Bestselling Authors Collection 2012(81)
He fought back a smile. She sounded like a recalcitrant five-year-old. “You’re afraid to go to sleep. I understand. But I swear to you, Gianna, I’ll keep you safe.”
Tears filled her eyes and she stepped into his waiting arms. “It was so close, Constantine.”
“Not as close as you might think,” he lied, holding her tight against him. She was safe, he reminded himself. And relatively unharmed. “I’d tracked you as far as Calistoga and wasn’t too far behind you. I knew d’Angelo owned a lodge near there, and my father was working to get the exact address.”
She stilled. “You called Vittorio? He knows what happened?”
“I would have called His Holiness, himself, if I thought he could have given me d’Angelo’s address. Fortunately my father has excellent connections. One way or the other, I would have reached you in time.”
Her chin quivered, her jade-green eyes overflowing as emotion set in. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He released her, nudging her in the direction of the bathroom. “Try not to fall asleep in there, okay?”
She didn’t linger. Ten minutes later she emerged, pink-cheeked and smelling subtly of herbs and flowers. She’d wrapped herself in a thick, velour robe. After checking her feet and finding only minor cuts and bruises, he turned down the bed while she stripped off the robe and climbed between the sheets. He lifted an eyebrow at the thigh-length cotton shift she wore beneath. With the light behind her, it was practically transparent. He kept his eyes off the press of feminine curves thrusting against the thin cotton, all the while fighting to maintain an ironclad hold on his libido.
“I think I’d like to leave the light on,” she said, pulling the covers up to her chin.
“That’s fine.” He indicated a heavily cushioned chaise lounge chair covered in antique-rose velvet. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”
She frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous, Constantine. You’ll never get to sleep on that. It’s way too small. Use the guest room.”
“I’m staying right here.” His voice brooked no opposition. He held up his hand when she would have argued. “You’ll sleep better, piccola, having someone close by. And I’ll sleep better having you where I can keep watch over you.”
She examined the chair again, then him. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. Knowing that all I have to do is open my eyes and see you, safe and sound, will put me right out.”
Tears filled her eyes again. “Thank you, Constantine,” she said in a husky voice. “You have no idea—” She broke off and shook her head.
“I think I do.” He approached and, using the utmost restraint, kissed her forehead. “Try to sleep.”
She did, which came as a huge relief to Constantine. He waited until she was deeply unconscious, then slipped from the room and placed a call. When he finished, he returned to the bedroom. He paused at the foot of the bed, gazing at Gianna, and made a silent vow.
No matter what it took, he’d keep this woman safe from harm. He knew that part of the drive to protect came from this peculiar Inferno which connected them, the link so strong it didn’t give him any other option. But it went much deeper than that. When she hurt, he hurt. When she hungered, he felt the need to feed her. What gave her joy, he was driven to provide for her. Her wants and his were so tightly bound that they were almost indistinguishable.
Even as he acknowledged those binds, they chafed, stealing his independence. He hadn’t asked for this connection. And though he wanted Gianna, he didn’t want to be controlled by her. It felt unnatural.
Well, that would change soon enough.
What David d’Angelo had set out to accomplish would happen, just with a different man. Instead of d’Angelo being honor-bound to take Gianna as his bride, Constantine would be the one. Oh, his bride-to-be wouldn’t be pleased with his ruthlessness. But she hadn’t given him any other choice. She’d inflicted him with The Inferno, infecting him with its fever and desperation. Then she’d had the unmitigated gall to change her mind and allow d’Angelo to come within inches of harming her.
Now she’d deal with the consequences. Her family would take care of the problem from this point forward, sweep them up in an unbreakable net of demand and propriety and cart them to the altar—willingly or not.
And then he would be in charge of The Inferno. He would find a way to douse the fire. At the very least, he’d wield the flames instead of suffering from the constant burn of its touch.
Gianna woke a few hours later with a panicked gasp, swimming to the surface from a terrifying nightmare landscape filled with monsters and screaming tires and bogs of quicksand that sucked at her legs and prevented her from fleeing from some unseen threat. Before she’d shuddered out a single breath, Constantine joined her on the bed, pulling her into the warm protection of his embrace.