Wife By Force(40)

"Grazie." His voice was bone dry.

"The place can be fairly loud," she warned. "It might be a bit chaotic. The students are allowed to run around between classes."

Her husband's mouth quirked at one edge. "I have some experience with   children and chaos. If you remember, I have six younger siblings."

"Yes, I remember."

"So, you see, I am not concerned about meeting your students. I believe I will survive the experience."

"They are special children, Dante."

"Every child is special."

His words hit her heart with a solid punch. Her gaze flew to meet his   and in his black eyes she saw more than she expected, maybe more than   there truly was. Was that understanding? Compassion? Her nails bit into   her palm. "These children are special in a different way."         

     



 

"Si," he nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "I know."

"What do you know?" she whispered.

"Do you think I would not … look into … your school?"

"Investigate, you mean." A blinding realization came over her. Why   hadn't she figured this out before? The Dante she knew would never offer   marriage until he knew everything about the woman. Everything. "You   investigated the school."

"I did some research." He sighed at the expression on her face. "I asked   some basic questions. I found it interesting you would choose to  school  these kinds of students."

"These kinds of students?" Her voice crackled with immediate outrage.

His big hand lifted, showing her a broad palm. "That was not an attack or a judgment. I merely made a comment."

She tried to stuff down her instant antagonism. Yet the scars were deep and old. "These students are important."

"As I said before, all children are important."

She braved a look into his solemn stare. "These particular children are important to me."

"I know." He met her gaze. "I have watched you during the last few weeks. I know a lot more about you now."

"You don't know everything about me." A gurgle of the old wretched   insecurity bubbled in her throat. She should embrace the thought that   maybe, maybe when he found out her other secret, a secret far more   important than her lost virginity, he'd reject her. Reject her because   she wasn't only inexperienced, she was flawed.

Dante. Rejecting her. Because she was stupid.

She stared at him across the table. He stared back.

Lara abruptly realized his rejection would be far worse than anything   Gerry had ever done to her. The thought only added to the distress   coating her throat. "Or you wouldn't have married me."

"No?" His mouth quirked again. "Are you going to tell me your deep, dark secrets now we are safely married, tesoro mio?"

"Maybe." She sucked in a breath, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

He gave her a steady look. "Go ahead."

"I'm dyslexic." She felt a bit as if she'd jumped off a cliff and didn't know where or how she'd land.

"Ah." Obsidian eyes held hers, a flare of surprise running through them. "This explains your attachment to the school."

"You didn't know." Why did that shock her? As a young child, she'd never   been a whiz at school, but she'd managed to struggle through the   reading courses while shining in her math classes. The Derricks had   spoken Italian in their home and only after she'd arrived in England to   confront the nuances of the English language had she realized she had a   real problem. By that time, Dante had been out of her life.

So why did she feel as if he should have known this essential piece of her?

"No." He sat back in the chair, totally at ease.

"And it doesn't matter to you?" This casual acceptance was nothing like Gerry's critical condescension.

"It apparently matters to you," he muttered.

"No, I-" she stumbled to a halt.

"Did you believe I would think less of you?" His tone held an edge of frustration.

Yes. That was exactly what she'd thought. She jerked her shoulders in a   shrug, the chaotic emotions running through her making it hard to  appear  nonchalant. "I didn't know."

"But you assumed. Again." He clenched one hand on the table.

"Many people have thought less of me."

"Many people?"

She didn't answer.

"Or perhaps one in particular?"

She shrugged again.

A heavy pause filled the air. One of his fingers smoothed along the edge   of his cup and then dropped to the table. "Why do I feel as if I am   answering for crimes I did not commit?"

There it was again. He wanted her to talk about Gerry-her past, her   pain. But she wasn't interested in spilling her emotions in front of   him. She stood, pushing her wicker chair away. "If you want to see the   school, we'd better go."

Dante leaned back, all elegance and pure male class. His eyes were   shadowed by his long lashes, as he looked down at the remnants of his   coffee. "Va bene, Lara. I will let this go for now." His gaze snapped to   meet hers. "However, we will need to talk about this at some point."

Turning, she hastened toward the kitchen door. "Not if I can help it," she stated under her breath.





Chapter 16





The school was housed in an old warehouse, but the ancient stone was the   only thing old-fashioned about it. As soon as he entered the building,   bright, modern colors crowded his senses. The walls were painted in   brilliant turquoise and vermillion. Cork boards hung everywhere, strewn   with colored drawings of families, horses, dogs.         

     



 

Dante strode behind his wife and looked around as they walked down the   center of a long line of doors. Out of each door spilled high, childish   voices asking dozens of questions. Laughter bounced off the walls, and   the deeper tones of teachers trying to corral the energy and make some   sense of their lessons reverberated through the hall.

"Lara!" A matronly woman turned one corner, and at the sight of his wife, broke into a broad smile. "You're back."

"Ana." His wife swept the woman into a warm hug. "I'm back. Did you survive?"

The woman's brown eyes danced. "Barely. Still, as you can see, the place   didn't explode or collapse. We missed you, though." Her focus landed  on  him, and he felt the immediate assessment begin. It was not in him  to  curry favor with anyone, yet it suddenly was vitally important he   impress this woman who was a good friend of his wife. He nodded towards   her, acknowledging and accepting the assessment.

Lara turned and waved his way. "My husband, Dante Casartelli."

The woman kept assessing. However, she did nod at him.

"Dante," his wife said. "This is Ana Santoro. She is the mainstay of the school."

"Psssh," the matron dismissed. "You exaggerate."

"Hardly." His wife's affectionate smile was one she'd never blessed him   with. The smile struck him sideways. He tried to let the frustration   slide away.

Take it slow, and all things will come to you.

The matron stepped forward and her action cleared the echo of his   father's advice from his mind. A short, firm handshake told him she was   no nonsense. "Good to meet you, Signore Casartelli."

"Dante."

His wife's fine eyebrows rose at the offer of his first name.

"Dante, then." Ana smiled. "You are a very lucky man."

"Ana-"

"I am aware of that." He looked directly into the round, lively face.

"Good, good." Her brown eyes went friendly. Ignoring his wife's   muttering, she turned to bustle down the long corridor. "There's a lot I   have to update you with."

"I'm sure." Lara followed, leaving him to trail behind.

His humor kicked in.

It wasn't often he was left to follow the crowd. A new experience for   him and one he didn't mind. He was here to experience, to understand his   wife. Not to make an impact, make decisions, or make a difference. The   realization gave him a sense of freedom he hadn't experienced since he   was a child.

The experience felt good.

Lara shot questions at Ana as they passed room after room filled with   children. His investigation had told him the school housed only two   dozen in dormitories, yet day school students numbered over a hundred.   The scope of the enterprise was more than he'd expected.

Pride pulsed through him.

His Lara had done all this. She'd found the old building, bought it, and   supervised the restoration. She hired the staff, designed the   advertising, signed the first students. The school was under-funded,   many of the students being on scholarship, but it obviously was well   run.

And his wife had created all of it.

True, he'd given his commitment to future schools in that stupid   contract she'd forced him to create and sign. Something she knew about.