark, narrowed eyes.

  The expression was meant to be intimidating but I’d had practice with mafia men far more scary than him so I was able to smile casually and nod.

  “Good. Let me know whenever you want to go to the hospital and I will escort you, okay? No need to take unnecessary risks. One Lombardi in the hospital is enough.”

  I nodded mutely but couldn’t help but frown at the contradictory man who opened the door to lead me out of the apartment. Dante was clearly a devoted and passionate man to those he loved and yet, he was a self-proclaimed made man, which made him any combination of murderer, thief and liar. What role could he possibly have played in my sister’s life?

  Chapter Fifteen.

  I didn’t see Sinclair for the next three days.

  He had warned me that he was a workaholic, that he often spent weekends and evenings sequestered in his office high above the city. I tried not to remember the part where he told me it would be different once we were together. It wasn’t fair of me to be angry with him, not when he was working on saving a deal that he had lusted after for years, not when our relationship was the reason for its currently precarious position.

  But I missed him. It was lonely living in a hotel room in a city that had become my home, without my family to comfort me. I had made my decision to put Sinclair first. I didn’t regret it but my isolation highlighted my change in circumstances like a neon pen. Though he texted, I found myself worrying about our longevity, if we could withstand everything coming at us in droves, and about his stance on BDSM, if he would waver without frequent scenes and fall into shame again.

  To make matters worse, my pill pack had disappeared again even though I ransacked the suite looking for it. I made an appointment with the doctor to get another one but given my recent bought of forgetfulness, I considered switching to an IUD or a contraception shot. I didn’t worry Sinclair about it because I didn’t think it was cause for worry. I had missed one or two pills in Paris without consequences. Sinclair didn’t really want kids or marriage or the white picket fence and I was okay with that, I’d never had the same longing that my sisters did for children of my own but I was fully prepared to rock the cool aunt role.