Consequence of His Revenge(9)

The first course arrived, and the butler invited them to the table. Cami was able to keep the conversation with Bernadetta to neutral topics from there on, but it was a difficult evening. An oppressive yearning made her hyperaware of Dante and her own body language. Of the fact she was supposed to ski with him tomorrow.

Mix her one true love with a man she hated? She had to get out of it.

* * *

“That was weird that your cousin thought he knew my name.”

Dante had worried the whole thing was coming out of the bag and grudgingly appreciated the way Cami had changed the subject.

“He does.” Dante glanced at the phone that had been pulsing regularly through dinner. Arturo wanted to hear from him. “Our mothers were the eldest of seven sisters. We ran wild on the estate all summer, especially after I lost my parents and lived with my grandparents permanently. He didn’t share my passion for cars or electronics, but he always encouraged me to follow my aspirations.”

For a time, Dante had wondered if it was an attempt to push him from being their grandfather’s successor, but Arturo had never enjoyed taking responsibility. He’d matured enough to be an asset on the acquisitions side of the family business, identifying opportunities like the Tabor, but back in their youth he’d been a playboy, partying and gambling in the stock market. He’d done surprisingly well at it, fortunately.

“When our grandfather died, Arturo was with me through every step, especially helpful with the way I’d been compromised by your father. He offered more than moral support. Financing. I needed it.” It was a lowering thing to admit, one that made his teeth clench to this day. “We’re like brothers. Naturally, he wants to know why I’m consorting with the family that betrayed me.”

Color rose in her cheeks.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened.

“I can find my own way home,” Cami told him as she crossed the lobby in a brisk clip.

He paced her easily, not even bothering to acknowledge the remark, only handing his ticket to the valet as they reached the entrance.

“We’ll wait in here where it’s warm.” Cami hadn’t brought a coat, and the spring weather was looking closer to winter now that night had fallen.

“What if you’re seen with me?” Cami challenged in a scathing whisper, giving him a wide-eyed look that was equal parts impending doom and disdain.

Dante’s thoughts on fraternization were evolving, given their kiss, but he would address that after he’d had time to work through it more thoroughly.

That’s why he hadn’t yet returned his cousin’s texts. He should be pushing Cami out the door and out of his life, but he couldn’t forget—literally couldn’t stop thinking about—the way she had felt in his arms. All through dinner, while she’d been advising his grandmother on which shops carried the best local art, he’d been thinking about taking her to his room. Spending the night with her, finishing what they’d started in her apartment.

Sleeping with his enemy would be the height of insanity, but there could be something very satisfying in it. As long as he maintained the upper hand. Carnal hunger gnawed at him, warring with his good sense.

The valet arrived, and they walked outside where the chill on the damp air made their breath fog. She waited until Dante had pulled away from the hotel to say, “I can’t go tomorrow. I sold my skis, and I’m not letting your grandmother rent any for me.”

His grandmother wasn’t exactly on a fixed income, but, “I intend to pay.”

“Then I am definitely not going.”

“She’ll want to see photos proving how much fun we’re having.” He enjoyed making that facetious statement, especially when it provoked a tiny noise of frustration in her throat. He smiled in the dark. “Why did you sell your skis?”

“Is that a real question? I don’t have a job or a place to live.” She spoke like she was explaining it to a child. “I needed cash to rent a storage locker.”

He made the turn toward her neighborhood, which was in the most modest part of a very affluent resort town. “What did your father do with all the money?”

“You tell me,” she said tightly. “You said earlier that I benefited from his crime, but I didn’t. Not in any way that I can tell.”

“No?”

She moved restlessly in her seat, muttering reluctantly, “Maybe I was supposed to. Maybe he was trying to pay for my training. I don’t know. I was fourteen, totally in my own world, barely aware what a mechanical engineer was, let alone who he worked for or what you were making together. I was close to getting a sponsorship, not a huge one, but enough to help. It fell through. Maybe he got desperate.”

Her tone of self-recrimination sounded real enough to niggle at him when he wanted to think of her as remorseless. “Did he have other debts?”

“Not that I know of. Living in Italy was expensive, I know that. We sold everything to go and had nothing when we came back. Both of my parents worked professional jobs, but we could only afford a tiny apartment in Calgary. They had a lot of hushed conversations, not saying much about any of it directly, but money issues were obvious. The only way I was able to train again was by getting my own job and saving up. After they were gone, and I knew more about what had happened, I assumed Dad had made a settlement of some kind. Gave the money back. That’s why I was surprised so much was still owed.”

“He promised to repay me every euro.”

“I know.” She clipped and unclipped the clasp on her handbag. “I’ve seen the statement he signed.”

Any time over the years that Dante had looked at that document, he became so sick with himself, he walked away. Now he was finally confronting the past with a woman who beguiled even as she threatened a second betrayal. He ought to be running far and fast. Instead, he was thinking the unthinkable.

“The only thing Mom ever said about any of it was that he admitted to something he didn’t do so he could come with us back to Canada and avoid a long legal battle.”

What else would the wife of a criminal say to their children? “What about your brother? Older? Younger? Does he have money?”

“No.” She snorted. “He’s at university in Vancouver, trying to get into the medical program.”

“He wants to be a doctor?”

“Yes.”

“That’s expensive. Postsecondary isn’t covered in Canada, is it?”

“He has a couple of scholarships, but yes. He’ll be up to his eyeballs in student loans for years by the time he’s done, so there’s been no benefit for him, either.”

“I can check that, you know.”

“Don’t you dare even think of interfering with his plans,” she warned with a tremble in her voice. “That’s a red line for me. It really is.”

And she would do what? He parked outside her building, finding her threats laughable. Useful. Clearly her brother was a pressure point.

She left the vehicle at the same time he did, and colored when she saw him come around to her side.

“You’re supposed to wait for me to open it for you,” he chided.

“This isn’t a date. Why on earth would you walk me in?” On the heels of that, she made a noise of realization, turning her head to the side, profile flinching. The streetlamp above her showed the light rain condensing on her hair in tiny sparkles, highlighting skin that was alabaster smooth. Her expression showed a brief struggle. He heard her swallow before she spoke in a voice that held a pang. “I’m not going to kiss you again.”

“No?” His chest tightened, and he made himself hold the distance that his libido was screaming at him to close. “Run inside, then.”

She turned only her head to look at him, face shadowed. Angry? Maddened, certainly.

So was he. This shouldn’t be happening. He ought to hate her. He did resent her. He resented this. But when she only stood there, blinking rapidly, he stepped forward and wove his fingers into her hair, clasping her head in his hands.

A helpless noise broke from her throat. More surrender than protest. She tilted her head back and parted her lips, offering her mouth to his. A gratified groan rumbled in his chest as he took the kiss she offered. Took and took and took, rubbing his lips across and against, parting and seeking and ravaging.

If he was being too rough, she didn’t let on that she didn’t like it. Her hands bunched into his shirt beneath his jacket, scratching lightly at his rib cage then clinging, pulling him in while her mouth moved under his and she moaned with pleasure that echoed his. When he swept his tongue into her mouth, she swirled her own against it, sucking delicately, making his hands tighten in her hair, driving him insane.

He was going to ache all damned night from this. Everything in him wanted to take her inside and take her. But he remained standing there in the growing fall of rain, plundering the sweetness of her mouth until she finally pulled away to gasp for breath.

His own chest rose and fell like he’d been running a four-minute mile.

She dropped her hands and backed away another step, forcing him to let his own hands drop.

“Why is this happening?” Her whispered question sounded disturbingly vulnerable, like they were victims of the same tragedy, aligning them when he needed to remember she was only trying to coax him into forgiving her father’s crime.