by Day Leclaire
“I don’t know whether it’s real or not,” she said with a passion that threatened to rip her apart. “I’ve spent over a decade denying its existence. I’d still be denying it if we hadn’t shaken hands. But if you didn’t feel it, too, then clearly, I’m imagining it.”
“In that case, I hope you find the right guy. The one you’re meant to be with. Because it’s not me.” His mouth twisted. “And I can’t magically become that person.”
It took every ounce of self-possession for Ty to escort Lucia home and maintain a respectable distance. All the while, he wanted to close her up in his bedroom and never let her leave.
He’d never experienced this level of response to any other woman, this primitive, primal demand. An inner voice insisted she belonged to him and no one else, and a chant ran incessantly through his head, threatening to drive him insane.
Mine. Mine. Mine!
It made no sense. It wasn’t logical or reasonable or realistic. And yet, the chant continued with unremitting insistence.
Lucia maintained a brave façade, but he could tell it was just that. A façade. He’d hurt her. Badly. That hadn’t been his intention, but everything he’d said to her in the kitchen had been the God’s honest truth.
He refused to buy into her fantasy. Finding your soul mate with a single touch? Sure, it worked well for a fairy tale. But in real life? Not possible.
He exited the car, common courtesy so deeply entrenched, he couldn’t do anything else. He took her hand in his, ignoring the small flinch she gave when his fingers settled against her palm. He considered leaning down and kissing her, then thought better of it. No point in torturing either of them.
She stared up at him, her heart in her eyes. The gorgeous teal color had darkened, turned turbulent, a storm in the making. And that gorgeous full mouth quivered ever so slightly, just about unmanning him.
“I’m sorry, Lucia,” he said. “More sorry than I can express. I’ve hurt you and that was never my intention.”
“You promised you wouldn’t.”
The words struck like a knife to the gut. “I know. I was wrong, even if it wasn’t my intention. I’m sorry, honey.”
She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “I’m sorry, too. I probably hurt you, as well.” Lifting her chin, she forced a smile to her mouth, one that didn’t come close to touching her eyes. “I’ll see you tonight. After that, we can go our separate ways.”
He inclined his head. “Goodbye, Lucia Benedict.”
She swallowed, her smile fading. “Goodbye, Ty Masterson.”
She turned and entered her apartment. She never once looked back. He watched her the entire time. Watched those glorious curls give a cocky bounce and wave. Watched that incredible backside taunt him from beneath her tight black jeans. Watched those sexy mile-high half-boots rap out a reprimanding staccato as she marched up the steps leading to her apartment building.
Every part of him screamed to call her back. To apologize. To grovel. He yanked all those rebellious parts under tight control until she disappeared from view.
Mine.
Chapter Four
Le Premier, Nob Hill’s exclusive, five-star hotel, hosted the Dante’s gala. The place was packed to overflowing, despite it being five in the afternoon, suggesting that a sizeable portion of San Francisco had knocked off work early Friday evening in order to attend.
A buffet of appetizers and a bottomless wine bar tempted the attendees, but Lucia couldn’t face either. She chose to stand beside her brother, waiting for Juice to come and collect her.
Ty hadn’t arrived, yet. She didn’t even have to look around to confirm it. Her newly acquired Spidey senses told her everything she needed to know. And with each passing moment, her tension grew.
As though reading her thoughts, her twin folded his arms across his chest. “I hear you went on a date with Ty Masterson.”
She couldn’t stop her shocked inhalation. Nor could she stop the words that escaped immediately afterward. “How could you possibly know—” She broke off, glaring at him in open suspicion. “You didn’t know.”
He grinned. “I didn’t. Until now. I just noticed the way you two looked at each other when you first met.” He spared a glance in his wife’s direction. “It had a familiar feel to it.”
Lucia’s gaze slid away and she toyed with the diamond necklace from the New Beginnings line she’d agreed to model. The fire diamonds flashed with a smoldering brilliance, a painful echo of The Inferno. Leave it to the Dantes to own the only mines in the world to produce such unique and stunning gemstones, a fitting match for the family blessed—or cursed—with The Inferno.
Gabe watched her far too closely, his golden eyes, so similar to Primo’s, narrowing. He signaled to a passing waiter and snagged two flutes of champagne, handing her one. “So, should we be toasting to new beginnings for both of us?”
“Why not? Cheers.”
She touched her glass to his, the fine crystal singing out on a pure, cleansing note. She didn’t dare tell him what happened between her and Ty. Not tonight. Not when it risked a confrontation.
Just the thought of him brought back that familiar awareness, a tingle that warned he’d arrived. Instantly, her palm itched and heat swept through her, filled with urgent want. If she turned a tiny bit to the left, she’d see him, tempting her to indulge in memories of their night of passion. She shifted to face right and pasted a bright, happy smile on her face.
“Where’s Juice?” she asked. “Isn’t he supposed to guard me tonight?”
“Escort,” Gabe corrected. “You have more than ten million dollars’ worth of precious stones dangling from various parts of you, brat. You need to be safeguarded in case someone decides to carry you off.”
“When Primo asked me to fill in tonight, he neglected to warn me I’d be wearing anything approaching that much in gems,” she forced herself to say, relieved to hear she sounded so calm. She didn’t feel calm. Not even close. Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered, maybe. But nothing that could be called “calm.” “Or that I’d need to be guarded. I didn’t find out until yesterday.”
“It probably never occurred to Primo to say anything,” Gabe replied. “It’s SOP.”
It took a moment for his words to penetrate the sensual fog clouding her mind. “SOP.”
“It means—”
“Standard Operating Procedure. Yes, Gabe, I know.” The awareness grew more intense, creating a buzz of excitement. No doubt the champagne contributed to the feeling. She glanced down at her empty glass in surprise. She didn’t remember drinking it all and yet clearly, she had. She struggled to pick up the thread of their conversation, latching onto it with something akin to desperation. “Most people are familiar with the term SOP. Since when did you start talking like someone out of a bad crime drama?”
Her brother grinned. “Since I was assigned temporary guard duty.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Ah, here’s my replacement now.”
Recognition struck an instant before she turned to face Ty. Unfortunately, the warning didn’t come soon enough to prevent her from revealing her dismay. “I thought Juice was my escort tonight.”
Gabe leaned in and gave her cheek a quick kiss. “You’re welcome,” he whispered in her ear.
Oh, God. He thought he was doing her a favor. “I wish you hadn’t,” she whispered back, her voice far too uneven. Her brother jerked backward, his gaze flashing first to her and then to Ty. A spark of angry concern flickered there and she realized she’d once again spoken without thinking. “But I’m glad you did,” she deliberately added with a teasing smile.
Reassured, he inclined his head in Ty’s direction. “I’ll leave you to it. Take good care of her. The Dantes are very protective of what they consider theirs.”
Ty didn’t reply. He simply folded his massive arms across his equally massive chest and waited until Gabe walked away. “Who is he?”
The words were calm, though a harshness underscored them. “Gabe Dante. You met him
at yesterday’s meeting.”
“I remember.” He waited a beat. “Who is he to you?”
She didn’t dare admit their relationship, not now that he bore the name Dante. She swept her hand through the air in clear dismissal and the wedding and engagement rings she wore flashed fire. Primo had insisted she wear the set on her right hand, since he considered it bad luck to wear wedding rings on her left unless married.
“Does it matter who he is to me?”
She could tell he wanted to say more, but considering everything that had happened between them, as well as their final parting, she suspected he didn’t quite know how to phrase it. His mouth tightened for an instant and then he shook his head. “I guess it doesn’t.”
“I’m sorry you got stuck with me tonight. I thought Juice had the assignment.”
“It got changed.” Ty’s gaze scanned the gala, narrowing in on Gabe. Her brother stood with his wife, holding her close in a loving embrace. “He’s married.”
“Very.”
“How does his wife feel about him kissing you? It’s the second time I’ve seen him do it.”
That caught her by surprise. “Second?”
He turned his head toward her, pinning her in place with his dark, dark eyes. “He kissed you right before the meeting yesterday. Why would he do that?”
“Again, it’s none of your business.”
“Are you lovers?”
The question hung between them for an endless moment.
What the hell was he thinking?
Ty wished he could take the words back. Wished it with every fiber of his being. And yet, the question burned through him, vicious and unrelenting. There was something between the two. He knew it as surely as he knew his own name. Were they acquaintances? Friends? Old friends? Ex-lovers?
Current lovers?
He regarded Lucia with open suspicion. Only one thing kept him from expressing any more unfound accusations. That damn voice in his head.
Mine.
The demand screamed through him, raw and unfettered. He struggled for his usual calm, to control his emotions and bury them deep. For some reason, when it came to Lucia Benedict, what he usually handled with ease became a hard-fought battle. She called to him on some level, tempted him like a mythological siren of old. And he responded, helpless to control the desire that swept through him.
Take. The. Woman.
He shook his head as though he could shake the incessant demand from his thoughts. It didn’t help that he’d never seen a more beautiful woman. She wore a bronze sheath, almost Grecian in style, with one shoulder bared. A suitable look for a siren. Her gown clung to her curves, from generous breasts to a nipped-in waist, to gently rounded hips before falling in soft pleats to the floor. Her hair tumbled about her shoulders in heavy, loose curls and all he could think of was how he’d wrapped those curls around his fist as he drove into her.
Make her yours.
Not likely, not considering how Lucia glared at him. “I can’t believe you just asked me whether Gabe and I are lovers, especially after last night. So, let me make this really easy for you. You ended things between us. That means you don’t get to ask personal questions about me or my background or my past relationships. You sure as hell don’t get to ask about Gabriel Dante or why he kissed me. Twice. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
She spun around, but before she took more than a single step, he stopped her with a light hand to her arm. “Where are we going?” He leaned on the word we. To his amusement, she swore beneath her breath. “You forgot, didn’t you? Where you go, I go.”
“Yes, I forgot,” she admitted, blowing out a sigh. She stared out at the sea of people filling the ballroom, as though looking for an avenue of escape. “I wish I’d never agreed to this.”
“That makes two of us.”
The comment reminded him this was a job. He needed to remember that. Instantly, he snapped into professional mode, scanning the area. Off to one side, he saw the Dante family matriarch seated at a table. The instant his gaze landed on her, she beckoned to him.
“Mrs. Dante would like us to join her,” he said to Lucia.
She seized on the suggestion like a lifeline. “I assume you have to come, too?”
“Everywhere you go, I go.”
Her chin lifted and her eyes flashed like a storm-driven sea. “Not everywhere.”
“No, not the ladies’ room. But I will be stationed outside. And since there’s only one ingress and egress . . .”
She took his words as the warning he’d intended. Oh, yeah. She didn’t like that comment. Without a word, she spun around and made a beeline for the safety of the older woman.
Nonna Dante sat with all the regal assuredness of a queen. Even hovering on the cusp of eighty and bearing the wrinkles of a life long-lived, she retained a striking beauty. She reminded him of someone, though he couldn’t say who. He filed the thought away for future consideration. Her hazel gaze touched on Lucia before settling on him. Laughter dwelled there, as well as a deep, unsettling knowing. A wisdom and strength that combined happiness and pain in equal measures and chose to reflect the happiness, while accepting the pain.
She gestured for them to join her at the table and simply studied him for a long moment, before speaking. “You are Ty Masterson,” she said, her voice as lyrical as Primo’s. It also contained a richness, an underlying melody that spoke of warm, humid climes, as well as passion and laughter. “We have not met, I believe.”
“No, Mrs. Dante. We haven’t.”
She waved his words aside. “Ragazzo sciocco. Call me Nonna, as everyone does.”
He inclined his head. “Thank you. Nonna.” He shot her an amused grin. “Though I don’t consider myself either foolish or a boy.”
She lifted an elegant eyebrow. “Parli italiano.” She didn’t phrase it as a question.
“Sì. Ho imparato in militare.”
“Eccellente.” She offered her hand, holding his gaze with a challenging directness. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Ty Masterson.”
He gained the distinct impression she was testing him. Without hesitation, he took her hand in his. The instant they touched, she closed her eyes, inhaling sharply. The next moment, she released him and settled back in her chair, her hand trembling ever so slightly. What the hell was that about?
For some reason, she avoided looking at him, turning to Lucia, instead. “How beautiful you look tonight.” She smiled with genuine warmth. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
To Ty’s surprise, Lucia shook her head, softening her response with a laugh. “Not really. Usually I love attending your galas. This time I’m incredibly nervous.” She touched the diamond necklace encircling her neck. “I had no idea I’d be wearing such a valuable collection.”
“Do not worry.” Nonna glanced in his direction and he could have sworn she winked. “Ty will keep you safe.”
“I’ll protect her with my life.”
Nonna’s smile faded. “Yes, you will.” Then she reached for Lucia with arthritic fingers. “Ty, would you please excuse us for a moment?”
Ty shot to his feet. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Nonna. You understand I can’t go far.”
“I do not wish you to go far. Just a few steps to the side. You will pretend not to hear our conversation, ti dispiace?”
“I don’t mind at all.”
She smiled at Lucia. “My dear child, you and I must speak alone for a moment, since I’m not sure we will be able to do so again in the future.”
Lucia froze, her brows drawing together in consternation. “I don’t understand.”
“You will, my dear. In time.” She tilted her head to one side, heavy white curls gathered in an elegant swirl at the nape of her slender neck. “Has my family told you about me?”
“Of course.”
“No, sweet girl. Have they told you I have the eye?”
Lucia shook her head in confusion. “I’m sorry. The eye?”
She made a sweeping gesture.
“I can tell things. See things. I sense who is pregnant. Whether it is a girl or boy. Events that will happen or will possibly happen.” She paused before adding, “And I know about you.”
Shock swept across Lucia’s face. “What?”
“Do not pretend with me,” Nonna chastised. She squeezed Lucia’s hand. “I see you. I know you, just as I know what has happened to you.”
To Ty’s shock, tears glittered in Lucia’s eyes, turning them to an incandescent shade of blue-green. “What should I do, Nonna?”
“Why do you ask such a foolish question?” Nonna reprimanded. “You know what it means, do you not?
Lucia nodded. “Yes.”
“Then, you also know what you must do.”
“You don’t understand. I can’t.”
Nonna stiffened, drawing back. “You dare defy it?”
“I don’t want to. It’s just . . .” For some reason, she spared Ty a brief, pained glance, then looked away. Her voice dropped to a whisper, one he struggled to hear. It sounded like, “Mine is broken.” Though that didn’t make any sense to him.
Nonna chuckled. “Don’t be ridiculous. Confess, child. You feel it.”
“It’s a one-way street,” she murmured. “Has that ever happened before.”
“Ah.” Nonna sat back and considered. “No, it has never happened before. And it has not happened this time.”
“I have it on excellent authority it has.”
“Regardless of what you believe or have been told, you must not ignore it, Lucia. You know what happens when you defy it. You saw how it ruins lives.”
To Ty’s concern, a single tear splashed onto Lucia’s cheek. “Please, don’t,” she begged.
Ty made a swift move toward the table, stopped only by the outrage in Nonna’s fierce hazel eyes. Every part of him roared in demand that he sweep Lucia away from the old woman, and it called on every ounce of self-control to maintain his position. What the hell was going on?
“You must decide and quickly. Time is against you.” Nonna leaned in, her voice acquiring an unmistakable urgency. “If you wish to become a Dante, you must marry him.”
