Dante's Blackmailed Bride

by Day Leclaire

  Ten

  Morning found Sev in bed wrapped around Francesca in a complicated tangle of arms and legs. He had a vague recollection of scraping her boneless body off the carpet and tossing her over his shoulder before staggering to the bedroom. Or maybe they’d just crawled here.

  She stirred within his embrace and flopped onto her back with a groan. He smiled at the sight. She’d gone to bed with damp hair and now it surrounded her head like a fluffy halo. Something told him she wouldn’t appreciate her appearance anywhere near as much as he did.

  His smile faded as a new and unfamiliar realization took hold. Last night their relationship had changed, a change that went way beyond what it had been before, on either the work front or as former lovers. Somehow, it had shifted them into an entirely new realm, a realm neither of them anticipated.

  “Who glued my eyes shut?” She forced one open. “Hey, we’re in bed.”

  “Excellent observation.”

  “How’d we get here?”

  “Beats the hell out of me.”

  “Maybe I carried you in before I had my wicked way with you. Again.”

  He grinned. “That’s entirely possible.”

  “Is it just me…” She hesitated, an innate wariness flickering like a warning light. “Or did something peculiar happen to us last night? Even more peculiar than The Inferno, I mean. Although how that’s even possible is beyond me.”

  He framed her face, tracing the delicate bone structure with his fingertips until the shape and texture became as familiar to him as his own. The need to remain in physical contact with her had become an urge he no longer bothered resisting. The Inferno had won.

  “I believe we both realized the truth last night,” he admitted.

  She regarded him with some reservation. “Which is?”

  “This isn’t going away.” He lifted her left hand and studied the engagement ring she wore. The inner fire seemed to erupt from the center of the diamond, fiercer than he’d ever seen it before. “Maybe we should consider making this permanent.”

  He absorbed her jerk of surprise, felt her heart rate kick up a notch. “Are you serious?”

  “I think it’s worth discussing, don’t you?”

  A small smile played at the corners of her mouth. It grew until her entire face radiated with it. “I wouldn’t mind,” she admitted softly.

  On the nightstand table, his cell emitted a soft buzz and Sev swore beneath his breath. “I should have left the damn thing in the other room.”

  She jackknifed upward and snatched a swift kiss. “Go ahead and take it while I get cleaned up.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  She bounced off the bed and darted into the bathroom. Her muffled shriek of dismay put a grin on his face. Something told him she’d just discovered a mirror. He snagged the phone and flipped it open. “This better be good,” he growled.

  “It’s Lazz. And it’s not good. In fact, it’s an effing mess. If you’d bothered to come to work this morning—”

  “Get to the point,” Sev interrupted.

  “Seriously, bro, what the hell are you doing and why aren’t you here? There is a fan sitting on my desk cranked to high and you can’t believe what just hit it.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Francesca.”

  Hell. He glanced toward the bathroom. Water ran in the sink and he could hear her humming, the sound light and happy and slightly off-key. “What’s the problem?”

  “Bloom’s rep called. They’ve decided to go with Timeless.”

  “Not good, but we knew winning that account would be a long shot. What’s it got to do with Francesca?”

  At the sound of her name, she appeared in the doorway. She’d tamed her hair, much to his disappointment, and—even more disappointing—slipped on one of his shirts. She shot him a questioning look as she rolled up the sleeves, an incandescent happiness pouring off her in waves. After the meeting with Kurt, he didn’t think she’d ever find joy again. But she had, and it humbled him that she found it in his arms.

  “Francesca’s the one who convinced Bloom to go with TH,” Lazz said.

  Sev shot off the bed. “Not a chance.”

  “I’m dead serious. Sev, I spoke to the rep. Personally.”

  He bowed his head and stared at the floor. “She wouldn’t have done that. I want you to double-check, Lazz. Triple-check, if that’s what it takes. Find out why Bloom’s rep would lie to you.” And then he looked up, straight into Francesca’s eyes. What hovered there in the shadowed darkness had him breaking off with a word he’d never normally use in her presence. He flipped the phone closed. “Lazz doesn’t need to triple-check, does he? Bloom’s rep told him the truth.”

  His shirt hung on her, making her appear small and fragile. Or maybe it was the barriers she slammed back in place. He never realized how utterly they enshrouded her until she emerged from their protective folds. Last night she’d bared herself in a way she never had before, not in all the time they’d been together.

  Francesca shook her head. “There’s no point in his checking again.”

  “You contacted Juliet Bloom’s representative?” At her nod, he hit her with his accusation. “You advised her to go with Timeless.”

  “Yes. I guaranteed she wouldn’t lose if she did so. That it would only benefit her.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Payback, Francesca?” he asked softly.

  She tilted her chin to a combative angle and fixed him with a cool, remote gaze that shot his blood pressure straight through the roof. “I prefer to call it insurance.”

  “Explain,” he rapped out.

  “Timeless Heirlooms owns the designs that Juliet Bloom is so crazy about. The ones I created. She wants to wear them in her next film. Dantes plans to purchase TH, not put them out of business, so Timeless will endure regardless of ownership. Once the company is safely tucked back into the Dantes’ fold, you’ll receive the continued benefit from having someone of Bloom’s caliber as your spokeswoman.”

  “If we tuck TH back into the Dantes’ fold,” he corrected tightly. “If.”

  “You’ve already assured me it’s going to happen, regardless of me or the Fontaines, or even Juliet Bloom.” She lifted an eyebrow. “A lie, Sev?”

  His back teeth clamped together. “It’s no lie.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” She stepped from the bathroom, wary enough to keep her distance. Smart woman. “All I’ve done is ensure that you honor the contract we signed and pay the Fontaines a fair price for TH. Now that Bloom’s agreed to be the spokeswoman for them, Kurt and Tina will reunite. They’ll have no other choice if they want that contract. Knowing Tina as I do, she won’t let a little thing like an illegitimate daughter stand in the way of a deal of this magnitude.”

  “It will, however, make it more difficult for me to acquire TH.”

  She graciously conceded the point, which had him backing up a step so he wouldn’t give in to temptation and throttle her. “But it will happen. And when that day comes, since I work for you, I’m also available to work with Ms. Bloom should she wish to expand the current collection I designed for her, or have me create a whole new one for her at some point in the future. And if you don’t buy out TH, Ms. Bloom will most likely jump ship and become Dantes’ spokeswoman, since I now work for you. As far as I can tell, everyone comes out of this a winner.”

  “Except for you.”

  That stopped her. About damn time. “What are you talking about?” For the first time a hint of uncertainty crept into her voice.

  “I’m talking about the fact that I have the option to either fire you, in which case I’ll see to it that you don’t work in the industry for the next two years. Or I can transfer you to another office. Either way, Bloom will no longer be your problem.”

  “Which do you intend to do?”

  Francesca asked the question so calmly, if he didn’t know better he’d have thought she didn’t care. But if he’d learned
nothing else about her, he had learned that designing jewelry was as much a part of her as her heart or soul. In fact, it was her soul. He couldn’t take that away from her, no matter how badly her actions had hurt him.

  And they had hurt him. This wasn’t about business, anymore. In fact, she’d shown a ruthlessness he could almost admire. A ruthlessness he, himself, had been forced to employ on occasion. No, this had become personal. It felt personal. It felt as though he’d risked opening himself to her, only to have her use what she’d learned to hurt him.

  “I believe there’s a spot open for you in our New York office. I’ll make your transfer effective immediately.”

  She jerked as though he’d struck her, staring at him for an endless moment with huge, wounded eyes. Without a word, she turned on her heel and moved through the apartment, gathering her possessions. Sev hardened himself as he waited for her to finish and leave.

  Even so, it tore him apart watching her. One more rejection. One more door slammed in her face. Once more out in the proverbial cold. They made one hell of a pair. He scoured his face with his hands. All the while, The Inferno consumed him, raging with the urge to go to her. To fix this. To take her back into his arms and make her his again. His jaw tightened. The hell with it. This was just one more roadblock. A huge one, granted. But surely they could—

  The front door opened and quietly closed, locking behind her. Sev charged into the living room, but she was gone, leaving nothing behind but a cold gleam emanating from the fireplace. Sitting on the hearth he found the engagement ring he’d given her. He crossed the room and picked it up.

  Maybe it was his imagination, but he could have sworn the fire deep within the heart of the diamond had dimmed.

  Francesca sat at her drawing board in her New York office, an office not that dissimilar from the one she’d occupied in San Francisco. Exhaustion dogged her thanks to an endless round of sleepless nights. She’d only been in New York for a month, but already it felt like a lifetime. She rubbed her eyes, struggling to get them to focus on designs that could only be described as mediocre, at best. For some reason, her heart wasn’t in her work anymore.

  But then…how could it be? The past few weeks had been some of the darkest and most difficult of her life, far worse than anything she’d gone through in foster care. Worse even than her father’s rejection. She’d made a hideous mistake when she’d contacted Bloom’s rep.

  Why hadn’t it occurred to her that by helping the Fontaines, she was betraying Dantes…and more specifically, the man she loved? She’d been so busy easing her own guilt over leaving TH, that she never gave a thought to how her decision would impact Sev, or that thanks to their feelings for each other, he wouldn’t see her actions from a business standpoint, but take her betrayal personally. She’d simply reacted to what she’d perceived as an unfair situation, and taken matters into her own hands.

  That still didn’t explain why he hadn’t acknowledged the designs she’d given him on their last night together. She’d hoped he’d understand what they meant. Hoped he’d realize that while she’d won the Bloom account for TH, she’d left him something far more valuable.

  A familiar longing filled her as The Inferno gave her a small, petulant kick. Even after all this time the connection remained—stretched thin and taut, granted. Yet, it held with unbelievable tenacity.

  The phone on her desk let out a shrill ring and she picked it up, surprised to have her greeting answered with a cheerful, “Ciao, sorella. It’s Marco.”

  Pleasure mingled with disappointment at the sound of his voice—pleasure to hear from a Dante and disappointment that it wasn’t the right Dante. “It’s good to hear from you,” she replied. “Though I’m surprised that any of you are willing to talk to me.”

  “You’d be surprised by how many of us are on your side.” He hesitated. “I’m afraid I can’t talk right now. I actually called to ask about some missing designs. Sev would like to know what happened to them. They’re not in your old office. I don’t suppose you took them with you to New York?”

  She frowned. “I don’t understand. I gave them to Sev.”

  “When, Francesca?”

  “The night—” She broke off. The night they’d last made love. “The night before I transferred to New York. I brought them to Sev’s apartment.”

  “He claims he doesn’t have them.”

  Memory kicked in. “It had been raining the night I gave him the designs and I was soaked through. I vaguely recall he took them and tossed them onto the floor, out of the way.” An image flashed through her mind. “I think they slid under that lovely old armoire he has in the entryway. You know the one I mean? He may not have noticed.”

  “Got it. Thanks, Francesca.” He hesitated. “Are you…are you doing okay?”

  No. Not even close to okay. “I’m fine.”

  “Right.” She could hear the irony slipping through the line. “About as fine as Sev, I’d guess.”

  Francesca closed her eyes. “I have to be fine,” she whispered. “We both do. There isn’t any other choice.”

  “You didn’t need to come with me,” Sev informed Marco. “I’m perfectly capable of looking under my own coat closet.”

  “I came to try and make you see sense, as you damn well know.”

  “I always see sense. I’m the most sensible one of the lot of you.”

  “Not about this. Not when it comes to Francesca.”

  Sev shoved his key into the front door lock and twisted so hard it was a wonder the metal didn’t snap off in his hand. “What’s gotten into you, Marco? What part of ‘she betrayed us’ don’t you get?”

  “And how many times did you betray her?” his brother shot back. “I know. I know. You had valid reasons. It was all about protecting Dantes. So answer me this, hotshot. What makes that okay and what she did not okay? She was protecting her family the same as you.”

  That very question had been tearing Sev apart. How could he explain to his brother that it wasn’t about business anymore? How could he explain the irrational belief that this betrayal felt personal? That this time he’d allowed his emotions to override his common sense? For the first time in his life, he, the Dante who prided himself on cool emotionless deliberation, who used calm logic and rational thinking to govern all of his business decisions, hadn’t been able to utilize any of his skills or abilities.

  When it came to Francesca he was neither emotionless, nor logical, let alone cool and calm. The very thought of her caused a burning desire so overwhelming that it didn’t leave room for anything else.

  Marco followed Sev into the apartment. Stooping, he reached under the coat closet and snagged a large, thick envelope. “Here it is. Right where she said it’d be.” He sent the packet spinning in Sev’s direction. “Happy now? Glad you didn’t accuse her of selling her designs to the competition?”

  Sev jerked as though punched. “She’d never—” he said automatically.

  “You’re right. She’d never.” Marco glared at him. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are? Do you have any idea what the rest of us would give to feel The Inferno for a woman like Francesca? To know that we could actually share a life with a woman like her, instead of longing for what we can never have? Instead of settling for second best? I never thought I’d say this to you, of all people, but you’re a fool, Severo Dante.”

  Without a word, Sev ripped open the envelope and pulled out a sketchpad. He flipped it open and spared it a swift glance. And then he froze. “Marco…”

  “What now?” He shifted to stand beside Sev, and whistled softly. “If you needed proof how much she loves you, here it is.”

  Sev nodded. Page after page revealed some of the most incredible jewelry designs he’d ever seen—designs ideal for the expansion Dantes’ planned for some point in the future. It didn’t take much thought to understand what she’d done…or why.

  He understood all too well why she’d left these designs, designs she’d clearly been working on for years. She’d
taken with one hand by giving the Bloom account to TH, and given with the other by presenting Dantes with these designs, dispensing a rough sort of justice. Only, she had more than compensated Dantes for what she’d given to Timeless Heirlooms.

  She’d left him an incomparable gift, one that decimated the priorities he’d set in stone the day he’d first taken over from his father. A gift that made him realize there could only be one priority in his life from this point forward, and it wasn’t Dantes.

  The gift she’d given him wasn’t the designs contained in her sketchpad. She’d left behind the gift of her heart.

  Another month passed after Francesca’s conversation with Marco. A month of pain and sorrow and regret. During those weeks, she’d come to the realization that Sev’s feelings for her were truly dead, that The Inferno no longer burned for him the way it still burned for her.

  Even when she received instructions to return to San Francisco on company business, she’d been unable to summon so much as a spark of hope. After all, miracles didn’t exist. She’d learned that at the tender of age of eight when she’d been discarded by the people she’d hoped would one day be her adoptive parents. She knew better than to expect the door to open and for her to be welcomed in. She’d been disappointed too many times. And Sev had made himself abundantly clear before sending her to New York. She no longer belonged to the Dante inner circle.

  She crossed to the mirror and examined her dress. She’d been specifically asked by Sev’s assistant to wear red in order to fit in with the theme chosen for this evening’s festivities. What theme, no one had bothered to explain. So, Francesca picked the brightest, most glorious shade of red she could find.

  The fitted bodice glittered with Swarovski crystal beads, while the chiffon skirt drifted outward from her hips to the floor in layers of handkerchief veils that lifted and swirled on an invisible breeze. After some debate, she chose to leave her hair down and it fell in heavy curls to shoulders bared by the halter neckline of the gown.