Dante's Blackmailed Bride

by Day Leclaire

  “Lazz,” he said.

  A few seconds later the call went through. “Sev?” A rapid clicking bled through the line, indicating his brother was typing as he spoke. Ever the multitasker. “I just spoke to Marco.”

  “And?”

  Lazz sighed. “You’re both at the same party. So why am I the one keeping you two up-to-date?”

  “Do I really need to answer that?”

  “Okay, okay. Marco has two names for you so far. There’s a Clifton Paris and a Deborah Leighton. He’s working on the third one, but everyone’s being very mysterious. He thinks it’s because they’re planning some huge announcement in regard to this final designer.”

  “Which means he’s the one we’re after.”

  “Probably. Marco said there’s some special deal TH is about to close, also involving this particular designer.”

  “The Fontaines said the same thing. Does Marco know what the deal is or which designer?”

  “Actually…he does, at least in part. They’re about to sign a big-name actress.”

  Sev fought for patience. “There’s a lot of big-name actresses out there. Which one are we looking at?”

  “Don’t know, yet. But the rumor is, she’s top-drawer. If they do sign someone like Julia Roberts or Nicole Kidman or Juliet Bloom, it’ll be huge for them. And it’ll effectively prevent both a buyout and, quite possibly, our ability to compete with them on the open market.”

  Sev grimaced at his brother’s all-too-accurate assessment. “I need to find out who they’re courting and get the agreement delayed. Put Nicolò on it.”

  “Right away.”

  “We also need leverage. Call that P.I. we hired last year—Rufio—and have him start an immediate investigation of the designers Marco’s already identified. Then call Marco and tell him I want that third name ASAP. Tell him to alert me the minute he has it.”

  “Check.”

  Sev flipped the phone closed and pocketed it. Time to gather himself for round two. He glanced toward the glow of lights, where the subdued chatter of voices wafted from the ballroom. To his relief, his reaction to the blonde had eased somewhat. Five minutes and counting without a single image of her short-circuiting his brain and sending the rest of him into overdrive.

  Or so he thought until she appeared in the doorway and stared straight at him. For a split second he believed she came in search of him, that the ever-tightening tendrils between them were acting on a subliminal level and drawing her to him. Then he realized that her eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness that cloaked him. He nearly groaned. She couldn’t see him at all. Did she even sense him? Doubtful. This was his insanity, not hers.

  She hesitated while light streamed around her, capturing her in its warm embrace. She’d dressed simply, in a silk sheath of palest lilac. No doubt the color had been selected to complement the jewelry she wore—the set unquestionably the work of TH’s mystery designer. A delicate rope of silver, studded with the unmistakable glitter of diamonds and Verdonian amethysts, hugged the base of her neck while a simple confection of the same stones flashed discreetly on the lobes of her ears. Understated. Stylish. Sophisticated.

  With a sigh of relief she stepped onto the balcony. The light from the ballroom gave her a final caress, slipping through the thin silk to reveal a womanly shape that nearly brought Sev to his knees. Full breasts strained against the low-cut bodice, while a nipped waist and shapely hips gave the simple dress an impressive definition.

  She crossed to the balustrade and stared out at the view, absently rubbing her bare arms against the spring chill. Sev found he couldn’t move. The rational part of his brain ordered him to return to the gathering and finish the job at hand. But an overwhelming need eclipsed that small voice of sanity. It was as though some primeval part of himself dominated reason and rationale. He’d become a creature of instinct. And instinct demanded that he inhale her very essence and imprint it on his mind and body and soul.

  Her instincts must have been as finely tuned as his own, for she lifted her head as though scenting the air. Then, with unerring accuracy, she spun to face him and her gaze collided with his.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said.

  Francesca froze, every nerve ending sizzling to life in an instinctive fight-or-flight reaction. She couldn’t say what alerted her to the man’s presence. One second she believed herself alone and in the next heartbeat she sensed him on a purely intuitive level.

  She stared at him and the breath hitched from her lungs. He blended into his shroud of shadows so completely that the ebony richness of his hair and suit melted into his surroundings, making him appear part of the night. Only his eyes were at odds with the endless darkness, glittering like antique gold against a palette of black. As though aware of her apprehension, he stepped into a swath of light coming from the ballroom to enable her to get a better look.

  His height impressed her. He stood a full two or three inches over six feet with an imposing expanse of shoulders and long, powerful legs. For the first time since childhood, she felt downright petite. Reflected light cut across his features, throwing the patrician lines of his face into sharp relief. Heaven help her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen such a gorgeous man.

  But something stunned her even more than his appearance—the emotional turmoil he triggered. She’d never responded to a man like this before. Never experienced such an intense, uncontrollable physical reaction. She stood before him, filled with a feminine helplessness utterly foreign to her nature. Desire shook her, the intensity so absolute that she could only stare in bewilderment when he offered his hand.

  “You’ve been waiting for me?” she finally managed to say. “Why?”

  “I noticed you when I first arrived and hoped we’d eventually meet. My name’s Severo. Sev, for short.”

  “Francesca Sommers.” She took the hand he offered before snatching it back with a startled exclamation. “Good Lord. What was that?”

  He appeared equally stunned. “Static electricity?”

  She’d felt static electricity before. Who hadn’t? In fact, as a child she and the other foster children had often delighted in scuffing their socks on the carpet before chasing through the house in order to shock each other. That brief zap of electricity bore no similarity to this.

  She scrubbed her palm across her hip, but after that initial searing of flesh against flesh, the sensation changed. It scored her palm like a brand, though unlike a brand, it didn’t hurt. It sank deep into her bones—part tingle combined with a peculiar ticklish itch. She didn’t know what to make of it.

  “Maybe we should try that again,” Sev said.

  She took a swift step backward. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

  His mouth tilted to one side. “I’m sorry. I have no idea how or why that happened. You sure we can’t try this again?” He held out his hand. “I promise, if anything bad occurs, I’ll keep my distance.”

  She hesitated for an instant, then reluctantly slipped her hand into his. “So far, so good.”

  The previous sensation didn’t happen again, true. Instead, another one took its place. It felt as though some part of him seeped from his hand to hers and sank into her pores before being lapped up by her veins. It slid deeper with every beat of her heart, imbuing her with his essence. Worse, each beat filled her with forbidden desire.

  She fought the sensation, fought to speak naturally. “So, what brings you to the showing, Sev? Are you a buyer?”

  “Not exactly, although the set you’re wearing is something I wouldn’t mind acquiring. May I have a closer look?”

  No more than a couple of feet separated them. The single step he took in her direction shrank that distance to mere inches and magnified her reaction to him. Drawing in a deep breath, she tilted her head to one side so he could get a better look at her design, praying he wouldn’t take long so she could escape into the relative safety of the shadows surrounding them. The next instant she found escape the last thing on her mi
nd.

  His hand brushed her collarbone as he traced the curve of her necklace with his fingertips, branding her with fire. “Stunning. Absolutely stunning.”

  On the surface his comment sounded simple enough, yet a heavy, old-world lyricism underscored it, filled with the flavor of foreign climes. She could hear the faint strains of a glorious Italian aria, smell the tart richness of ripening grapes, soak in the heat and humidity of a Tuscan summer.

  Unable to help herself, she swayed toward him and whispered his name. His response came in a frantic explosion of movement. He swept her into his arms, locking her against him. Hips and thighs collided, then melded. Hands sought purchase before hers tunneled into the thick waves of his hair and his spread across her hip and spine, flooding her with a heavy liquid warmth. Lips brushed. Once. Twice. Finally, their mouths mated, the fit sheer perfection.

  She practically inhaled him, unable to get enough. Not of his taste. Not of his scent. Not of his touch. His hands drifted upward, igniting a path of fire in their wake. The most peculiar awareness filled her as he touched her. Though his caress aroused her, she didn’t get the impression his actions were a form of foreplay. Instead, it almost felt as though he were committing the shape and feel of her to memory, imprinting her on his brain.

  She pulled back slightly, fighting for breath. “I don’t understand any of this. We’ve only just met. And yet, I can’t keep my hands off of you.”

  “I can’t explain it, either.” Desire blazed across his face, giving him a taut, hungry appearance. “But, it’s happening, and right now that’s all that matters. Fortunately, that also makes it easy to fix.”

  Yes. Thank goodness they could fix this terrifying reaction and make it go away. “Fine. Let’s get it taken care of.”

  He caught her hand in his. “Let’s go.”

  “Go?” She resisted his pull, not that it got her anywhere. He simply towed her along. “Go where?”

  “I’ll pay for a room here at Le Premier, and we’ll spend the night working this out of our systems. Come morning, we go our separate ways, flame extinguished.”

  Francesca fought to think straight. “This is crazy.” Severo, a man she’d met just five minutes ago, had kissed her with a passion she’d never known existed and then casually suggested they book a room at a hotel for a night of mind-blowing sex. He seemed to have missed one vital point. “I don’t do one-night stands.”

  He never even broke stride. “In the normal course of things, neither do I. For you, I’m willing to make an exception.”

  Under different circumstances she’d have found his comment amusing. Without the warmth generated by his embrace, the cool San Francisco air allowed her to regain an ounce of common sense and she pulled free of his grasp. “Wait. Just wait a minute.”

  She watched him fight for control. “I’m not sure I have a minute to spare.” A swift grin lit his face with unexpected masculine beauty. “Will thirty seconds do?”

  She thrust her hands into her hair, destroying the elegant little knot she’d taken such pains to fashion a few short hours ago. There was a reason she couldn’t go with him. A really good reason, if only she could bring it to mind. “I can’t be with you. I need to get back inside. I—I have obligations.” That was it. Obligations. Obligations to…She released a silent groan. Why the hell couldn’t she remember? “I think I’m obligated to do something important.”

  Sev shot a perplexed glance toward the ballroom. “As am I.” His mouth tugged into another charming smile, one she found irresistible. It altered his entire appearance, transforming him from austere man-in-charge, to someone she’d very much like for a lover. “Since you don’t know me, you won’t appreciate what I’m about to say, but…I don’t give a damn about obligation or duty or what I should be doing or saying or thinking. Right now, finding the nearest bedroom is all that matters.”

  “I’m not sure—”

  He slid his arms around her, pulling her close, and her hands collided with the powerful expanse of his chest. Everything about him seduced her. The look in his eyes. The deep warmth of his voice. The heated imprint of his body against hers. “Perhaps this will convince you.”

  He lowered his head once again and captured her mouth with his. Where before his kiss had been slower and more careful, this time the joining was fast and certain and deliciously skillful. He teased her lips apart and then slid inward, initiating a duel that she wished could go on forever.

  Her hands slid upward to grip the broad width of his shoulders. She could feel the barely leashed power of him rippling beneath her palms, could sense how tightly he held himself in check. And she found that she wanted to unleash that power and break through those protective safeguards. What would his embrace be like if he weren’t holding back? The mere thought had her moaning in anticipation.

  He must have heard the small sound because he tensed and a compelling combination of desire and determination poured off him. His kiss deepened as he shifted from enticement to an unmistakable taking. He wanted her, and he expressed that want with each escalating kiss. If they’d been anywhere else, she’d have done something outside her realm of expertise. She’d have surrendered to his seduction and given herself to him right then and there.

  She’d never experienced anything that felt so right, not in all her twenty-six years. How could she have doubted? How could she have questioned being with this man? She belonged here in his arms and nowhere else. She wanted what only he could offer. More, she wanted to give him just as much in return. As though sensing the crumbling of her defenses, he lifted his head and stared down at her with dark, compelling eyes.

  “Come with me,” he insisted, and held out his hand. “Take the chance, Francesca.”

  How could she refuse him? Without another word of protest, she linked her fingers with his.

  Two

  Francesca remembered little of their passage from the balcony to the front desk of the hotel. She existed in a dreamlike bubble, every word and action touched with enchantment. From the moment she put her hand in Sev’s, the insanity that invaded her earlier came crashing back with even greater intensity. After he collected a key card and made a brief stop at the gift shop for supplies, he led her to a private elevator that whisked them straight to the penthouse suite. It wasn’t until she stepped inside that a modicum of common sense prevailed.

  “Perhaps we could have a drink and get to know each other,” she suggested. “Take this a little slower.”

  To her surprise, he didn’t argue. Maybe he felt the same way she did—overwhelmed and off-kilter. Desperate to regain his footing in this strange new land they’d stumbled upon.

  “Let me see what they have in stock.” He checked the selection of wines and chuckled, the deep, rich sound tripping along her nerve endings. He hefted one of the bottles. “Well, would you look at this. Here’s something you might enjoy. They actually carry one of my family’s labels from Italy.”

  “You’re vintners?” she asked in surprise.

  “My extended family is.” He smiled, the relaxed warmth and humor causing her system to react in the most peculiar way. “I have a huge extended family. You probably couldn’t mention a single field of interest where I couldn’t find one of my relatives in that business.”

  “Even the jewelry business?” she joked. Since he’d been at Timeless Heirlooms’ showing, he must have some connection to the jewelry industry.

  He gave her an odd look. “Especially the jewelry business.”

  Before she could ask the next logical question—why he’d been present at the showing—he handed her the wine. Their fingers brushed and she caught her breath, the sound a sharp, urgent reaction to his touch. The fragile glass trembled in her grasp and without a word she set it on the closest surface. Slowly, ever so slowly, her gaze shifted to meet his and time froze.

  How was this possible? How could she experience such intense feelings for a man she knew nothing about? She’d always kept herself guarded, had made a point to d
evelop previous relationships slowly and with great care. Emotional distance promised safety. This—whatever this was—promised excitement, yet threatened danger.

  Spending the night with Sev would change her, mark her in some indelible fashion. And yet, even knowing all that, an uncontrollable yearning built within, sweeping relentlessly through her, a yearning she had no more power to resist than the tide could fight the forces that drove each wave toward shore.

  She gave up the battle. Stepping into his arms, she surrendered to his embrace. Relief surged through her, catching her by surprise. It took an instant to identify the cause and realize that it felt wrong to be apart from him, that on some level she needed to touch him and have him touch her. That without him she felt adrift and incomplete.

  Without a word she helped him remove his suit jacket, the heavy silence broken only by the sigh of silk. His tie followed. She tackled the buttons of his shirt next. It felt so peculiar to stand before him and perform such an intimate, domestic chore. This should be a wife’s pleasure. Or a lover’s. She was neither. Or did a one-night stand qualify her as his lover?

  His shirt parted, the crisp white of fine cotton juxtaposed against the tawny darkness of his skin. Her hands hovered for an instant, creating an additional contrast of cream against rich gold, before she flattened her palms against hard, bare flesh. She splayed her fingers across the rippled warmth and slid them upward, sweeping his shirt from his shoulders. Desire hummed through her veins and reverberated in her soft murmur of delight.