by Dani Collins
The effect she was having on him was as disturbing as all the rest. Part of him still wanted to walk away from all she was stirring up, but he couldn’t. Not just because of this new twist with Benito, either. He resented feeling this compelled by her. Ensnared. How was she even doing it?
He let his fist land on the arm of his chair as he made himself focus on the external facts, rather than trying to unravel the internal.
“Are these all the letters you’ve received from Benito?”
“Just the most recent. Did you see the one where I asked for a phone call with you a year ago?”
“Why? What did you want to say to me?”
“That—” She struggled a moment. “I know you don’t care, but this has been difficult. Finding the money.” Her tone grew raw enough to scrape at his conscience. “I was trying to help Reeve with school. I wanted to work out a different payment scheme. He said you wouldn’t negotiate. That I had to stick to what was agreed or go to court.”
“Agreed by whom? Your father?”
“I don’t know.” She looked conflicted. Afflicted. “I didn’t know anything concrete about what Dad had done until I was out of the system and moved to Calgary. Some government-appointed something-or-other handled the probate on my parents’ estate while I was still in hospital. The only records I ever saw were the papers that Benito forwarded. All I knew was that my parents had been broke. There was nothing to come to us, but the will stipulated that once I turned legal age, I could be Reeve’s guardian, so I made that happen. He’d been with me a few months when the letters started arriving.”
“From Benito.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I was really scared. I couldn’t afford a lawyer, especially for an international crime. He sent Dad’s confession and that said it all. Dad was guilty and had promised to pay you back a ridiculous sum.” She looked to the ceiling, as if trying to keep the moisture in her eyes contained. “I’m not you. I don’t have a family corporation behind me with properties all over the world. I have a used anchor of a laptop and my mother’s wedding band. There was nowhere for me to even begin finding that money. But I know I’m on the hook for it, since I’m pretty sure Dad took it to pay for my training. I’m not trying to dodge it, Dante. I’m just saying, you can’t get blood from a stone. I’ve been doing the best I can.”
He thought of the tiny apartment with the well-used furniture. The relic of a mobile phone and the fact she had taken over-the-counter medication, not prescription opiates.
But she was also very protective of her brother’s aspirations.
“What happened after you started sending the payments?”
“I wound up overextended and got us evicted because I missed rent.” Her voice was heavy with culpability. “I lost Reeve for a couple of months until I got on my feet again. He’s never forgiven me for that.” She sighed heavily. “Life lessons, right? The social worker was actually really helpful. Got me a grant so I could take the hospitality program and that led to my jobs with hotels and the transfer here when Reeve started going to school in Vancouver. Rent in this town is killing me, though. That’s why I thought the job at the Tabor was a good move. I would finally have some breathing space, but...”
He had pressed the detonator on that.
He set the side of his finger along his lips, trying to work out whether she was the victim of a con or trying to make him into one. Again.
“What happened to Benito?” she asked.
“He was murdered over gambling debts, if the rumors are true.”
“Oh, my God!”
“Yes, it was quite a shock. Especially as he hadn’t yet filed my patents. I turned to one of his colleagues, but there wasn’t much they could do except offer advice. The evidence against your father was circumstantial. They advised me I could spend years and a fortune trying to prove his guilt, and probably never get restitution, or I could settle for a confession and a promise of a settlement. Which is what I did, keeping the whole thing as confidential as possible, so as not to damage the viability of Gallo Proprietà. We were in rough shape. I had to be careful.”
“I’ll go to the bank tomorrow and stop my auto withdrawals, ask them to dig up what they can about who owns the account where the payments have been going and switch them to you.” She touched two fingers between her brows. “I just feel like such an idiot. It never once occurred to me to check he was a legitimate lawyer. Or that he was alive.”
Dante belatedly picked up his phone and forwarded the attachments from her brother to his own lawyer, requesting an investigation.
“Stopping payment should flush out another communication from the fake Benito, right?” she asked.
He tilted his head, agreeing with her logic, even if he still had reservations about whether the fake Benito had been created in Italy or on her brother’s laptop.
A shadow passed behind her eyes. “You’re still suspicious of me. I guess I can’t blame you, but... I don’t know how to convince you. I don’t know how to fix this. This theft has been an awful cloud that has hovered over me for years. I look back and feel so selfish. So single-minded and stubborn. So responsible.”
She swallowed, looking ill.
He ought to revel in her self-recrimination, but he couldn’t help thinking her drive was the quality a champion needed. Her lack of fear and love of speed would have taken her only so far. True achievement took grit. In fact, she probably wouldn’t have recovered from her injuries if she hadn’t had that blind will to overcome obstacles.
A strange regret hit him that he hadn’t paid more attention when her father had spoken about her. He vaguely recalled an invitation to visit their chalet and watch a race. Dante had been caught up in his own goals and self-interest, but wished now he’d seen her when she’d been coming into her own as an athlete. They’d been well-matched today. He could only imagine how much better she would have been if she hadn’t been injured. She would have been on podiums; he had no doubt.
“You were eighteen when the letters started coming?”
She nodded mutely.
A gullible age. She’d been in a vulnerable position, playing parent to her brother. He could see how easy it would have been for someone to take advantage of her. But who would know enough of the circumstances to do it? Only the main players, most of whom were dead. One of Benito’s colleagues, perhaps? The criminals to whom he’d owed debts?
Was this a confession of youthful ignorance? Or a well-honed ability to manipulate?
That face of hers was the problem. She projected innocence with those earnest eyes and delicate features. Skin he already knew was soft as down. Lips like flower petals. He only had to look at her and he ceased to care what she may or may not have done. He only wanted to devour her.
Heat began to pool in his lap. He shifted restlessly.
“I really do want to compensate you, Dante. I’d do anything to have this paid off and pushed into the past.”
“Would you?” He couldn’t help it. The haze of sexual need was coming over him, thickening his voice.
She flashed him a stunned look, then her hands went into her lap. She stared out the windows a moment, lips pressed into a flat line, eyes holding a sheen. “Why do you keep treating me like that? I’ve never slept with anyone for money or clothes or jewelry. I’ve never slept with anyone. Period.”
“Ha!” Now he knew she was lying, and there was something terribly disappointing in that.
She glared at him. “Why is that so impossible to believe?”
“You’re twenty-four.”
“Don’t judge me by your standards.”
“You honestly expect me to believe you’re a virgin?”
“When have I had time to date? What man wants to sleep with a woman with the kind of baggage I cart around?” She flung her hand through the air. “I don’t care if you believe me or not! It’s really none of your business, is it? Oh, wait. That’s what you keep accusing me of, isn’t it? Trying to make a business transaction of trading
my body for the debt my father owes you. First of all, wow. Wish I’d thought of that sooner. So much easier than working three minimum wage jobs. Second, exactly what is a woman’s virginity worth these days, anyway? Maybe I am interested.”
* * *
Cami spat out the words, hot with insult, adding bitterly, “Times have changed, by the way. It’s not the woman selling herself who is reviled. It’s the man who takes advantage of her.”
His cheeks went hollow before he stood abruptly. She threw herself into the sofa back. He barely leaned toward her, but intimidated all the same. She held her breath.
“I don’t think either of us is vile. That is the problem.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I keep thinking I want to sleep with you regardless of what your father did. That makes me a stupid man. I cannot let you take advantage of me the way your father did.”
“I’m not trying to! I don’t—” Were they really talking this baldly? It felt as if she was stripped naked. “I don’t know why I keep kissing you. I don’t act like that. I swear I don’t.”
“If your father hadn’t damned near destroyed me, I would call it what it seems to be. Chemistry. Sexual compatibility.”
How romantic.
She looked out the window again, toward her first love—snowy slopes. Had it only been a few hours ago that they’d traced through powder, crossing paths to braid a scrolling line into the mountainside? It had felt divine. Like they were made for each other.
“I always thought that when I felt like this about someone it would be...” She swallowed, embarrassed. “You know,” she mumbled.
“A husband? That is not going to happen.” His voice turned so cold and hard it left bruises in her ears.
“Someone I knew well enough to care about them,” she corrected in a voice that frayed around the edges. “You honestly think I’d want to marry you? Yeah, that would work out, with this hanging over me. Talk about selling myself into sexual slavery.”
He didn’t like that. His expression grew even more stony. “Be careful, Cami. I’m trying to be patient, to hear you out.”
She bit back a snide, You started it.
“I don’t want to be attracted to you, either,” she admitted, feeling naked as she openly acknowledged this wild compulsion inside her. “You have been squeezing my life in an iron fist for years. You have wiped out what little I have managed to build here, in the first place that felt like home. I have no future, not unless you grant me one. You have all the power, Dante. All I have is a thread of self-respect, earned by trying to do the right thing all these years. But you’re taking even that, acting like my...my very natural reaction toward you is some kind of commercial product.” She stood and looked for her handbag. “I can’t keep doing this.”
“You’re not leaving.”
Her racing heart thudded to a halt in her chest. “Excuse me?”
His expression was remote. “I’m going to the bank with you tomorrow.”
“Fine. I’ll meet you there.”
“I’m not risking you taking off before morning.”
“You don’t even trust me to show up to one of the most important meetings of my life?”
“I do not.”
Her heart stumbled all over again. “So you’ll what? Lock me in here?” The thought of spending more time with him was terrifying. She had just admitted to attraction, and if she knew one thing about this man, it was that he didn’t let an opportunity to get the better of her slide.
“So melodramatic,” he drawled. “I’m extending my hospitality.” Folding his arms, he added dryly, “Which includes the private jet tub upstairs.”
Her muscles were so stiff, she very nearly whimpered at the lash of temptation that went through her. “That’s just mean.”
He moved to the house phone and said to a concierge, “I need a bag brought up.”
CHAPTER SIX
DANTE DISAPPEARED TO talk with his grandmother, so Cami felt safe enough in the moment to use the tub. She needed time to think all this through and might as well work out her kinks while she did.
He turned up as she was about to enter the tub, making her heart dip and roll.
The room was humid with the scent of cedar off the paneled walls. The darkness outside disappeared behind the gather of steam against the window and the jets hummed beneath the burble of the churning water.
“I didn’t realize you were joining me.” She self-consciously kept her loosened robe over the ridiculously functional one-piece bathing suit she wore. It was bargain store brand in a flat blue, not sexy in the least.
Which was a good thing. He was only keeping her here because he didn’t trust her, not because they had chemistry. Sexual compatibility.
She wished he hadn’t named it. She dearly wished that was all it was for her, but her reaction to him was as emotional as it was physical. He was arrogant, yes, but he also showed great love for his grandmother. He had an admirable sense of duty to family, and his odd moments of protectiveness were positively swoon-worthy.
Her wobbly defenses disintegrated further as she took in his broad shoulders and naked chest, flat abs and tiny red racer’s suit. Something sharp and hot struck deep in her intimate places. The scrap barely covered his bits, revealing more than it concealed of the bulge at the top of his muscled thighs, making her curious as to whether he’d stay contained if he became aroused.
She yanked her gaze to the water, hot all over. With a flustered move, she threw off her robe, leaving it on the hook as she slipped into the water as quickly as her protesting muscles allowed.
He lowered into the other side of the round tub, mouth quirked in amusement as he spread his arms along the edge.
“What?” she asked crossly, suspecting he was laughing at her.
“Maybe you are a virgin.”
She wasn’t about to have that argument again. It hurt too much to hear him sound so cynical about it.
“Thank you for this,” she made herself say, trying to steer toward a less intimate topic. She crooked her knee so the jet was aimed directly at her thigh. “A warm shower wouldn’t have been enough.”
“How did you start skiing?” His tone was lazily curious. He was relaxed, which should have put her at ease, but she was too sharply aware of him. Of herself and the swirling sensations in her middle and deeper that had nothing to do with the water.
“Mom raced.” She tried to gather her scattered thoughts. “But she started late and didn’t qualify for more than a few provincial games. She put my brother and me on skis from an early age, though.”
“She supported your aspirations.”
“A million percent.”
“It wasn’t you who drove the move to Italy, then. She wanted it for you.”
“They both did, but once my coach said I should go, I pressed them until they made it happen.” That was why the weight of guilt sat on her so indelibly. “What happened to your parents?”
“Boating accident. There was a storm.”
“I’m sorry.” Their gazes connected, and she felt that brief click that was more than sexual. Their stories were different, but they shared the same pain.
He broke the contact, slouching so he could rest his head back and look to the ceiling. As he sank down, something grazed her hip, making her start with a gasp. She realized belatedly it was his foot and glanced up in time to see his head come up. His mouth twitched.
His expression didn’t change, but she felt the side of his foot nudge her hip. He was trying to get another reaction out of her while keeping that innocent look on his face.
She stared right back at him, deadpan, ultraconscious that things were happening below the surface they were refusing to acknowledge.
“Are you Catholic?” she asked abruptly, talking so she wouldn’t think of the way a narrow line of hair had arrowed from his navel to the snug band of red drawn low on his hips. Damn. Now she was thinking about it.
“Not a very good one.”
“Because you bel
ieve in birth control? Sex before marriage?” Why had she gone there? Shut up, Cami.
“Those are sins I confess to,” he drawled. “Not something I ‘believe’ in.”
“What do you believe in?”
He grew more serious. “Taking care of family. Loyalty. Responsibility.”
She nodded agreement.
“Carpe diem, because you might not live to do the things you otherwise put off. Paying debts.”
“Of course.” She stiffened and lifted her leg out of the jet, setting her foot on the bench and massaging her thigh where her muscle felt itchy from the vibration of the forced water.
“Are you angry that you can’t ski the way you want to?”
“Yes.” She heard the rigidity in her voice. The resentment. “Are you angry you can’t design cars?”
“Yes.” For a long second, they shared another look of understanding, reflecting each other’s frustration, connected at a soul level.
“But you could pursue cars in the future. You have the resources. Even if you wait until your retirement, it’s always something you could go back to. I can’t even try for senior games. My best hope is the occasional day like today.”
He skimmed across to her, making her gasp at his sudden closeness.
His strong hands took possession of her thigh, so unabashed she instinctively tried to pull away, but he held on and dug his fingers into her tense muscles. “I didn’t expect it to cost you so much. You should have said.”
“Oh.” She almost cried at the intensity of his touch, but the relief that came behind the pain had her shuddering and melting.
A very long time ago, she had had professional massages. His firm thumbs dug into her aching muscle with just the right amount of pressure. His hands kneaded their way up her thigh and down to her knee, then began working upward again.
“That feels really good.”
She gave herself up to it, fingers gripping the edge of her seat, letting him find the tension and release it. Press and ease back, circle and stroke. Swirls of desire fluttered into her belly as his attentions went on. She tried not to reveal her reaction, even as secretive parts of her pulsed in yearning and her mind turned to thoughts she could no longer suppress.