Dante's Ultimate Gamble

by Day Leclaire

  She then escorted him to a bank of elevators and actually pressed the call button for him. He couldn’t quite decide if it was the limp that made her so solicitous, or if she just thought men with limps had trouble pushing buttons.

  Before he could ask, a gleaming elevator accented in mahogany and chrome and playing a soft operatic aria in the background arrived and carried him directly to the executive level where another impeccably tailored receptionist—this one male—escorted him down a heavily forested hallway. He didn’t see any tigers lurking in the brush, which disappointed him. But at least this receptionist didn’t have to press any buttons for him.

  Instead he knocked on a door and opened it before motioning Luc into a corner office. A small break in the march of skyscrapers outside Téa’s window allowed for a sliver of sunshine to creep through, along with a splash of grayish-blue water. Luc stepped inside the office and closed the door in the receptionist’s face, if only to prove himself capable of that much.

  “How nice,” he said to Téa, squinting at the sliver of water. “You have a view of the bay.”

  Téa looked up from her computer screen. For an instant, he saw their last waking moments together reflected in the turbulent blue-green of her eyes. Then she smiled at his jest, robbing him of breath and making his palm throb. Other parts throbbed, as well, but he did his best to ignore those.

  “Good morning,” was all she had to say to make the throbbing intensify.

  “You left.” He didn’t mean to say that, let alone growl it. For some reason, he couldn’t stop himself. “You left without saying goodbye.”

  “I did.”

  He didn’t quite know what to respond to such a simple and ingenuous admission. He crossed to the window and snatched at his tie, tearing at the knot that threatened to choke him. “Maybe now would be a good time to decide how this bodyguarding stuff is going to work, don’t you think?”

  “We were supposed to do that last night.”

  He released a short laugh. “We seemed to spend a lot of last night doing what we weren’t supposed to and not doing what we were. How is today going to be any different?”

  “We’ll start fresh,” she said lightly. “See if we can’t get it right this time.”

  He spun to face her. “It felt like we got it right last night.”

  “Don’t.”

  Images ripped through his mind. Téa splayed across his bed, her glorious hair captured in the final rays of sunlight turning each strand to a blazing, vibrant russet. Téa, her pale skin soaking up the moonlight and glowing with a soft, pearl-white radiance. Those silken limbs twined around him, holding him in the cradle of her hips with surprising strength. The look in her eyes when he joined with her. The sound she made when she climaxed.

  His mouth twisted. “Tell me how to stop and I will.”

  A wistfulness crept into her expression, a hint of the want she’d expressed with such generosity the night before. He could see her swing, light as a summer breeze, between desire and her precious logic.

  “Luc.” His name escaped on the swing toward desire. “I—”

  Before she could complete the thought, a tinny version of “Here Comes the Bride” filled the air. Every scrap of passion vanished as though it had never been. Without another word, she took the call. From what little he caught of the one-sided conversation, Juliana’s fiancée was in the military and stationed overseas, which probably explained why Téa was involved in so many of the decisions. The conversation seemed to go on forever and it wasn’t only passion that drained from her face, but energy. She’d just wrapped up that call when Davida rang with an update on her college woes, followed by Madam with a series of financial questions. At least Katrina held off, but maybe that was because someone had locked her in a classroom. Or better yet, detention. He could only hope.

  Completing the call, Téa snapped the phone closed and regarded him with an appealing hint of bewilderment. “I’m sorry. What were we discussing?”

  Best to let it go. After all, they’d elected to avoid that particular entanglement. “It wasn’t important.” He tilted his head to one side and decided to probe. He doubted it was germane to the job at hand, but he wouldn’t know for certain until he had all the facts. “Is your family always so demanding?” he asked curiously.

  She shrugged. “I’m sort of the mother figure.”

  He asked the next logical question. “What happened to yours?”

  “She and my stepfather were killed in a car accident when I was a teenager.”

  He saw it then, the curtain that whisked across her emotions, hiding them from view and could tell there was a lot more to that simple statement than she was letting on. Way more. Took one to know one. He also had an incident that he kept carefully curtained. Knew how hard she must have practiced to perfect that calm, matter-of-fact tone. How carefully she worded the explanation so it contained the clear statement: Don’t go there. I don’t want to discuss it.

  He let her off the hook. “I gather Madam took you in.”

  Téa nodded. “She raised us. But it was my responsibility to fill in for our mother.”

  Interesting. “Who told you that?”

  “Who…?” The question knocked her off stride and she blinked at him, a hint of confusion causing her brow to wrinkle. “No one told me. No one had to.”

  “Uh-huh.” He made some swift calculations in his head and came up with…way too young. “Just out of curiosity, how old are your sisters?”

  “Juliann is twenty-two, Davida is twenty-one, and Katrina is eighteen. She graduates from high school in a couple months. Maybe.”

  That pretty much confirmed what he suspected. “Which makes you only two years older than Juliann.”

  “Almost three.” This time her response came with a hint of defensiveness.

  He throttled back, keeping his comments gentle and understanding. “Right. But even so, it’s not quite enough of a gap to make you a mother figure in their eyes.” He shot her an easy, confiding sort of grin, one meant to link them in some nebulous way. “I mean, we’re both stuck in the same predicament. We’re the oldest. We’re supposed to set the example for the younger ones. But, my sister, Gia, is six years younger than me and I guarantee she doesn’t see me as a father figure. Not even close.”

  Téa mulled that over, no doubt searching for a flaw in his logic. Eventually she came up with something, though it took her a minute. “Probably because your father’s still alive,” she said with a hint of triumph. “But when our parents married, they sort of looked at me as if I were—” She broke off with another shrug, her logic running out of steam since her stepfather and mother would have still been alive then, too.

  “A mother figure? At nine?” he asked gently.

  “Not exactly,” she conceded. “But…more mature and distant. An aunt or something. I guess it evolved into a mother figure after my parents died.”

  He tried not to wince. In other words, they made her feel like the odd man out, despite the fact that their father eventually adopted her. He thought back to that long-ago summer at the Dante family cabin. How she’d kept herself apart from the rest of them. Now that he thought about it, she’d been different in every possible way from her sisters. In looks—like a flame dancing in the middle of a pile of coal. In attitude—a helpless fawn flitting among a pack of rambunctious panther cubs. In action—an oasis of calm amidst a storm of juvenile turbulence.

  “I remember the first time I saw you,” he confessed.

  “You mean in the intersection?”

  He shook his head. “No, I mean the very first time. At the lake when we were kids.” He tilted his head to one side, watching the play of emotions that chased across her face, the unexpected vulnerability. “Don’t you remember?” he asked softly.

  She fiddled with a thick file folder on her desk, flipping it open and then closed again. “Yes,” she said after a moment. She lifted eyes gone dark with memories.

  “You made me itch even then.” Th
e words escaped of their own volition.

  She stiffened. Her fingers played across the palm of her hand, though he doubted she even noticed. “Itch?”

  He wouldn’t admit it might have been the early signs of The Inferno. He wasn’t willing to look at it that closely. But something about her had gotten under his skin, even then. “You irritated me.”

  She didn’t press, made a face instead, then accused, “You were a bully. You all were.”

  It was his turn to shrug. “It wouldn’t surprise me. We were probably operating under a pack mentality back then. And you didn’t fit in.”

  She flinched. “No, I didn’t.”

  He leaned across the desk toward her, sweeping a lock of hair off her brow and tucking it behind one ear. His fingers lingered, stroking. “You didn’t want to fit in.”

  “Not then,” she agreed, leaning into the caress. “I wasn’t used to so much noise and confusion. Before we became de Lucas, it was just me and my mom. We lived a fairly quiet existence except when my Billings grandparents descended. Then it got a bit rocky.”

  That snagged his attention and his hand fell away. “Why is that?”

  “I don’t remember much, but according to Mom, Grandfather Billings was somewhat controlling.” She gave a quick half smile, confiding, “Of course he’d have been excruciatingly polite about it—not like the de Lucas who handle any disagreement at top volume.”

  Luc grinned. “The Dantes have been known to go at it a time or two, though Nonna will bring us to a fast stop if it continues too long.”

  “As will Madam. She’ll rap her knuckles on the table and if there isn’t instant silence…” Téa shuddered.

  “She can be intimidating.”

  “She terrified me during those early years,” Téa confessed.

  It was a telling comment. “So how did Grandfather Billings take the news that your mother was going to remarry?”

  “Not well. He was dead-set against it. In fact, he cut us off when she married Dad.” She leaned in closer still and dropped her voice, possibly because they were deep in Billings’s territory. Perhaps on some level old man Billings still infused the walls with his essence and she didn’t want to chance him overhearing. “It surprised the hell out of me when he named me his successor in the will. Until then I’d planned to get a law degree.”

  And probably surprised the hell out of her cousin, Conway Billings. Luc decided against saying as much. “You call your stepfather Dad. And you use his name. I assume he adopted you?”

  “Yes, when I turned sixteen. Six months later—” She broke off, but he caught the glint of tears in her eyes.

  He gathered up her hand. Heat licked across his skin where their palms joined. It was a pleasant sensation. Reassuring on some level. It was as though what had been parted was once again joined and he could relax. “I’m sorry. Losing both of your parents like that must have been rough.”

  “It would have been far worse if Madam hadn’t taken all of us in.”

  “And now it’s time to pay her back for her generosity.”

  For some reason that provoked a smile. “Is that so wrong?”

  “You’re the one who almost got taken out by a cab because you were so distracted. You tell me.”

  “It’s temporary,” she whispered. “As soon as I turn twenty-five—”

  “You’ll take over the reins of a huge company with limited experience. Your workload will increase dramatically and you’ll still have three demanding sisters and a grandmother to worry about.”

  “You think I should just give it all up?”

  “There are options.”

  “None that will allow me the financial freedom I need.” She broke off at the knock on her door and snatched her hand from his. He watched her fight to compose herself before calling out, “Come in.”

  A man in his mid-forties stuck his head through the opening of the door and gave a patently fake start of surprise. “Oh, you have company. Am I interrupting?”

  A smile bloomed on Téa’s face and she waved the man in. “You’re never interrupting, Connie. Come on in. I’d like to introduce you to Luc Dante. Luc, this is my cousin, Conway Billings.”

  A man hovering somewhere in those unfortunate inches between medium and short entered the office. Out of sheer habit, Luc made a swift assessment. Conway was dressed in an expensive navy suit with a snowy white shirt, the collar held in place by pretentious gold clips rather than buttons. Matching clips decorated the cuffs of his sleeves. He wore his thinning auburn hair as short as Luc’s and was painfully clean-shaven. He also sported an old-fashioned pocket watch on a real gold chain—no doubt a subtle advertisement of Billings’s wares, had gold-rimmed glasses perched on the ball of his stub nose and kept his shoes polished to a mirror shine. Unlike Téa’s creamy complexion, his glowed an uncomfortable shade of red that clashed with his hair.

  For some reason, Luc’s hackles went up. Maybe it was Conway’s pretense of surprise and ridiculous opening question. The door was closed. He had to have heard their voices. Of course he was interrupting. How could he not be? But then, this man ran Billings. At least, for the moment. No doubt his position meant that no matter who or what he interrupted, it wasn’t an interruption.

  Luc also suspected that someone had alerted him to the fact that a Dante was in the building talking to Téa. And since Dantes was Billings’s biggest client, no doubt Cousin Connie wanted to find out what the hell was going on.

  Luc stuck out his hand. “A pleasure,” he lied.

  “Yes, it is,” Conway lied right back.

  Luc’s eyes narrowed. Okay, at least he knew where he stood. He edged his hip onto the corner of Téa’s desk, staking his claim, only to ruin the possessive maneuver with a wince of pain. Damn hip. “Nice place you have here,” he managed to say.

  “Thanks.” Pride rippled through the single word. “Billings has been the gold standard ever since my great-uncle established it, two and a half decades ago.”

  He placed enough emphasis on the words “gold standard” that Luc realized it was meant as a play on words. Supplier of gold. Gold standard. Ha-ha. Luc bared his teeth in a grin. “Don’t sweat it. Dantes doesn’t mind doing business with newcomers like Bling.”

  Conway stopped laughing. Either Cousin Connie didn’t care for the company’s nickname, or he didn’t appreciate the reminder that Dantes had been around twice as long as Billings.

  “Why are you here, Mr. Dante?” he asked bluntly.

  “Make it Luc.” He waited.

  “Luc,” Conway repeated through gritted teeth.

  “I’m here on behalf of Dantes.” He picked up on Téa’s incipient protest and turned to her. Catching her hand in his, he gave it a light squeeze. “Just six more weeks, isn’t it? We’ve almost left it too long.”

  “Left what too long?” Conway asked sharply.

  He hadn’t missed the touch Luc and Téa had exchanged, an intermingling of fingers that could be taken as a sign of intimacy—and in this case most assuredly was. He regarded the man with the sort of patience one did a child. Good ol’ Connie caught the look, interpreted it as just that and bristled in offense.

  “Téa takes over Billings then, doesn’t she?” Luc didn’t wait for confirmation. “As your largest and most important customer, Dantes wants to make certain all our needs will be met before, during and after the transition. So, I plan to work closely with Téa these next few weeks to ensure everything proceeds smoothly.”

  Téa’s eyes narrowed on Luc in warning before she offered her cousin a reassuring smile. “You don’t mind, do you, Connie?” she asked.

  Conway seized the question with grim determination, using the opportunity to regain control of the situation. “As a matter of fact, I do, Téa,” he informed her gravely. “If Dantes wants my assurance that Billings will continue to provide excellent goods and service—”

  Luc cut him off without hesitation. “It’s not your assurance I’m interested in. You’re no longer the one in charg
e. Your cousin is.”

  Beside him, Téa stiffened. “Luc,” she murmured in protest.

  A sweep of heightened color darkened Conway’s cheekbones and a protest tumbled out before he could prevent it. “Not for another six weeks, she isn’t.”

  Luc lifted an eyebrow. Interesting. Her cousin sounded a bit possessive for a man who—how had Téa described him? Oh, right. As a man who couldn’t wait to get out from under his responsibilities. It might be interesting to find out just what sort of business Conway intended to start up…assuming there actually was one.

  Luc shook his head with a mock frown. “Six weeks isn’t very long. It might be just enough time for Dantes to satisfy ourselves that your gold standard will be upheld after the transition.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t have any objection to my being here, do you?”

  “As a matter of fact—”

  “Hey, no problem,” Luc interrupted and stood. “If you don’t want me around, I’m gone.”

  “I think that would be best,” Conway said with a decisive nod. He appeared more assured now that he’d regained the upper hand. Or at least, thought he had. He smoothed his suit jacket like a bird unruffling its feathers. “I’m sure you understand, Dante. But this is my company—”

  “Our company,” Téa interrupted with a spark of irritation.

  Conway started. “Right, right. Our company.” His tone turned aggrieved. “You must agree, Téa, that it wouldn’t be appropriate to have someone looking over our shoulders, as it were.”

  “Got it.” Luc retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and began pressing buttons. “Let me apprise Sev of these latest developments. It’s an unfortunate setback, but my cousin is accustomed to those. Very decisive and proactive that cousin of mine.”

  “Is this really necessary?” Conway demanded.

  Luc paused. “What? The phone call or my being here?” He shrugged. “Not that it matters. I assure you both are critical to our continued good relationship.”