by Day Leclaire
“He’s an investor. Or perhaps I should say, he invests other people’s money. I doubt he risks any of his own.” Pru held up her hand. “And before you ask, I know because I did a little digging.”
Her words had a familiar ring. What had Marco told her at the Cinderella Ball about his job? What I seduce from them is money. As much as they’ll give me. A sick feeling crept into the pit of her stomach. “Oh, no.”
“It gets worse,” Jeb pronounced. “He wasn’t even a guest at this Cinderella Ball Pru told us about. He just happened to be visiting the Beaumonts that particular weekend.”
“Which means he wasn’t investigated like the other guests,” Pru added.
Hanna rallied. “So? He mentioned that to me. At least, he mentioned that he was a friend of the Beaumonts. As far as I’m concerned, that’s a recommendation, not a condemnation.”
“He was there on a sales call, not as a friend,” Pru hammered home. “And seeing you, he took advantage of the perfect opportunity.”
“I thought you said he wasn’t a salesman!”
“Okay, fine. He was there on an investment call, trying to wheedle money out of rich folk. The point is... He didn’t plan to marry until he saw you. He knew who you were and took a chance. And may I add, it was a chance that’s reaped a bountiful harvest.”
“Oh, for—” Hanna planted her hands on her hips. “If he’s all you say, why hasn’t he approached me about making an investment in his company?”
Pru snorted. “Canny devil. He’s trying to get you to fall in love with him first. Feeding you chocolates.”
Janus nodded in agreement. “Bringing you flowers.”
“Kidnapping you so he can have his wicked way with you,” added Josie.
“He’s my husband,” Hanna pointed out gently. “He’s allowed to have his wicked way with me.”
“Oh, yeah?” Jeb exchanged significant glances with his brothers. “If he’s the perfect husband for you, why was he kissing another woman? Explain that if you can.”
Hanna fought for air. “What did you say?”
Pru shot Jeb a quelling glance. “I’m sorry, Hanna girl. I meant to break it to you gently. The boys saw Salvatore.”
“Kissing a woman,” Janus interrupted. “And by the look of things, she wasn’t his sister.”
“Marco doesn’t have a sister,” Hanna retorted automatically. The sick feeling in her stomach expanded, creeping relentlessly toward her heart. “But it couldn’t have been him. You must have been mistaken.”
Pru nodded. “That’s what I thought. So I went to check for myself. Figured these three knuckleheads couldn’t get it straight if a line were painted for them to follow.”
“Hey!”
“But sure enough. I saw them with my own two eyes. Your husband, one well-built blonde and a whole lot of lip action.” Pru sighed. “There wasn’t any mistake, Hanna. I’m sorry.”
The door opened behind them and Marco stepped into the room. His comprehension was instantaneous. “Am I interrupting something?” he asked with a mildness belied by the deadly glitter in his eyes. Their gazes locked, clashing without words.
“Want us to take him out?” Jeb offered. “He might have thrown me once, but I’ll bet if the three of us jump him all together, we can do some serious damage.”
“No, thank you.” What had happened to her voice? Why did it sound so wounded, so grating? After all, she hadn’t really expected her marriage to work, had she? “If you’ll excuse me, I have to talk to my hus—To Marc.”
Marco folded his arms across his chest, waiting with a watchful expression as the four filed past him, no doubt giving him the benefit of more than one acidic look on their way out. “What’s this about, Hanna?”
Not amor mio or carissima or moglie mia. Not even a tenderly said “sweet.” Just plain old Hanna. “I need to ask a few questions.”
“I see. You need to...or is it the boys who need to?”
She lifted her chin and fixed him with a cool gaze. “They brought some information to my attention.”
“And you believe whatever it is they said.” It wasn’t a question.
“They weren’t lying, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Right.” For the first time in the weeks she’d known him, a cynical light chilled the warmth in his brown eyes. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
She steeled herself to deal with whatever the next few minutes revealed. “Did you know who I was before we married?”
“How would I know that?”
She indicated the damning evidence sitting so innocently on her desk. “There’s a story on me in there.”
“Interesting,” he said softly. “I thought I left that particular issue in my briefcase.”
“You did.”
Winter descended, turning his features to ice, as hard and barren and unassailable as a glacier-stripped mountaintop. “Not nice, Hanna. I’d have thought better of you.”
She didn’t bother to correct his assumption. After all, Pru was her secretary, and therefore her actions were Hanna’s responsibility. “Is it true? Did you know who I was?”
“And if I did?”
“Did you marry me so I’d invest in your business? Are you in financial trouble?”
His features went absolutely impassive, every thought and emotion eclipsed by darkness. “You have all the answers. You tell me. Have I been faking my feelings for you these past several weeks?”
No! a faint, desperate voice shrieked. But it was overridden by a louder voice, one filled with so much pain, she couldn’t ignore it. “You were seen kissing another woman. Who is she, Marc? Or does it matter?”
He didn’t move, his stillness absolute. But his rage was so great, it impacted on every sense. She could even smell it, the odor burning like sulphur. “I warned you this day would come.”
“If you’d just explain—”
“Explain!” He took a step toward her, one that had her falling back in dismay. “You had a choice, wife,” he whispered. “You had a choice!”
“You don’t understand. They saw you with her! And they found the magazine in your—”
He sent the glossy journal skittering off the table with a powerful sweep of his hand. “And you believed them.”
Instead of me. The words went unsaid, but echoed so loudly, she flinched. “I want to believe you. Just tell me—”
“No. Either you trust me or you don’t.”
The silence blanketing the office was so absolute it seemed to suck the very air from the room.
He retreated, withdrew physically and emotionally, leaving her totally alone. “Swim, little princess,” he advised, his lyrical accent building with each word. “Hug your feathers close and swim for all you’re worth. Because even with wings, you’re not going to fly. Not when fear keeps you earthbound.”
With that, he turned and walked to the door. “Marco, wait!” Cold was seeping into her veins, stealing the warmth she’d known for too brief a time. “Where are you going? What are you doing?”
He didn’t turn around. “I’m going to make sure your worst fear comes true,” he explained very, very gently. “I’m going to leave you.”
He walked out of her office without another word and Hanna realized that what she’d experienced at the tender age of three was nothing compared to this. All those years ago she’d been left to find love. But this time the love she’d found had left her.
Her knees failed and the tidy, colorless rug she’d chosen with such care rose up to catch her.
“It didn’t work,” Marc retorted in a rare burst of fury. “Can we leave it at that?”
Luc shook his head. “I’m not sure we can. At least, not until you explain what happened.”
“You sent Stefano after me because of this damned board meeting. That’s what happened. I came. End of story.”
“Without your wife and snapping like a rabid dog at everyone who comes within ten feet of you and basically acting like a total cafone.”
Marc
’s jaw jutted out. “Yes ”
“Uh-huh.” Luc stared at his brother, perplexed. “Stef said some overgrown giant tried to take his head off while he was in Hidden Harbor. What was that about?”
“Next time tell him to keep his hands off the local women.”
Luc started to say something, then stopped, his eyes narrowing. Comprehension swiftly followed. “Aw, hell. They thought he was you. Cretino! Didn’t you explain? Didn’t you introduce Stefano to them?”
Marc glared, refusing to answer.
“Never mind,” Luc said with a sigh. “I can see you didn’t. I assume there was a case of mistaken identity?”
“You might say that.”
“And your sweet wife, in true wifely fashion, stripped a layer or two off your hide.”
“She’s a redhead,” Marc acknowledged with a shrug, as though that explained everything. “And it wasn’t just the other woman. She thought I married her for financial gain, as well.”
“She thought you needed her money?” Luc held up a hand, fighting to stifle his laughter. “No, let me guess. You didn’t tell her who you were any more than you explained about Stef. Why didn’t you show her that article on the Salvatores? The one in last month’s business journal?”
“She has the magazine! If she’d bothered to read further than the spread they did on her little town, she’d have seen the article for herself.” Marc paced the room, his restless movements too much even for the generous proportions of Luc’s office. “Did she think so little of our marriage? Of the vows we made to each other? Salvatores only marry for love. What further proof does she need than that?”
“I don’t suppose you bothered to mention that part of our family tradition?” Luc grimaced. “No, never mind. She wouldn’t have believed you any more than Grace believed me.”
“I shouldn’t have to tell her! How could she think I’d touch another woman after being with her?”
“I don’t know...” Luc said with more than a touch of irony. “Maybe because you have a twin brother intent on seducing anything remotely resembling the opposite sex, a brother who happens to be a dead ringer for you. A brother you, no doubt, conveniently failed to mention.”
Marc folded his arms across his chest, refusing to consider he was being the least mule-headed. “What’s your point?”
The furious stream of Italian that followed was offered in a scathing tone of voice and punctuated with more than a few curses. Marc sighed, ignoring his brother’s outburst.
Ah, little swan princess. We came so close to breaking the spell. If only you could have trusted me. If only you could have allowed love into your life.
“Marco? Are you even listening to me?”
“Let it alone, Luc,” he said wearily. “Sometimes love isn’t enough.”
“You’re giving up? Just like that? You questioned Hanna’s attitude toward her wedding vows... Do they mean so little to you that you won’t fight to make your marriage work?”
How odd that pain could be so unbelievably intense, and yet he could still speak. “You don’t understand. If I force her, she’ll never learn to fly on her own. And unless she’s brave enough to escape the lake, she can’t break the spell.”
Luc thrust his hands through his hair. “I get it now. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before. She’s not the one who’s crazy. You are.”
Marc nodded morosely. “Yes, I’m afraid you’re right. My wife isn’t crazy, she just can’t shed her feathers, poor little swan. I’m the insane one.” Insanely, helplessly, passionately in love with the sweetest swan princess ever to be enchanted. “What are you doing?” Pru demanded. “Where are you going?”
Hanna confronted her secretary, the light of battle glittering in her eyes. “I’m going to find my husband.”
“For that you need three suitcases?”
“I needed three for all my stuff. At least, all the stuff I’ll need.”
Pru stared in dismay. “You’re not coming back, are you?”
“Not without Marco. And not unless it’s what he wants, too. After his welcome here, I suspect that’s highly doubtful.”
“But, the money. The other woman—”
“I didn’t give a damn about the money. As for the other woman...” Memories swirled like feathers on a breeze. Beautiful, soul-stirring memories. Her jaw set. “There’s got to be an explanation. He loves me. He’d never betray that love. Not Marco.”
“But you’re going to get that explanation, right? Before you go back to him?”
“No.”
Pru’s mouth dropped open. “No? What do you mean no? Have you lost your mind?”
There will come a day when you’ll be forced to make a choice between your head and your heart, Marco had warned, once upon a time. Your head will tell you to doubt. To run. And that’s when you’ll face an irrevocable decision. You’ll have to trust. When everyone and everything around you is screaming for you to doubt, you’ll have to take that leap of faith. Make the wrong choice and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.
Well she’d faced that choice and failed miserably. She wouldn’t fail again. “I have no idea who you saw, but it wasn’t Marco.” Not after what they’d shared. It couldn’t have been. Her lips trembled. Why hadn’t she realized that from the start?
“I’m telling you, it was,” Pru protested. “I saw him with my own two eyes.”
“No.” And that said everything. Hanna scrutinized her suitcases. “You know what? I don’t need any of this stuff.”
“But—”
“Have a good Thanksgiving, Pru. Thanks for what you’ve done.” Picking up her purse, she looked around for a final time. “Give everyone my love, will you?”
Her secretary hesitated for a minute before surrendering to the inevitable. “Okay, Hanna girl. If that’s how you feel, you have my support. But I suspect the boys aren’t going to be happy about this.”
“Actually, we will,” Josie interrupted. “If this is what Hanna really wants.”
She spun around. Her three “boys” were lined up by the stairwell. She gave them a misty smile. “It’s what I want. He’s what I want.”
Jeb opened his arms. “Then give us a hug goodbye.”
She flew into his embrace. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.”
“No. We thank you. We know if it weren’t for you—” He swallowed. “We can never repay all you’ve done for our family. Thank you, Mother-Signora Salvatore. Have a good life.”
“I—”
Jeb shook his head, stopping the emotional words before they could be uttered. “There’s nothing more to say, Hanna. We have a car waiting downstairs to take you to the airport.”
“If you hadn’t decided to go, we were going to make you,” Janus added.
Josie grinned. “There’s even an escort. I think half the town turned out to see you off.”
“They...they knew I’d leave?”
“They knew. And every last one is cheering you on.”
It was all she needed to hear. She left the reception area without a backward glance. Marco! she thought, breaking into a trot. Fear blossomed, but a far different kind than the one she’d lived with for so many years. It was a desperate fear that she’d waited too long, left her decision until too late. The trot became a dash, the dash a sprint, the sprint a flat-out run. Her hair tumbled down her back, the color a flag of burning determination. She ran, ran as swiftly as she could. Racing faster and faster and faster....
And then she flew, unstoppable, soaring high and free, winging steadfastly toward her heart’s desire.
“Excuse me, Madam. But you can’t go in there! Mr. Salvatore is in a meeting and can’t be interrupted.”
“Watch me!” came a determined voice. It was a sweet, warm, familiar voice, one that had haunted Marc’s dreams from the moment he’d first heard it. A voice that gave him such joy, it threatened to totally unman him, despite his family’s presence.
An instant later, the door slammed open and t
he woman who held his heart in her tender care stepped across the threshold. He wasn’t in her line of sight, since he’d abandoned the conference table to pour himself a drink. But he could see her and what he saw brought a broad smile to his mouth.
She halted inside the doorway, straight and determined, her stance daring anyone to interfere with her goal. Her hair poured down her back in loose, fiery curls that quivered with vitality. Gone were the dark, protective dresses that she’d used to conceal the inner woman. Instead, she stood before the Salvatores in shimmering gold, a color he didn’t doubt echoed the distinctive blaze in her hazel eyes.
He knew then that his swan princess had been transformed.
Her glance swept those seated at the conference table, keying in on Stefano. “Dammit, Marco, we have to talk,” she announced, stalking toward him.
She’d only taken three steps before flinching back. If she’d been a creature of the wild, he’d have seen the hackles rise at the nape of her neck. As it was, she froze, every muscle tensed in an instinctive fight-or-flight reflex.
“You’re not Marco,” she stated with absolute certainty.
Luc inclined his head, clearly impressed. “No, he’s not, Miss—” He regarded her questioningly.
“Salvatore. Mrs. Salvatore. Now where’s my husband?”
“Right here.”
Hanna spun around, her breath hitching. She took a quick step in his direction before hesitating, no doubt uncertain about her reception. “Let me warn you. I’ve been taking a crash course in Italian.”
A laugh broke from him. No wonder he loved her. “Anticipating a fight?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Is there any doubt?”
“None.” He regarded her with mock innocence. “Here for a visit?”
“No. I’m here to stay.” Her chin inched upward. “And to prove it, I brought you something.”
“And what would that be?”
She opened her purse and removed the mask she’d worn to the Cinderella Ball. It was rather the worse for wear. The feathers were crushed, the stems snapped so they drooped pathetically. “No more hiding.” She ripped the mask in half, feathers erupting into the air. She flung the tattered ruins at his feet. “I trust you, Marco. I should have stood up for you when Pru and the boys made their accusations.”
