by Caro LaFever
“I believe we will have to leave,” he muttered. “To save my sanity.”
“Dante.” A booming voice cut through their sexual tension with a crack. She swung her head around to confront a huge man, stuffed into a tuxedo. His florid face beamed with a friendly grin. A pigeon of a woman clutched one gigantic arm, her short legs and compact body an amusing contrast to her companion’s hulking form.
“George.” Her husband’s voice was calm and cool. The husky words he’d expressed mere moments ago appeared to never have been uttered. Lara glanced at Dante’s face and encountered the bland expression she’d seen so many times before, but now she knew about the man beneath the mask. She noticed, for instance, his hand was still clamped tightly at her hip, the fingers kneading her skin. There appeared to be a muscle in his jaw that was not following his orders. It was as tightly clenched as his hand.
She smiled. Well. The king could no longer hide every one of his secrets from her. The thought filled her with surprising satisfaction.
Meanwhile, George had managed to capture her husband’s other hand and was pumping it for all he was worth. “Good to see you.”
Dante slipped his hand from the giant paw and nodded to the chubby woman. “Miranda. I hope you are well.”
“Yes, yes,” she enthused. “I love it when we come to Italy.”
“May I present my wife, Lara.” His mild smile gave nothing away. “Lara, this is George and Miranda Marchond. They have been kind enough to invest in some of my endeavors.”
“Kind enough?” George threw back his head and gave a loud guffaw. “More like lucky enough.”
“How brilliant to meet you, my dear.” Lara found herself engulfed in a vanilla-scented cloud of perfume and plump arms. The woman drew back and beamed. “I’m so glad Dante married such a lovely wife. A nice man like Dante should have a lovely wife.”
Nice? Lara shot an amused glance at her husband.
One brow rose a millimeter, yet his composed look stayed in place. “You are right, Miranda. My wife is very lovely.”
The compliment was smooth and suave and a month ago she would have thought it was part of his façade, a mere nod to social dictates. Now, though, she sensed some element to his tone she would have missed in the past. Some strand of truth. Her heart warmed.
“How did you meet?” Miranda burbled.
“Our families have been friends for years,” her husband said.
“I bet you were young sweethearts as children. Meant for each other from the first. How romantic.” The older woman clasped her hands in delight.
“Not exactly.” Lara’s words were edged with wry humor.
A low rumble of a chuckle from Dante tickled her side. The sound scarcely cracked the loud chatter surrounding them, but she heard and felt it. Surprised, she glanced his way and found a slight curl edging his mouth and a responding smile was hard to keep back. That humor of his, she was always shocked by its appearance and how much it tugged at her own.
“What do you do, dear?” Miranda was a chatterbox, while George seemed happy to stand beside her and beam.
“I help run a school.” Flustered at the question, she tried to ignore the unease she always felt when talking about her mission, because she knew how quickly she could slip into defensiveness.
“A school?” Miranda cocked her head like a little red robin.
“Si, a school for dyslexic children.” Dante’s deep voice held enormous respect and conviction. “The teaching is designed to help the children overcome any handicap and achieve every success possible.”
Her husband evidently had no compunction about talking about her school. Which thrilled her. And scared her. She tried to catch his attention so she could communicate a strong message of be quiet, yet he kept going.
“Lara is constantly working to improve the education for these children. She has plans to open her next school in Rome. She has a large group of students attending on scholarship to ensure no child is excluded.”
“How impressive.” Miranda gave her a look of real respect.
Taking a slight breath of relief, she scanned her mind, trying to think of a change of subject. Even though there was clear approval from the couple, why push it?
“Public funds pay for all that?” George managed to edge into the conversation.
“As a matter of fact, no.” Her husband’s smile was pleasant and pointed.
She watched with horror as the older couple’s eyes widened at the unspoken message. “Dante—”
“Well, well,” George warbled. “Must cost a pretty penny.”
“One of Lara’s main duties is trying to raise funds.” Dante’s ruthlessness was covered in velvet Italian charm.
“We’d love to make a contribution.” Miranda’s small fleshy hand rested on her husband’s beefy arm.
“Naturally, naturally.” George glanced at the shark before him and then pinned a cheerful smile onto his broad face. “Happy to give some of the money I’ve earned with Dante’s advice to his wife. Good cause and all.”
She didn’t want this. Didn’t want them to feel like they had to donate. “Oh, but—”
“I appreciate it.” Her husband’s swift acceptance cut her off before she could express her rejection. “Lara appreciates it too.”
“Well, well, glad to help.” George’s huge belly bobbed as he nodded his encouragement to his wife to take over the conversation once more.
Miranda was happy to oblige and babbled on for several more minutes as Lara unsuccessfully tried to steer the discussion back to the school so she could tell them they didn’t have to give anything. Before she got a word in edgewise, however, the couple left in a flurry of hearty smacks on the Dante’s shoulder from George, and kisses and hugs from Miranda.
She turned out of her husband’s grasp and stood toe to toe with him. “Dante.”
“What?” He still wore his mask, yet she detected a strain of smugness beneath.
“You…you…” Her arms flapped by her side.
“Si. I did.” A long finger ran along her naked arm, trailing a line of fire as it went. “I have made George millions. The least he can do is to give some to my beautiful wife’s cause.”
“You forced him.”
His gaze cooled slightly, but determination was stamped on every facial muscle. “He had a choice. He could contribute to a worthwhile cause or take the chance he would offend me. George is not brilliant. But he’s not stupid.”
“I don’t think…” She tried to articulate her fear, her embarrassment. “I’m not sure…”
Her husband sighed. “Start to see yourself as you are now.”
“What do you mean?”
His dark stare drilled into her. “A woman married to a very powerful man.”
“I don’t—”
“Which makes you powerful.”
“I don’t want to be powerful.”
He growled with frustration. “Think. With power, you can make a huge difference for your kids.”
“I’m making a difference right now.”
“Yet with this power, you can make a much bigger difference.” Both of his hands held her elbows, forcing her to confront his words and his thoughts.
“I don’t know—”
“There are dozens and dozens of people in this room who owe me.” The warmth of his hands didn’t take away from the fact he held her hard and fast. “And here comes another one right now.”
Lara swiveled in her husband’s grip to spot another tall, sleek shark.
He cut through the crowd as easily as Dante had, his powerful physique matching the dynamic presence he exuded from every male pore. The man caught her eye and grinned as he walked up to them, a cocky smile that didn’t quite fit with the smooth silk suit and the red power tie. Perhaps it was because his long black hair lay in curls over his shoulders, making him appear like a pirate pretending to be civilized.
“Vico.” Dante held out his hand in greeting. “You’re back from China.”
&n
bsp; “Si.” The man grasped the hand, his expression alive with conquest. “It went well.”
“Good to hear.” Turning to her, he gestured at the man. “Lara, this is Vicenzo Mattare, a gentleman I do business with on a regular basis.”
She looked at the shark. This man was no gentleman.
“Vico, this is my wife, Lara.”
The man glanced her way. He must have caught something of what she thought because a devil began to dance in his tawny eyes. “How lucky you are, Dante.”
“Si, I am.”
Was that a warning in her husband’s tone? She peered at him and noted the tough rigidity of his jaw. Trying to smooth the sudden tension swirling around them, she reached out and clasped the hand presented to her. The palm was rough, the fingers blunt and solid. “Nice to meet you.”
The devilish pirate’s eyes danced for a second more, then went cool as he glanced back at her husband. “The trade deal is complete. It just needs your signature.”
“Fine. I can come over to your office tomorrow.”
“That will work.” The shark had gone from a devil into a calculating businessman so fast, it took her breath.
“I also want to talk to you about my wife’s project.”
Horror filled her again. “No, I don't—”
“I’m sure you’ll be interested, Vico.” Again, her husband ignored her wishes.
A tight hurt was eclipsed by her growing anger.
“Is that so?” The man turned his formidable focus back on her before she could gather her senses and the best words to head this whole conversation off.
“Si.”
Vico Mattare didn’t appear fazed by Dante’s brutal hint. “Then I will look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”
“I don’t want—”
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Lara.” Exactly like her husband, the shark or pirate or devil—she couldn’t tell which he was—ignored her. Grasping her limp hand, he held it in his, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the back. “Buonanotte,” he said with simple elegance.
“Um. Um—”
“And I’ll look forward to hearing about your project.” With a last laughing gaze, he strode off into the crowd.
She twirled around, the anger ripening. “You did it again.”
“Not technically.” Her husband’s eyes were intent and direct. “But tomorrow I’ll be getting another donation for your school. Count on it.”
“I don’t think that man is going to be as readily intimidated as the Marchonds were.”
“Definitely not.” His hand settled back onto her hip and drew her in. “I know a bit about Vico’s past, though, and he has a soft spot for kids in need.”
A soft spot? In that man? She couldn’t imagine. “Okay, but that’s the end of it. No more soliciting tonight. Or ever.”
“I can’t think of a better cause than your schools.” Dante surveyed the crowd surrounding them, clearly looking for more prey. Clearly brushing off her wishes once more. “Virtually everyone here owes me and I mean to collect.”
“No. I don’t want you to talk about my school with anyone else.”
“You are not thinking straight.” A frown crossed his brow. Exasperation laced through every word. “I plan on doing it several more times.”
“No!”
“Tonight.” He glanced around, plainly looking for his newest target.
The old rage flashed through her. Here was the real Dante, clear and complete and in her face. Not caring what she thought or wanted. All about him and his decisions and desires. The tiny glimpses of a different man, a man of warmth and humor, were an illusion in her mind. “You never listen to me,” she charged, anger churning through every word.
He looked at her with blank astonishment. He might be a Neanderthal, but he’d obviously picked up on her emotions. “I listen—”
“The happy couple.” A throaty feminine voice broke in on their private fight.
Lara jerked around and found a tall blonde standing by their side. Curves and dips, the envy of any woman, were set off by a tight black dress. Dark blue eyes met hers, filled with lively intelligence and avid interest.
“Anika.” Her husband had switched back to his mild manner. His voice gave nothing away except composed acceptance.
“Dante.” The blonde nodded his way, yet kept her focus on Lara. “Nice to see you.”
“And you.” His hand fisted at Lara's side, distracting her from the remnants of her anger. She peered at her husband’s face. His mouth was tight. Who was this woman?
“This must be your new wife,” Anika purred.
“Si.” His mouth tightened further until a white line appeared around the edge. “May I introduce my wife, Lara.”
The blonde extended an elegant hand and gave her a friendly smile. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
“This is Anika Nordman.” His voice was still calm, but now also cold. “An acquaintance of mine.”
“Acquaintance?” Blue eyes narrowed and then began to dance. “Oh, Dante. I’ve forgotten your old-fashioned sense of propriety. Am I putting you in a bad position?”
Her husband’s arm stiffened. “Not at all.”
Lara switched her focus from her husband to the beautiful blonde. She didn’t need to be told this was more than an acquaintance. A past lover, she’d bet. A slick of jealousy ran up her spine, yet Anika seemed likable, welcoming. There was no hint of competition or animosity coming from her.
“Now you’re lying to me.” Anika laughed, a deep, vibrant sound. She turned to Lara and gave her another open smile. “I better go before Dante has a temper tantrum.”
“I do not have temper tantrums.”
The blonde ignored him. “It was nice to meet you, Lara. Just so you know, you have a gem here. A real man who’s as gorgeous inside as out.”
She gazed into the blue eyes and saw only friendliness. “Thank you.”
“Goodbye, darling.” Before he could move away, Anika kissed him full on the lips, leaving a streak of brilliant red as a token. “I’m glad for you.”
With a last pat on his broad chest, she sauntered away, heading towards the bar.
“We are leaving,” Dante asserted, his tone brisk. Pulling out his mobile phone, he pressed a series of buttons before slipping it into his pocket.
His hand landed on Lara’s elbow and guided her through the open doors leading into the marble foyer of the private home where the party was being held. She found herself battling amusement. Her husband was rattled by a lone blonde. He could handle a feeding frenzy of financiers, but not one single woman.
“I thought you were going to help me raise more money for my schools?” she teased him.
His glance at her was filled with frost. “Not tonight.”
They were out the door in seconds. The black limo they’d arrived in was already waiting for them at the curb. Her husband might be rattled, but he was still efficient.
“Why not?” she managed to say as she was stuffed into the open door.
He didn’t answer as he settled into the butter-soft black leather. A short spat of Italian to the driver and the limo smoothly pulled out of the circular driveway.
Lara eased herself into the far corner and turned to watch her husband’s profile. Stern and aloof. His mask. But she had a feeling she had a wedge that could peel that mask away. “Why not tonight, Dante?”
“I thought you didn’t want me to ask anyone for money for your schools?” he declared, his tone sharp.
The best defense was a good offense. Her husband was no fool. She suddenly realized this was something she relished about him. He never discounted her intelligence. That had been Gerry’s biggest weapon against her. “Yet you were determined to do it anyway.”
“You didn’t want me to so I saw no reason to stay any longer.” His shoulders rolled and his body stretched, all Latin fluidity.
The return of the sexual heat they’d shared at the party threatened to scramble her wits. She wasn’t quite ready to g
ive up the joust, though. “You might want to wipe her lipstick off your mouth.”
With an exclamation of disgust, he whipped a snowy white handkerchief from his pocket and got rid of the evidence.
“Who is she?”
His broad palm tightened on his knee. “Scusa?”
The man was trying to buy some time, but he was out of luck. She slid further into the leather seat and watched his every move. “Anika.”
He swallowed. “An acquaintance.”
“Come on, Dante.”
The mask slipped. He turned his head and glared at her with blazing eyes. “I should not have had to introduce my wife to her. That was not respectful to you.”
“Why?” She was intrigued as she saw the passionate man emerge from the controlled cover. It was as if he housed himself in a layer of steel, the real man hiding behind a curtain of reserve. The contrast between the two parts of him fascinated her and frustrated her.
“She knew I would be displeased,” he continued to rant. “Yet she pushed herself on you.”
“How horrible of her.”
His hands fisted on his thighs once more. “She gave me no choice unless I wanted to make a scene.”
“Or have a temper tantrum.”
Another dark glare spiked her way. “I owe you an apology. I should have found some way around the situation. It is disrespectful to introduce a mistress to a wife.”
“Interesting,” she hummed. “A rule regarding appropriate contact between wife and mistress. Have you written every one of your rules down in one book? I’d love to read it.”
“Lara.” Frustration oozed from him.
She couldn’t help one more poke. Pushing back the sliver of jealousy, she baited, “Current mistress?”
“Cazzo.” He glanced at her again, a ferocious frown on his brow. “Past,” he bit out.
“Right.” No man could do what he did with her in their bedroom every night and have any energy for another woman. It was more than that, however. Deep inside, she knew this man would never cheat on her.
Dante would never cheat.
The knowledge landed like a sledgehammer in her soul. The man might have blackmailed her into marriage, yet he would never cheat on her. How could two such different principles reside in the same person? Confusion swirled inside her head. He was a puzzle she couldn’t put together into a complete picture.
