by Day Leclaire
She slid back her chair and stood. “Not at all.”
Draco escorted her from the conference room and down the hallway to his office. “Help yourself to coffee,” he offered. “I made a fresh pot a short time ago.”
Before she could guess his intention, he leaned in for a swift kiss. Their lips joined, parted, then met again for a slower, more thorough exploration. Her breath sighed from her lungs, filled with hunger, yet shaded with regret. He wished there were time for more than a swift, stolen kiss. But his family waited and he didn’t doubt for a minute if he delayed any longer, they’d guess why.
“I have to go,” he reluctantly informed her.
She drew back. “And we shouldn’t be mixing business with pleasure, anyway.”
“We’ll have plenty of time for pleasure later,” he reassured her. “Once this is settled.”
She turned abruptly. “I look forward to hearing your family’s decision,” she said.
Her formality amused him, given what they’d been doing a few short hours earlier. “It shouldn’t take long.”
He returned to the conference room, interrupting a heated exchange between his cousins, who debated Leticia Charleston’s motivations for her offer. No one commented on the delay, though Primo pulled out a cigar and swept him with a quick, encompassing stare as he lit up, breaking more California laws and codes than Draco cared to consider.
While the debate continued to rage, Draco leaned back in his chair and took it all in. He wished he remembered more of the history between the Dantes and the Charlestons and made a point of researching the facts as soon as possible. But one small detail captured his full attention.
Primo described Leticia Charleston as a vengeful woman.
Draco understood that quality. Possessed that quality. Intended to exercise his thirst for vengeance to the fullest when he found the person responsible for swindling him out of a half dozen of Dantes’ finest and rarest fire diamonds, an event that had taken place a full decade before. He’d been all of twenty at the time and overinflated with his own self-importance, eager to prove himself. That single mistake had changed him.
Permanently.
Primo often referred to him as the Dante troublemaker, not an accurate description. Draco was possibly the most deceptive of the Dantes since he hid certain elements of his personality behind a congenial, mischievous mask. But he found he could easily slip into Leticia’s shoes and consider the matter from her point of view. Analyze how best she might go about destroying the Dantes.
Conversation wafted over him while his family discussed their options. Once Draco satisfied himself he’d weighed all the possibilities, he lifted a finger. Silence descended.
Primo waved his cigar in Draco’s direction. Smoke sketched the path his hand had taken. “Speak.”
“Let’s start with what we know,” he suggested. “First off, Leticia Charleston wants to alert us to the fact she now owns a supply of fire diamonds. Based on an admittedly quick examination, I’m forced to concur with what Shayla told us. At first blush, they appear superior to ours.”
“But they’re real? They haven’t been treated?”
“Yes, they’re real,” Draco said in response to Sev’s questions. “And no, they haven’t been treated. Unfortunately, I can’t give you more specifics until I’ve had time to run them through a full analysis other than to say that, with a few rare exceptions, they’re better than what we have.”
Ferocious denial exploded around him. Sev’s voice cut across them all. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m dead serious,” Draco replied. Since he was the expert, they couldn’t say much to refute the claim, though they wanted to. Badly. “Second. She’s offering us first refusal to lease her mines. Why?” He fixed his gaze on his grandfather. “There’s bad blood between us. And you described her as a vengeful woman.”
Primo took his time blowing out a stream of aromatic smoke. “Cold. Bitter. A nasty creature.”
Coming from Primo it was a damning condemnation. Draco nodded. “As mentioned, she could easily peddle her diamonds to any of our competitors. But the best I can figure, she came to us for one reason.”
“Which is?” Lazz asked impatiently.
“This gives her a sword to hold over our heads. If we don’t dance to her tune, she drops the sword and sells her stones elsewhere. The power and control are hers to wield. For as long as her mines cough up diamonds that trump our own, she can name her price and we’ll pay it. Otherwise Dantes loses its status as the only jewelry empire in the world to possess fire diamonds. Worse, if she eventually chooses to sell to our competitors, to all our competitors except us,” he emphasized, “we’ll have a lower grade of diamonds than everyone else possesses. Our fall from grace will be abrupt and hard—”
“—and no doubt be met with tears of joy from jewelers around the world,” Sev said sourly.
Lazz nodded in agreement. “Ultimately, it could put us in a very precarious position, business-wise.”
“It is logical,” Primo agreed.
“If we don’t nail the Charleston woman to an ironclad contract, she’ll screw us over,” Sev stated. “She’ll play her game until it bores her and then sell elsewhere.”
Primo sighed wearily. “I am forced to admit, it would be in keeping with her nature.”
“Then we agree to lease her mines?”
Lazz shook his head. “We agree to examine the stones and insist on our own survey of the mines. We investigate the offer top-to-bottom and then push for the best possible terms.”
Sev grimaced. “I suspect the best possible is going to be damn poor.”
Draco didn’t disagree. “So, we take it one step at a time and see if we can’t figure out a way to beat the Charleston woman at her own game.”
“And what about Shayla?” Primo’s question dropped like a boulder onto a mirror-calm lake, sending out huge, disruptive waves. He studied the tip of his glowing cigar. “I am forced to wonder what her purpose in all this. Letty has always blamed us for the death of her son. Does the granddaughter also blame us? Does Shayla have the same thirst for vengeance as her grandmother?”
Draco turned on his grandfather. “Are we responsible for her father’s death?”
Primo shook his head. “No more than we are responsible for the depletion of the Charleston mines. But there is much you do not know, much I can explain at a more appropriate time.” He flicked ash from his cigar toward an ashtray. “But that does not mean Shayla does not blame, that she has not been taught to blame. We must give serious consideration to her role in this chess match.”
“Shayla’s role is quite simple. She’s mine.” The words escaped before Draco could control them. But he meant every one of them. “She has nothing to do with this.”
“She has everything to do with this,” Lazz insisted. “She’s the one who approached us, not Leticia. How do you know she didn’t seduce you as part of her grandmother’s plan?”
Primo grimaced. “This troubles me, as well. Though my instinct says Shayla is a good person, we do not yet know her nature well enough to judge whether she hides a thirst for revenge behind the congenial mask she wears.”
Draco literally saw red, the heat of it blurring the edges of his vision. It took every ounce of self-control to keep from vaulting across the table and decking someone. “She isn’t hiding behind a mask,” he rasped out in reply. “She’s not like that.”
“You’ve only known her one night!” Lazz snapped.
Draco held out his hand, palm up. “We were chosen for each other.”
Sev interrupted, stemming Lazz’s simmering retort. “We have to consider every possibility, Draco. Surely you must see that? From what Primo has said, I wouldn’t put anything past Leticia Charleston. Until we see how this plays out, Shayla is suspect. At the very least it puts the two of you on opposite sides of an intensely adversarial business deal.”
“Then we’ll keep business separate from our personal relationship,” Draco
shot back.
“I’ve been there with Francesca and, trust me, it wasn’t pretty,” his cousin replied, referring to his own experiences when he and his wife first met. “My situation was bad enough. What you’re dealing with will be far worse.”
Draco shrugged. “So I’ll deal.”
“And if we have to take the Charlestons down?” Lazz asked. “How will Shayla react to that? For that matter, how will you?”
Draco didn’t hesitate. “You know my first loyalty is to my family. When Shayla becomes my wife, her loyalty will be to me, which means to the Dantes.”
Lazz snorted, and he and Sev exchanged ironic glances. “You don’t know women very well, do you?”
“I know Shayla that well.”
“After just one night?” Sev asked skeptically.
Draco climbed to his feet and confronted his cousins. “How long did it take you and Francesca, Sev? I seem to remember it was all of one night.” His gaze switched to Lazz. “What about you and Ariana? You may have resisted longer and harder, but in the end you still fell.”
Lazz blew out a sigh. “You’re that certain?”
Draco didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Sev nodded, though he didn’t look happy. “I guess the real question is, does Shayla feel the same way?”
Once again, Draco didn’t hesitate. “If she doesn’t now, she will in time, once she’s had a chance to come to terms with what’s happened.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Unless you’re saying The Inferno doesn’t work.”
Sev released a humorless laugh. “Oh, it works. You’ll discover just how well soon enough. My concern is whether she’s about to become a pawn in this battle, trapped between her loyalty to her grandmother and her feelings for you.”
Draco had already considered that possibility. “If she is, she’ll be the first piece I capture,” he stated firmly. “Whatever it takes to remove her from the playing field. But I will protect what’s mine.”
The meeting didn’t last much longer. They invited Shayla back into the conference room and assured her of their interest in pursuing her grandmother’s proposition. They requested another survey of the mines, which she readily agreed to. They asked for time to examine the diamonds. Since she’d already suggested as much, she didn’t argue that, either. Finally, they asked for a copy of the proposed lease along with any conditions pertaining to it and Shayla promised them her grandmother’s lawyer would fax it within the week.
To Draco’s amusement he watched Shayla charm the men, his grandfather and cousins falling, one by one, beneath the enchantment of her smile and her sunny personality. It wasn’t a deliberate maneuver on her part. He’d have caught it if she’d been playing them. He suspected Primo would have, as well. In fact, his grandfather watched Shayla with an eagle eye, careful to assure himself that this particular apple had fallen well away from the poisoned tree of her grandmother.
The instant the meeting wrapped, Draco whisked Shayla off to his office. “Why don’t you come upstairs and have lunch with me,” he suggested the moment they were safely closeted inside.
“Not a chance,” she said with a small grin. “I have a feeling ‘come upstairs and have lunch’ is your code for ‘come upstairs and take your clothes off.’”
His grin hinted at his agreement. “Well, we could do that, too. I wouldn’t mind eating lunch naked, so long as it’s with you.” He approached, snagging the lapels of her lemony suit jacket and reeling her in. “Of course, we can also get naked right here in my office. You’ll find my couch is extremely comfortable.”
She shook her head, unable to suppress a laugh. “As tempting as your offer is, I’ll pass.” Her amusement faded, replaced by a bittersweet longing. “I’m really sorry, Draco, but I have to go.”
“Time to report in to your grandmother?” He tried to keep the edge from his voice with only limited success.
She must have picked up on it, because she met his look dead-on, a hint of defiance glittering in the darkness. “Among other things, yes.”
He let it go, determined to tip them over that line from business straight into pleasure, and keep them there. “Why don’t we have dinner together?” he suggested. “Somewhere ridiculously expensive and romantic. We’ll celebrate a new alliance between the Charlestons and the Dantes.”
She avoided his gaze. “A little premature to celebrate an alliance, don’t you think?” she asked. “There’s a lot of work to accomplish before a lease is signed.”
He meant them and their relationship, not the lease, though there didn’t seem any point in explaining that fact. Instead, he schooled himself to patience. She didn’t understand about The Inferno and what was happening between them. Not yet. Until she did, until she accepted, he needed to take it slow.
“We can fight the past, or accept it and move on.” Coming from him, that particular philosophy was almost funny, since he’d spent ten endless years fighting to right a single long-ago wrong. “What happens in the future is up to you. To us.”
She released her breath in a drawn-out sigh. “You’re right.” She turned with a smile, though it didn’t contain her usual cheerfulness. He could still see regret lurking around the edges. “Where and when do you want to meet?”
“I’ll pick you up at the Mark.”
She shook her head. “I’d rather meet you at the restaurant.” Her expression turned provocative. “But if you promise not to behave yourself, I’ll let you take me home.”
His eyebrows winged upward. “Not to behave myself?”
She simply looked at him and waited.
Hell, he could do that. He was an expert at not behaving. “Done,” he agreed. He didn’t get it then. He should have. But he was so desperate to have her again, the little cues went right over his head. “There’s a terrific seafood place in North Beach. Do you know where North Beach is?”
“Between Fisherman’s Wharf and Chinatown,” she answered promptly.
“I’m impressed.”
She shrugged it off. “Don’t be. I did some exploring before the reception. It’s a wonder I could squeeze my poor abused feet into those heels considering how much walking I did.”
“Well, I’m glad you managed, since I had such fun taking them off. In fact, I had fun taking off all of your bits and pieces.” He couldn’t resist touching her again. Kissing her. Gathering her into his arms, where she belonged. She didn’t resist, but snuggled in, returning his kiss as though they’d been parted for months, instead of hours. “Meet me at Cocina at eight,” he said, when they finally came up for air.
“Draco . . .”
Somehow her hair had come loose again and he filled his hands with it, allowing it to trickle through his fingers. “Stay,” he murmured against her mouth.
“I wish—” She broke off and pulled free of his embrace. Putting some distance between them, she shook her head. “I can’t.”
He caught an odd emotion rippling across her expression. “Shayla?” Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. “What is it, sweetheart?”
She gathered herself with a visible effort. “I’m sorry. I really have to go.”
If only he’d pushed a little harder. If only he’d been paying closer attention. But he hadn’t. Didn’t. And so the moment passed. “I understand.” He checked his watch. “Hell, it’s hours before I’ll see you again. Are you sure you don’t want to meet up sooner?”
“Yes.” She closed her eyes with a soft exclamation. “I’d love to, but I can’t. Draco, you have to let me go. I’ll see you at eight.”
She darted forward and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, kissed him with a desperate passion. Clung like she’d never let him go. Sighed like a woman in love. He went under with her, losing himself in an embrace that promised everything, but still left him empty-handed when she slipped away and, without another word, exited the room.
The day stretched long and lonely, inching toward the appointed time they’d agreed to meet. He arrived a full f
ifteen minutes early. Shayla was running late. More than eight months late, as it turned out. But Draco didn’t know that then.
After a full hour of pulverizing breadsticks, he was forced to face facts. She wasn’t coming. He threw down a wad of cash and headed for the Mark, where the snooty reservationist on duty informed him there was no Shayla Charleston staying with them. Had never been a Shayla Charleston staying with them. And could he please step aside so paying customers might be assisted.
Next, Draco placed a call to Leticia Charleston, who claimed she had no knowledge of her granddaughter’s whereabouts and no, she couldn’t be bothered to pass on a message. She ended the conversation by informing him that any further contact should be through her attorney. Unless, of course, the Dantes were no longer interested in leasing her mines.
Draco’s final call was to Juice, the Dantes’ in-house investigator and former associate of Luc’s. Juice specialized in background checks, finding what others didn’t want found, and all things stored in cyberspace. “I have a job for you,” Draco informed him the instant the call went through.
“What is it with you Dantes?” Juice’s deep bass voice rumbled in his ear. “You don’t know how to say, ‘Hello’? Even a quick, ‘How ya doin’?’ But, no. It’s always, ‘I need some info and I need it yesterday.’ First your brother, Rafe, hits me up last night, now you tonight.”
Draco fought for patience. “Hello. How ya doin’? I need some info and I need it yesterday. I want you to dig up everything you can on a Shayla Charleston. Then I want you to find her for me.”
“I’m not sure I like the way you say ‘find her,’ my man.”
It had been an endless night and Draco’s control finally snapped. “What’s the way I said it have to do with anything?” he snarled.
“That depends. First, you best remember you’re the one asking for a favor.” He let that sink in.
Draco swore. “I’m sorry, Juice. She’s . . .” She’s what? His Inferno mate? Apparently not since she’d walked away from what they’d had. “She’s important.”
“Inferno, important?”