Dante's Blackmailed Bride

by Day Leclaire

  “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” Francesca knocked back the drink Sev had given her in the vain hope it would pull her out of the sensual stupor fogging her brain. It didn’t. Instead, she spent the next twenty-four hours daydreaming about him.

  The next morning, Friday, she wasted her entire time in line searching in vain for Sev’s distinctive build. She refused to be disappointed when she didn’t spot him, and even came up with a handful of reasonable excuses for lingering in the small bistro while she sipped her drink. But he never showed.

  When she arrived at work she was stunned to discover a blown-glass vase sitting on her desk with a new flower to replace the forget-me-nots, this time a sprig of orange blossoms. The white star-shaped blooms caressed the flame-red glass, the contrast between the two colors quite striking. Unable to resist, she picked up the vase, the sweet perfume of the flowers flooding her senses while the delicate glasswork warmed within her hold.

  It was an incredible piece with sinuous curves that flowed from base to stem and seemed to beg for her touch. Had Sev stroked it, just as she was now doing? Were her fingers tracing the same path his had taken? It was a distinct possibility, since no one who held this gorgeous creation could resist running their fingers along the flowing lines of the fiery glass.

  “Oh. My.” Tina came to peer over Francesca’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. Where did you get it?”

  “It’s a gift.”

  “And orange blossoms. Très romantique!”

  “Really? I didn’t know. I just love the scent.”

  “Mmm. They mean eternal love.” Tina’s eyes filled with laughter. “Or innocence. I’ll let you decide which is more appropriate.”

  Definitely not innocence. Francesca hastily returned the vase to her desktop. She took a seat and pulled out her sketchpad, determined to get straight to work. Not that she accomplished much. More times than she could count she found herself staring into space with a reminiscent smile on her face while she stroked the vase and inhaled the sweet scent of orange blossoms.

  Saturday came and Francesca assumed that she wouldn’t have to worry about Sev showing up at Starbucks, or sending her a gift at work, or finding some other way to tempt her into giving in to his blatant seduction. Or so she thought until she opened the door to her apartment to his latest surprise.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  Sev lowered the fist he’d been about to use on her door. “I came to talk to you.”

  “I thought we decided we weren’t going to contact each other again,” she said. “Nothing can come of this, you realize that, don’t you? No matter how much I might want to see you, it means losing my job and I won’t risk that.”

  He stared down at her with such heat that it was a wonder it didn’t turn the air to steam. “I’m well aware of that fact. Not that it changes anything.” He glanced over her shoulder and into her apartment. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Please, Francesca.”

  Just those two words and she felt her resolve fading. “What’s the point, Sev?” she whispered.

  “This. This is the point.”

  He cupped her face and took her mouth in a passionate kiss. Francesca closed her eyes as Sev made his point, as well as several others, in ways sweeter and more generous than any that had gone before. She gave herself up to sheer rapture, surrendering to desire over common sense. Without even realizing it, she backed into her apartment and Sev kicked the door closed behind them. Endless minutes passed before she surfaced with a groan.

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this again. It’s not safe.” She fisted her hands in his shirt. “Listen to me, Sev. I’m telling you straight out. You can’t show up at Starbucks or send me flowers or any more gorgeous vases—thank you, by the way—or slip me notes in my lunch.”

  “Fine. I won’t. Instead, why don’t I steal you away for the weekend?”

  She had to give him credit for sheer brazenness, if nothing else. “Forget it. I’ve already told you—”

  He nodded impatiently. “Yeah, yeah. Heard it all before. That still doesn’t change anything. We need time together in order to resolve our differences.”

  “We can’t resolve our differences,” she emphasized. “There are simply too many obstacles.”

  “Obstacles we haven’t made any effort to overcome. I’d like to try and correct that oversight. I’ve made reservations. We’ll be discreet. No one will find out we’ve been together.”

  “And if I say no?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Will you blackmail me again?”

  “Would that make it easier for you to surrender?” His voice dropped, reminding her of a certain moonlit night when he’d whispered the most outrageous suggestions in her ear—suggestions he’d then turned from proposition to action. “Come with me, Francesca. Or I swear I’ll show up at Timeless and tell everyone who’ll listen that we’re lovers.”

  “I don’t believe you. You’re just saying that because—”

  He leaned in, stopping her with another endless kiss. “Don’t challenge me.” There was no mistaking the warning in his dark eyes. “When have I ever failed to follow through on my word?”

  “Right now,” she informed him. “All this week. You said—” She hesitated, struggling to recall precisely what he had said when they last met. As far as she could remember, she’d done most of the talking that day. He gave her a knowing look and she blew out her breath in an aggravated sigh. “Well…you might not have come right out and said it, but you did agree to end the affair.”

  He tipped her face up to his. “Does it look like I agree with our ending things?”

  Not even a little. “Without question.”

  His slow, knowing smile proved her undoing. “Go pack a bag. We can finish arguing about it in the car.”

  She turned without another word and crossed to her bedroom. Five minutes later she returned with an overnight bag, more certain with every step she took that she’d completely lost her mind. And maybe she had, but after five minutes with Sev, she no longer cared. One more weekend and then she’d put an end to their relationship, she promised herself. Just these two days together and then no more. After all…who would it hurt?

  To her delight, Sev drove them into wine country, where he’d booked a room at a charming bed-and-breakfast. They spent the day at several of the local wineries sampling the wares before enjoying an impromptu picnic that consisted of generous slices of the local Sonoma Jack cheese and freshly baked bread. That night they dined out at a small, elegant restaurant that specialized in French cuisine, their day together one of the most enchanting Francesca had ever experienced. The sun had long since set when they returned to their room and silently came together.

  She’d been waiting for this from the moment she’d agreed to spend the weekend with Sev, had been anticipating it, desire fomenting with each hour that passed. And now that the moment had arrived, she tumbled, falling headlong into his arms and into his bed, if not into his heart. Because she couldn’t quite convince herself that what they felt could be anything more than physical.

  “We can make this work,” he told her, during the still hours between deepest night and earliest morning. “If we agree not to discuss anything job-related, this will work.”

  “But for how long?”

  “Look…I know TH is after a big-name actress to pull them out of their financial hole. Eventually, I’ll find out who she is. But I don’t need you for that. There are far more interesting ways to spend my time with you.”

  She managed a smile, even though she continued to worry. “Our jobs…they mean everything to us. They’re as much a part of us as our flesh and bones. We won’t be able to share that part of ourselves.”

  He conceded the point with a swift nod. “So we discuss other things.”

  “Like what?”

  He rolled onto his side to face her. “Like…growing up in foster care. Co
ming from such a huge family, I can’t begin to imagine it. Why were you never adopted?”

  She tugged the sheet over her breasts and tucked it beneath her arms. A ridiculous reaction, she conceded, and more than a little telling. But talking about her childhood left her exposed. Any covering, even a sheet, helped compensate for that.

  “I almost was,” she said in answer to his question.

  He traced a scorching finger from the curve of her cheek down the length of her neck. As always, she flamed beneath his touch. “What happened?”

  Francesca shrugged. “They were about to adopt me when Carrie unexpectedly became pregnant with twins. The doctor ordered complete bed rest and her husband insisted I be placed elsewhere, that it was too much for his wife. I heard him tell the social worker that taking care of me put their babies at risk, and that the babies were their most important consideration.”

  Sev swept her hair back from her face, regarding her with heartbreaking compassion. “What happened then?”

  “I went through a succession of homes after that. Four, I think.” She dismissed the memory with a careless smile and rolled over on top of him. His warmth became her warmth and helped diminish the coldness that streaked through her veins and sank into her bones. A coldness those particular memories always engendered. “Acting out, I guess, because I’d been foolish enough to imagine that Carrie and her husband might actually want me as much as the children they were about to have.”

  “I’m sorry.” He released his breath in a rough sigh, causing the curls at her temples to swirl and dance. “That’s such an inadequate thing to say. But I mean it.”

  “Like I said, don’t feel sorry for me.” Pity was the last thing she wanted from him. “I survived.”

  “And found your father. That must have helped.” He studied her curiously. “You haven’t told me anything about him. What’s he like?”

  “There’s not much to tell,” she claimed, aware of how evasive she sounded. “He…he had a one-night stand with my mother. Since he was married at the time—is still married—I didn’t feel comfortable intruding in their lives.”

  Sev swore. “You just can’t catch a break, can you?”

  “What about you?” She deliberately changed the subject. “You’ve said that after your father’s death you had to dismantle most of Dantes. I gather that included Timeless Heirlooms.”

  “Yes.”

  She could tell he didn’t want to talk about it, but pushed, anyway. “Which explains why you’re so determined to get it back again. That must have been as difficult for you as foster care was for me.” She hesitated before asking, “Why has it become such an obsession? I mean…if your father was the one responsible for Dantes’ decline—”

  He wrapped his arms around her and reversed their positions, bracing himself on his forearms to lessen the press of weight on top of her. “Why have I become so obsessed with rebuilding it?”

  He looked so fierce. So determined. “Yes.”

  “Because my father tried to tell me something about the business the day before he died.” His words grew ragged. “And I was too impatient to listen to another of his crazy schemes. Maybe if I had—” He broke off, a muscle jerking in his cheek.

  “What?” Her eyes widened in sudden comprehension. “You think he had an idea for saving Dantes? One that didn’t involve dismantling the entire business?”

  “I don’t think. I know. He called it Dante’s Heart. Even my mother thought it would work. I—reluctantly—agreed to meet with them the next day when they returned from their sailing excursion.”

  “Only they didn’t return.”

  He closed his eyes, grief carving deep lines into his face. “No.”

  “Didn’t he write down his idea? Leave some sort of clue behind?”

  “I tore both home and office apart looking for it. There was nothing. Nothing except—”

  She recalled what he’d told her when they’d visited his Pacific Heights house. “Letters detailing his affair with a designer.”

  “Yes.” His mouth slid into a smile that, without fail, caused her body to quicken in anticipation. “Seems to run in the family.”

  “And you think that if you’d only taken the time to listen to your father, you wouldn’t have had to sell off all the Dante subsidiaries.”

  His hands swept over her, settling on the softest of her curves. “If you’re asking whether I blame myself, I’ll make it easy for you. I do.”

  She fought to speak through her shiver of desire. “Seems we both have something to prove.”

  “So it does.” He traced a path of kisses from the hollow of her throat downward. “The first thing I want to prove is how much I want you.” And in the hours that followed he did precisely that.

  Their weekend together changed everything, convincing Francesca that maybe she could have it all. Despite the small warning voice she couldn’t quite silence, she allowed herself to be talked back into Sev’s bed. Or blackmailed there, he frequently claimed with a teasing grin.

  As the days slid into weeks, she became more and more certain that Sev didn’t have an ulterior motive—other than to get her in his bed as often as possible. But since that was her motivation, as well, nothing could make her happier. Of course, he continued to offer her a job at Dantes at regular intervals, making the tempting offers as such casual asides that they felt more like a joke than a true offer. Foolishly, she even managed to convince herself that he’d forgotten about identifying which actress Timeless Heirlooms hoped to sign as their spokeswoman.

  Or so she believed until he picked her up one evening and handed her a brightly wrapped package. “This is for you. Fair warning, I want major good-guy points for this one.”

  “That depends.” She picked up the box and shook it. “What did you get?”

  “Something you mentioned last week. Go on and open it. It’s just a DVD.” His expression turned gloomy. “It has chick flick written all over it, but for you, I’m willing to take it like a man.”

  Ripping off the outer wrapping she realized he’d bought her the latest Juliet Bloom release. She stiffened, wondering if this was his subtle way of telling her he knew about the possibility of TH using Bloom as their spokeswoman. “Thanks,” she murmured. She cleared her throat, forcing a more natural tone to her voice. “I can’t wait to watch this.”

  “Then we’ll do it tonight,” he responded promptly. “We’ll order in Chinese and crack open that bottle of Pinot Grigio my family sent over from Italy.”

  But all through the beginning of the movie she remained on edge, praying she wouldn’t do or say something to give away TH’s plans. The entire time, Sev remained his normal self. As far as she could tell, he didn’t watch her with any more intensity than usual. There were no double entendres or suspicious comments. Halfway through the film, she managed to relax and even enjoy herself—perhaps in part due to the glass of wine Sev kept topped off.

  By the end of the movie, she was in her usual position whenever they watched a DVD, on the couch curled up in Sev’s arms. Tears filled her eyes as the film reached its stunning climax, a scene in which the heroine stood before the villain, clothed in nothing but defiance and diamonds.

  “It reminds me of our first night together,” Sev murmured. “You were wearing your amethyst-and-diamond set, remember? Bloom would look stunning in one of your designs.”

  Francesca couldn’t tear her eyes from the film. “Yes, she will,” she murmured.

  It took a full half-dozen heartbeats before she realized what she’d said. The instant she had, she ripped free of his embrace and stood. “Oh, God.”

  Sev climbed slowly to his feet. “Honey, don’t. Don’t overreact. I swear to you, I already knew.”

  She shook her head, not believing him. “This was a setup, wasn’t it?”

  “Not even a little.”

  Tears of anger blurred her vision. “And I fell for it. I got complacent. Even when I saw which movie you’d chosen, I convinced myself not to read
anything into it.” The breath hitched in her throat as she looked around for her purse. “I have to go.”

  “No, you don’t,” he argued. “You need to stay so we can talk this through.”

  She ignored him, scooping her purse off the coffee table and crossing to the entryway to snatch her sweater from the antique armoire he used as a coat closet. “Just answer me one question, Sev.” She spun to face him. “Are you going to use the information about Juliet Bloom to try and take down TH?”

  At least he didn’t lie to her. “Yes.”

  “Then there’s nothing left to be said, is there?”

  “There’s more to be said than you can possibly imagine. But since you’re in no mood to listen to me tonight, it can wait until tomorrow.”

  “You’re wrong, Sev.” She yanked open the door to his apartment and stepped through. “There is no tomorrow for us.”

  Six

  The answer to Francesca’s question—was Sev going to use the information she’d let slip?—came the next morning when she rushed in to work.

  A message sat on her desk requesting she report to Tina’s office at her earliest convenience. It didn’t have anything to do with her slipup, she attempted to convince herself. Not this fast, nor this soon. He’d only had one night to track down the actress or her rep and cause trouble. He couldn’t possibly have accomplished that so quickly.

  But a feeling of impending doom clung to her as she sprinted up the steps to the executive level of Timeless Heirlooms. The Fontaines shared adjoining offices at one end of the floor and she could hear Tina’s voice raised in anger coming from her side of the suite. Not unusual, given her volatile nature. But not welcome, either, all things considered. Kurt’s placating voice rumbled in response to whatever Tina said, indicating the two were in there together.

  Francesca knocked on the door, not in the least surprised when no one answered. She doubted they heard her over the shouting. Peeking around the door, she asked, “You wanted to see me?”

  Kurt waved her in and toward a brilliant magenta sofa at one end of the room. She took a seat and waited. Outside, storm clouds marched across the city skyline, a perfect reflection of the Fontaines’ mood.