by Diana Duncan
Revenge, as rich and satisfying as caviar. Tasia bit into a cracker heaped with the best Beluga. Mmm. She could hardly wait to revel in the heady taste of vengeance.
Her “job” as a collection consultant for an Athens museum was the perfect cover. She’d been careful with her spending and had Swiss banked a tidy sum from a long, successful career of smuggling artifacts. But it still wasn’t quite enough. After Elias went down, she had one more cache to fence, huge enough to fund the rest of her luxurious life, and then she was done. She would buy her own yacht and sail to the south of France. She would bask in the sun and live in the style for which she had worked her derriere off. And which she deserved after a lifetime of scrimping.
Perhaps she’d even hunt up a new lover. Though her track record was abysmal. Sipping chilled bubbly, Tasia strolled to the chaise beside the crackling fire. What was the saying? Lucky at gambling, unlucky in love.
Wealth never lost its value. Never let her down. Living well was the answer to every problem. The luxury to do whatever you wanted whenever you chose was ultimate power. She didn’t need men…except for the obvious. She’d clawed her way up the slippery slope of success without help from any man.
Sighing, she settled into the cushions. Elias had been the only man she’d never been able to control. Until Dante. The enigmatic man had refused a bribe and stoically taken a beating without a betraying word. Too bad, because the savage Napoletano could be a very worthwhile…investment. That man would never cower at her feet. And she enjoyed an edge of danger, in and out of the bedroom.
Tasia licked a salty morsel of caviar from her lower lip. She’d spared his life because she appreciated beautiful things—and didn’t destroy them without good reason. And because her contact at Interpol couldn’t confirm exactly whose side Dante was on. If she made him disappear, there would be consequences. She needed to know what she might lose before making a decision. Her contact was running a background check on him, and his fate would wait until Tasia received more information.
Ariana, on the other hand…She frowned. Seeing her had stirred softer feelings than Tasia had expected. She was her father’s girl, smart and courageous. Ariana’s intelligence, knowledge of antiques and bitterness toward the police could be useful. As could her mission to redeem Derek’s reputation. Tasia drained her glass. Ariana’s mother had joined Alexandra’s Dream to search for her daughter, and Sadie and Elias had grown close. Ah, the gratification Tasia would gain from recruiting Ms. Bennett and hurting Elias even more. Double the revenge. He would learn the sting of betrayal, firsthand.
Would Ariana cooperate? Tasia abandoned the empty plate and flute on a table and draped a cashmere throw over her legs. As much as she would enjoy working with Derek’s daughter, Tasia couldn’t afford to let sentiment impede her goals. The girl’s future also remained undecided.
For now, the pair would remain trapped on the island…until Tasia decided to fetch them.
She stared into the hungry red flames and her lips curled in a slow smile. Or not.
THIGH-DEEP in the cold surf, Dante flung a universal parting gesture at the fleeing speedboat. Muttering, he splashed back to the woman shivering on the beach. Like him, she was soaked to the skin, bruised and scraped. He’d failed her for the second time in twenty-four hours. Rage made him shake. “Are you all right, Ariana?”
“Yes.” She unsteadily brushed aside a wet tendril of chestnut hair. “Heckle and Jeckle tore out of here like you’d sprouted horns. What’s so scary about being ‘a friend of the friends’?”
After almost six weeks, he had yet to discern if she was a bereaved daughter seeking the truth about her father, or a wily operator attempting to run her own game. In either scenario, if she knew who his friends really were, she would jeopardize his goals. Possibly his life. He scooped up his fallen coat.
“Ah. It’s a ‘don’t mess with the mob’ thing, right?”
He’d known from the moment she’d asked her first question at the dig site that she was not only beautiful, but extremely intelligent. Which made her extremely dangerous. “Sì.”
She planted her hands on her hips. Her eyes—as blue and unpredictable as the Mediterranean Sea—sparked. “Well, why didn’t you yell it sooner?”
He threw back his head and laughter rolled out of him. His studious librarian had far more audacità than he’d imagined. And the worse things got, the stronger she became. Forced into close proximity with her bright, alluring heat, his imagination had been working overtime.
Her full lips pursed, and his body tightened. Amusement fled. Allowing her to divert him could get them both killed. He still hadn’t decided if Signorina Bennett was hiding something far more hazardous than a fiery spirit. “A man does not throw the phrase around lightly—and not unless he can back it up.”
“But you can.” As mutual mistrust engulfed their newfound camaraderie, unease chased away her smile. A chilly gust plastered her sodden clothing to her body, and she trembled violently.
His adrenaline rush ebbed and ice crept into his bloodstream. Where were his brains? Mentally castigating himself, Dante caught her by the hand. He knew where. And if he wanted to keep Ariana and himself alive, he’d damn well better retrieve them.
Towing Ariana up the strand, he pulled her into the semicircle of boulders forming a windbreak. He tossed down his coat. Then he turned her to face him, grabbed her sodden shirt by the plackets and stripped it off her.
When he tugged up the hem of her camisole, she shrieked and her knee slammed into his groin. Searing nausea twisted his guts, sent him reeling.
“What the hell?”
“I think that’s my line.” She stumbled backward. “Just because we’re lost on an island in the middle of nowhere doesn’t mean we’re going to go native.”
Dante groaned and eased upright. He didn’t retch, so he straightened and stared at the enraged woman. Had stress unhinged her? “Non capisco.”
“I flirted with those goons because it was a life-or-death emergency.” She inhaled shakily. “I am not a party favor.”
His jaw dropped. “San Gennaro, mio bello! We’ve been together nearly six weeks. You should know better.” Dante resisted the urge to inventory vital, perhaps irreparably damaged, anatomy. He’d rather take a fist in the face any day. “You are not a woman who engages in casual relationships.”
She rubbed her hands along her arms. “And you know that, how?”
“Just as you have been safe with me, I have been safe with you.” At least partially. While his attraction had been instantaneous, it was bearable. Resistible. Despite her vibrant coloring and the glint of impertinence in her gaze, she had shielded herself inside a bunker of aloof poise. She seemed coolly unaware of her latent passion…while his senses spun every time he got near her. If her guilelessness was an act designed to intrigue him, it had worked.
He’d never seen her come fully alive. Until fate had forced them into life-or-death peril. And the new determination in her sparkling eyes, the newly resolved set to her full lips intrigued him more than ever. He shrugged. “You have not attempted to use your sensuality to manipulate me.”
“My…” She opened her mouth, then closed it and shook her head. “Then what was with the fast track to seduction?”
“I was trying to save you from hypothermia. Believe me, cara, if I seduced you, you would know it.” He dropped his voice to a husky purr. “And it would not be forced. Or fast.”
Her eyes widened. “Uh…you suddenly started ripping off my clothes—” she cleared her throat “—so I’ll be warmer?”
“Wet fabric loses all ability to insulate. The wind makes it worse, like being inside a refrigerator.” He gestured impatiently. While they debated, her lips had paled and her graceful limbs shook uncontrollably. “You are shivering because your body is working too hard to get warm. Exhaustion will soon set in, and combined with hypothermia, will kill you.”
“You’re shivering, too.”
He peeled off his wet T-sh
irt and draped it over a boulder. “I am also removing my clothing.”
Bemused, he watched her astonished glance slide over him, then skitter everywhere but his bare chest. Sudden warmth infused his chilled skin.
“But if we’re…naked—” she swallowed audibly “—we’ll still freeze to death.”
“My coat is dry. We’ll share it…and our body heat.” He tugged off his boots. “Be sensible, bella. Every moment you delay, you grow colder.”
When she hesitated, he scowled. “I don’t want to have to take your clothes from you. But I will.”
Her wary gaze assessed him far too long. He moved toward her. “Do not force me to choose.”
She flung up a trembling hand. “You win.” She bit her lip. “But I don’t care if I turn into a human snow cone…I am not taking off my underwear.”
Dante chuckled. “I doubt a few scraps of damp silk will cause you harm.”
She wrinkled her nose. “There’s a highly effective technique called communication. Next time, before you grab…ask.”
“A lesson I’m not inclined to forget.” And if he was, the ache in his groin would remind him.
“Sorry. I was a bit on edge after…” She shivered again, and her eyes darkened.
Dante battled the desire to enfold her in his arms. He had to remain detached…for safety and sanity. “I understand.” He’d committed a multitude of sins in the line of duty, but sending Ariana into harm’s way ranked at the top. He’d burned with helpless rage while the bastards had mauled her. Desperately struggled to break free and prayed he would reach her in time. “Perdonami. It killed me to put you through that.”
“I knew what I was risking. I don’t outsource responsibility for my decisions.” She circled her finger. “Turn around so I can undress.”
He half turned to offer her the illusion of privacy. Being naked was as natural as breathing to him, but since she was self-conscious, he left his briefs on after removing his pants.
Their clothes should be dry by morning, draped in the wind outside the rocky semicircle. He donned his leather trench coat before sitting in the sand.
Propped against a boulder, he looked up at Ariana. Heated desire steamrollered over him. San Gennaro! A few scraps of damp silk may not cause her harm, but they might be his undoing.
Adorned in a strapless apricot satin bra and matching panties, she stole his breath. He’d kidnapped her wearing only the clothes on her back and he had bought her new ones. He’d chosen the lingerie, tormented by the knowledge of how lovingly it would cup her generous curves.
The moonlight burnished copper highlights in her hair and bathed her creamy skin in luminescence. Still and perfect, she stood before him a glowing alabaster sculpture—Venus rising from the sea.
When it came to the intriguing Ariana Bennett, his body bypassed his brain. It made him crazy in more ways than one, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. His arms opened for her. “Come here, Ariana.”
“I suppose it’s better than hypothermia,” she muttered.
Put firmly in his place, he laughed. “The sentiment every man awaits from a woman’s lips.”
“You weren’t supposed to hear that.” Stiff and reluctant, she lowered herself to his lap.
He tucked her against his chest and wrapped his coat around her. She not only looked like a marble statue, she felt as cold and unyielding. He rubbed his hands over her back to generate heat. “Think warm thoughts.”
Her slender limbs trembled and her teeth chattered. “This takes the prize for the most…friendly first date I’ve ever had.”
“It’s survival,” he reminded himself as much as her. “It’s nothing personal.”
Her breathing rapid, she was trembling too hard, betraying her unease with their intimacy. “From where I’m sitting, it feels…ah…enormously personal.”
Their mutual misgivings didn’t quench the simmering attraction. He swore softly. The troops had bounced back from medical furlough to active duty. “I am a man.” With a gorgeous, nearly naked woman cuddled in his arms.
“As if your manliness was ever in doubt.”
“Relax, Ariana. I would never take advantage of a woman in distress.”
“What are we going to do, Dante? We could die.”
She was striving to be brave, and the quiver of fear in her voice tore at his heart. “I am not so easy to kill. And I won’t let you die, mia cara.” He knew some of her stiffness was due to the fact that she was hurting, but to her credit, she didn’t complain. He had no weapons, no food, no water. The only thing he could do was keep her warm and prevent her from going into shock.
He sought a diversion. For her and himself. “Tell me a story.”
She started. “What?”
“You have an affinity for stories, yes? I have never had time for such things. It will take our minds off our discomfort, pass the hours until morning.”
“Hmm…okay. I’ll tell you one of my favorites.” She inhaled. “Once upon a time, on a Greek island far, far away, a mortal princess named Psyche—which means soul—grew famous for her beauty. Have you heard this one?”
“No.”
“All right. Well, Psyche was kind and generous, and everyone adored her and claimed she was more exquisite than Aphrodite, the goddess of love. Even on her best day, Aphrodite was temperamental, and she grew enraged. She ordered her son Eros, the god of love, to shoot Psyche with a magical arrow and make her fall in love with a revolting monster. But Eros tumbled headlong in love with the princess and couldn’t force himself to carry out his duty.”
She finally relaxed in his embrace, and Dante smiled. “I am all ears.”
Ariana chuckled. “While it’s not nice to fool Mother Nature, it’s deadly to mess with Aphrodite. She cursed Psyche with a spell so no man would find her appealing. Psyche’s worried parents trekked to the Oracle at Delphi, who proclaimed that the princess was destined to belong to an entity who flew through the night like a huge winged serpent. A being so powerful that even Zeus, the king of the gods, could not withstand him.
“Psyche was smart enough to understand she’d annoyed the goddess and courageous enough to protect her family. She accepted the future the Fates had decreed. Her grieving family accompanied her to the top of the mountain where the beast would find her. Psyche couldn’t stop her tears as she hugged her parents and sisters goodbye.
“Alone, she braced herself to die, but instead, a gentle wind lifted her up and rocked her to sleep. She awoke inside a palace. A kind male voice proclaimed her mistress of the mansion. After she’d bathed, gowns and jewels appeared, along with a sumptuous banquet.”
“Va bene. I am beginning to see why you like this story.”
She returned his smile and his pulse skipped a beat. “That night, when darkness enveloped the castle, the man spoke again, and said he was her new husband. Psyche couldn’t picture the compelling voice belonging to a hideous beast. His words were loving and sweet, and he treated her tenderly.
“Unbeknownst to Psyche, Eros had secretly taken her for his bride. Because he feared Aphrodite’s wrath on his beloved, he couldn’t reveal his identity.
“Psyche grew to deeply love her undercover husband. He promised her everything she wanted, except seeing his face. He warned her if that happened, he would be forced to leave. She assured him his appearance didn’t matter, she loved his heart. She pleaded for him to come to her in the daylight, but he sadly refused. He said the day she saw his true form, their happiness would die.”
Dante shifted, and his abused muscles protested. Suddenly, he wasn’t liking this story so much. When Ariana hesitated, he rubbed her back. “Go on.”
“One night, Psyche reminisced about her family. Because Eros was a god, he knew a visit would rain down doom, but surrendered to the aching loneliness in his bride’s voice.
“When Psyche’s sisters arrived and saw the spoils, they jealously taunted her with the rumor that gullible Psyche was married to a dragon who planned to devour
her. They urged her to peek at him while he slept. Psyche resisted, but finally curiosity prevailed, pushed by peer pressure. Was her husband her true love…or an evil monster? After he fell asleep beside her, Psyche lit a lamp. Instead of a deformed beast she saw the glorious beauty of the god of love…and realized he’d been protecting her from the mother-in-law from Hades.
“Overcome by shame, contrition seared her heart. In her shock, her hands trembled and she spilled hot oil onto her lover’s shoulder. Eros startled awake and realized what she had done. He cried out in sorrow, ‘Where there is no trust, there can be no love.’ He fled, and the palace crumbled into dust, leaving Psyche alone and miserable.”
Ariana’s voice softened, and she curled into him. “When Aphrodite learned her son had disobeyed her, she imprisoned him in a high tower. But Psyche refused to give up her one true love. Aphrodite wanted Psyche to suffer. She gave Psyche two impossible tasks with lethal consequences. Psyche was aided in the first by a colony of ants and in the second by the river naiads. What neither Psyche nor Aphrodite realized was that Eros was watching over Psyche from his prison and sending her help.
“When Psyche succeeded, Aphrodite decided to send her son’s bride to hell…literally. Aphrodite commanded her to go to the Queen of the Underworld and capture her beauty in a box. She was warned not to open it.
“A forlorn Psyche thought Eros had abandoned her, and resigned herself to the fact that no human could find their way back from the dark Underworld. But as she descended into Hades, a voice whispered the escape route in her ear. It was Eros, disguising his identity on the secret telepathic channel.”
Dante’s lips quirked as he enjoyed Ariana’s original narration, and he was relieved that she seemed warmer than before.
“Once Psyche returned to the sunlight, she vowed to resume her fight. But time in hell had made her a disheveled mess. If she wanted her man back, she had to look gorgeous. Psyche opened the box to borrow a smidgen of the Underworld Queen’s beauty. But the spells of gods are too powerful for mortals and knocked her out.
