by Day Leclaire
Ty stiffened. “What are you talking about?”
“This ring, it never belonged to your mother. She stole it.”
It took every ounce of self-possession to remain seated and not lose his shit completely. “I suggest you explain that accusation and fast.”
“This ring was made for the couple who died in that train wreck. It disappeared on that day and has not been seen again until yesterday, when you pulled it from beneath your shirt.”
No. No way. He fought to remain seated, to remain calm. Never had he worked so hard to achieve so little. “How could you possibly know?” he ground out.
Primo held him with his golden gaze, his words thick with the lyricism of his homeland. “I know because I created that ring. Designed that ring. Made that ring with my own two hands. I gave the ring to Silvio and Emilia Dante as a gift to honor their union. My cousins and I had a parting of ways before I left Italy many decades before. The ring was reparations, of a sort.”
Ty swore beneath his breath and a cold sweat trickled down his back. Dear God, could Primo be right? Could his entire life have been based on a lie? “Is there any other possibility?”
“I can think of none.” Primo leaned back and gestured with his cigar. “Perhaps once you have had time to reflect, an alternate possibility may occur to you. In my opinion, the only way your mother could possess the ring is if she took it or found it after the wreck that day.”
“She wasn’t a thief,” he objected.
“Under normal circumstances, no. But I suspect she took you, which was a theft. And if she gave you that ring, then she must have taken that, as well.” He looked away briefly, struggling against the emotions gripping him. At long last, he turned back, his eyes like tarnished gold and filled with grief. “I try to look at the situation as my Nonna would, with compassion. I will offer this possibility . . . Perhaps Candice Masterson took the ring so you would have something that belonged to your true parents. She could not tell you the ring belonged to your mamma when she claimed to be that mother. So she told you it came from your father, which is a version of the truth.”
“And you’re sure it’s the same ring?”
“I am. I can even prove it. Nipote, if you will give me the ring?” Without a word, Lucia tugged it off her finger and passed it to her grandfather. “I am surprised you did not recognize it.”
It took her a second, but then she gave a soft gasp, shooting Ty an apologetic glance. “I thought it looked familiar. You’ve shown me pictures of it, haven’t you?”
“I have.”
Using his thumb nail, he split apart the ring, revealing how it was actually two pieces seamlessly joined into one. He picked up a book resting on the corner of the desk, no doubt in anticipation of this part of their conversation. He flipped it open to a marked page featuring a large color photograph and turned it toward Ty. He set the two parts of the ring on top of the picture.
Ty stood and gazed down at the book. Sure enough, the photo was identical to the ring his mother had given him. In all the years she’d had it, she’d never shown him how the ring could be separated into a combination of a wedding band and an engagement ring. Did she even know? He peered closer.
“It’s inscribed.”
“Forever Dante. Words of unity. Words meant to bring two fractured families together again.” He spared Lucia a loving glance. “It is an appropriate ring for you, child. For you have always been a Dante, no matter how hard you have fought it in recent years. And now, once we have straightened out Ty’s true identity, you will always carry that name. Forever Dante.”
Ty flinched. No. He was a Masterson, not a Dante. He’d been a Masterson for thirty-five years. He couldn’t just become something he wasn’t. Was. Maybe was.
What. The. Hell!
He’d never dealt with such a bizarre situation. Everything he thought he knew about himself might be a lie. How did he square with that? Gently, he picked up the two parts of the ring and carefully clicked them together into a single, seamless piece. And just like that, his thoughts solidified.
Either he’d been born a Masterson or a Dante. He needed to know which. Because until he did, he wouldn’t feel settled. Wouldn’t feel as though he belonged to either world. He’d remain on the outside, looking in, living in limbo, a place he knew well. And once he knew the truth?
He’d deal with it. He’d click into place, like the ring.
He released a slow breath. “Even the way the two parts join is symbolic, isn’t it?”
Primo shot him a pleased look. “Exactly. Though they are two, when linked together, it is almost impossible to see where one begins and the other ends. So should be your marriage. Two separate parts become one, the union so complete, they form an unbreakable whole.”
Ty turned and took Lucia’s hands in his. This time when he placed it on her finger, he realized it felt different. He felt different. Did Lucia? He flashed her a swift, concerned look. It suddenly occurred to him that if he were, in fact, Romero Dante and not Ty Masterson, there might be issues with their marriage. His gaze slid to Primo and he saw calm understanding reflected there.
“That’s what you meant,” he accused. “When you said this marriage wouldn’t take.”
Primo inclined his head. “That is what I meant.”
“Then why did you let us go through with it?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “What if I am wrong? You had already taken my Lucia to your bed.” He made a shushing motion in her direction, his gaze locked with Ty’s. “Better you marry, even if it must be undone and done again. For now, you are Ty Masterson. For now, you and Lucia are legally wed. Quel che sarà.”
“Easy for you to say.”
Primo waved that aside with a brief, “Basta.” He turned his attention to Lucia. “You will visit your Nonna tomorrow.”
He didn’t phrase it as a request and she didn’t take it that way. “Of course.”
He returned his attention to Ty. “And Mr. not-Ty Masterson. You agree to take the test to see who you truly are?”
He’d never been the sort to stick his head in the sand. Besides, he wanted to know the truth. “Yes, I’ll take the test.”
“I will make the arrangements.” He stood and they followed suit. “It is time for me to return to my Nonna. I have been too long from her side. My office is yours. Stay and talk through what has been said. This cannot be an easy day for you.”
Ty remained silent until Primo left the office. He turned to Lucia, who instantly stepped into his arms. “Are you okay?” she asked.
He released a harsh laugh. “No, not really.”
“All of this must have come as quite a shock.”
“You could say that.”
She pulled back slightly. “What are you going to do if you find out you’re really Romero Dante?”
He shook his head. “I have no idea. I still can’t wrap my head around Primo’s claims.” He hesitated, then confessed in a low voice, “But I think he’s right. It . . . clicked, like the ring. Fit together in a way that made sense.”
“And it explains your mother’s final words to you.” Her arms tightened around him. “I’m sorry. I know how it feels when you learn things about your parents that are difficult to accept.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I know you do.”
“I can’t help wondering how Primo’s revelation will affect our marriage.”
He’d already wondered the same, though he didn’t say anything. “Let’s just take it one step at a time.”
“We seem to be saying that a lot over the past few days. Have you noticed that each step we take makes our lives more and more complicated?”
“Why, no, I hadn’t noticed.”
A helpless laugh escaped at his teasing sarcasm. She took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. Okay, one step at a time, one day at a time.”
Not that it would change anything. He swiftly considered options and analyzed them, an occupational hazard. Some were worth further considera
tion, others he dismissed out-of-hand. Unfortunately, the one he liked least struck him as the most honorable.
When the time came, if their marriage was thrown into doubt, he’d give Lucia an out if she wished to take it. An out of their marriage and an out of his life. Only one problem with that plan.
She’d never be out of his heart.
Chapter Eleven
The next two weeks slid by. At times it seemed to Lucia as though it moved at warp speed and at others it crawled along, frame by frame in slow-motion. Nonna continued to cling to life, though the doctors offered little encouragement, and each day rested on a knife’s edge, teetering between possibility and disaster.
She and Ty also teetered between possibility and disaster, either making love with a frantic desperation or tiptoeing around issues better left unspoken. Issues such as his identity and their marriage, not to mention their plans for the future. Perhaps they’d have lasted in limbo, if Nonna hadn’t once again interceded, requesting Lucia visit her at the hospital.
To Lucia’s surprise she discovered her grandmother all alone. “I asked the others to give us some time together,” Nonna explained.
“Is something wrong?”
A faint smile touched her grandmother’s mouth. “You mean beside the obvious?”
Lucia winced. “I’m sorry.”
“Do not be sorry, child. All will happen as it is meant to.” She gathered Lucia’s hand in hers. For a long moment, she closed her eyes, causing Lucia to wonder if she’d fallen asleep. Then her lashes fluttered and she drew in a deep breath. “Tell me the truth, my sweet girl. Have you and Ty accepted one another? Have you both accepted The Inferno and your Dante roots? Or do you still fight what is . . . what must be?”
Lucia hesitated. Should she be honest? It seemed such a heavy burden to place on such weak shoulders. Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to lie. “I can feel Ty pulling away,” she confessed.
“And why is this?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s almost as though he’s bracing himself. As though he expects something to happen that will separate us.”
Nonna nodded. “You confirm what I suspected. He is afraid, nipote.”
“Ty?”
The thought struck her as laughable. He was the strongest, most confident and self-assured person she’d ever met. He’d shown unbelievable courage in the face of unfathomable danger. Ty, afraid? No way.
“You must find out why he pulls away and what he fears. If you do this, all will be resolved.” Once again, Nonna closed her eyes, gathering her fading strength. “Have you told him?”
The change in subject caught Lucia off guard. “Told him what?”
“That you are pregnant.”
Time hitched, missing a beat. All Lucia could do was stare at her grandmother. “What?”
Nonna’s lips curved into a smile. “A girl. I did not see this until just recently. She will be a fae child.”
“What?” Lucia repeated, struggling to keep her voice calm and level, and failing miserably.
Nonna’s voice turned dreamy. “She will have the eye, as I do, able to see what others cannot. And she will be a tiny sprite of a child, one foot here and one foot in a place few can see. And beautiful. So beautiful. She will be the loveliest of all my great-grandchildren.”
Lucia shook her head in disbelief. “You can’t possibly know that. Ty and I have only been together—”
“Long enough to create a child.” Her grandmother’s eyes fluttered closed and her breath grew faint. “You must leave me, my darling girl. You must fix things with Ty. Now. Before the window closes.”
“Nonna, are you all right?” Lucia shot to her feet. “Do you need the doctor?”
“I just need my Primo,” she whispered. “I need him now. Quickly, Lucia.”
Without a word, Lucia flew from the cubicle. She waved down a nurse. “Something’s wrong with my grandmother. Julietta Dante.”
The nurse didn’t take the time to respond, simply made a beeline toward Nonna’s cubicle. Lucia rushed from the ICU and darted into the waiting room. Primo sat with Luc in quiet conversation. “Nonna is asking for you, Primo. Something’s wrong.”
Without a word, he stood, his cane clutched tight in his pawlike grip. Luc accompanied him through the doors into the ICU unit. Tears burned in her eyes. She’d known since the shooting that Nonna might not make it. Known how hard her grandmother had struggled. Please, don’t give up, she silently prayed. Please don’t die.
To her profound relief, Luc returned a few minutes later, though his report wasn’t encouraging. “She’s resting. They think she’s losing blood and needs more surgery.”
Alarm shot through her. “Can she handle more surgery?”
Luc simply shook his head. “I’m not sure they have any choice. She won’t survive without it.” He didn’t add the alternative. She might not survive another procedure, either. He gave her a swift hug. “There’s nothing you can do here, Lucia. If they operate, it won’t be until later today or tomorrow. Go on home. We’ll keep you updated.”
She hated to leave, but didn’t see much point in remaining. If Nonna was right about Ty—and more importantly—right about a pregnancy, she needed to have a serious talk with her husband. But even before that, she needed to pick up a pregnancy kit that would either confirm or refute Nonna’s suspicions. She stopped at a drug store on her way home and purchased the most accurate test on the market before returning to Ty’s house—now their home.
The second she stepped inside, she could tell he hadn’t returned from his appointment with the police. The house felt too quiet and empty. Clearly, finalizing details regarding the investigation into Orrin Benedict’s death was taking longer than anticipated. On the plus side, that gave her the opportunity to take the pregnancy test before his return.
It only took five short minutes to confirm part of Nonna’s claim. The two pink lines indicating a positive pregnancy couldn’t be any brighter or more clearly delineated. She stared for endless moments at the results, filled with a bizarre combination of excitement and worry.
She rested her hand over her lower abdomen, stunned to realize she carried a tiny life there. A girl, if Nonna’s eye was as accurate as everyone claimed. A daughter who might very well be the product of two Dante lines. A strange possessiveness swept through her, a primal instinct to protect and nurture the baby she carried.
How would Ty react when she told him? Would he experience that same instinct? She knew the answer before it even fully formed. She’d never met a more protective man in her entire life. That left only one small problem . . .
Would he feel obligated to stay married to her? Because she didn’t want to force him to remain in a marriage unless he loved her. And so far, he hadn’t said the words.
The bang of the front door brought her back to the present and she hurried through the bedroom to the living room. Ty stood there, and it didn’t take more than a single look to realize something had gone seriously wrong. He stalked toward her, yanking off his clothes as he came and discarding them along the way. Reaching her, he snagged her around the waist and dragged her in for a long, hard kiss.
“You aren’t naked,” he growled the complaint.
Those were all the words he spoke for the next thirty minutes. He had her clothes stripped away even faster than his own. They didn’t even make it to the bedroom, but ended up on the floor in a frantic tangle of arms and legs. He made love to her with an urgency edged with desperation, as though it were the last time they’d ever be together again. And part of her wondered if that weren’t the truth.
At long last, they collapsed into an exhausted heap, struggling to draw breath. “What was all that about?” she dared to ask, gasping for air. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“Ty Masterson is dead.”
She jerked upright, twisting to stare down at him. “The DNA test came back?”
“You’re married to Romero Dante. Or is it, not married?” He draped
an arm across his face. “Shit.”
“Ty, look at me.”
He released a harsh laugh, moving his arm just enough to glare up at her. “Didn’t you hear me? I’m not Ty.”
Oh, God. No question the results had hit him hard. “It’s not your name that defines you, sweetheart,” she told him gently. “Ty Masterson is just a name, like Moretti or Benedict. Or Romero Dante. You can choose what people call you. That’s entirely up to you. But a name doesn’t change who you are inside.”
“It was all a lie, Lucia. My mother . . .” He swore again. “Only, she’s not my mother, is she? I don’t even know what to call her.”
Her heart broke for him. “She raised you. That makes her your mother, don’t you think? How she ended up with you might have been wrong, a horrible wrong. But she loved you. She cared for you.”
Her words seemed to calm him and he blew out his breath. “I’m angry.”
“I get that.” She cupped his face in a loving gesture. He turned into her hand, her Inferno hand, and planted a lingering kiss directly on top of the stylistic half-moon. “And you have every right to be angry.”
“I’m glad you agree.”
She ignored the hint of sarcasm. “You’re still allowed to love her. You realize that, right?” She let that sink in for a moment before adding, “Because you do love her, don’t you?”
He sat up and scraped his hands over his face. “Yeah.” The admission seemed to ease the tension vibrating through him. “Yeah, I love her. Still love her. She was the only mother I can remember. And even if I wasn’t the son she gave birth to, I think she came to love me as though I were. At least, that’s what I choose to believe.”
“Then focus on that.” She climbed into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Listen, it’s going to take time to deal with what’s happened. You don’t need to make any decisions right away about how to handle what you’ve learned. You don’t even have to use the Dante name, if you don’t want.”