by Kira Ward
Emma liked the spark that came into his eyes when he talked about his mother. There was genuine affection there. That was what a parent-child relationship should be like.
He touched her just below her chin, a gentle scrap of his finger against her skin. And then his finger drifted downward, touching the spots where the bruises were all but gone. The spark turned into something different, a deep sadness that made her heart ache despite everything. She wrapped her hand around his wrist, drawing his fingers closer to her, anticipating the feel of his lips on hers. But then the car stopped.
“We’re here, Mr. Caito.”
Emma’s door was wrenched open and a tall, well-dressed gentleman held a hand to her with the intention of helping her out of the SUV. A glance at Dante told her it was okay and she accepted, stepping down onto crushed rock that formed the driveway of a huge, impressive Victorian-style house. Emma couldn’t take her eyes from it, all the balconies and the stone façade and the widow’s walk that spanned a large section of the roof. It was like something out of an old movie.
Dante moved up behind her and slid an arm around her waist.
“Welcome to Casa Di Lusso.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“You haven’t even seen the inside yet.”
“I don’t think I need to. I could stand here and look at this all day.”
Dante tugged at her waist, pulling her a little closer to him. But he didn’t say anything, he just drew her close and led the way up the marble steps.
The outside was breathtaking. The inside was mind blowing. The marble steps led into a huge entry way—so huge, she could probably set her entire apartment inside of it and have room for more—an impressive staircase set off to the left, a wide hallway leading off to the right, and a bright, inviting room straight ahead. Dante walked ahead of her, crossing a gorgeous dark wood floor to open French doors at the back of the room that looked out on an impressive garden that led to a cliff that looked down onto the Atlantic. The view was more than impressive. It was the most dangerous and exciting thing she’d ever seen.
“Do you like?” he asked as he followed her out onto the stone patio, moving so close that she could feel the heat of his body through the thin material of her sweater.
“It’s so close.”
“It’s actually more than half a mile away, but it looks close because of the way the garden slopes downward.” He slid his hand around her waist, drawing her back against him as though he was trying to protect her from the cliff. “There have never been any accidents here, at least, not since I’ve owned the property. So you are perfectly safe as long as you stay away from the edge.”
“You own this?”
“I do.”
She turned, her eyes moving over the beautiful architecture that extended to this side of the building as well. “You weren’t lying when you said you could buy anything you wanted.”
“Almost anything.”
He touched her face again, his fingers playing over her jaw bone. She thought he was going to kiss her—again, she thought he would—but then he stepped back and gestured toward the doors.
“I’ll show you to your room.”
Emma stole one more glance at the cliff before she walked back inside. He made wide gestures, telling her which way to go if she wanted to find the kitchen and which way she should head if she wanted the library or the game room—whatever that was. And then they were climbing the stairs, his long legs forcing her to rush to keep up. There were three stories, he explained, with most of the guest rooms on the third floor. However, he’d arranged for her to have one of two guest rooms on the second floor.
“If you need anything, Rainy will be in that room,” he said, gesturing directly across the hall, “and I will be here.” He gestured with a soft tilt of his head, indicating the double doors that led to the master bedroom. “Or you can use the intercom to call one of the maids.”
“You have maids?”
“And three butlers, four gardeners, two chauffeurs, and a housekeeper who oversees them all.” He picked up a strand of her hair and pressed it back behind her ear. “I am a man of means, Emma. I do not apologize for that fact.”
“I wasn’t going to ask you to.”
He rested his hand on her shoulder for a minute, his eyes softening as he studied her. Then he cleared his throat and stepped back.
“Dinner is at eight. I’d like for you to come down a half hour before that so that you can meet our guests before we begin.”
Emma nodded, her thoughts already moving to the minimal wardrobe she’d brought along. She had two dresses, only one of which was appropriate to a formal dinner. She found herself hoping that it didn’t get too wrinkled after she stuffed it into the bottom of her duffle bag.
Dante studied her for a second longer, then he turned and walked away, taking the steps two at a time like he couldn’t wait to get away from her. First it would seem like he wanted to kiss her, then he’d run away. The man was throwing out some confusing signals. Not that she wanted him to kiss her. The last thing she needed was the complication of getting involved with him in any way. She’d learned her lesson. She wanted this over as quickly as possible.
She opened the door to her room, awed by the four poster bed that was the focal point of the room. It was all carved wood with a sheer canopy that wrapped around each of the posts. It was covered in a white down comforter that looked like a sea of cotton, just begging to embrace her tired body. The rest of the furniture paled in comparison, and that was saying a lot since there was a Victorian style couch sitting in a welcoming corner of the room with an old fashioned rocking chair and heavy wood tables placed strategically for a lounging vacationer to enjoy.
Emma was so caught up in the sight of that bed that she almost missed the dress hanging on a hook on the closet door. When she finally noticed it, she was nearly pushed to tears. It was red, a bright, cherry red that would bring out the red in Emma’s hair without making it look copper. It had a square neckline with sheer sleeves and an empire waist with soft pleats in the skirt. It looked like something Sophie might admire in one of her fashion magazines. Emma was afraid to even touch the material, afraid that she would stain it or otherwise make it less than it was.
So beautiful.
She was afraid to touch it, but she was dying to see what she looked like in it.
Chapter 5
Emma’s hands were shaking as she stepped carefully in unfamiliar shoes down the wide steps of Dante’s staircase. She could hear voices in the sitting room. It sounded like more than the ten or so she’d been expecting. Just as she stepped onto the slick marble of the entryway floor, her shoe decided it no longer wanted to make any attempts at finding some sort of traction. A strong hand grabbed her just under her upper arm as she started to fly forward, stopping her momentum.
“Thank you,” she said, more than grateful not to hit the floor with her nose in front of all of Dante’s guests.
“No problem,” a deep voice responded.
Emma turned and was immediately horrified to discover that her hero was none other than Drake Foster. He was quite recognizable; she’d know him just about anywhere. His picture was on a dozen tabloids just last month after he was caught cheating on his girlfriend. But again, she’d seen his picture just as often on the covers of a dozen financial magazines and on her RSS news feeds. Between he and his father, there wasn’t a single person in America who wouldn’t recognize one or both of them with all the press coverage their business afforded them.
“I’m sorry,” she said, stepping back in an attempt to put a few inches between them. He was still holding her arm and it was at an angle that caused them to stand practically nose to chest. “These are new shoes.”
“Oh, I understand completely. My girlfriend won’t make a move in public without holding my hand for fear of falling because of her shoes.”
“You’re quite the gentleman to offer your help.”
“It’s the least I can do with al
l she had to put up from me.”
Emma smiled, her pre-formed opinion of Drake shifting. “It sounds to me like she’s a lucky girl.”
“From your lips to her ears.”
“Is she here?”
Drake shook his head. “She had a prior engagement. I almost didn’t come myself, but Dante can be very persuasive when he wants to be.”
“Yes, he certainly can be.”
“You know Dante?”
“You could say that…”
Emma wasn’t sure how to explain her relationship with Dante. He wasn’t her friend, not even an acquaintance, really. He was the guy who was trying to ruin her life. But she couldn’t exactly say that to Drake, not when the future of Dante’s project rested in their hands.
She took a step back, suddenly remembering where she was and why she was there. Drake still held her arm, which was good since she stumbled, nearly tangling her feet and falling a second time.
“Careful,” he said.
Emma laughed. “I’m suddenly incredibly clumsy. Maybe I should have stuck to shoes with a lower heel.”
“But then you wouldn’t have that graceful turn to your ankle.” Drake moved closer to her, a soft smile that touched his blue eyes, making her belly suddenly feel warm. “The danger is worth the beauty, is it not?”
Emma looked down at her feet, turning one ankle to admire the way the shoe did seem to make them appear a little more graceful. But then another pair of shoes came into her peripheral vision and tension sliced straight up her spine, forcing her to take a more rigid stance.
“Drake. Late as usual.”
“Hello, Dante.” Drake offered a hand that Emma initially thought Dante was going to ignore. But he took it, his eyes falling pointedly to the hand with which Drake was still clutching Emma’s upper arm.
“The shoes are slick,” Emma said quickly, her words tumbling out on top of each other. “I nearly fell stepping off the stairs.”
“I’m sure the danger has passed.”
“I’m not so sure,” Drake said with a crooked grin. “She’s quite clumsy, this one.”
Dante slid his arm around Emma’s waist, drawing her close to his side so that Drake was forced to let go of her.
“I think I can handle it from here,” he said.
Drake looked from Dante to Emma, his eyes lingering on her for a second before he nodded. “Of course. I think I’ll go get a drink.”
He was gone before the words were completely out of his mouth. Emma smacked Dante on the shoulder as she stepped out of his partial embrace.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make him feel like a fool for helping me. He was quite nice.”
“He’s always quite nice when he sees something he likes.”
Emma blushed at the implication. “He was just being helpful. He doesn’t like me.”
“Why do you do that?” Dante asked, grabbing her waist and drawing her back toward him even as she attempted to make her way into a room full of strangers she was not eager to meet on her own. “Why do you deny the power you have over men?”
“I don’t have a power over men.”
“Oh, trust me,” he said, his lips suddenly against the tender skin behind her left ear. “You have incredible power.”
She stepped forward, but he just drew her back, pulling her tight against his chest. And she let him. For a long moment, she let him cradle her against him, let him press his hips into the small of her back, let him nuzzle his lips against the back of her neck. It felt nice, the strength of his arms protecting her from the world. She’d never felt that sort of security before. Too bad it was a false sense.
“Shouldn’t we get in there?”
Dante groaned, but he slowly, reluctantly, let her go. A shiver ran down her spine as sense of loss settled over her. But then he took her hand and led her inside, keeping her close to his side as he introduced her to the business elite he spent every day of his life rubbing shoulders with. It was just as intimidating as she had imagined it would be. But he never left her side and never let her wander more than a step or two from his.
Dinner was served a little late, the butler calling them in nearly forty minutes after Emma came downstairs. There were proper place cards telling everyone where they were to sit. Dante was at the head of the table with Rainy on his left and Watson Dunne on his right. She was sitting further down the table, between Ronald, a vice president of something at DJC, and Drake.
“So we meet again,” Drake said with a slight bow as he took his seat.
“Wonderful. I was worried I might fall out of this chair.”
“If you do, I’ll catch you.”
His smile was infectious. And his charm even more so. They spent the salad course discussing a recent movie release that neither of them could quite understand. Did the world really need another slasher movie remake? But, again, the blood and gore would likely be much more realistic thanks to computer generated images. Drake didn’t see how that made much of a difference, and she had to agree with him.
“Then we won’t go see it in the theaters.”
“But that leaves video rentals,” he said. “We have to make a pact we won’t do that either.”
“I can promise I won’t. I don’t rent rated R movies, not since my sister talked me into renting Forgetting Sarah Marshall and we had to turn it off after the first five minutes because of the nudity.”
Drake nodded in total agreement. “I saw that. I nearly turned it off, too.”
“Who puts that much nudity, completely out of context, at the beginning of a movie?”
“Especially male nudity.”
“Oh, I don’t mind that it was the male character. It’s refreshing to see more than boobs, but in the first five minutes?”
“You liked that, huh? I’ll have to warn Dante that you’re something of an aberration.”
“I think Dante already knows.”
Drake glanced down the table to where Dante seemed to be deeply engaged in conversation with Watson Dunne. But even as he was saying something seemingly important, Dante’s eyes moved over Emma with a disapproval she could feel even a yard away.
“How long have you and Dante been seeing each other?”
“We’re not,” Emma stuttered, nearly choking on her last bite of the amazing chef’s salad. “Honestly, we hardly know each other.”
“It doesn’t seem that way. He seems very involved.”
“No.” Emma set her fork down and nearly jumped when a waiter reached over her shoulder to pick up the plate. “He only wants me here because I owe him something.”
“What could you possibly owe a man like Dante Caito?”
Emma bit her lip, again not quite sure how to describe her relationship with Dante. “It’s complicated,” she finally said, her eyes shifting from Drake to Dante. “He’s complicated.”
“So are you, my love,” Drake said. “But that’s what makes you interesting.”
***
Dinner ended with an amazing chocolate mousse that Emma wanted to take a bath in. Drake was quiet, had been since Dante entered their conversation, clearly lost in thought. She didn’t push him, indulging in some small talk with Ronald instead. As soon as the last of the dishes were cleared, Rainy stood and instructed everyone to return to the sitting room for coffee and brandy.
Emma stood slowly, careful to keep her shoes firmly underneath her so that they wouldn’t slide again. Drake touched her arm, another of those smiles shining on her.
“You got it?”
She nodded. “Thanks.”
His smile widened as he turned and headed into the sitting room with Ronald, quickly jumping into some conversation about some smartphone app she’d never heard of.
“Enjoying yourself?” Dante asked, always sneaking up behind her without warning.
“I am, actually. Your cook is pretty amazing.”
“I’m sure the dinner conversation was, too.”
�
��Not as bad as I expected.”
“He has a girlfriend, you know.”
Emma glanced back at Dante. “I know. I think the whole world knows.”
“You shouldn’t get your hopes up. A man like that, he wouldn’t treat you very well once he got bored with the chase.”
“You think I’m hunting for some rich boyfriend?”
Emma turned, a little too quickly for all the wine she’d had with her dinner. She caught her foot on her ankle and pitched forward, right into Dante’s arms. He caught her, his hands rough on her upper arms. They were so close for that long minute—too close—and all Emma could think was that he smelled like a walk in the woods.
“I think you should be careful. You’re further out of your element than you think you are.”
Emma wasn’t even sure what he was talking about for a second. When her mind caught up, she stepped back, jerking her arms free of his touch.
“I can handle myself.”
“That’s the problem. You don’t know how to back down and you never ask for help.”
“Funny, the pot calling the kettle black. I don’t see you backing down, either.”
Anger flashed in Dante’s eyes. He slid his hand around Emma’s neck, jerking her forward with a move that was startling after his almost gentle touch. He stared down at her, the tip of his nose less than a hair from hers.
“You have no idea the game you’re playing here. And you’re going to get hurt.”
“I’ve already lost just about everything I have. I don’t think I have much left to lose.”
“Oh, but you do. We both do.”
And then he kissed her, a rough, passionate kiss that made her bones turn to jelly. She buried her fingers in the front of his dress shirt, pulling him closer as she responded to both his kiss and his closeness. She could tell herself it was the wine, but she knew what it really was. She knew it was his touch that drove her wild and made her want what she should be running from. Like the cliff outside the back garden, he was a danger that both frightened and excited her.
