by Day Leclaire
Huh. Luc cocked his head to one side. “Can you offer one?”
“No, I just meant . . .” He eyed the two, his suspicion deepening. “I hope you don’t think Téa will offer you a better deal because she’s a woman and therefore susceptible to masculine influence.”
“Masculine influence,” Luc repeated. He didn’t need to fake how much the comment offended him. Judging by Téa’s outraged inhalation, she took offense, too. “By that I assume you mean sexual influence.” He slowly stood, allowing every intimidating inch of his six-feet-three to loom over Billings’ five-feet-squat. “Just who the hell do you think I am? And who do you think Téa is?”
Conway retreated toward the door. “No! I didn’t mean—” A heavy flush stained his cheeks and he made a production of checking his watch. “Since I have an urgent appointment in a few minutes, we’ll have to finish this discussion some other time.” He fumbled for the door handle behind him. “Téa, you and Luc carry on. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” With that, he exited the room with as much dignity as he could muster.
Luc waited until the door banged closed before glancing at Téa. To his relief, he saw amusement glittering in her eyes, replacing her outrage. He edged his hip on the corner of her desk again, managing not to wince this time. “I’m curious,” he said. “Could I use sex to persuade you to give Dantes a better deal?”
“Not a chance.”
He heaved a disappointed sigh. “Didn’t think so, but I had to ask. Sev would have been annoyed if I hadn’t at least tried.”
“I understand.”
“In that case, we better do what Conway ordered.”
A delightful confusion spread across her face. “I’m sorry?”
Luc grinned. “Didn’t you hear him? He told us to carry on. I suggest we get started.” He leaned in, feeling the pull of The Inferno and allowing it to consume him. “He is, after all, the boss.”
Her smile turned grim. “Only for six more weeks.”
And then she, too, surrendered to the heat.
Chapter Five
The next week passed, at moments feeling as though it were on wings. Other times Téa was certain some sadistic creature had paused the minutes in order for her to fully experience the weight of desire building with each additional day she spent in Luc’s company.
It was a desire she couldn’t allow. One she didn’t have time to explore, not when she faced so many more urgent demands. Mostly it was one she didn’t deserve, not after the destruction she’d left in her wake all those years ago—a destruction she could never fully repair even though she’d do her best to mend the few rents within her capability.
Luc kept his word. Except for the single embrace they exchanged after the confrontation with Connie, he hadn’t touched her. At least, he didn’t touch her the way she longed to be touched. He kept their physical interaction as brief and distant as possible, though she sensed it was as much a struggle for him as for her.
His struggle wasn’t implicit in what he said, but she caught his reaction in small and significant ways. The deepening tenor of his voice. The slight hitch in his movement when he reached for her, as though he were deliberately switching gears from intimate to impersonal. A flash of awareness that turned his golden eyes molten with hunger before he deliberately banked the flames.
She didn’t find the process any easier. She had an urgent job to accomplish right now, to learn everything she could about her grandfather’s company before assuming the reins, while still carving out enough time each day to care for her family’s needs and demands. Not to mention the unending phone calls. The last thing she could handle was another disruption. Unfortunately, Luc excelled at disrupting her on every conceivable level, including hiding her phones whenever their constant demands threatened to overwhelm her.
She couldn’t say what clued her in the first time, other than the fact she’d enjoyed several hours of blissful silence before noticing her phones were no longer lined up along the edge of her desk. She stared at the empty space for an entire minute, on the verge of panic, before her gaze veered toward Luc and understanding dawned.
“Give them back.”
He flipped the page on the journal he read, something dealing with electronic security. “Relax, Téa. Nothing can be that urgent. If it were, they’d call Bling directly.”
“That’s not the point. You can’t just take my cell phones.” Her voice rose and she struggled to lower it and even out the shrillness. “They’re lifelines to my family. Madam and my sisters depend on me.”
He shot her a dangerous look, filled with a hard decisiveness she suspected was a natural part of his personality. Until now he’d never used it on her. “It’s vital to trust your team, to rely on them. But it’s just as vital to be self-sufficient enough to take care of business if one of those team members is lost.”
“In English, please?”
“If you take self-sufficiency away from your sisters, they become less effective on all levels, personal, as well as professional.”
“My family isn’t some sort of military unit,” she protested.
“They’ll also never learn to fend for themselves if you wipe their noses every time they sneeze. Your sisters need to learn independent thought and action.” His eyes narrowed, disapproval stirring in the deep gold depths. “Unless you want them dependent on you. Is that why you do everything for them? It makes you feel wanted? Needed?”
“No!”
“Are they incompetent? Handicapped in some way?”
“Of course not,” she snapped.
“Then why the obsession to micromanage?”
Her mouth tightened and she shook her head, refusing to answer.
He shrugged. “Then, barring emergency, they’re perfectly capable of handling their own affairs until after you’ve finished work for the day. Since I’m in charge of keeping you safe and distraction free, I’ve made the executive decision to confiscate your phones. I’ll return them at five.”
“And if there is an emergency?”
“There are enough brain cells between the four of them to call through to the Bling switchboard and alert you to that fact.”
She didn’t dare admit it came as a tremendous relief to lose the constant barrage of phone calls. And Luc was as good as his word. The moment they stepped foot in her office he took possession of the phones, returning them at five on the dot.
Realizing she’d been staring into space for the past fifteen minutes while he watched on, she forced her attention back to the spreadsheets piled in front of her. “You’re not supposed to put your feet on my desk, remember?” she said absently, scanning the numbers.
“I vaguely recall you saying something to that effect.”
“And yet, I’m still seeing an impressive pair of size fourteens sitting here in front of me.”
“Elevating my feet helps my knee and hip feel better.”
She peered at him over the top of her reading glasses. “That’s low, even for you.”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I would dream of telling you to move your feet elsewhere while I’m working.”
She returned her attention to the numbers. Something didn’t add up, but despite her affinity with all things accounting, she couldn’t quite figure out what bothered her. She blew out a sigh. Maybe she’d have better luck if the golden-eyed panther lounging nearby didn’t constantly distract her, especially when he took great delight in ruffling her tidy little world.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
It didn’t surprise her he picked up on her frustration. The man was beyond observant. “I don’t know. Nothing.”
He dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward in his chair. “If it were nothing you wouldn’t be analyzing the same report for the fifth time this week.”
“I’m having focus issues. I’m distracted.” She didn’t dare admit aloud that a huge part of her distraction sat across from her. “That’s one of t
he reasons you’re here, remember? To save me from my own distraction.”
His mouth twitched, but he answered seriously enough. “All too well. Part of your problem is you don’t get enough sleep.”
“I get plenty.” She couldn’t say for certain, but it was possible the testy note in her voice gave lie to her claim.
“According to Madam you get maybe five hours a night.”
She waved that aside. Maybe she’d have been in a better position to argue the point if the numbers weren’t doing a bizarre rumba across the page. “It won’t be for much longer.”
“No, it won’t.” He caught her hand in his and tugged her to her feet. “Come on.”
“What are you doing?” she protested. “I’m working here.”
He shot a sardonic glance toward her spreadsheets, then checked his watch. “It’s Friday and it’s almost four. In my book, that’s quitting time.”
“Not in mine,” she retorted.
“Yeah, well, I’m expected at my grandparents soon for a family celebration. It’s Rafe’s birthday.”
“Oh.”
She tugged fruitlessly at her hand before giving it up and leaving it captured within his. Somehow the throb in her palm didn’t bother her as much when their hands were interlaced. Instead it calmed her, steadied her, even as it stirred the banked fires of desire kindling between them. She couldn’t decide which disturbed her the most, not having the connection created by their touch, or dealing with the urge to tug him into her arms and have her wicked way with him.
She cleared her throat, hoping it would also clear her thoughts. Not that it succeeded. “Well, you go ahead to the party. I have a few more hours to put in here and then, I promise, I’ll go straight home.” She offered a reassuring smile. “I’ll even pay attention to what I’m doing and dive for cover anytime I see a cab.”
For the past week he’d escorted her from door-to-door, unwilling to so much as debate the issue. No matter how early she attempted to leave for the office, or how late she stayed, he was always right there to shepherd her to and fro. She had a strong suspicion that Madam played a huge part in alerting him to any unexpected changes in Téa’s schedule. After a few days of attempting to circumvent their efforts, she’d given up trying since it proved a ridiculous waste of both time and energy.
“I have a better suggestion,” Luc countered. “Why don’t you come with me to the party. Then I’ll see you home, as usual.”
She spared a brief glance toward the stack of accounting reports. They held all the appeal of a root canal. She’d much rather spend the next few hours with Luc. Maybe if he hadn’t used the word “party” she’d have considered it. But that word carried negative associations, pushing every last one of her guilt buttons. Duty. Responsibility. Family obligation. They were brands she wore, ones burned into her heart and soul.
Something in her expression must have given her away. “What is it?” he asked sharply. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Not that the denial fooled him.
“Bull. You look like someone threatened with a firing squad. Why?”
She lifted her chin and forced herself to regard him with cool composure. “I don’t do parties.”
He studied her for an endless moment. “How about family dinners?” he asked neutrally. “You have a family, don’t you?”
“You know I do,” she retorted.
“And your family has dinners, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“And sometimes those dinners are to celebrate a birthday?”
She pushed out a sigh. She could see where this was going. What she couldn’t see was a logical way out of it. “It’s been known to happen,” she admitted.
“That’s what this is. A dinner to celebrate my brother’s birthday. I’d like you to come with me.” And then he turned downright mean and underhanded. “Please, Téa. Come with me,” he said softly.
She caved. But then, how could she do anything else? Not only did she want to, but she flat-out couldn’t resist the temptation, particularly when it was issued by such a bone-melting masculine package. “Fine. I’ll come.” She glanced down at her tailored slacks and jacket, the combination in a dignified, somber black. They screamed, “business.” “I’m not sure I’m dressed appropriately for a party, though.”
“You look gorgeous, as always. Just casual it up.”
She blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
“You know how women do.” He gestured with his hands. “Undo certain stuff. Fluff other parts.”
“Undo and fluff.” Maybe if her sisters were here to interpret it would help. Particularly Vida. Téa suspected that her flirty middle sister excelled at the art of undoing and fluffing. “That’s man-speak for . . . ?”
“Here. I’ll show you.”
Before she could stop him, he’d stripped off her jacket and tossed it aside. Then he released the first three buttons of her blouse. While she rebuttoned two of them, he ran his fingers through her hair, releasing the elegant little knot she’d fashioned that morning and sending her hair tumbling down her back in a cascade of exuberant auburn curls.
“Do you mind?” she demanded in exasperation.
“Not at all. All undone and fluffed.” He tilted his head to one side. “But there’s still something missing.”
He took a step back and examined her while she did her best not to feel too self-conscious. “Well?” she asked, squirming just a bit. “What’s wrong with me?”
“There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s just . . .” He snapped his fingers. “Got it.” Reaching out, he plucked her reading glasses from the tip of her nose and set them carefully among the papers scattered on her desk. He studied her upturned face and offered a lazy smile filled with blatant male approval. “Much better.”
“I need those to read.” She wasn’t quite sure why she uttered such an inane comment. He just had that effect on her.
“You won’t need to read at the party,” he answered gravely. “The cake will say Happy Birthday, Rafe.”
Her lips quivered in the direction of a smile. “Thank you for letting me know.”
“Glad to help.”
Téa tidied up her desk and snagged her jacket on the way out of the office. “My phones,” she reminded, holding out her hand. For some reason, she felt reluctant to take them when he handed them over. That was a first.
She paused by her assistant’s desk on her way out and told him to take off early, before giving in to the pressure of Luc’s hand urging her toward the elevators. Five minutes later they were in his car, battling the start of rush hour traffic as they headed toward the Golden Gate Bridge. She used the drive time to deal with the accumulated calls, fighting a headache from the pressure of dealing with her sisters’ latest crises. The instant she finished, Luc stole the phones.
“For the next couple hours, you’re off duty,” he said by way of explanation.
By the time they arrived in Sausalito and climbed the winding roads overlooking the bay, late afternoon was easing toward evening, resting a gentle hand on their surroundings and gilding it with a soft glow. Luc parked the car outside a wooden gate, squeezing in among the other cars piled up there. The gate led to a lush backyard, with rambling flowerbeds rioting in color and fragrance. Carefully pruned black acacia and bay trees shaded portions of the large, fenced oasis while a mush oak spread its protective arms over a wrought iron table and chairs. The dining area offered the perfect place for an outdoor lunch or supper, with its glorious view of the bay, Angel Island, and Belvedere. Currently, nearly a dozen people gathered there, all of whom were talking and laughing at full volume, some in English and some in Italian.
Luc didn’t approach immediately, but pulled Téa close and murmured in her ear. “Hang on a minute. You met the original Dante clan when we were children, but I don’t expect you can put names and faces together after all these years.”
“Not a chance,” she admitted.
“I’ll give you a quick rundown.
First up are the cousins.” He indicated one of the men sitting near the table. He was a couple years older than Luc and bore a striking similarity in appearance. “Have you taken any meetings with Sev, yet?”
“Connie’s covering that for now.” She couldn’t explain why she felt so reluctant to admit as much. Nor why she hastened to add, “I expect I’ll have the chance to sit down with Sev when we finalize a new contract.”
“Well, you can at least press the flesh tonight.” He indicated two particularly gorgeous men with dark brown hair and Nonna’s hazel eyes. “Those are the twins, Marco and Lazz. And their youngest brother, Nicolò, is sitting in the grass with his wife, Kiley.”
Next Luc indicated a heavily pregnant blonde snuggled in Sev’s arms. “That’s his wife, Francesca. She and Kiley are due . . .” He made a production of checking his watch.
Téa lifted an eyebrow. “That soon?”
“Oh, yeah.” He continued pointing out relatives. “Marco’s wife, Caitlyn, is talking to Lazz’s wife, Ariana. And my sister, Gia, is the one pouring the wine. Come on and I’ll introduce you to everyone.” He offered a swift grin. “Take a deep breath—”
“And dive right in?”
“The water’s nice and warm.”
Téa expected to feel like an outsider, but the Dantes soon proved her wrong. Perhaps it was because the family was so large and sprawling or because there were so many diverse personalities, but they instantly made her feel like one of them.
Gia, the most outgoing and vibrant of the bunch, gave her a quick hug and pressed a glass of wine into her hand. And while the men discussed all things sports related, the women talked at length about the additions that were soon to grace the family.
“So far Nonna is batting a thousand.” Ariana dropped the comment into a lull in the conversation, speaking with the lightest of Italian accents.