Wife By Force(23)

He would not lose his temper.

He would not pounce.

He would act in a civilized manner.

Losing control is the worst thing you can do, son.

Si, his father had been right. From now on, during every one of his   dealings with her, he would keep a tight rein on everything. His temper,   his libido, his goals. He would not growl at her, he would not kiss   her, and he certainly would not proclaim his final goal by stating it to   her every time they met.

You are mine.

A statement by a crazed man. A claim made by a cave dweller. A   declaration sure to incite a woman with any spirit into full-blown   rebellion.

Not only had he acted like a monster, he'd acted like un cretino.

Not anymore.

He slowly closed his laptop and glanced up into three sets of Derrick   eyes. One set worried, one sullen, one already showing sparks of   accusation.

He could handle this. All right, she was here and would find out more   details than he'd been willing to share with her. But he'd negotiated   with the best minds in the world and won. He'd win this one too and he'd   win Lara Derrick. Eventually.

He took in a deep breath, readying himself to win.

"Lara." Hugo Derrick's voice was unusually stern, turning the conversation ugly in a second.

Precisely opposite of what he wanted. "Hugo-"

"Why are you back so early?" Her father's bushy brows lowered in condemnation.

Dante knew the man was only trying to show him he'd meant to keep his   daughter away from this conversation as requested. Still, now that she   was here, there wasn't any use in accusing and haranguing. This would   only get her riled-

"I can't come home anytime I want to?" Just as he expected, her tone was harsh.

She was already upset, her hackles rising.

"Sis, this isn't something you should be part of," her brother's voice chimed in.

She squared her shoulders, a militant gleam appearing in her golden glare.

Stronzo.

She started storming towards where he stood at the side of her father's   old oak desk. Evidently, she had zeroed in on the male she wanted to   blame, even though he hadn't been the one to get her riled up. Not this   time. It didn't seem to matter. Not by the look she gave him, brimming   with the usual aggravation and hostility.

His gaze lowered, trying to escape her accusing glare, lowered to the   soft, subtle swing of her breasts under her plain white T-shirt. Dio,   she was not wearing a bra. Did she wish every male mind in her vicinity   to turn to mush?

With a will of iron, he directed his focus down, over her rounded hips, her long legs …

Barefoot. She was barefoot.

His body went from semi-hard to fully erect in one sharp second. He   stifled another curse. He did not have a foot fetish. He did not. And   he'd seen a thousand women walking without a bra on and had not been   affected in the least.

Merda.

"What's going on?" Her voice wavered as she planted herself solidly in   front of the desk. She swung her head, allowing herself one glare at her   father. "What is he doing here?"

He bristled at the accusing tone of her voice. Temper crept around his control, edging his blood pressure skyward.

Maledizione.

Taking a deep breath, he clamped down on his irritating libido and unruly temper.

"Dante is a guest in this house." Her father stood up and leaned over his desk. "I'm surprised at your attitude."

"When I'm not included in a family discussion, but Dante is, I'm afraid my attitude turns sour."

"Lara." Her brother groaned, rubbing a hand through his blond hair.

"I repeat," she demanded. "What's going on?"

Her father grumbled under his breath, his bushy eyebrows bristling, his   bald head reddening. She whipped around and stared at Andrew, who   wouldn't meet her glare. In the end, she turned to Dante and pinned him   with a fierce look. "Fine. You tell me."

She didn't know. Any of it. By her manner and the tinge of fear in her   gaze, it was apparent. He'd thought that at least her father would have   given her a bit of information. Plainly, though, this wasn't the case.         

     



 

So now she wanted him to be the bearer of bad news. She'd picked him to carry the load, lower the hammer, be the bad guy.

Cazzo!

This was not how he'd wanted this situation to play out. There was   nothing to be done but face it, however. Nothing to be done but shoulder   the duty and make the best of it. As he always did.

"Lara-" her father rumbled.

"Hugo. Andrew." He clenched his hand by his side. "Leave us."

Her brother stood with a jerk, his tall, lanky body slumping toward the door. "Come on, Pop."

Her father took a deep breath. "I don't want her in the middle-"

"You do not trust me?" Dante pinned the man with a pointed look.

"Of course, I trust you." The older man's shoulders slumped. "This is such a bloody situation."

"Si, yet I have put forward the path out of the situation."

"True." Hugo Derrick lifted his head and stared into Dante's eyes.

"Then you agree and will sign the contract?"

"What contract?" Her tone came shrill and sharp. "Papa, don't sign anything with-"

"Lara." Her father cut her off, a frown of disapproval lowering his eyebrows. "Dante is doing us a fav-"

"I will handle this, Hugo." He didn't want her father reciting his   virtues right now. By her attitude-the sullen turn of her mouth, her   golden gaze alive with distrust-her attitude told him it wouldn't help   his cause. Better to be blunt with the truth and give her some time to   come to the conclusion on her own that what he'd done for her family was   worthy of respect. "She has a right to know what is going on and I am   the one who should tell her."

"I agree." Her brother gave his approval.

"Obviously, it doesn't matter to all you Neanderthals," she said, "but I agree I have a right to know what's going on."

With a sudden dry chuckle, Hugo Derrick walked around his desk. Taking   his daughter into his arms, he gave her a swift hug. "I only wanted to   protect you."

"I don't need protection, Papa." She gazed into his face, her eyes finally going soft. "I keep telling you that."

"All right. All right." Hugo let her go and turned with an outstretched hand to Dante. "You have a deal."

"No, Papa-"

Breaking into her aggravating objection, he took the older man's gnarled   hand in his. "Buono. There is nothing more to worry about."

Beside him, she snorted, as always ready to disagree.

He continued, not letting her voice her disapproval, keeping his focus   on her father and her brother who stood at the library door, inches from   escape. "I will let Lara know the details and convince her it's a wise   move for everyone involved."

Another female huff. Yet, she stayed silent. One small victory, at least.

Hugo Derrick looked at his daughter. Then Dante. A small smile edged   onto his mouth. "I'll leave you to it. Andy and I will be in the garden   room when you're done with your conversation."

The sound of the library door creaking shut behind the two men ended in a   hushed silence. Dante gathered his wits and turned to stare down into   her face. They were close, close enough he could hear her hitched  breath  and smell her rosy scent. Close enough a tingle of sexual  awareness  slithered down his spine.

No, no, no. This was not the time for any of that. This was a time to be   blunt, precise, and then leave, letting time and her family work to  his  benefit.

"Tell me." Her eyes were a dull gold, like hard stones staring out of her face.

"Your brother traded outside his job." Brusque and tough, his words landed in the stillness of the room.

"No," she gasped.

"Si," he countered. "This violated his contract, so he's been fired.   There's a chance he might be brought before the governing board of the   Borsa Italiana."

She slumped into the chair nearest her and took a deep breath. "Why? It's unlike him to break the rules."

In order to stop himself from lifting her into his embrace and   comforting her, he walked to the edge of the oak desk and leaned on it,   crossing his arms. "Your father."

"What?" Her head jolted around and she met his stare once more.

"He has been struggling for a while. The upkeep on this house is not inconsequential."

"I didn't know. He never said anything." Her skin paled to the color of parchment. "So Andy-"

"Tried to help. He took your father's remaining holdings, used his   insider knowledge of the markets, and tried to make up some ground."         

     



 

"It didn't work?" Her knuckles showed white in contrast to the tan of her pants. "He failed?"

"He failed. And got caught."