A Ruthless Proposition

by Natasha Anders

  “I should do it,” Dante insisted. “It is the man’s duty, and I should have told him long before now.”

  “Dante, there’s no need for this sexist BS,” she said. “He’s my brother. I know how to handle him.”

  “I’ll do it.” She could hear him practically gritting his teeth as he said it, and she sighed, remaining silent to avoid an argument but already planning when and where to tell her brother about the thing with Dante. She just needed to get to Luc before Dante did, which would be easy since Dante was a slave to his schedule.

  He seemed to take her silence for tacit agreement and changed the subject by asking her when she thought she’d be ready to move in.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “I have to give notice here, sort out the teaching job with my friend at the studio, and figure out what I’ll be bringing with me.”

  “Let me know if you need help; I will arrange movers.”

  “I can do it myself,” she protested, and he sighed loudly.

  “There you go again, being needlessly difficult. It is a sincere offer of help, dulzura.” She blinked at the endearment. She had Googled it after their return from Tokyo and discovered that it meant “sweetness.” This was the first time he had used it outside of an intimate setting, and it took her by surprise.

  “Thanks,” she whispered, wondering how the hell this was going to work when every single offer he made to help her felt like charity and a blow to her pride. She needed to loosen up a bit.

  They ended the call soon afterward, and after a quick shower, she slipped into a pair of fuzzy pajamas and sent a text message to Cal, asking where he was. It was nearly midnight when he responded.

  Out with Carl. Be home soon.

  Cleo stared at the screen and wondered who the hell Carl was. Last time she checked, he was dating some guy named Bryan.

  She went to the kitchen and made herself a cup of cocoa, trying not to see the dishes piled in the sink. Dante’s cold marble-and-chrome masterpiece of an apartment wouldn’t remain pristine for long. She wasn’t the neatest of roommates, and she hoped for his sake he’d meant it when he said he wouldn’t be around much.

  She was sitting at the kitchen table when Cal finally breezed in about ten minutes later, and she got up immediately to walk straight into his arms and hug him tightly. His arms closed around her in surprise.

  “Hey, what’s this? Are you okay, hon? I’m sorry for deserting you at the doctor’s office, but Damaso said he’d get you home and that you guys needed to work some stuff out, which I definitely agreed with. Did he upset you? I’m sorry. I should have foreseen that . . . I should have stayed.”

  “No,” she murmured into his chest. “You were right. We had some stuff to work out. I’m not upset about that.”

  “Then what’s this about? Pregnancy hormones again?”

  “Cal, we need to talk.” She took his hand and led him to the kitchen table, where he sat down opposite her, his face etched with concern.

  “I wanted to say that I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “About what? Moving? Hon, we’ve been over this . . .”

  “For never really forgiving you after the accident.” His mouth snapped shut and his eyes burned into hers. He didn’t say a word, and she reached over to touch one of his clenched fists where it rested on the table. “It wasn’t your fault, you know. But I needed someone to blame, and all these years I’ve subconsciously blamed you, and worse, I allowed you to blame yourself. Which makes me a crappy friend and an even crappier person.”

  “I dropped you,” he said quietly, and he turned his hand over to clasp hers.

  “And my timing and balance were off,” she said firmly. “You know that. How we both didn’t get catastrophically injured is beyond me.”

  “Still, I should have held on. I was taller, stronger . . .”

  “Hon,” she said, using his nickname for her, and he smiled through the tears that were starting to glitter in his gray eyes. “You’re only human. When I lost my balance, you tried your damnedest to hold on to me, but you couldn’t. In all this time I never really admitted that I was also to blame. I’ve been so selfish. I’ve sat back and watched you practically self-destruct, and I never once said anything. I just let you do it. And the worst is, in three years, I never even realized it until tonight. I’ve felt sorry for myself long enough. My dancing career is over, and it has been for years. And my life is fine without dance, and, Cal, as your very best friend who wants nothing but wonderful things for you, I want you to go out there and be everything I no longer can. Your career isn’t over; you’re a damned fine dancer. Stop acting like a complete ass to make me feel better and get your career back on track.”

  “Where’s all this coming from?” he asked.

  “I’m going to be a mother, time for me to start behaving like an adult, don’t you think? I love you, Cal, and I’m going to miss you like crazy once you start working and touring, but let’s face it, we do tend to drive each other crazy all the time anyway.”

  He laughed, and just like that, everything felt lighter and better between them. Better than it had been for years.

  “Dante, good to see you, man.” Lucius grabbed hold of Dante’s hand and gave him one of those manly half hugs. It was a familiarity that Dante only ever allowed with Lucius; most of his other male friends were a little more tightly wound and a little less likable. After his conversation with Cleo the night before, Dante suspected that she would try to see her brother before he could have the chance to. So he’d canceled his early-morning meetings and come straight to Luc’s office. Dante knew that he risked losing a friendship he valued very much. It was one of the reasons he’d given the clearly unqualified Cleo a job in such a high-ranking position in the first place—he’d felt he owed it to Luc.

  “I’m sorry to spring this visit on you,” Dante told Luc as the man ushered him into a seat in his dingy little office at the back of the store he managed. Dante glanced around the place. Luc had been brilliant at school, and it was inconceivable to Dante that he wasn’t the business manager of some multi-million-dollar corporation somewhere. He shouldn’t be working in such a tiny store in this industrial part of Cape Town.

  Dante looked at his friend and saw—for the first time—the lines etched into his brow and next to his mouth. He looked older than his thirty-two years, and there was some early gray mixed into his thick black hair. He and Cleo bore a passing resemblance to each other, in the eyes and around the nose and mouth.

  “How are you, amigo?” he asked quietly.

  “Ah, you know, same old same old. Nothing much has changed since we saw you last. Blue and I are still trying to get that wedding organized, but the house is taking up our spare funds at the moment.”

  Dante had offered, years ago, to help out with the house, but Luc was as stubborn and proud as his sister. He could definitely see where Cleo got it from now.

  “And hey, man,” Luc added, “I’ve wanted to apologize about the whole Cleo thing for a while now.”

  It was the opening Dante had been searching for, even though the man’s words baffled him.

  “The Cleo thing?” Dante wasn’t sure what to make of Luc’s cryptic statement.

  “Yeah, first, she didn’t even know who you were when she applied for that job. I mean, I was a little irritated with her for applying, I didn’t want you to think I had anything to do with it.” Dante shook his head in disbelief. Unable to grasp that Cleo’s job application had been sheer coincidence. But then knowing what he knew about both Cleo and Luc, how could it have been anything different? The siblings would rather chew off their own limbs before asking a friend for help. “And then to just quit like that?”

  Luc shook his head in disgust.

  “She’s always been so irresponsible, and now with the . . .” He paused, even though Dante knew he’d been about to mention the pregnancy. Luc shook his head again before continuing. “Anyway, I just wanted to apologize about that. Her behavior was completely rash, as us
ual.”

  Something about the way Luc was denigrating Cleo rubbed Dante the wrong way, especially since it was completely unfair.

  “You shouldn’t be so harsh on her,” Dante said, and Luc did a double take.

  “What?”

  “You shouldn’t be so hard on her. She didn’t quit. I fired her.”

  “You did?” Luc’s brow furrowed, as he tried to process this new information. “Why? What did she do?”

  “Maybe you should give your sister the benefit of the doubt once in a while,” Dante said, and Luc’s eyes narrowed.

  “Dante,” he said, his voice going dangerously quiet. “What’s this about?”

  “This is what I’ve come here to discuss with you,” Dante replied, clearing his throat awkwardly.

  “What? My sister?”

  “Yes. And the baby.”

  Luc pushed himself up out of his chair and braced his clenched fists on the desk in front of him as he leaned forward to pin Dante with his fierce glare. Dante remained seated, allowing the man the position of power in this instance because, really, Dante was in the wrong.

  “How do you know about the baby?” Luc asked in an uneven voice, and Dante took a deep breath and met his friend’s gaze head-on before bidding one of his longest-standing friendships a reluctant farewell.

  “I’m the child’s father.”

  Luc moved so fast it took both of them by surprise. Dante was out of his chair and pinned against the thin prefab wall in seconds.

  “You bastard,” Luc hissed, his hands fisted in Dante’s shirtfront. “I trusted you with my family!”

  “Luc, take it easy.” Dante tried to remain calm and nonconfrontational, but Luc dragged him forward and slammed him back against the wall, shaking it violently.

  “You’ll be marrying her.”

  “No, I won’t,” Dante corrected. “Neither your sister nor I want that. I will, however, be taking care of her and of the baby.”

  “We don’t need anything from you,” Luc said, the Knight pride once again coming to the surface. “Not one bloody thing. If you won’t do the right thing and marry her, then I’ll take care of her and the baby.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Lucius. The baby is my responsibility. Cleo—while she’s pregnant—is my responsibility. You have Blue and the house to take care of. Cleo will be moving in with me for the remainder of her pregnancy, and after that she’ll be moving into a house that I will purchase in our child’s name—as per her wishes.”

  “Yeah, money buys you out of every undesirable situation, doesn’t it? Must be nice,” Luc said with a sneer, and the man’s contemptuous words stung more than they should have. Dante tried not to let them affect him, but it was hard when Luc’s opinion of him had just hit rock bottom. “My sister and her child are not for sale. You can take whatever the hell deals you have made with her and shove them up your ass. Get out of my office.”

  “The arrangements that Cleo and I have made have nothing to do with you. I only came to tell you about our plans out of respect for you and for our friendship.”

  “You have so much respect for me that you used my sister like one of your little sluts? And then tossed her aside like rubbish when she turned up pregnant? And worse than that, you fired her? Why? Because your mistake would be staring you in the face every day as she grew bigger and bigger with your little bast—”

  “Don’t!” Dante finally pushed back, releasing Luc’s hold on him and preventing him from saying the horrible word he’d been about to utter. To his credit, the other man looked shamefaced for a few moments, before the anger took over again.

  “Get the hell out of my office,” Luc seethed, and Dante, tempted though he was to leave, stood his ground.

  “Luc, Cleo will be moving in with me, and she’s going to need you.”

  “Don’t tell me what the hell my sister needs; I know her better than you do,” Luc retorted.

  Dante nodded. “Just don’t abandon her because you’re pissed off with me,” he said.

  Luc seemed to consider his words before drawing back and punching him in the jaw.

  Dante reeled, his hand going up to his throbbing face. His instinctive reaction was to punch back, but he knew that he owed Luc a free one and let it go. He opened and closed his jaw to test if it was broken, but luckily it was just stiff.

  “I deserved that,” he acknowledged, and the words seemed to infuriate Luc even more. When the man drew back for another punch, Dante felt the need to warn him, “But the second one won’t be free.”

  The warning made Luc hesitate.

  “I hope you will come to understand that I never meant to disrespect you or your family, Luc,” Dante explained. “But the solution to Cleo’s pregnancy isn’t marriage. We’d both be miserable, and as a consequence, the child would suffer too.”

  “I don’t want to hear any more of your pathetic excuses, Damaso.” Luc refused to meet his eyes, which bothered Dante more than anything that had happened before. “You’re not the man I thought you were.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Cleo—upon arrival at Luc’s work—spotted Dante’s car immediately. She brought her car to a quick stop and jumped out to confront James, who, as usual, was a stoic sentinel beside the gleaming black car.

  “Don’t tell me he’s in there,” she said, dread pooling in her stomach. James removed his sunglasses and nodded. Cleo muttered something completely unladylike before tossing her keys at James and sprinting toward the entrance of the grubby little IT store her brother managed.

  “James, I’m sorry, please park that for me,” she called over her shoulder, and because she wasn’t looking where she was going, she ran full tilt into something hard and immovable.

  “Oof!” She stared up at whatever it was she’d just run into and then immediately scowled.

  “God, are you okay?” Dante’s hands had come up to steady her, and he looked her over for potential damage.

  “You just had to get here before me, didn’t you?” she hissed, ignoring his concern. She brushed away his hands impatiently. “Is he here? Have you seen him?”

  Dante nodded, the grim set of his jaw and the blankness in his stare telling her everything she needed to know.

  “How did he take it?” she asked anxiously.

  “Not well.” His hand involuntarily moved up to his jaw, and she saw the bruise forming there.

  “Oh my God, he hit you?” Her brother was usually such a pacifist. Wouldn’t even harm a fly—well, okay, he’d probably harm a fly, but he wouldn’t harm a small fuzzy animal like a mouse—so for him to up and hit Dante was beyond her imagination.

  “Did you hit him?” she asked suspiciously, and a flicker of annoyance entered Dante’s frighteningly blank eyes, which she much preferred to the shell-shocked expression there previously.

  “Of course I didn’t hit him.”

  “He’s upset?”

  “I’d say so, yes.” His dry rejoinder made her attempt to push past his bulk and get into the building, but he kept sidestepping to prevent her from passing him.

  “Hey, get out of my way,” she demanded, exasperation peppering her voice.

  “He’s extremely pissed off at the moment, Cleo. I think he might say something you’d both regret, and it’ll cause an unnecessary rift.” The words showed more sensitivity than she’d believed him capable of, and she wasn’t sure how to take it.

  “And you don’t think there’s already a rift now?”

  “Nothing that can’t be fixed,” Dante said. “At the moment all his anger is focused on me. If you walk in there now, it’ll redirect to you . . . don’t do that to yourself or to him.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek as she thought about his words and finally nodded. He took her arm and led her back to where their cars were parked. Or rather, where his car was parked. James was behind the wheel of her car, trying to slot it into the space next to Dante’s sedan. The huge man looked ridiculous behind the wheel of her small hatchback, and they both paused t
o stare before Cleo sniggered, then chuckled, then burst into loud, uncontrollable laughter. Dante halted in midstride to stare at her, and the alarmed expression on his face made her laugh harder. Soon her laughter took on a desperate, hysterical edge, and before she knew it, tears were seeping from her eyes and slipping down her cheeks, and the howls became tearing sobs. Dante said something beneath his breath and dragged her into his arms and held her tenderly as she hunched into him and allowed herself to cry.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered after the worst of the storm had abated, and he murmured gently in response, smoothing her hair back from her face and using his handkerchief to dab at her hot and swollen cheeks.

  “Come on, you need some rest,” he said authoritatively, and she nodded, heading toward her car, but his hand on her elbow stopped her. “Not what I meant. You’re definitely not driving in this condition, and I for damned sure don’t think you’d get any rest in that apartment of yours. James will be following in your car, and I will be driving us to my place.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he placed a long finger on her lips to silence her. The skin-on-skin contact was so unexpected that Cleo found herself momentarily diverted. It was long enough for him to hastily bundle her into the passenger seat of his luxury car and climb in next to her.

  “Dante, I don’t want—”

  “Cleo, try to be cooperative for once in your life, okay?”

  “That’s almost on par with me asking you to not be bossy for once in your life,” she pointed out, and he grinned. An honest-to-God grin. She could get used to seeing that. It was such an open and boyish expression that it was quite breathtaking to witness.

  “We each have our weaknesses,” he quipped.

  “Stop smiling like that, for God’s sake,” she admonished. “People might start mistaking you for a nice guy.”

  “God forbid,” he retorted, and she stared at him, wondering if there was a sense of humor hidden beneath that detached façade he presented to the world.

  The drive back to his place was short and silent, and when he parked his car, she made one last halfhearted protest.