Wife By Force(22)

The commute between here and Florence was draining her, and to her   irritation, long afternoon searches for any kind of accommodation in the   city had been fruitless. Yet she loved this old, cozy house and every   day, when she arrived here, she found frustration easing out of her.

Except for today. Except for the last two weeks.

"Stop thinking about him," she demanded of herself. "There are more important things to think about."

Stepping out of her car, she grabbed her sandals, which she'd slipped   off to drive, and her laptop. Finances were getting tighter and tighter   as the school opening approached. Somehow, she had to figure out how to   trim the budget without hurting the service to the kids. That was what   she needed to focus on.

Not him.

Her gaze traveled past the fountain and landed on a very unlikely sight.   Her brother's pride and joy, his new red Alfa Romeo, stood within  steps  of their front door.

What was Andy doing here on a work day?

As far as she knew, he hadn't missed a day of work at his highflying   Italian financial firm since he'd started nine months ago. She'd found   it amusing to see her twenty-three-year-old brother turn from a low key,   low maintenance college kid, into a single-minded high achiever. He'd   become extremely focused and determined during the last few months.   She'd been proud of him.

Her attention landed on the car next to Andy's.

A limo. Expensive. Impressive.

Nothing her family would own. Nothing any of their friends would own.

Except one family of friends.

Her heartbeat accelerated and a flush of agonized anticipation slid   across her skin. This couldn't be. Not after weeks of no contact. This   must be her brother's boss or someone her papa knew. Someone with any   name besides Casartelli.

A man stepped out of the limo and she jumped. Her reaction made her feel   foolish. He was nothing like Dante. Short and compact, dressed in a   navy suit, he nodded to her and lit a cigarette. Another man sat in the   front seat.

A driver. Security. No one else she knew had this other than...

She took a cautious step forward while throwing a prayer to heaven. Let it be anyone else. "Signore."

"Si?" He puffed and eyed her.

"This limo-"

"Si?"

"Who owns-"

"Signore Casartelli," he smiled, his front tooth gleaming with gold.

"Okay." What was he doing here in the middle of the day? Was he waiting for her?

Her heart beat in her chest in double time. Which was dumb. Taking herself in hand, she paced to her home's door and opened it.

No Dante lurking, waiting. Yet he was still here. Somewhere. She sensed his presence.

Her heart pitter-pattered. Pitter-pattered! How stupid could she get?

She cursed herself before striding into the family home.

The foyer was empty and silent. Putting her shoes and laptop on the   antique wooden side table, she walked quietly down the hall, listening.   At last, she heard them. A rumble of male voices coming from the   library.

He was here. But apparently not to see her because he was closeted with   her father and brother behind a closed library door. A door her father   rarely closed.

Her heartbeat changed, going from a pitter-patter to a hard bonk-bonk.

Something was odd. Something was wrong.

Her bare feet made no noise as she tiptoed to the door. Pressing her ear against the cool wood, she unashamedly eavesdropped.

"Not something I'm comfortable … "

Her father's voice came first. He sounded tired and strained. Nothing like the contented, happy papa she knew and loved.         

     



 

Lara's heart began to chug in her chest.

" … This is the only hope you have, Hugo, and I am willing … "

Dante's cool tone sent a shiver up her spine. He sounded like the icicle   again. All arrogant control. And there was a threat weaving through  his  words. A warning. An ultimatum.

Papa's only hope? Dante?

Her heart tumbled into her churning stomach.

"I'm sorry, Pop."

Her brother's voice held a wealth of shame and pain. Andy had done   something. Something awful. She knew her baby brother well, even though   they'd been separated when he'd been only eleven. She remembered him as  a  boy. He sounded like that boy now. Lost and sullen, caught doing   something horrible.

What was going on? Something was very, very wrong.

Lara stood still, yet inside her heart pumped madly, her brain twirled, her stomach squeezed.

She had a right to know.

This was her family. If Dante was her family's only hope-

The thought caused a shudder of fright to run through her. He couldn't   be their only hope. They'd figure out some way to overcome whatever her   brother had done. Without Dante Casartelli's help.

Thrusting her shoulders back, she opened the library door.



* * *



Dante heard the creak of the door opening and stifled a groan of annoyance.

This was not part of his strategy.

He'd been assured she wouldn't be around. He'd been very clear with her   father and brother that he wanted to keep this deal's details between   themselves. Si, he wanted Lara to find out the general gist of what had   occurred. After the fact. He wanted to give her the gift of knowing the   situation was resolved satisfactorily. He didn't want her to worry  about  her father or her home or her brother or her school for even one   minute. The knowledge he'd been the one to help, to save, would go a   long way towards bridging the gap he'd created between them.

The gap he'd widened two weeks ago when he lost control over his libido.

A libido he had firmly in control now.

Except the fine hair on the back of his neck prickling on his skin and   the quickening of the blood rushing through his veins told him who stood   in the doorway. He knew, before even glancing toward the door, that it   was she. Invading his well-calculated, almost-complete negotiation  with  her father and brother. Teasing his well-leashed passion with her   presence.

He made himself glance toward the door.

Si. It was she.

She wore a simple white T-shirt and tan capris. Nothing like the pretty   peach dress he'd torn off her two weeks ago. Her mahogany hair fell on   her shoulders in a wind-swept, messy manner. Much like he'd left it in   their last encounter after his rough hands had ruined and rampaged. Her   face was pale, her eyes dark. Exactly as they'd been when she yanked   herself from his grasping hands in the shadowy garden.

At least she wasn't crying.

Yet.

At least she wasn't throwing accusations at him.

For now.

The last time he'd seen her, she was striding away, sliding the straps   of her dress up over her moonlit shoulders. He'd stood there in the   garden for a long time. Still tasting the cream of her skin on his   tongue, still smelling her arousal on his fingers, still hearing the   sounds of her passion ringing in his ears.

Still remembering her tears.

Still remembering her last words to him.

When his lust eventually ebbed and his erection finally softened, it was   the memory of her tears and final words that remained to torment him.   Torture him with what he'd done.

You are a monster.

No wonder she thought he was a monster. What man of any kind of   refinement would roughly pull an unwilling woman into his arms time and   time again? What man with any style would purposefully fluster a lady,   probe into secrets she didn't want to reveal, and bait her until she  was  red with anger? What man with even a scintilla of sophistication  would  savagely push a soft, lovely female against a tree and pump at  her like a  rampaging marauder?

No wonder she despised him.

He had acted like a monster.

He looked away from her and down at the laptop he'd brought into this   meeting. The contract he'd had drawn up for this conversation danced   before his eyes. He'd been minutes away from getting Hugo and Andrew   Derrick's signatures and agreement. Minutes away from saving the Derrick   fortune, home, and son's neck.

He was not a monster. He wasn't.

He only had to prove it to her.

Finding out she knew about his involvement in sending her to England had   shocked him. He'd behaved badly because of it, trying to use sexual   desire to convince her of the bond between them. However, his actions   had backfired into tears and accusations.         

     



 

He needed to change his approach.

His new strategy, one he'd carefully prepared during the last couple of   weeks, was going to take some time, but so be it. Having Lara was worth   all his time even if it took forever.

His first step was this deal between her father and brother and himself.

His second step was to become her friend when she softened towards him   after hearing about this deal. He would show her what kind of man he   actually was. Not a monster out-of-control. No, a man of honor and   integrity. A man worthy of respect. A man she could trust.