Argentinian Billionaire (Blood and Thunder 2)

by Susan Stephens

  She whirled around. “Dante!”

  “No, I’m a fucking demon you summoned with your spell.”

  “Don’t joke!” Clutching her chest, Rose tried to catch her breath. “You frightened me half to death.”

  “You nearly burnt yourself completely to death,” he pointed out angrily. “For fuck’s sake, Rose! What are you doing out here on your own at night?”

  “I needed space and a chance to think—”

  “Screw the psychobabble!” Dante was clearly as shocked as Rose by her near miss with the fire. “You were running away from your feelings again—”

  “Me?” she flared. “I don’t know how you dare say that.”

  “Quite easily. You accuse me of not showing emotion? Take a look at yourself.”

  “I have no idea you’re talking about,” Rose defended hotly.

  “You grew up with six brothers,” Dante reminded her. “My best guess is that if you showed any emotion, they ripped the crap out of you. That’s how you’ve grown up—that’s all you know. Rose, with her tightly drawn hair and no makeup. Rose, with her sensible knickers and the professional attitude that’s eating away at the fun inside you. I admire your professionalism more than you know, but not when it spills over into your private life. You’re the best trainer I know, and that’s saying something. You take on the most difficult horses without a thought for your own safety, and then you do something reckless like tonight. You’re the one who needs to get in touch with your feelings, not me. Why couldn’t you speak to me before doing this?” he demanded with an angry gesture.

  “This is the man who was squared up, ready for a fight at the party? And I’m supposed to confide in you? Are you kidding me? You’re not my keeper, Dante—”

  “No. I’m your employer,” he interrupted.

  “Ah…” She nodded. “You have a responsibility for me. So what’s your problem? Doesn’t your insurance cover employees riding out at night?”

  “It doesn’t cover stupidity. No.”

  Rose had to press her lips together to stop herself from saying something she would regret. The worst of it was, Dante was right. She’d risked a horse, and she’d risked her life. She’d thought of nothing but getting away from Dante—and yet here he was. She had to applaud the irony, if nothing else.

  “I was doing fine until you crept up on me. I was careful. I rode slowly—”

  “You were not doing fine. You almost fell into the fire.” And he had only to glance at his horse, tethered to a tree, to prove the point that he hadn’t crept up on her. “Thank God you lit the bonfire. I might not have found you without it.”

  She was thankful. And she was glad he was here. Too much so, Rose concluded as a familiar tension began to build between them.

  “Don’t let me stop you,” Dante murmured.

  “Stop me doing what?” she frowned.

  “The dancing. I was enjoying it.”

  “How long were you watching me?”

  When Dante hugged his chin with one hand, she couldn’t be sure if he was smiling or not. Shadows flickered across his face as he stood, silhouetted against the fire. With flames on either side of him, he seemed more masterful and more demonic than ever before.

  “Well?” he prompted. “What are you waiting for?” Making himself comfortable on the mossy bank, he made a lazy gesture, inviting her to continue.

  On this one occasion, Rose vowed, and no other, the temptation to kick dust in Dante’s face wasn’t quite as strong as the urge to dance for him.

  Beginning was the worst, but once she got into it, she grew in confidence. She could forget her brothers’ mockery on the few occasions when she had dared to take to the dance floor. She could forget everything when she closed her eyes and lost herself in the dance. Her feet seemed to know what to do, and for once, her body was in sync with them. She kept it simple—nothing too elaborate or energetic. She just followed the impulse of her senses to her own inner tune.

  “Beautiful,” Dante murmured. “In fact, I can only think of one improvement. Dance naked.”

  Her eyes shot open.

  “In fact,” he added with a glimmer of amusement, “I command it.”

  “Oh, well…in that case,” she started off combatively, but then she thought, why not? Seduction might not be her default setting, but temptress came more naturally to her than submissive.

  Dancing for Dante and seeing the effect it had on him was the best feeling in the world. She took her clothes off slowly, lingering over each tiny button down the front of her shirt, before shrugging it from her shoulders. Releasing the fastening on her bra, she allowed it to fall to the ground. Cupping her breasts, she displayed them. Dancing closer, she teased him. Turning her back, she slid her hands over the swell of her buttocks before easing her panties down, exposing her naked bottom. Settling them back in place again, she arched her back and slowly rotated her hips—

  “For fuck’s sake, Rose!”

  Breath shot out of her as Dante grabbed her close. “Let me go,” she warned, “or I’ll stop dancing.”

  “If you don’t stop—”

  “What?” she challenged, exulting in the thrust of Dante’s erection against her belly. “What will you do?”

  With a growl, he snatched his hands off her.

  It wasn’t easy to fight when she had a battle of her own. Why wait? her body crooned. Because I must, Rose silently replied. This was one battle she couldn’t afford to lose. Dante was accustomed to having his smallest whim accommodated. If she joined the crowd, he would always take her for granted.

  Heat flared in his eyes when she started to dance. She ached to feel his hands on her, but this was more than a dance, it was a power play, and she had no intention of being consigned to the pile marked been there, done that. She was playing for higher stakes, the highest of all. She was playing for her heart. Her naked body was far from perfect, but Dante didn’t seem to notice that she was too big in the breast and too big in the butt, or that she had a belly. When she stepped out of her panties, he was so taut, he was like a bowstring about to snap. His black stare caressed her body with the same devastating effect as his touch. She could feel her body responding as if to his spoken command. It was the hardest thing to keep moving, to keep dancing, but she had to, she must. If she could only have one special night, she was going to make it count. The chilly air drew her nipples into tight pink peaks. The blazing fire warmed her buttocks as she swayed. Dancing closer, she teased him with her body, wanting Dante to suffer the same ferocious hunger she felt—

  She shrieked when he tumbled her to the ground. He’d moved so quickly, she had no chance to escape. Didn’t want to escape, Rose thought, panting with shock as she stared into Dante’s amused eyes. “Lucky for you this moss is soft,” she scolded in a voice shaking with excitement.

  “Lucky for you I broke your fall,” he argued, pulling her on top of him.

  He felt so good, so hot, so firm and strong. Brushing her messy hair away from her face, he kissed her with a new tenderness. Body language couldn’t lie. She was almost seduced when she saw the shadows in his eyes.

  “Dante?” Something had changed, but what? She could sense the alteration in him, as if he had pulled away in spirit.

  “I can’t do this.” He lifted her onto the ground at his side, then sprang up.

  “Do what?” Rose queried, scrambling to her feet. Her surprise had quickly turned to anger. “You play me, tease me, ask me to dance naked for you, and now you switch off?” Rose was suddenly acutely aware of her nakedness. Grabbing her clothes, she pulled them on as quickly as she could.

  “I’m trying to protect you—”

  “From what? You? When are you going to stop treating me like a child? Not this time, Dante.” Even the heat of the bonfire couldn’t warm her. It was as if a cold wind had extinguished that along with the heat in her heart. Lifting her chin, she stared into Dante’s eyes. “You’re right. It was a mistake coming here. You’ll have my resignation in the morn
ing—”

  “What?”

  Dante’s grip on her arm tightened. This was not a halfhearted attempt to prevent her leaving. This was the Romani chieftain at his most intimidating and commanding best. Or his worst, Rose thought as she glared furiously back at him.

  “I was married on my eighteenth birthday—”

  He paused as she gasped, “I don’t want to hear it!” She strained to pull away, but Dante held on tight.

  “To a member of the Argentinian aristocracy,” he continued without missing a beat. “I should have told you long before now,” he admitted.

  He let her go, and continued in a monotone. “I don’t talk about it—not to anyone. You might have heard rumors, but no one but Miguel and my colleagues on the team know the full story, and they would never speak of it. It’s part of that past you don’t want me to hug,” he added, but she wasn’t ready to smile.

  “You’ll listen, and then you’ll leave,” he stated with confidence. “And there’s no gloss I can put on this to make it easier for you.”

  “I don’t want gloss. I want the truth.” She felt as if someone was standing on her chest. Of all the things she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this, but now Dante had started to open up, she desperately needed to hear all of it.

  “My father was very pleased with my match,” Dante went on. “He chose the girl out of the best of intentions. She was the daughter of an old friend of his who had fallen on hard times. She was a pretty girl and I was horny. My stepmother was less impressed.” His voice had dropped, suggesting worse to come.

  “And you?” Rose prompted. “How did you feel—apart from horny?” She had to try to keep it together.

  “At the time, I thought I was in love,” Dante admitted. “I know now that I was in lust. That seems to be my limit,” he added grimly.

  Ignoring this, Rose prompted, “Go on.” A picture was being drawn in her mind, and it didn’t paint Dante in the bad light he imagined. If he hadn’t opened up to anyone but his closest friends, this had to mean something for him to share it with her.

  “My stepmother couldn’t bear to think of the ‘foundling,’ as she called me, rising in society,” he went on with a look she was sure was meant to be wry, but which came across as a reminder of the bewilderment he’d carried as a youth facing bigotry.

  “I was young and wild and willful, and my stepmother’s opinion only made me more determined to have my own way.”

  She had to smile a little, recognizing the youth in Dante the man.

  “My wife was pregnant before I was nineteen.”

  Dante’s words pierced her skin like a series of arrows, and a sound of distress left her throat before she could stop it.

  “When my father died and I inherited his estate, my wife thought we would instantly have all his money as well as the estancia. Her family expected the same. Like an old cliché, the daughter of impoverished aristocracy had been put out to tender and had succeeded in snaring a rich husband, whom, they thought, would save them all. But then came the court case, and I had to fight my stepmother to save the land. I had no idea if the legal fees would ruin me, or even if I’d win. My wife grew impatient. She said she was ashamed of me and always had been. She was ashamed of marrying the half-breed, and there had to be some compensation for that. Don’t feel sorry for me,” he warned when Rose shuddered. “I was the architect of my own downfall.”

  “No, you weren’t,” she argued fiercely. “You transformed the estate when your father died, and brought prosperity to the families living here.”

  “But that didn’t happen quickly, and there were mounting debts with no promise of victory. My wife looked for greener pastures and soon found them with a man called Del Roca—a vicious criminal, not too dissimilar from the type of man who terrorized your father. He was her rich, criminal lover, and the father of her unborn child.”

  Rose’s world rocked on its axis. “I can’t imagine…”

  “Try harder,” Dante advised.

  Taking a breath, she focused on his face. “What happened to your wife?”

  A look of weariness crossed his features. “Del Roca arranged a special little treat for her. She even bragged to me that her wealthy lover was going to take her on a trip across the sea in his luxury helicopter. What Del Roca failed to mention was that my wife, being of no further use to him now her prospects of easy money had disappeared, wouldn’t be completing the journey. He dropped her off along the way, over the sea like a sack of rubbish, where he knew that neither she nor her unborn child could survive.”

  “He killed his own child?” Rose shivered uncontrollably at the thought. “How do you know this?” she whispered.

  Dante’s short laugh lacked all semblance of humor. “Del Roca sent me a video. ‘Say good-bye to your wife’ was on the soundtrack as he shoved her screaming out of an open door.”

  “Oh my God. Dante…”

  “I don’t imagine a pregnant mistress who had nothing to bring to the table figured large in Del Roca’s planning.” Dante’s eyes were unfocused as he thought back. “My young wife was just a trophy for him.”

  For a moment, she couldn’t say anything, but then reality intruded on what had been a hideous shock. “Did you tell the authorities? Was he captured—brought to justice? Did he pay for his crimes?”

  Dante huffed a short humorless laugh as he shook his head. “Del Roca’s been in court several times on murder charges, but none of them stick. There’s never an explanation as to why the court case falls apart, but everyone knows that intimidation is at the bottom of it. When people hear what he’s capable of and how far his tentacles spread, they’re too frightened to speak against him.”

  “But you would,” Rose insisted. “I know you would.”

  Dante shrugged. “My evidence was deemed inconclusive. Of course I was a witness, but he just smiled at me from the dock and glanced at the judge, as if to tell me that I was wasting my time. Del Roca’s still out there somewhere, waiting, as I am, for the day of reckoning, because, believe me, it will come.”

  “You said she was pregnant with his baby? How did you know it was his child?”

  “He took pleasure in giving me chapter and verse. He explained that my highborn wife had contraception fitted when she married me, to avoid the risk of giving birth to a tainted, half-breed child, but that she’d had this removed when she became his mistress. Apparently, she considered a murderous criminal more acceptable to society than me. My poor little wife confirmed this—bragged about it, in fact, telling me that Del Roca was going to give her everything I never could—the private jets, the big houses, the jewels—all the things that mean nothing.” He looked at her at last. “I hope you understand now why I don’t talk about this. Chatting about evil as if it were any other topic makes it seem almost commonplace.”

  “Never,” Rose argued, shaking her head. “What you’ve told me could never be diluted by discussion, but I do understand why you wouldn’t want to talk about it to anyone. So many terrible things heaped one on top of the other. Only you can unpick them, and then only one at a time, and slowly, and with the greatest care.”

  “You had to know why I’m no good for you.”

  “I’m glad you told me, but I can’t agree with that. You need me more than ever. You need someone—even if we’re just friends—”

  “Friends?” he queried.

  “You have to trust someone, Dante.”

  “You just handed in your resignation.”

  “And I just took it back. I have to take a giant leap of faith if I’m going to stay working for you, but if we don’t start somewhere, Del Roca will win.”

  “So I haven’t put you off.”

  “You’ll have to try harder if that’s your intention.”

  “Oh, Rose, Rose…” Dante shook his head. “Why are you so stubborn?”

  “Why are you so proud? It’s not a sign of weakness to reach out. It’s a sign of strength. Taking the first step’s always hard, but after that—”r />
  “Please don’t tell me that it’s going to get easier with you, because I won’t believe you.”

  “Neither of us does easy.” She shrugged. “Accept it. I have.” Walking up to him, she took hold of Dante’s hands in a firm grip. “I think this was meant to be. In fact…” She stared up as if scenting the air. “I know it was.”

  “How do you know?” Dante murmured.

  She returned her gaze to his face. “Sometimes, you just have to believe.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was a long, searching kiss, and when they pulled apart, they smiled into each other’s eyes with new understanding. “What are you thinking?” Rose demanded.

  “I was remembering you hosing me down. I should have recognized that at the time as both your calling card and a wake-up call. My life has never been the same since.”

  “You definitely deserved it.”

  “Next time I’m on the end of a hose, you’ll be with me,” Dante assured her.

  “I’m not sure I want to take ‘together in everything’ that far.”

  Dante raised a brow. “You’ve considered together in everything?”

  Rose stilled. “Maybe,” she admitted.

  “What I’ve told you hasn’t fazed you at all?”

  “No,” Rose confirmed. “We all have things in our past we’d like to undo. All that counts is that you came out the other side. And you didn’t waste energy on revenge. You focused on helping other people—”

  “Oh, believe me,” Dante interrupted, “I lived with thoughts of revenge. My feelings were so conflicted. I hated my wife for what she’d done, and pitied her for falling prey to Del Roca. When he killed her, I hated him with a vehemence I can’t even begin to describe. Between Del Roca and my wife, they destroyed all feeling in me.”

  “Hate does that. It destroys everything in its path, and you’re a builder, not a destroyer,” Rose insisted.