by Day Leclaire
“As a matter of fact, I am.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Any chance you can break away from the wedding madness and come with me?”
She offered him a slow smile. “Every chance. As a matter of fact, I was about to ask you a similar question. I just got a lead on Brimstone. Juice contacted me about it today. He’s traced the Nancy doll to Seattle.”
He eyed her over the rim of his glass. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to go up there and mug some poor, unsuspecting little girl?”
She chuckled. “That’s the general idea. Assuming David hasn’t gotten there ahead of me.”
She didn’t dare tell him the other part of her arrangement with Juice and her brothers. If Constantine found out about that, he’d put a fast stop to a brilliant idea and she flat-out wouldn’t allow him to circumvent her plans. Besides, unlike her early morning swim in the lake, she wasn’t acting impulsively. She and Juice and her brothers were acting very, very carefully.
Darkness settled over Constantine’s expression at the mention of David’s name. “I gather you heard d’Angelo’s back in town.”
She nodded. “Keeping a very low profile from what I understand.”
“That might have something to do with the fact that rumors are running rampant around town about some monetary discrepancies.”
Gianna smiled without humor. “I guess that means no suite at the Ritz.” With luck, the next suite he occupied would be at the nearest penitentiary.
“What is your family planning to do about him?”
“I know what they’d like to do.” She also knew what they were going to do.
Constantine’s gaze turned bitter cold. “They’re not the only ones.”
“For now, we wait.” She stressed the we. “Juice is working the problem. Knowing him, he’ll find something that’ll hang David out to dry.”
She could tell Constantine wanted to act, find a way to bring David down himself. Fortunately Juice and Luc were already on top of that aspect of the plan. With luck, it would all be resolved to everyone’s satisfaction before much longer. That way she wouldn’t have to worry about Constantine taking matters into his own hands. The idea of his getting hold of David sent shivers down her spine. She couldn’t risk that happening. Not with Constantine’s temper.
He continued to chew on the information. “I heard the International Banking Association has rescinded the award they were going to give the d’Angelos.”
“Couldn’t happen to a nicer family.” She leaned across the table and caught Constantine’s hand in her own. Her engagement ring flashed with the same heat and fire that characterized The Inferno. “Forget about David. Let’s talk about our trip to Seattle. How long will you be hung up in meetings?”
His gaze sparked. “I’ll make sure we have plenty of private time. And speaking of private time…” He shoved aside his half-finished dinner. “I can think of far more important activities than eating. Food can wait. This can’t.”
A teasing smile played across her mouth. “And what would ‘this’ be?”
“I see you need a short refresher course.” He lifted her out of her chair and carried her in the direction of his bed room.
“No.” Her arms tightened around his neck. “I need a very, very, very long one.”
Gianna and Constantine flew to Seattle Friday night after work and checked into the Crown, a brand-new hotel within walking distance of the piers, Pike Place Market and the main shopping center. He’d somehow snagged a suite with a stunning western view of the sound and mountains.
After a late dinner, they retreated to the bedroom and silently stripped away their clothes. The room was dark and cool, lit only by the lights of the city and a full moon filtering through a bank of clouds hanging just over the Olympic Mountains. It shimmered across Elliott Bay and slid into the room, gilding the bed in silver.
Unable to resist, she approached and flung herself into his arms for a kiss that expressed all the pent-up desire and frustration that seemed to define their relationship up until now. Her body impacted against the hard, taut lines of his. This kiss proved no different than any of the others. She didn’t just surrender, but gave herself up to him. Utterly. It had always been like that between them. She didn’t think it could be any other way.
“It’s only you. You’re the only one it’s ever been,” she told him.
“Or ever could be?”
The question dropped between them and she closed her eyes against the hard knowledge glimmering within his dark gaze. “I’m sorry. I wish I could answer that question for you,” she whispered.
“It doesn’t matter.” But he’d replied in Italian, giving himself away. “Nor does it change the fact that we’re connected, you and I. We have been since the moment we first touched.”
It was true, she acknowledged. She came alive whenever he took her into his arms. When he kissed her. She could practically feel her nerve endings fire, throbbing with excitement, urging her to do things that should have shocked her to the core…and didn’t.
He groaned. “Why? Why you and no one else?”
Gianna shook her head, struggling to clear it of the sensual fog with only limited success. She understood his question. It was one she’d asked herself often enough. “I have no idea why,” she admitted.
She simply knew that being in Constantine’s arms felt right. More, it felt necessary. Necessary to her very existence, whether she wanted it that way or not. Constantine slid his hands into her hair and lifted her closer, deepening the kiss. He was like a man who’d fasted for months, even though it had only been days since they’d last spent the night together. He gazed down at her as though he’d been presented with a delectable banquet, one he couldn’t resist. A whispered moan of surrender slipped from her and he breathed it in.
Together they fell back on the bed and she gave herself over to his touch. He stroked her breasts, gently plucking at her painfully sensitive nipples. His calloused fingertips tripped downward, sweeping along her abdomen, then his mouth followed the path his hands took. When he reached the core of her, he scooped his large hands beneath her bottom and lifted her. Took her. Drove her straight over the top. She arched upward and exploded helplessly. Endlessly.
And then he mated his body to hers and took her again.
It was beyond anything she’d experienced before. He called to her in a language that blended English with Italian, sweet words, a tumble of demands, hoarse pleas. She clung to him, moved with him. Drove him as he’d just driven her. Sent him soaring. Up, up, up. And there they teetered before slamming together over the next pinnacle and plummeting into oblivion.
Spent, they curled together, drawing comfort and sustenance, one from the other. And they slept; a sleep of sweet hopes and dreams, wrapped together so tightly two melded into one.
Gianna woke again in the dead of night. The full moon was sinking behind the Olympic Mountains, setting the peaks aglow and silvering the room with its light. At some point Constantine had spooned her against the hard curve of his body. While the moon softened the appearance of the room, it sculpted Constantine’s muscles and sinew into granite.
She could tell the instant he woke. The tenor of his breathing changed, deepened, and his hold on her tightened ever so slightly. “What time do you need to get up tomorrow?” she asked.
“Early.”
“When are you meeting Moretti?”
He chuckled. “Not so early.” He swept her hair to one side and traced a kiss along the back of her neck. “I want time to go through the building and finalize my presentation before we get together. Why don’t you join me there around four?”
She shivered beneath his gently insistent touch. “At Diamondt’s?”
“Sure.” He caught the lobe of her ear between his teeth and tugged, giving a husky laugh at her helpless shudder. “I can introduce you to Moretti. Since this is the first time he and I are meeting face-to-face, maybe it’ll help put us on a more friendly footing.”
“Okay.”
“I want to check out the address Juice gave me.” She forced her muscles to remain relaxed, difficult enough when he kept touching her. Even so, she couldn’t risk communicating any of her tension to him.
“I wish you’d wait until I can go with you,” he murmured against her ear.
Oh, Lord. That would be a disaster. “No time,” she hastened to say. “We’re flying home right after your meeting, aren’t we?”
He considered for a minute, his hand stroking her in an absentminded way. Unfortunately there was nothing absentminded about her reaction to his touch. She turned in his arms to face him and slid her leg over top of his. “Okay, fine,” he said at last. “But call me right before and right after you speak to this woman.”
She nipped at his mouth. “No problem.”
She didn’t give him the chance to say anything else. The sooner they put the conversation to rest, the better. Of course, the instant he shifted her beneath him, she found she couldn’t think, much less speak.
They gave themselves over to one another, gave themselves over to the night. Her soft sigh of pleasure was answered by his hoarse demand. Her cry of completion echoed his roar of satisfaction. Through the night they burned, riding the crest of passion from one wave to the next until the first break of dawn tumbled them back into a deep sleep.
The next morning Gianna woke to discover Constantine long gone. He’d left a single red rose on the pillow beside her and she picked it up, smiling softly. Even better, he’d prepared a pot of coffee for her, using one of Seattle’s world-renowned brands. She sipped in appreciation while preparing for the day. After doing a swift run-through with first Luc and then Juice, she pulled out the bold red slacks and jacket she’d chosen specifically for today’s mission.
Next, she headed downstairs, speaking at length to the concierge and getting very specific directions to the address she’d been given. She arranged for a cab, requesting it pick her up in half an hour. Then she returned to her room and sat, counting down the minutes, before returning to the lobby. The hope was that the brief delay would give David time to bribe the concierge and obtain the address, or if that failed, follow her to her destination. Once Luc and Juice spotted him, they’d arrange their men in a tidy net around the house, ready to spring the trap when David made his move.
Since it was midday Saturday, the drive to White Center didn’t take long. The taxi cruised slowly through a neighborhood overrun with small boxy homes. Though there was an air of shabbiness that encompassed many, for the most part they were tidy with neatly kept lawns and flower beds.
At the last minute she remembered to call Constantine. “I found the house. At least, I think I have.”
“Give me the address.”
She hesitated. “Why do you need the address?”
“So I know where to send the police if I don’t hear from you within the next thirty minutes.”
She sighed and did as he requested. “There’s no need to worry, Constantine,” she reassured. “This will be over before you know it and I’ll call you the minute it is.”
“What do you mean?” Constantine asked sharply.
“Oh, well, you know,” she said, a trifle distracted. “It won’t take long to discuss the situation with Mrs. Mereaux. I’m sure Primo will pay her a generous price for Brimstone and that’ll be that.”
“Gianna—”
“Oh, someone’s looking out the window. I have to go. I’ll call you as soon as I’m done.”
She flipped the cell phone closed before he could say anything further and exited the cab.
Constantine stared down at his cell phone and frowned. Something about his conversation with Gianna felt off, and a sense of wrongness sizzled through him. He glanced at the group hovering over the blueprints spread across a table in the center of the Diamondt building foyer. Getting the account was vital to Romano Restoration’s continued growth and expansion. Maybe that explained why he’d been so distracted. So distracted that he hadn’t really given his full attention to this Brimstone business.
But now that he did…
It hit him then and he swore, praying he was wrong. He flipped open his phone and dialed Luc’s number. No answer.
Juice’s number. No answer.
Rafe. Draco. No answer.
He barked an excuse to the men waiting for him and took off at a dead run. Why was it that his future wife always had him running? Even worse, why was it always in terror that something horrible had happened to her?
Gianna knocked on the front door of the Mereaux residence. It opened a moment later and a woman of mixed race, slightly younger than herself, greeted her. She eyed Gianna nervously.
“How long are we supposed to stand here?” she asked, a strong hint of Louisiana Cajun clear in her voice. “I’m sort of new at all this.”
Gianna smiled. “Me, too. I think we just need to talk for a minute or two. I’m Gianna, by the way.”
“Mia.” They shook hands.
“I’m surprised Juice allowed you to do this, Mia. He tends to be very protective about innocents, as he calls us. He was forced to enlist my help or David wouldn’t have taken the bait. But you…”
Mia grimaced. “No choice. They had some other woman all set to pretend to be me, but Mr. d’Angelo got the jump on ’em. Nearly caught Mr. Juice standing right over yonder in my front parlor.”
“David was here already?” Gianna asked, shocked.
“Surely was.” Mia stepped back as planned and allowed Gianna to enter. “Fortunately Mr. Juice had time to hide in the kitchen. And my neighbor was here to take my daughter, Bebelle, for the day. She had her children with her—all five. That d’Angelo man couldn’t do much with all them witnesses, now could he? So, he made up some fine excuse about a wrong address and left. Since he’d seen me, I insisted on staying put until they could arrest him.”
Gianna closed the door behind her. “I’m so sorry, Mia. We all thought David would follow me. He must have gotten the address from the concierge, instead, and come straight over. So much for careful planning.”
“That’s what Mr. Juice said.” A hint of warmth touched her cheekbones. “He wanted to pull the plug, but I wouldn’t let him. Can’t risk that man coming back thinking the doll is still here, now can I? That wouldn’t be safe for my Bebelle.”
“Well, this won’t take long. We’ll just let David take the doll and our part will be over.” Gianna threw an arm around Mia’s shoulders and gave her a swift hug. “Are you nervous?”
“A little,” Mia admitted. “My main concern is Bebelle. Mr. Juice has assured me any number of times that she’s safe with my neighbor.”
Gianna grinned, sensing Mia felt more than a passing interest in Mr. Juice. “Well, if Juice said it, you can believe it.”
“Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thanks.” She wandered over to the couch where the Nancy doll perched and glanced over her shoulder at Mia. “May I?”
“Oh, sure. Help yourself.”
“How did you end up with her, anyway?”
Mia shrugged. “It was shortly after my husband died. Bebelle just cried and cried she missed her daddy so bad. One day this strange child came up to her and just put that Nancy doll right in my little girl’s arms. Said Bebelle needed it more than she did. Said it was a magical doll and would bring her happiness. And once it did, she should give it away to someone else in need.” Mia turned her great, dark eyes on Gianna. “You think she’s right? You think it’ll bring my Bebelle happiness?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I think it will.”
Gianna picked up the doll just as a heavy knock sounded on the front door. She stiffened, knowing full well who they’d find there.
Constantine tried Gianna’s cell phone for the umpteenth time since flagging down the taxi. The cabbie drove as fast as he dared, the sizable tip thrown his way aiding in breaking a few speeding laws. That didn’t change the fact that whe
n he got his hands on his future wife—not to mention his future brothers-in-law—there would be hell to pay. He tried Luc’s number again. Juice. Nothing from any of them.
He allowed fury to triumph over panic. It was the only way he could keep from going insane. Hadn’t they discussed her impulsiveness at the lake? Hadn’t he explained in no uncertain terms that it wasn’t a quality he appreciated? Now he understood where it came from. It must be a genetic anomaly that ran down the entire Dante line. Though how that explained Juice, he couldn’t say. Maybe it rubbed off with prolonged association.
“This is the street,” the cabdriver said, pointing. “But the cops have it blocked. Are we too late, do you think?”
Constantine must have replied in Italian because the driver frowned in confusion. He fought to find the appropriate words in English, couldn’t come up with them. Instead he peeled off a number of notes and tossed them in the driver’s direction. He was out of the car in a flash.
Please, God, no. Not Gianna. He couldn’t survive without Gianna. She was his mate. His heart. His life. He loved her more than he thought it possible to love anyone. If something had happened to her… He picked up his speed.
The police stopped him a few houses before the address Gianna had given him. It took endless minutes to make himself understood, to find the appropriate words in the appropriate language to convince them that he belonged on the other side of their blockade. That his future wife was involved. That she needed him, and only him.
Someone down the line waved him through and he took off at a swift jog. Luc stood talking to a police officer. Gianna was nowhere to be seen. He charged toward her brother and would have taken him down if his bride-to-be hadn’t chosen that moment to come flying out of the house and straight into his arms.
“Constantine!” She wrapped her arms tight around his neck. “You’ll never believe what happened.”
“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen,” he growled, snatching her close and enclosing her in a hold she wouldn’t soon escape. “I’m going to knock your brother on his ass.”
