by Caro LaFever
Merda.
“What’s going on?” Her voice wavered as she planted herself solidly in front of the desk. She swung her head, allowing herself one glare at her father. “What is he doing here?”
He bristled at the accusing tone of her voice. Temper crept around his control, edging his blood pressure skyward.
Maledizione.
Taking a deep breath, he clamped down on his irritating libido and unruly temper.
“Dante is a guest in this house.” Her father stood up and leaned over his desk. “I’m surprised at your attitude.”
“When I’m not included in a family discussion, but Dante is, I’m afraid my attitude turns sour.”
“Lara.” Her brother groaned, rubbing a hand through his blond hair.
“I repeat,” she demanded. “What’s going on?”
Her father grumbled under his breath, his bushy eyebrows bristling, his bald head reddening. She whipped around and stared at Andrew, who wouldn’t meet her glare. In the end, she turned to Dante and pinned him with a fierce look. “Fine. You tell me.”
She didn’t know. Any of it. By her manner and the tinge of fear in her gaze, it was apparent. He’d thought that at least her father would have given her a bit of information. Plainly, though, this wasn’t the case.
So now she wanted him to be the bearer of bad news. She’d picked him to carry the load, lower the hammer, be the bad guy.
Cazzo!
This was not how he’d wanted this situation to play out. There was nothing to be done but face it, however. Nothing to be done but shoulder the duty and make the best of it. As he always did.
“Lara—” her father rumbled.
“Hugo. Andrew.” He clenched his hand by his side. “Leave us.”
Her brother stood with a jerk, his tall, lanky body slumping toward the door. “Come on, Pop.”
Her father took a deep breath. “I don’t want her in the middle—”
“You do not trust me?” Dante pinned the man with a pointed look.
“Of course, I trust you.” The older man’s shoulders slumped. “This is such a bloody situation.”
“Si, yet I have put forward the path out of the situation.”
“True.” Hugo Derrick lifted his head and stared into Dante’s eyes.
“Then you agree and will sign the contract?”
“What contract?” Her tone came shrill and sharp. “Papa, don’t sign anything with—”
“Lara.” Her father cut her off, a frown of disapproval lowering his eyebrows. “Dante is doing us a fav—”
“I will handle this, Hugo.” He didn’t want her father reciting his virtues right now. By her attitude—the sullen turn of her mouth, her golden gaze alive with distrust—her attitude told him it wouldn’t help his cause. Better to be blunt with the truth and give her some time to come to the conclusion on her own that what he’d done for her family was worthy of respect. “She has a right to know what is going on and I am the one who should tell her.”
“I agree.” Her brother gave his approval.
“Obviously, it doesn’t matter to all you Neanderthals,” she said, “but I agree I have a right to know what’s going on.”
With a sudden dry chuckle, Hugo Derrick walked around his desk. Taking his daughter into his arms, he gave her a swift hug. “I only wanted to protect you.”
“I don’t need protection, Papa.” She gazed into his face, her eyes finally going soft. “I keep telling you that.”
“All right. All right.” Hugo let her go and turned with an outstretched hand to Dante. “You have a deal.”
“No, Papa—”
Breaking into her aggravating objection, he took the older man’s gnarled hand in his. “Buono. There is nothing more to worry about.”
Beside him, she snorted, as always ready to disagree.
He continued, not letting her voice her disapproval, keeping his focus on her father and her brother who stood at the library door, inches from escape. “I will let Lara know the details and convince her it’s a wise move for everyone involved.”
Another female huff. Yet, she stayed silent. One small victory, at least.
Hugo Derrick looked at his daughter. Then Dante. A small smile edged onto his mouth. “I’ll leave you to it. Andy and I will be in the garden room when you’re done with your conversation.”
The sound of the library door creaking shut behind the two men ended in a hushed silence. Dante gathered his wits and turned to stare down into her face. They were close, close enough he could hear her hitched breath and smell her rosy scent. Close enough a tingle of sexual awareness slithered down his spine.
No, no, no. This was not the time for any of that. This was a time to be blunt, precise, and then leave, letting time and her family work to his benefit.
“Tell me.” Her eyes were a dull gold, like hard stones staring out of her face.
“Your brother traded outside his job.” Brusque and tough, his words landed in the stillness of the room.
“No,” she gasped.
“Si,” he countered. “This violated his contract, so he’s been fired. There’s a chance he might be brought before the governing board of the Borsa Italiana.”
She slumped into the chair nearest her and took a deep breath. “Why? It’s unlike him to break the rules.”
In order to stop himself from lifting her into his embrace and comforting her, he walked to the edge of the oak desk and leaned on it, crossing his arms. “Your father.”
“What?” Her head jolted around and she met his stare once more.
“He has been struggling for a while. The upkeep on this house is not inconsequential.”
“I didn’t know. He never said anything.” Her skin paled to the color of parchment. “So Andy—”
“Tried to help. He took your father’s remaining holdings, used his insider knowledge of the markets, and tried to make up some ground.”
“It didn’t work?” Her knuckles showed white in contrast to the tan of her pants. “He failed?”
“He failed. And got caught.”
A dead silence reverberated in the room. She wilted into the chair like a rag doll. Her face radiated none of its usual vibrancy. He’d never seen her face when it wasn’t lit with an inner glow. Whether it was joy at seeing him or anger against him, there’d always been a glow.
Her reaction hit him hard, hard enough to feel like a blow to his gut. His brain stuttered, the intention he’d had to lay the facts out before telling her of his rescue crashed inside him. Nothing mattered except stopping her hurt and pain. His words burst forth. “All is not lost, however.”
“What?” She didn’t even glance his way.
“I know the man Andrew worked for. Fairly well.”
“You will talk to him?” A light mark of color seeped into her cheeks.
“I already have. I have the situation in hand.”
She looked down, focused on the movement of her hands smoothing down her capris. “I suppose I should thank you.”
A curl of irritation at her grudging tone laced through him, dampening his desire to ease the severity of this discussion for her sake. “You are welcome.”
Her head came up at his sarcastic words, her mouth twisting. “You love this, don’t you?”
Irritation turned to ire. “I love calling in a favor from a respected peer because your brother is a stupid young man who botched his career?”
“Don’t call him stupid.” Her eyes no longer resembled stones, they were alive with fury.
“He was stupid.”
“And you love throwing this in my face, don’t you?” Her hands fisted in her lap. “You love playing the lord and master who’s fixed all the problems for us poor, stupid peons.”
If she only knew what he’d done for her family. If she only knew he’d not only saved her brother’s neck—
“Just stand there,” she snarled. “Looking high and mighty.”
“Lara—”
“But you can stand t
here forever. I’m not going to grovel at your feet in thanks.”
His temper bubbled under his firm control. Pushing and pulsing beneath his determination to keep this meeting, this one meeting between them smooth and civilized. He took in a deep breath, trying to keep it suppressed, yet frustrated words burst from him, hammering at her. “Your brother’s situation is not the only problem.”
She stilled as if caught off guard. Fear replaced contempt in her golden gaze. “What do you mean?”
The fear in her eyes swept around his anger, creating a mess inside him. He felt tied in knots and yet torn apart at the same time. Before he found himself making the mistake of sweeping her into his arms to comfort her, he forced himself to walk over beside the fireplace and lean on it. “This is bigger than Andrew.”
“There’s more?”
“Your father has lost everything.”
She sucked in a deep breath.
“Everything, Lara.” He stopped himself from trying to lessen the blow. She needed to understand the true situation to be appreciative of everything he was going to do for her family. He needed her to feel complete and utter gratitude if he had a chance of cracking her misconceptions of him.
“The house?” Her voice was flat and low.
“He has not paid the mortgage for many months. The bank has called the loan.”
“His savings?”
“Gone. Andrew used the last of his equity and lost it.”
“We’re going to lose our home?” The cry was soft, haunted.
All temper leached from him. “No, I’m—”
“Bloody hell.” Sudden realization made her eyes widen. One tear streaked down her cheek. “Papa won’t be able to help with my school anymore.”
“Lara—”
“Gerry’s inheritance won’t be enough. I’ll have to close it.” The knowledge seemed to drain the last bit of life from her.
“An option.” He wanted to rush to her, hold her tight, tell her everything was going to be fine. Still, he also wanted to use this moment to show her how awful it could have been. Without him. “But there are other options.”
Her head slowly lifted and her dull stare centered on his chin. “Other options?”
“Options which include me.”
His statement lingered in the heavy stillness. He watched her as she took in his words. Her head tilted, her look questioned, her hands tightened around each other.
Then those golden eyes closed. Her spine went rigid and her mouth curled in disgust.
“Bastard.”
Her one word sliced across him like a knife.
“What?” Dante jerked upright. He had missed something. Her womanly logic had either dropped into a deep hole which he couldn’t follow or else had zoomed past him at ten times the speed of light.
“Don’t play me for a fool,” she jeered. “I can see where you’re going with this.”
“What are you—”
“I marry you and you save my family.”
Her words hit him square in the solar plexus and sucked the air from his lungs. For a moment, he experienced nothing except complete disbelief. Complete and utter disbelief.
She truly thought he was a monster.
She didn’t understand anything about him.
The rage descended on him like a thick, deep blanket of scarlet. Rushing through his veins and arteries, it blew away any sense of honor, any sense of integrity. In its place pounded a fury so volcanic, it blew everything good out of him.
The woman had insulted him beyond bearing. No one had ever dared think of him in this way. No one had ever charged him with such a despicable act. No one had ever thought Dante Casartelli would need to force a woman to be with him.
She deserved everything ugly inside of him.
“That’s right,” he said, madness roiling in his gut. “You have it exactly right.”
Chapter 10
Her nails cut into her palms. She wouldn’t be surprised if she bled. But there was no alternative. If she let go, her hands would wrap around the bastard’s neck and her family’s troubles would multiply with a murder trial.
Her brain refused to think in a clear way. Instead, a fuzzy mist descended, obscuring any coherent thought. Lara pinned her focus on his face. His expression was a mask, his usual mask.
Dark frown. Haughty nose. Blank gaze.
He stared back. No emotion, no compassion.
You are mine.
A man who got whatever he wanted, damn the consequences. He’d decided he wanted her and so, he’d have her. One way or the other. Fair means hadn’t worked, so foul means would do.
She’d known he was bad, known he was capable of anything. Yet, yet...
The pain in the pit of her stomach ached with disappointment.
And something like despair.
“I should have expected something like this.” She wasn’t proud of the quiver in her voice, but at least she’d said something.
Anything. Except yes.
His dark brows arched and his mouth tightened. However, he gave nothing else away. No flares of passion in his black gaze. No need or desire rolling off his big body. Everything was cold. From the look in his eyes to the feel of the air around them. “I always strive to meet your expectations.” His voice was iced precision.
She couldn’t look at him anymore, couldn’t bare to look into that stare filled with...nothing. She glanced down at his mouth. The mouth that had moved over hers with swift passion and purpose.
Don’t go there.
She yanked her focus away from him altogether. The library was perfectly normal, comforting and solid. Her father’s pipe lay on the side table next to the old leather chair he read in. The photo of Andy in his graduation gown stood on the fireplace mantel along with a recent picture of her sitting in the garden, laughing at her brother’s joke. The room was a warm and friendly reminder of family and home and love. Amazingly ordinary after what had just been said. Though not for long. Not unless she—
He sighed, the sound harsh, taut. “This is not how—”
“All right,” she said before she lost her nerve. “You win.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw him take a step forward. “Lara—”
“No.” She put her hand up. “Don’t touch me.”
“This is insane.” He stood right by her chair. Poised to swoop for a kiss, no doubt. This was a business deal, though, not a romance ending in a loving embrace. That’s how she would force him to play it.
“It’s your insanity.” She rose and walked away from him to stare out at her father’s garden. She could not stand by and see her papa lose this last reminder of his beloved wife. She could not stand by while her brother was carted off to jail. She had the means to save them and she would do so. Yet there would be revenge. Starting now. “I want every detail put down on paper.”
“That is not needed.” His tone turned hard and cold.
“It damn well is.” She twisted to glare at him. “I don’t trust you.”
His black eyes instantly blazed with raw anger and hate.
Hate.
He hated her. The emotion was clear in the darkness of his gaze.
A twist of anguish twined around her heart. Glancing past him, she pinned her gaze on the door. She’d have preferred his damned eyes stay blank. Which made no sense, since she hated him as much as he apparently hated her. Why would he want to marry a woman he hated? The scene’s unreality made her want to laugh hysterically. Or weep uncontrollably.
She pushed down the tears, focusing on her revenge. “I want your promise to save my brother. I want your promise to pay off my father’s mortgage. I want your promise to set up a foundation for my school and other schools. I want it all in a legal document, signed by you. Then I’ll marry you.”
He walked to the desk and leaned against the edge. His arms folded over his chest in a nonchalant, easy-going way. Still, she sensed the blast of his rage roll across the room towards her like a living force.
Good, she thought with savage delight.
The anguish and despair twisted and twisted until they suddenly became a knot of need inside her to make him pay. Make him hurt. Enjoy his frustration and anger and pain.
Good.
“I have some demands of my own, tesoro mio,” he drawled, his tone sarcastic and biting.
“Your treasure?” Her bitter snort struck him back. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“In return for all that I do for your family, you will become my wife.” His stare pinned her down, leaving no escape. “My sweet, biddable wife.”
“Don’t think—”
“No, Lara. You have demands, I have demands. You will act as if you adore me in front of my family and yours.”
“Impossible.”
“With your loving smiles and soft looks you will convince your father and brother, my mother and sisters, you are in love with me.”
“Dante.” She laughed, her throat choking on the thought. “I am not that good of an actress.”
“This is necessary and you know it.” His arms dropped, hands fisting at his sides. “If you do not convince your father of your love for me, he won’t believe we want to get married. And if we’re not married, then why would I help you and your family? Isn’t that correct, bella?”
Closing her eyes, she swallowed down bile. The idea of smiling at this man, pretending he was the man she loved—how could she fool anyone, much less her family and his?
“You must.” His voice rang out, an implacable demand.
“I see your point.” She opened her eyes and looked at him. “I’ll try.”
“Don’t try. Do it.”
“My, my.” She edged her words with an acid slice. “Is this how you talk to your employees?”
He chuckled, a forced, cruel sound. “That is what you are, isn’t it? I am buying your services.”
“I hate you.”
“Ah.” He appeared unfazed. “You express that same opinion every time we meet.”
“That doesn’t bother you? You’re marrying a woman who hates you?”
For a moment, she thought she’d penetrated his tough hide. A cloud of some emotion passed through his eyes before they became blank and hard once more. “I am not done with my requirements.”
