by Trish Morey; Day Leclaire; Natalie Anderson; Brenda Jackson; Ann Voss Peterson
‘You brought them down, and you grounded me and brought me back to life, just as you have given life to our child. So believe me when I tell you, I want to be with you for ever. I want you to be my wife. I love you, Angelina, and one day I hope you can find a way to love me too, after all that I have put you through.’
She looked up at him, blinking through misty eyes.
‘I do love you, Dominic. It’s been so hard these past few months, loving you.’ And the tears came then—tears of joy. Tears of relief. Tears of love.
He sat next to her on the bed and cradled her head in his arm, one hand behind his baby’s head. ‘Then you’ll marry me.’
She sniffed and nodded and cried some more and now she looked a complete and utter mess and still she could not stop herself, she was so deliriously happy. And as if he sensed her fears, he kissed her eyes, kissed away her tears. He took the sleeping infant from her arms and placed her back in her crib and reached down for the package he’d brought with him.
‘I didn’t think to get a ring,’ he said apologetically. ‘But I’d like you to have this.’ He handed her the parcel, wrapped in simple gold tissue paper, tied with a red ribbon.
She looked at it and then up to him, the question in her eyes. ‘Open it,’ he prompted, suddenly nervous.
Paper crinkled and tore even though she took care as she unrolled the gift. And then she gasped, lifting the carving free from the wrapping in her hands, turning it one way and then the other. The woman stood, one leg bent, her head angled down, her face looking down as her hands cradled the baby within her belly. She was long-limbed and slim with hair that floated in layers down to her naked breasts. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, awed by the work of art, awed even more by the mystery surrounding it. ‘But it’s me! Wherever did you find it?’
‘Do you remember, a long time ago, you once told me I didn’t actually make anything?’
‘No, Dominic!’ One hand went to her mouth. ‘I was wrong—so wrong. I was looking for reasons not to like you. I was clutching at straws.’
He pulled her hand away, shaking his head. ‘You were right. I was so busy making money, I’d forgotten how to actually make things. Real things. My poppa once taught me to carve. You inspired me to pick up those tools—’
‘Hardly inspired!’
He gave a wry smile. ‘Okay, so you goaded me into picking up his tools. And it was harder than I remembered—much harder, and nothing worked. But one night I saw you coming out of the pool and standing there, wringing out your hair, your belly ripening with my child, and I knew I had to capture you. You brought me home, Angelina. You made me realise what was real again.’
Moisture made her lashes thick and heavy. ‘It’s beautiful, Dominic, just beautiful.’
‘You’re beautiful, Angelina. You will always be beautiful to me. Do you like it?’
‘Like it? I love it.’ And she looked up at him. ‘Nearly as much as I love you.’
And he dipped his head to kiss her. ‘Hold that thought.’
EPILOGUE
ANGELA CARLA PIRELLI, or AC-DC as she’d become fondly known, a reference to both her first two initials and to her high octane energy levels, attended her first wedding aged six and a half months.
According to her, this party was all about her, and given the way she was passed from guest to guest, made to chuckle endlessly with tickles and funny faces and peekaboo, and generally clucked, oohed and aahed over, it was no wonder she assumed she was the star of the show.
Dominic knew differently.
He loved his tiny daughter immensely. Would gladly give his life for her.
But in his eyes, there was only one star on this day of days and his eyes drank in the vision of her as she approached, everyone in between wanting to congratulate her after their wedding in the gazebo, everyone wanting to compliment her on the way she looked. He could understand why. In that Grecian-inspired gown falling in folds around her perfect body and with her hair pinned up in sections leaving coiling trails around her face and throat, she looked like a goddess. Already he could feel another stint in the garage coming on.
Mind you, the next one would take a while. He didn’t intend spending too much time down there at night in the foreseeable future.
Dominic was momentarily distracted as he heard his daughter’s chuckling laugh ringing out in delight. Rosa had her on her hip, he saw, bouncing her up and down in time to the music.
‘I do believe that daughter of yours is going to be a handful in a few years’ time.’
He turned to her as his new wife slipped a slender arm through his and he almost wanted to growl with pleasure that she was his. ‘So now she’s my daughter,’ he said, raising a questioning brow. ‘I thought we were equals in this role.’
‘Most of the time,’ she said as he handed her a glass of champagne from a passing tray.
‘Oh, and what’s that supposed to mean?’
And Angie just smiled as Rosa passed the child to the man alongside her, who clearly hadn’t expected an infant to land in his arms. For a second he looked shocked, as if he didn’t know what to do with her, but then she batted her dark eyes at him and smiled a baby-toothed smile and he warmed to her, suddenly laughing and jigging her up and down, her squeals of delight ringing out.
‘There you go,’ she said, ‘exactly my point. Unexpected woman meets unwelcoming man, falls in love with him and wins his heart. That is definitely my daughter out there.’
He smiled, pulling her close to him. ‘What do you think a son of ours would be like?’
‘Dangerous,’ she said without thinking. ‘A heart stopper. Likes fast cars and sleek women and knows how to use them both.’
‘Ouch, I think.’
‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘It’s not all bad. Because he’s a keeper, this son of ours. And some lucky girl will get to keep him for ever.’
He pulled her into his embrace, wanting more than anything for her to open the tiny half-joking wedding gift he’d left under her pillow, the lace-edged pinny he was hanging out for her to wear so they could go to work on that upcoming son, forgetting for a moment his child and the crowd and the music and lights all around them. ‘Will you keep me for ever, Mrs Pirelli?’
And she gazed up into his dark-as-night eyes. ‘Only if they won’t let me keep you longer. I love you, Dominic, for ever.’
And as he kissed his brand-new wife, the mother of his child, he knew forever would never be long enough.
DANTE’S HONOUR-BOUND HUSBAND
Day Leclaire
About the Author
DAY LECLAIRE USA TODAY bestselling author Day Leclaire is described by Harlequin Books as “one of our most popular writers ever!” Day’s tremendous worldwide popularity has made her a member of Harlequin’s “Five Star Club,” with sales of well over five million books. She is a three-time winner of both a Colorado Award of Excellence and a Golden Quill Award. She’s won RT Book Reviews Career Achievement and Love and Laughter Awards, a Holt Medallion and a Booksellers’ Best Award. She has also received an impressive ten nominations for the prestigious Romance Writers of America’s RITA® Award.
Day’s romances touch the heart and make you care about her characters as much as she does. In Day’s own words, “I adore writing romances, and can’t think of a better way to spend each day.” For more information, visit Day on her website, www.dayleclaire.com.
Dear Reader,
It has been such a pleasure to write about the Dante family romances, to see each member succumb to The Inferno, that all-consuming blaze of heat and electricity that a Dante experiences when he or she first touches their soul mate. Now it’s Gianna’s turn, and she has an even more difficult path to happily-ever-after than any of her brothers or cousins.
You may remember meeting the hero, Constantine Romano, in Dante’s Contract Marriage, where Lazz Dante and Ariana Romano met for the first time while exchanging their wedding vows. Constantine is Ariana’s brother, and apparently that infamous wedding day saw
more than one Romano Infernoed!
But Constantine Romano isn’t a man easily manipulated, not even by The Inferno. He is a man who makes his own decisions in life and controls his own destiny. And he isn’t happy to discover that control taken away from him by either The Inferno or the woman on the other side of that first, electric touch—Gianna Dante.
I hope you enjoy discovering how Gianna’s love story plays out. But stay tuned. Although this is the final book in the current quartet, it may not be the final tale in THE DANTE LEGACY. Read on to discover why!
Warmly,
Day Leclaire
To Mary-Theresa Hussey.
An absolutely brilliant editor.
A kind and generous person.
As always, it’s been such a delight working with you.
Thank you for making my books more.
Prologue
“Don’t go.”
Constantine Romano closed his eyes and fought for control. “I have no choice.” His integrity, his honor as a Romano, everything that made him a man demanded he leave.
“Then let me go with you.” Gianna Dante lifted her gaze to his, her striking jade-green eyes bright with tears, her hair a glorious tumble of autumn-gold and brown. “I can help you.”
Her plea pushed him to the limit of his self-control, where he teetered between honor and caving to the intensity of his need to make her his. He fought to resist and couldn’t, not entirely. He cupped her face and snatched a kiss. Took another, then sank in. God, she was amazing. Stunning. Intelligent. Graceful. Possessing a femininity that left him desperate with longing.
They’d met when his sister, Ariana, had married Gianna’s cousin, Lazz. The moment he’d taken her hand in his, he’d been hit by an overwhelming flame of desire. A physical flash and burn that had shocked him to the core with its all-encompassing depth and strength and power. In that instant, every other thought and emotion had ceased to exist except for a cascade of urgent directives….
Take her.
Make her his.
Put his stamp on her in every and any way possible.
“I want you to come with me, even though I don’t understand any of this,” he admitted. Didn’t understand how he could want so fast and so deeply. How a single weekend with her could make him so certain that she was the only one for him. “How is it possible that in just a few short days I know that you’re the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with?”
Her gaze dropped and for a split second she looked almost guilty. Though what she had to feel guilty about, he couldn’t imagine. It wasn’t her fault that he’d been overwhelmed with this desperate need to possess her. More than anything he wanted to take her to his bed, but he knew, even without her telling him, that she’d never been with a man before. And if he couldn’t put his ring on her finger, he refused to dishonor either of them—or their families—by making love to her. Not until he could afford to offer marriage.
“I didn’t expect to feel such intense desire, either,” she confessed. Her gaze flitted upward, filled with heartbreak. “Please, Constantine. I don’t want you to leave.”
He tugged her closer and allowed their bodies to collide and meld once again. “I don’t want to leave, either, piccola. But until I have something more to offer than my name, I must return home to Italy.”
“For how long?”
A good question. Too bad it was one he couldn’t answer. “Until I get my restoration business up and running. Until I can afford a wife and have the means to support her.” He stopped her when she would have argued, stopped her in the most delicious way possible. “Don’t, Gianna. Don’t ask me to compromise my values. I’ll return as soon as I can. And when I do, I’ll be in the position to offer you marriage. To put my ring on your finger. This I swear on my family name.”
He could see endless arguments building, arguments she controlled and suppressed, impressing the hell out of him. “I’ll wait. You know I’ll wait. And in the meantime, we can talk on the phone.” Her chin quivered, but she used a considerable amount of will to steady it. “And there’s always email. I’ll fly over as often as I can. Maybe you can visit during holidays.”
Every word she uttered made it more and more difficult. Nearly impossible. He gathered her hands in his. “Listen to me, Gianna… In order to get back to you as soon as possible, I must focus on work. Every minute of every day. It’s the only way to make it happen quickly.”
A frown formed between her brows. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that you’re a distraction. I’m saying if you’re with me or come to visit or if we are constantly calling one another or emailing, I won’t be able to give my full attention to my business. It’s at a critical point right now. The only way I can return to you in the least amount of time is if I give one hundred percent of my time and attention to Romano Restoration.”
Her breath hitched. “Oh, no. Constantine, you can’t mean it. No phone calls? Not even emails?”
She was killing him by inches. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t cave while everything within him insisted he do just that. “Please understand, amore. Please trust me.”
A tear escaped, but she swept it away. Determination filled her expression. “Okay, Constantine, we’ll do this your way. For now.” Her eyes glittered with emotion. “But you come back. Soon,” she ordered fiercely.
“As soon as I can,” he promised.
And then he left her. He forced himself not to look back, even though it was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done. With every step he took, he felt that odd connection that joined them. Felt it compelling him to return to her arms, urging him to take what was his. He’d never experienced anything like it. Oh, he’d return to her. He had no choice. But it would be on his terms.
Soon. Dear God, just let it be soon.
Gianna watched Constantine walk away until the tears blurring her eyes made it impossible to see any longer. Should she have told him? Had she made a mistake not explaining about The Inferno—the family “blessing” that sparked between a man and a woman whenever a Dante first touched his or her soul mate? Perhaps. As for keeping it a secret… Well, she had her reasons, not that he’d appreciate them once he discovered the truth behind their odd connection.
She closed her eyes, accepting the hand fate had dealt her. The Inferno had struck almost all of her other Dante relatives…all of her male Dante relatives the first time they met the women who were their soul mates. As the lone female Dante, no one knew whether it was even possible for her to experience The Inferno. She’d learned the answer to that question when she and Constantine first touched. She could and she did. Unfortunately the secret she’d learned about The Inferno hadn’t altered that basic fact.
But she’d been afraid to explain the Dantes’ odd…condition…to Constantine. In the short time she’d known him, she’d realized he was a man who preferred to govern his own destiny, to control his world and those in it. Once he discovered that The Inferno drove the desire and passion he felt, would he be compelled to fight it? They’d had too little time together to know for certain. Until she could be sure, it would remain her little secret.
Now all she could do was wait for Constantine’s return. Wait and see if The Inferno was real…or an illusion. If her family had been correct in their beliefs about it…or if the secret she’d uncovered all those years ago was the real truth. Only time would tell.
Soon. Dear God, just let it be soon.
One
He’d returned.
Constantine Romano entered the room as though he owned the place. But then, he possessed the sort of presence bred into the very essence of the man. The sort of presence that went with his aristocratic name and stunning bone structure and taut, muscular body. He wore his hair longer than before, the ebony curls and fierce black eyes summoning images of dangerous pirates and ferocious duels of honor. Beneath that elegant exterior smoldered a man of action, who would risk everything, dare all and take whatever he wante
d.
And he wanted her.
Gianna Dante shuddered, struggling to gather up her self-control. She’d have to face him and soon. Since their first meeting, over a year and a half ago, a lot had changed. Though she now doubted Constantine had experienced The Inferno during that unforgettable weekend they’d shared, The Inferno had given him an uncanny knack for sensing her presence. That much she remembered. Any second he’d hone in on her and she’d darn well better be prepared.
“Gianna? Would you care to check the display?”
It took her a moment to switch gears and focus on work. Tomorrow marked Dantes’ Midsummer Night’s gala and a million details remained, each requiring her immediate attention. As Dantes’ event coordinator, she took care of everything from the catering to the decorations to the displays to the invitations. Fortunately she had an excellent assistant who was every bit as detail-oriented as she was herself.
“Thank you, Tara. I’ll be right there.”
Considering that Constantine stood between her and the display in question, she might as well get the coming confrontation over with. She took a deep breath. No big deal, she tried to tell herself. The feelings she’d experienced that long-ago weekend had faded over the ensuing months, months which had ticked by with excruciating slowness. The legendary Dante Inferno, that amazing sensation of volcanic fire that erupted when he’d taken her hand in his had quieted, drifting into dormancy. She could handle this.
She’d simply make it clear to him that she’d moved on.
Gianna started across Dantes’ ballroom toward him, thankful that by some blessing of fate she’d chosen to wear one of her “killer” outfits. The vibrant red jacket and tight, short skirt showed off her figure to its best advantage, and the mile-high open-toe heels were the perfect showcase for the gorgeous legs she’d inherited from her equally gorgeous mother. Her hair was longer than the last time she’d seen him, flowing in heavy, layered curls to the middle of her back.
