by Day Leclaire
She’d suffered while he’d walked away.
That left her with a single, logical, and thoroughly devastating conclusion. He didn’t love her. Not really. And that forced her to face an agonizing realization. If she surrendered to him now, he’d own her body and soul. But what would she possess? A man capable of picking her up and setting her aside whenever he wished. She couldn’t live like that. She refused to live like that.
For her, for whatever reason, the burn of The Inferno only went one way. Otherwise, Constantine wouldn’t have left her. Otherwise, he couldn’t have stayed away for so long or curtailed all communication. Well, if he could turn off The Inferno, so could she, though she’d never learned that portion of the secret. Somehow. Someway. Even if it killed her, she’d put an end to it. She closed her eyes against the tears pressing for release.
God, she loved him.
Figlio di puttana!
Constantine watched Gianna walk away. Bitter frustration ate at him. Nineteen damn months. For nineteen months, five days, eight hours and a handful of minutes he’d fought and clawed to get his fledgling business, Romano Restoration, off the ground and soaring so that he could emigrate to the United States and establish a stronghold in San Francisco. All to provide Gianna with more than a name when he asked her to marry him. And now that his company had taken off and he was in a position to support a wife, the only woman he wanted walked away with a hip-swinging stride that knocked every last brain cell off-line.
Another man! His hands collapsed into fists. How could she? He’d promised he’d return the instant he could provide for her, and she’d agreed to wait. For nearly two years he’d worked endless days and nights to make that happen. How could she turn her back on what they had? What they could have? Didn’t she feel it, that ferocious wildfire that exploded into flames whenever they were in the same room together?
He stared down at his balled hands and it took every ounce of resolve to ignore the relentless itch centered in the palm of his right hand. It was an itch that had flared to life the first moment Gianna Dante had slipped her fine-boned hand into his, and it had continued over the course of the ensuing months, no matter how much distance separated them.
Constantine knew what it was, though Gianna had neglected to explain what she’d done to him. They would definitely have a lengthy and pointed discussion about that little omission. Instead, he’d learned the information from his sister, Ariana, who had described it in graphic detail after her husband, Lazz, had Infernoed her when they’d first joined hands at the altar on their wedding day.
Those damned Dantes and their damnable Inferno. It wasn’t enough that they’d used it to overpower his sister. Hell, no, that wasn’t good enough for them. For some reason, the sole Dante female had chosen him for her mate, had used The Inferno to steal every last crumb of his own self-control. Ever since that day he’d been trapped with no hope of escape other than to surrender to its demands.
And now, he couldn’t even do that because Gianna had “moved on.” He wanted to roar in outrage. Not a chance in hell would he let her get away with it. She’d soon discover she couldn’t move on, up, down, or sideways without his being right there waiting for her. Whoever she’d chosen to infect with The Inferno this time around was shit out of luck, to use an American expression.
No matter what it took, no matter whether she faced her fate willingly or otherwise, he intended to claim Gianna Dante for his own. The Inferno might have caused him to lose his legendary control, but marriage to her would allow him to regain it. Once he had his ring on her finger and her delightful curves in his bed, this hideous need would ease and he’d be able to wield it as he saw fit. Until then . . . He stared at her broodingly.
God, he wanted her.
“Did you hear the news?” Elia Dante asked. She lounged in a chair outside the dressing rooms of a snazzy little boutique called Sinfully Delicious. “No, Gianna. Not the salmon. Go with the bronze halter gown. It complements your eyes better than the other one.”
Gianna held up one gown, then the other, before nodding in agreement. Though why she bothered to compare the two, she didn’t know. When it came to fashion, her mother was infallible. “What news?”
Elia took a delicate sip from a tiny cup of espresso before announcing, “Constantine Romano has moved to San Francisco. He opens the doors to Romano Restoration any day now. Apparently, he organized the transition all the way from Italy.”
Gianna stiffened, grateful she had her back turned to her mother. She should have anticipated this. Foolish of her not to, all things considered. “That’s rather unexpected, isn’t it?”
“Do you think so?” Elia asked softly. “Somehow he’s gotten his entire operation up and running without any of us being the wiser.” She lifted a delicate eyebrow. “I’m guessing as a surprise for a certain someone?”
Gianna sighed. Her mother was the only person who knew what she’d experienced when she and Constantine first met. She’d been very careful to keep it from everyone else, knowing her family would interfere if they knew. “Yes, Mamma, it is. What we had, or rather, what I thought we had, ended a long time ago.”
“The Inferno doesn’t end, chiacchierona.”
“Maybe it does.”
Gianna swung around to face her mother. What would Elia say if she knew the whole truth about The Inferno? If she’d heard what Gianna had when Uncle Dominic explained the facts to Aunt Laura? Or watched what he’d done to rid them both of The Inferno? She’d never dared tell anyone, terrified she’d see other relationships ruined as a result of her revelation. If the rest of her family believed in The Inferno with all their hearts, maybe they’d never learn what her aunt and uncle had discovered.
That The Inferno wasn’t forever.
Gianna hesitated, still unwilling to tell her mother the entire truth. She chose her words with care. “Maybe it’s different because I’m a woman instead of a man,” she suggested. “Maybe it only went one way and he doesn’t feel what I do.”
“If that were so, Constantine wouldn’t be here.”
“Maybe I can take The Inferno back,” she dared to suggest.
Elia simply laughed. “That’s not possible. The Inferno is forever.”
Oh, but it wasn’t. Gianna set her chin. “It doesn’t matter if Constantine is here now. It’s too late.”
A mother’s wisdom gleamed in Elia’s dark eyes. “That’s your pride speaking, not your heart.”
“I’ve moved on,” Gianna insisted, wincing at the defensive edge underscoring her words. “I’m dating David d’Angelo now.”
“Well, he is Italian like Constantine,” her mother conceded. “And comes from a good Fiorentini family, though not one anywhere near as noble as the Romanos.”
“Maybe not, but they’re respected bankers.”
The family was even receiving some sort of banking award in another few months. As for David, he possessed stunning good looks. Granted, they were more classical than swashbuckling. More attractive even than her brother, Rafe, whom the family called the “pretty Dante.” Not that David could help his looks.
As for his personality, he couldn’t be nicer. Even if Primo had muttered untuoso under his breath, which had bothered Gianna no end since she didn’t consider David the least unctuous. Nonna adored him, which counted for a lot. David was intelligent, respectful, and amusing, despite possessing the faintest air of entitlement.
And if he hadn’t told her he was Italian by birth, she’d never have guessed it by his accent, perhaps as a result of his studying abroad for so many years. Now that she thought about it, other than his intelligence he was as different from Constantine as a bird of paradise from a panther.
“David’s not like Constantine,” Elia murmured, the comment an uncomfortable echo of Gianna’s own thoughts.
“He is in some ways,” she argued. “But the important point here is that I like him very much. That’s all that matters, right?”
Elia made a face and set her cup and sau
cer aside. “Like. What an insipid word. Would you really trade an earth-shattering passion for a tepid ‘like’?”
“It’s safer,” Gianna whispered.
Safer not to surrender to the dangerous emotions flaring back to life. Safer not to allow the more impetuous side of her nature free rein. Safer to like a nice guy than to love someone as dangerous to her emotional stability as Constantine Romano.
“I spoke to Ariana about the situation.”
Uh-oh. “She and Lazz are still in Italy?” Gianna asked, hoping to turn the conversation in a new direction. No doubt a wasted effort.
“Yes. For another two months.” Sure enough, her mother lasered back to her point. “According to her, Constantine’s come back for you.”
“His sister is a romantic. The Inferno has a way of doing that to you. I guarantee that before she met Lazz she was the most pragmatic of people.” Gianna made a face in the mirror. “That’s what The Inferno does to people. It messes with them.”
“Mmm.” The sound was one of delighted agreement. “With luck you will soon discover yourself in the middle of your own Inferno mess.”
The comment contained a reminiscent tone and Gianna suspected her mother was recalling when she’d first fallen in love with Gianna’s father, Alessandro. Though her parents’ relationship could be tumultuous on occasion, there’d never been a doubt in her mind that they shared a white-hot passion, as well as being utterly devoted to each other.
“No, thanks, Mamma. I think I’ll stick with David.”
“I’m sure Constantine will try to change your mind.” Elia paused for a beat, before adding, “And I suspect, you hope he’ll succeed.”
Since Gianna couldn’t think of a response to that painful bit of homespun truth, she set the salmon gown aside and carried the bronze confection to the front desk. If only . . . came the wistful thought. If only The Inferno had worked as well between her and Constantine instead of backfiring so badly. Maybe she’d be sitting in a chair with that delicious smile on her face, lost in memories of endless days and nights filled with an eternal love.
If only.
As always, David arrived right on time. He looked spectacular in his tux, the light brown hair and turquoise eyes he’d inherited from the northern branch of the d’Angelo family giving him a movie-star sheen.
It wasn’t a coincidence that his coloring was the complete opposite of Constantine’s. If he’d possessed hair as dark as night and eyes like jet, she’d never have agreed to go out with him the first time he’d asked. In fact, she hadn’t. It had taken a full three months of patient persistence before she’d caved to his barrage of invitations.
He greeted her with a slow, easy kiss that didn’t come close to impacting the way Constantine’s had. If she were perfectly honest with herself, his kisses left her cold. No doubt she could thank The Inferno for that unfortunate wrinkle. She’d hoped—heaven help her but she’d hoped—that she’d been mistaken about what she’d felt when she and Constantine first touched. That at some point she’d begin to feel a modicum of that sort of desire for David. It was possible, regardless of what her relatives thought.
If their embraces lacked a certain spark, David never seemed to notice. And sure enough, he didn’t this time, either. Perhaps he wasn’t in the position to make the sort of comparison she could. He pulled back and studied her, his gaze warming in appreciation.
He gestured toward her hair and gown. “You look stunning, Gia.”
“Thanks,” she said.
Aware of the tepidness of her response, she gave him an impulsive hug. What was wrong with her? David was drop-dead gorgeous. He’d made it clear he wanted her, and in his words, his intentions toward her were both honorable and serious, which she found quite endearing. Regardless of how endearing, she just couldn’t bring herself to take their relationship to the next level. And now that Constantine had returned . . .
No! She wouldn’t go there. Couldn’t. Constantine had made his feelings all too clear months ago when he’d left her. When he’d proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that The Inferno hadn’t taken root with him the way it had with her. She’d moved on, and the man she’d chosen stood in front of her. David was everything she could ask for. A dedicated banker in international finance with a bright future ahead of him. A physique that left women drooling. And a calm, practical nature that balanced her more passionate, impulsive one. Maybe The Inferno would strike later in their relationship.
“Ready?” David asked.
“All set.”
“Will the entire family be there?” The question held a certain edginess that had her wincing. David often found her family a bit overwhelming. “Will I finally get to meet Lazz and Ariana, or are they still in Italy?”
The question caught her by surprise. But then, he’d acknowledged a distant, passing acquaintance with the Romanos, so maybe it wasn’t all that odd. “They’re still on a working holiday for another couple months.”
“A shame,” he murmured, though she suspected a certain insincerity in the comment.
After locking the door of her elegant row house with its pretty gingerbread trim, they crossed to his Jaguar. As always, he opened the door for her, his courtesy an innate part of his personality. They drove to Dantes’ corporate office building, chatting about inconsequential matters along the way. They’d almost reached their destination when David steered the conversation into more turbulent waters.
“I have to fly out to New York next week for a meeting,” he announced after a momentary silence. He flashed her a quick grin. “A very boring meeting.”
He’d mentioned the trip the previous week. “I understand.” She spared him a sympathetic glance. “How long will you be gone this time?”
“Four days. Friday through Monday.”
“Well, that’s not too bad. And at least it isn’t overseas.”
“No, it’s not.” He pulled up to a red light and spared her a brief, meaningful glance that didn’t sink in until he added, “I’d like you to come with me. My business won’t take long. This particular meeting is more of a formality than anything else.”
“Oh, I don’t know, David,” she began.
The light turned green and he continued through the intersection. “I’m not finished.” A single glance at the determined set of his jaw and she fell silent. “I was thinking we’d get a suite at the Ritz.”
The offer came so out of the blue it took her a moment to switch gears. “The Ritz?” Wow. Then the rest of his comment filtered through. “Wait a minute. Do you mean share a suite?”
“I mean a romantic weekend.” His mouth compressed. “As in, no family breathing down our necks.”
Gianna stiffened and she swiveled in her seat. “You feel as though my family is breathing down our necks?” she asked, excruciatingly polite.
He didn’t take notice of the warning in her voice. “In a word, yes. You’re twenty-five, Gianna. We’ve known each other for six months, been dating for three, but you’re still holding me at arm’s length.”
“And you think my family’s to blame for that?”
He still didn’t seem to realize that he’d wandered onto extremely thin ice. How could he have dated her for even a week and not picked up on the fact that family meant everything to her? With the Dantes, family came first and foremost, just as she thought it must with the d’Angelos, despite David’s more cosmopolitan lifestyle. La famiglia, right?
That also extended beyond blood ties. There was nothing the Dantes loved better than finding someone new to add to the fold. If David weren’t so suspicious of their intent, right down to insisting they keep their relationship on the down low until the past month when he’d finally agreed to be introduced to everyone, he’d have discovered that for himself. But for some reason, David’s attitude caused her family to hold him at a cool, polite distance. Well, except for her Nonna.
She saw the Dantes’ corporate headquarters come into sight. “I don’t blame your family for the way you’ve held me
at arm’s length. Not exactly. I understand that some of it is probably the old-fashioned way you were raised.”
Oh, this just kept getting better and better. “Is that right?” she murmured. “Let me take a wild guess here. You consider me old-fashioned because I haven’t jumped into bed with you like every other woman you’ve dated.”
“Again, being blunt here. Yes. The rest of the world has moved forward, Gia, but you Dantes are still living in a different century, with all the rules, social mores, and restrictions that entails. As you know, I was educated at Oxford and enjoy a very sophisticated lifestyle. My entire family actually lives in the twenty-first century.”
“Unlike mine.” She didn’t give him time to respond, instead smiling sweetly. “And for some reason you think a trip to New York will leapfrog me into the current century?”
He countered her smile with a warm, sensuous one of his own. “Hoping, sweetheart. Seriously hoping. Your family is protective. I get that. Even so, you’re a grown woman, Gia, with emphasis on the woman. Why shouldn’t you live your life the way you see fit instead of by a set of antiquated rules?”
“Did it ever occur to you I’m fully aware I’m a grown woman and that, rather than caving to the old-fashioned dictates of my family, I’ve deliberately chosen to live by some of those antiquated rules you regard with such disdain?”
He released a sigh. “You’re forcing me to spoil the surprise I have planned.” He shot her a swift, smoldering look before lifting her left hand and kissing it, his thumb stroking across her bare ring finger. “A surprise that will give everyone cause for celebration and allow your family to turn a blind eye to our little romantic escapade. What do you say to that, sweetheart?”
