"Dante?" He coughed. "That surprises me."
"I can't find him. I've been everywhere."
"Apparently not everywhere or you'd have found him."
Her father's dry humor reminded her of her husband's. If she'd had any tears left, the thought would have brought them forward, but she was drained. Dropping her head down into her hands, she closed her eyes.
He patted her leg, and in typical fashion, remained patient and quiet.
Sighing, she confessed what she could. "I was mad at him and I did some stupid things."
"We all do that on occasion."
"Finally, I guess, he'd had enough."
"Lara." He pulled her forward until she looked into his weathered face. "Whatever has happened, know this-he loves you."
"Papa," she cried, a wild hope bursting through her pain. "Do you think so?"
"I know so." His voice was firm. "No man would have done what Dante did for your family without a great love."
A knot of faint anger stirred in her soul, but she stamped it out of existence. The past was the past. She'd forgiven him and she wasn't going to let the old anger stand in the way of her love. "He was marrying me, Papa. That's why he helped you and Andy out."
"No." Her father's face turned stern. "You have that wrong."
"What?"
"He agreed to help us before you accepted his proposal."
"That's not … possible." Utter shock held her still.
Running a hand over his bald head, her father appeared chagrined, yet determined. "Dante talked to me, the morning he came to ask for your hand."
He was so old-fashioned, her husband. Now, though, the knowledge filled her with a warm affection instead of irritation. "When was this?"
"Right after Carlotta's wedding. Perhaps a day or two after."
Further shock ricocheted through her body. Even after she'd called him a monster and run from him, he'd still held out hope she'd become his wife? The arrogance of the act would have made her scream in the past, but now it only filled her with a hot glow. Because it might not have been arrogance. Maybe it was...maybe it was...love?
"He told me he'd loved you for a long time." Her papa's broad hand patted her knee. "But I'd known that for what seems like forever."
"What did you say?" She gaped at him in astonishment.
"Lara, Lara." He shook his head. "The man was devastated when you married that Englishman."
"No, that can't possibly be-"
"True. It's very true." Her papa stared at her, his brown gaze serious. "I saw him only a few weeks after the news and he appeared as if he'd lost a stone. His mamma fretted for months."
"That couldn't have been about me." Chaotic emotion flashed through her. "He was probably upset about his father's illness."
"No, I don't believe so. And during all these years, when he didn't stop..."
She squinted at him as he trailed off. "Didn't stop what?"
He coughed once more. "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but I think you should know."
Her head buzzed with a sudden premonition of something earth-shattering coming her way. "Maybe I don't want to know?"
A twinkle lit in his eyes. "I thought you had a right to know everything, muffin?"
She gave him a tight smile in acknowledgment of the tease. Suddenly, his other words hit her. "Wait a minute. Who told you not to tell me-whatever you're going to tell me?"
"Dante."
Resentment flared inside. "Tell me."
Her father looked at her and sighed. "Remember, Lara. He loves you."
"Tell me."
He leaned against the stone bench, his gnarled hands resting on his lap, his face solemn. "I didn't want to let you go to England twelve years ago."
"I know that." She spat the words, her love for Dante twisting around the old anger. "I found out he was behind it."
"You did?" He gave her a quizzical glance. "How did you-"
"Never mind." She waved the question away, trying to wave the lingering hurt away also. "It doesn't matter."
Her father eyed her but continued. "The only way he got me to agree was by telling me his security team would protect you in England."
"What?" Her spine went rigid.
"He watched over you. All those years."
She breathed in. Out.
I kept track.
His words at the pool came back to her with sharp clarity as shock cascaded inside her.
"Even after your marriage, he insisted on continuing."
"He spied on me." Her breath rasped in her throat. "For years."
"No, muffin."
She turned to glare at her father. "What else would you call it?"
"Love." His gaze was earnest. "I'd call it love."
The words hit her heart with heated truth. Could it genuinely be? All these years?
"He didn't intrude on your life. He didn't impose." Her papa's voice was thoughtful. "The only thing he did was watch out for you and make sure you were safe."
The truth welled inside her, wrapping around her soul.
"I have to admit, I was grateful." Her father squeezed her leg. "I didn't think much of your Gerry's ability to protect you."
"I know you didn't-"
"So it was nice to know Dante had it well in hand," he chuckled. "As he always does."
Reluctant affection ran through her. "He's such a control freak."
"He does enjoy arranging things, doesn't he?" Her father grinned. "Which is why I wasn't that surprised when he came to me about eighteen months ago, right after Gerry died in that car wreck."
"He came to visit you then?"
"Yes," he nodded. "He had a plan."
Groaning, she put her head in her hands. "Why am I not surprised?"
"He wanted you home, in Italy." Her father's voice grew soft. "I wanted you here, too."
"What did you both do?"
"It was mostly Dante, but I concurred." His hand smoothed over her hair. "He made sure that property was available for your school."
"What?" Her head whipped up.
Her papa's brown eyes met hers. "He helped a bit with those permits you were having trouble with."
"I can't believe-"
"Believe it." His gaze narrowed. "Also believe that it takes nothing away from your accomplishment. You have every right to be proud of what you've done."
She took the words in, knowing they were true. "I know, but-"
"He merely eased your way." Her father took her hand in his. "Because he loves you."
"I don't know-"
"He confirmed it when he came to ask for your hand."
"What did he say?" she mumbled, confusion fluttering in her stomach.
"He said he'd waited forever and if he had to wait longer, he would." Hugo clasped her hand, a wry smile on his face. "He said he'd wait forever for you if he had to."
"He loves me." The words vibrated in her soul. Yet a discordant twang echoed through her as well. He hadn't waited for her. Not at all. He'd pushed, he'd demanded, he'd forced.
How could he have done that if he loved her?
"He loves me?" A whisper of doubt ran through her voice.
"Yes." The one word rang with conviction. "Which was why I gladly gave my approval to his proposal. I knew you both had some issues, but I told him I was confident you'd figure it out together. I couldn't think of a better man for you than Dante Casartelli."
Her throat clutched at the truth in her papa's words. "There's no better man."
"No, there isn't. He proved it when he wanted to discuss my financial difficulties after I'd already approved of the marriage."
The old hurt from being forced to marry him rumbled in her. She bit her lip. It didn't matter anymore. She loved him, so she'd forgiven him. However, it still hurt like an infected wound.
"I found it hard to swallow," her father continued. "My pride didn't want to accept it. But it's one thing to accept help from a mere neighbor, another to accept it from a son-in-law."
The hurt twitched, burned.
"Yet Dante, being the man he is, wouldn't let me believe that." He grunted, his arms folding across his chest. "He made it clear the offer of help was not tied to the marriage."
Astonishment blanked her mind. What? "What?"
There had to be some mistake.
"I can't believe it." Something was wrong with this. Something had been missed or misinterpreted. Her forced marriage was a certainty. So what was all this about?
"I'm telling you the truth," her papa insisted. "He had the papers ready to be signed. I argued about it, said he was under no obligation, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. You walked in just as we were finishing."