Forever Dante: Lucia (The Dante Dynasty Series: Book #11): The Dante Inferno

by Day Leclaire

  He kissed the sensitive curve at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. “And our marriage?”

  She couldn’t help stiffening. “What about it?”

  His eyes were so dark, all emotion shuttered, locking her out. “I planned to do the honorable thing and let you go,” he informed her.

  Panic shot through her. Why was ending their marriage the honorable thing? Then she realized he’d used the past tense. “Planned?” she repeated. The fact that she managed to ask the question without hyperventilating seemed like a minor miracle. “Or plan?”

  He released a harsh laugh. “We need to face facts, honey. I’m not good marriage material. I’ve been straight with you about that from the start.”

  “Are you saying you want . . . ?” She couldn’t complete the sentence.

  His mouth compressed into a grim line. “I suspect you’ll be the one asking for a divorce.” Apparently, he didn’t have the same qualms as she did about using the word. His arms tightened around her in direct opposition to his comment. “You’ve always longed to be part of a family, even though you’ve hesitated to fully commit until recently. I’ve been part of two. My mother, who died. And my military unit, who also died. Being part of something means depending on them and trusting them. It also means unfathomable pain when you lose them. I can’t go through that again.”

  She stared in disbelief. “And you believe if we marry, or rather, stay married, that you’ll lose me?”

  “I almost did lose you,” he shot back. “Benedict came within an inch of taking you out.”

  “Almost, Ty. Almost.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “I’m still here and I’m not planning on going anywhere. And in case it escaped your notice, I’ve also been part of a family that fell apart. I’ve also known violence, if not on the level you experienced it. Now tell me why you’re putting up roadblocks that don’t exist.”

  “I’ve always been a lone wolf, Lucia,” he warned.

  She didn’t cut him any slack. “That’s bullshit. You were a lone wolf. But wolves mate for life. And whether you realize it or not, that’s what you’ve done with me. Wolves also form packs. That test says you’re part of the Dantes’ pack.”

  He tensed. “Let’s just say I’m better off staying on the outside looking in.”

  “Why?” She pulled back to look at him. He averted his gaze, his jaw clenching for an endless moment and she pushed a little harder. “I’m not letting go of this. Tell me why you’re pushing me away.”

  “It’s safer,” he whispered. “You can’t get hurt if you don’t let people in.”

  “Ty.” She waited until he fixed his gaze on her. His words should alarm her. Instead, they filled her with compassion and a strange understanding. “Don’t you get it? We’re both on the outside looking in, and we’re outside because we’re afraid to take a chance. Maybe, just maybe, we’d be better off stepping inside. You know your true identity now, and that means you have a choice to make. In or out? Because if you’re in, I’m right there with you.”

  “And if I’m out?”

  She offered a slow, loving smile. “Then I’m right there with you, assuming you’ll let me.”

  He squeezed his eyes closed and his throat convulsed. Finally, he spoke. “Lucia, I have a confession to make.”

  “Tell me.”

  This time when he looked at her, his eyes were unshuttered, his gaze direct and filled with an emotion she didn’t dare name. “I love you, sweetheart. I’m madly, passionately, desperately in love with you.”

  Oh, God. Her eyes burned and she fought to keep from breaking down. “Are you sure?” She couldn’t prevent a tear from escaping. “Because I love you, too.”

  “I know.”

  What? “How do you know?” she demanded.

  He kissed her tenderly, a hint of hunger bleeding through. “You told me on our wedding night.”

  Her eyes widened. “I did?”

  “And then you fell asleep before I could tell you that I loved you, too.”

  Lucia glared at him in exasperation. “And you couldn’t find another opportunity anytime over the past two weeks to ’fess up?”

  A slow smile played across his mouth, a mouth he put to excellent effect once again, taking her under in a slow, passionate kiss. “It had to be the right moment,” he murmured against her lips.

  She softened. “And this is the right moment?”

  “Can you think of a better one?”

  She snuggled close. Could today get any better? Maybe, just maybe it could. “Does this mean we’re staying together?”

  “That’s what it means.”

  “Even if we have to marry again?”

  “Even if.”

  Okay, she wouldn’t get a better opportunity than this. She steeled herself to introduce the next topic of concern, thrusting aside nerves. “So, there’s one more issue we should discuss.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Uh-oh. Is it a deal breaker?”

  “Could be,” she admitted.

  “Aw, hell.” He released his breath on a long sigh. “Tell me.”

  Perhaps she should find a way to ease into the discussion. No sense in panicking him right from the get-go. “It occurs to me, we’ve never discussed children.”

  “Making them or practicing to make them?” She caught the teasing tone underscoring the question.

  She cleared her throat. “Both. Maybe more having them, since we’ve gotten pretty good at the practicing part.”

  Especially in the shower and hot tub, which is where, she suspected, their daughter had been conceived. And maybe one or two other times when passion had caused their brains to misfire when it came to using contraception.

  He offered a wicked grin. “I’m in favor of both making and practicing to make.”

  “And actually having them?” she dared to ask.

  “The more the merrier,” he answered promptly. “In fact, you might want to get started on that. I’d like six. Maybe seven. I’m thinking, purely from a logistics standpoint, it would be faster if you’d do it two at a time.”

  No question he was joking. She’d see how long he kept laughing when she dropped her little bombshell. “Okay. Could we start with one?”

  “Sure, if you insist.”

  “Would it be okay if it’s a girl?”

  “Why not? I’m an equal opportunity father.”

  “That’s good, because Nonna says it’s a girl.”

  “Nonna says what’s a girl?”

  “Our baby.”

  For such an intelligent man, it took him a moment to connect the dots. “You buried the lede, sweetheart,” he rumbled. He pulled back, his expression growing serious. “Nonna thinks you’re pregnant?”

  “Yup. That’s what she told me today.”

  He released a sigh of relief. “Her eye, again? That’s what we’re talking about, right?”

  “It’s a pretty accurate eye.” He stilled in that predatory way of his. “Yeah, that seems to have caught your attention.”

  “My full attention.” His gaze slid downward, settling on her abdomen. Ever so gently he cupped her there. “Are you pregnant, my sweet wife?”

  “That’s what the test says. Two pink lines.”

  His brows drew together. “Two pink lines mean it’s a girl?”

  She bit back a laugh. He’d asked so seriously, clearly having no idea how pregnancy tests worked. “No, just pregnant. One line means not cooking. Two lines means ding-ding-ding. Bun is in the oven. Nonna’s the one claiming it’s a girl.”

  He swallowed. “A daughter.” The word escaped rough and hoarse.

  Her brows shot up. “You believe Nonna?”

  “Let’s just say I’ve learned not to bet against her.”

  “Ty, are you sure? Sure about us, I mean? Sure about our marriage?”

  He drew in a deep breath. “Is that why you didn’t tell me about the baby when I first came home?”

  She waved a hand in the direction of the clothing scattered haphazar
dly around them. “You distracted me,” she temporized.

  “And maybe you waited in order to see if I planned to commit to our marriage?”

  “Ty, I’m committed to our marriage. I didn’t tell you about the pregnancy because I didn’t want you forced to stay with me because of the baby.”

  He didn’t hesitate, his words firm and absolute. “Looks like we’re both committed to our marriage.”

  “Then the only remaining decision is whether we choose to walk through the door and become Dantes or walk away. And that’s entirely up to you. But, my brother will always be in my life,” she cautioned.

  “I’d never ask you to give up your brother for me, any more than I’d expect you to turn your back on your Dante relatives.”

  Relief flooded through her. “What about your relatives?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if they’re interested in meeting me, let alone accepting me into their family.”

  He was breaking her heart. “Chances are they’ll want to at least meet you. And I suspect they’ll let you take the lead in any future relationship. None of what happened is your fault. They know that.”

  “And I know it, too. At least, my head does.”

  “I suspect they’re far more concerned about you accepting them than the other way around.”

  “My grandparents are still alive,” he admitted. “And they have a brood as large as your Dante family.”

  “Then, I guarantee, they’ll want to meet you. And I also guarantee, your grandparents are probably terrified of how you’ll react to discovering you’re a Dante.” She kissed him, then kissed him again, whispering against his mouth, “They’re the ones standing on the outside, Ty. Will you let them in?”

  His response was a long time coming, but more from his inability to speak than resistance to her question. “I’ll let them in.”

  “And my relatives?”

  “I’ll walk through that door with you.” His huge hand returned to cup her belly. “We’ll all walk through that door.”

  Before she could respond, her new cell phone chirped. She glanced at the caller ID. “It’s Sev.”

  “Take it.”

  She didn’t bother with a conventional greeting. Something told her, it wasn’t good news. “What’s happened?”

  “It’s bad, Lucia,” Sev said, confirming her fears. “The two of you need to get to the hospital. Fast. They’ve rushed Nonna into surgery.”

  6 Months Later . . .

  Ty and Lucia stood at the gravesite hand in hand. Stooping, he set the bundle of flowers in front of the maker, running his hand over the rough granite.

  “Ty, would you mind if we named the baby Julietta after Nonna?”

  He rose and wrapped an arm around her, the other resting on her swollen abdomen. “I think that’s a perfect name, all things considered.”

  She tilted her head back. “You don’t mind that we’re not naming her after Candice?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Is it because of what she did? Or because you’ve decided to change your name to Dante?”

  “It feels . . . inappropriate.” He glanced at the marker. “I think she’d understand, don’t you?”

  “I do.” She leaned against her husband, or soon to be husband. She found the precise legalities confusing. “I suspect in the end she was sorry.”

  He nodded, and Lucia sensed he no longer experienced the anger he had following that long-ago meeting with Primo. He’d come to accept his past, which was good since he couldn’t change it. “And the ring she gave me did lead to the truth.”

  “Are you ready to meet your grandparents?”

  He drew in a deep breath and blew it out again. “Confession time. I admit, I’m a little nervous.”

  “They’re probably a lot nervous.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “What about you? Can you handle getting married again?”

  “I think I can handle it, although it’ll be strange calling you Romero, instead of Ty.” Her brow wrinkled. “Or maybe Rom?”

  “You can call me anything you want, sweetheart. For you, I’ll answer to any name you choose.” He held her with a calm, serious look. “Are you prepared to finally become a Dante?”

  She gave it some thought. “Wishes are funny things, aren’t they? I’ve always longed to be a Dante and now that it’s happening it feels—”

  “Surreal?”

  She shook her head. “Right.”

  “I’m glad.” He turned back toward the grave and once again stroked the marker. “Goodbye, Mom. I forgive you for taking me away from my family. And I thank you for taking such good care of me. But it’s time for me to go home now, where I belong.”

  Tears filled Lucia’s eyes as he turned his back on his past and faced his future. A future where they’d never again be on the outside looking in. A future where they’d always belong. A future where their lives would begin anew.

  They arrived at the church a few minutes late. Cars filled the lot and they ended up parking in the overflow section. Ty grabbed Lucia’s hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm. When she made to rush, he slowed her to a walk.

  “They can’t begin without us,” he teased.

  “I don’t like keeping everyone waiting.”

  He deliberately paused in the middle of the parking lot and pulled her close. His daughter bumped against him, giving an energetic kick. He grinned at the sensation and lifted his wife’s face to his. With great deliberation, he kissed her, gently easing past her lips and sinking in deep. Her response came as it always did, instantaneous and helplessly passionate. She’d never been able to resist him, any more than he could resist her.

  Satisfied for the moment, he took her hand and climbed the steps to the church. Sunlight followed them inside, brightening the dim vestibule. His gaze shot to the two couples sitting on a bench, quietly chatting. At their advent, four pairs of eyes swiveled in his direction. Two rejoiced. Two were filled with nervous joy.

  Primo and Nonna stood. While Lucia’s grandfather now managed without a cane, Nonna still required one, though she’d made huge strides since the night she’d been so critical and everyone had been called to the hospital in anticipation of her passing. She’d surprised them all, fighting to remain with Primo and the rest of her family. And though her recovery had been long and arduous, she was almost back to normal.

  Lucia’s grandparents approached, offering swift hugs and kisses, before beckoning to the couple hovering nearby who appeared to be a decade or so younger.

  Primo made the introductions. “Romero Dante, may I present your grandparents. This is Ursino, and your nonna, Contessa.”

  A huge bear of a man, as tall and broad as Ty, regarded him with a fierce, black gaze. Dear God, it was as though he stared at an older version of himself.

  “He looks just like you,” Lucia whispered in awe.

  “There is no mistaking the relationship,” Ursino concurred in a deep, rumbling voice, a Texas accent mingling with the lyricism from his Italian heritage. “You are my grandson. You must call me Bear as do all my grandchildren.”

  Contessa looked as beautiful and regal as her name implied. She wore her pale, silvery-blonde hair in a stylish knot, a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched elegantly on the tip of her nose. Huge blue eyes regarded him warily. Ty would have described her as self-contained if not for the single tear that rolled down her cheek. “You are my poor Silvio reborn,” she murmured.

  For the first time in his entire life, Ty didn’t know how to react to a situation. Bear took the decision out of his hands, sweeping him into a powerful hug and slapping him on the back so hard it almost staggered him. He’d have Lucia check for dents after the ceremony. Following suit, Ty hugged his grandfather in return, though not quite as hard, at least not hard enough to leave dents. Then he did the same with his grandmother, wrapping her up in a gentle, tender hug, before kissing each cheek. Finally, the older couple embraced Lucia, exclaiming excitedly over her
pregnancy bulge.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said, once the introductions were completed.

  “Did you doubt it for one minute?” his grandmother asked in disbelief.

  “You are our miracle,” Bear added.

  Contessa caught Ty’s hand in hers. “The entire family has come to witness your marriage. Our Romero Dante has returned to us. And instead of keeping the name you thought was yours, you have chosen to become one of us.” She spoke with unmistakable passion, struggling to control the emotion that echoed through each and every word. “We would never have asked such a thing of you and yet you give it to us freely.”

  “All of your aunts and uncles are here, as well as all of your cousins,” Bear added. “Down to the very last one.”

  For some reason Ty’s throat closed over. Fortunately, Lucia stepped into the breach. “We’re honored to have you.”

  “You must show us your brand,” Bear insisted.

  Lucia shook her head in confusion. “I’m sorry? My brand?”

  “Your mark.” He grasped her right hand in his and turned it palm up. “Ah, you have the Dante D brand. It is common amongst eldest sons.”

  Ty stared at the mark decorating his own palm. Well, hell. How had he missed it? What they’d been calling a stylistic half-moon was clearly a scripted D. He grinned. Go figure.

  “Come,” Bear encouraged, slamming him on the back again, coming within inches of dropping him. “The three of us will go in. We shall sit and you will take your place at the altar. Then your bride will enter with her grandparents and we will all witness your marriage.”

  “You do know we’re already married, right?”

  “Ty Masterson was married. Romero Dante is not,” Bear retorted. “We will correct that today, yes?”

  Ty inclined his head. “Yes, we will.” Pausing long enough to give Lucia a lingering kiss, he joined his grandparents.

  To his shock the groom’s side of the aisle was filled to overflowing. He’d never had relatives before. Now he had more than he could count. After escorting his grandparents to a seat in the first pew, he stood in front of the altar and turned to watch his bride walk down the aisle, her grandparents bookending her.