by Day Leclaire
Sev stilled. “What consequences?”
“You ignore The Inferno at your own peril, nipote.” He leaned forward, each word stone-hard. “If you turn your back on it, you will never know true happiness. Look at what happened to your father.”
“You think The Inferno killed him?” Sev demanded on a challenging note. “Are you that superstitious?”
Primo’s expression softened. “No, it didn’t kill Dominic. But because he chose with his head instead of his heart, because he married your mother instead of the woman chosen for him by The Inferno, he never found true happiness. And both our business and our family suffered as a result.” He took a slow drag of his cigar, the tip flaming with an unholy red glow. “I am warning you, Severo Dante. If you follow in your father’s footsteps you, too, will know only the curse, never the blessing.”
Tina Fontaine threw herself into a chair near where Francesca sat at her drawing board, while Kurt filled the doorway leading into the small office. One look at their expressions warned Francesca that her previous night’s indiscretion had left her career teetering on a knife’s edge.
“You owe my dear husband a huge thank you for stopping me from calling the police last night,” came Tina’s opening volley.
Francesca stared in horror. “The police?”
Tina leaned forward, not bothering to disguise her fury. “It was your big night. And you disappeared with a bloody fortune in gems around your neck without bothering to tell anyone where you’d gone. What did you expect me to do?”
Francesca clasped her shaking hands together. “I’m sorry. Truly. I have no idea what came over me.”
The ring of truth in Francesca’s comment gave Tina pause. “Where the hell did you go?”
“I think I can guess,” Kurt inserted. “Holed up somewhere clutching a wastebasket, were you?”
Francesca stared at him, utterly miserable. She didn’t have any choice. She couldn’t lie. She had to admit the truth and take whatever punishment they chose to dole out, even if it meant the end of her career at TH. “Not exactly. I—”
From behind Tina’s back, Kurt gave a warning shake of his head. “But you were suffering from a severe case of nerves, I assume?” Before Francesca could reply, he continued, “It’s the one excuse Tina can sympathize with, can’t you, darling? It happened to her on the night of her first show, too.”
Tina gave an irritable shrug. “Yes, fine. It happened to me when we opened our first jewelry store in Mendocino. Too many nerves, too much champagne, and too little intestinal fortitude.” She shot Francesca an annoyed look. “Is that what happened?”
Francesca hesitated, before nodding despite nearly overwhelming guilt. “I’m so sorry. The crowd got to me and I decided to leave early.” She kept her gaze fixed on Tina, but caught Kurt’s small look of approval. “I promise it won’t happen again.”
“I suggest it doesn’t. Next time I’ll fire you.” Tina continued to stare with uncomfortable intensity. “How in the world did you evade security? I need to know so in future our designers and models can’t pull a similar stunt.”
Francesca kept her gaze fixed on her drawing table. “There’s an exit off the balcony,” she whispered. “One of the guests escorted me.”
“Go on.”
Francesca swallowed. “As for the jewelry, I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I worried you. I swear I kept it safe.” Or rather Sev had. She’d been too far gone by that time to give a single thought to what damage their lovemaking might do to the delicate pieces.
“That’s the only thing that saved your job,” Tina said sternly. “If anything had happened to the jewelry, you’d be cooling your heels in jail.”
Tina’s assistant appeared before she could say anything further and leaned into the room around Kurt. “Call for you,” she informed her boss. “It’s Juliet Bloom’s rep.”
Tina came off the chair as though catapulted and flew toward the door. She paused at the last instant. “Fair warning, Francesca.” She threw the admonition over her shoulder. “The rep wasn’t happy when I couldn’t produce you last night. If she’s calling to blow off our deal because you were incapable of doing your job, you’re gone.”
Francesca fought to draw breath, seeing her career vanish before her eyes thanks to one night of utter foolishness. “I understand.”
“And there’s a call for you on line three, Francesca,” the assistant added, with a hint of sympathy.
“Excuse me for a minute,” she murmured to Kurt. She picked up the phone, not in the least surprised to hear Severo Dante’s voice respond to her greeting. “How may I help you?” she asked in as businesslike a tone as she could manage.
“Huh.” He paused as though giving it serious thought. “I’m not quite sure how to answer that. Most of the possibilities that come to mind would be interesting variations on last night’s theme.”
She didn’t dare respond to the comment. She’d risked quite enough already, thanks to Sev. “I’m really busy right now. Could I get back to you in regard to that?”
“In regard to that, you can get back to me anytime you want. But I’m calling for a different reason, altogether. I want you to meet me for lunch at Fruits de Mer at one.”
She spared Kurt a brief, uncomfortable glance. “That’s not even remotely possible.”
“In hot water, are you?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s make it tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry, that’s quite impossible.”
“Make it possible or I’ll come by the office and let you explain my presence to the Fontaines. Or better yet, I’ll explain everything to them. Personally.”
Oh, God. If he did that, she’d be fired for sure. Painfully aware of her father listening in, she chose her words with care. “You are such a gentleman.” Let him read between those lines, or rather, lies.
He chuckled. “You’re not alone, are you?” At her pointed silence, he added, “I’m serious. We need to talk. Will you come tomorrow?”
“It would seem I have no other choice. Now, I really have to go.” She ended the conversation by returning the receiver to its cradle. “I’m sorry about that, Kurt.”
He regarded her far too acutely. “I assume that was your young man from last night?” He held up a hand before she could reply. “I caught a glimpse of you and your mysterious friend leaving together.”
Francesca stiffened in alarm. Had he recognized Sev? No, he couldn’t have or he wouldn’t be acting so understanding. “And that didn’t worry you?” she asked hesitantly.
“Not when I consider some of the antics Tina and I got up to when we were first dating. I do, however, recommend in the future that you don’t mix business with pleasure.”
Embarrassed color warmed Francesca’s cheeks. “I hope you know that I don’t usually . . . I’m not—”
He waved that aside, but not before she saw his cheeks turn a ruddier shade than normal. “I helped you out of a tight spot this time because, quite frankly, we need you and what you can do for Timeless Heirlooms. But I won’t bail you out again.”
“I understand.” It killed her to be having this conversation with her father. More than anything she hoped to win both his approval, as well as his friendship. Instead, he’d helped her lie to his wife and put their relationship at odds. “As I told Tina, it won’t happen again.”
“Listen to me, Francesca.” He took the chair Tina had vacated. “Your six-month contract with Timeless Heirlooms is almost up. Tina and I are both very excited with what we’ve seen from you so far. Equally as important, we’ve enjoyed working with you.”
She smiled in genuine pleasure. Receiving such a huge compliment from her father meant the world to her. “Thank you. I’ve enjoyed working with you, as well.”
How could she not? She was living the dream of a lifetime, one she wanted more than anything. Thanks to the detective she’d hired, she’d been able to track down her father the minute she’d graduated from college and approach him with
out anyone being the wiser. To her delight, she discovered that he shared her passion. Even more incredible, the company he and Tina ran were actively hiring designers, if only on a trial basis.
“Tina and I were on the verge of making your position here permanent. But after last night, we simply can’t take the risk. Not yet. You understand our predicament, don’t you?”
Her smile died. In the past six months she’d struggled to prove herself as both a top-notch designer, as well as a woman he’d be proud to claim as his daughter. It had all gone so well. Until last night. And now she’d ruined everything.
“I do understand,” she managed to say. “Kurt, I can’t thank you and Tina enough for giving me this opportunity. I swear I’ll make it up to you.”
“I don’t doubt that.” He offered her a slow, generous smile, one that never failed to fill Francesca with an intense longing. He stood and held out his hand. “We’ll give it another couple months. Maybe once we have Juliet Bloom under contract, we’ll feel more comfortable offering you a permanent position with us.”
Francesca slipped her hand into his bearlike grasp, fighting back tears. Determination filled her. It didn’t matter what it took, she’d find a way to win his approval, as well as a permanent job at Timeless Heirlooms. If that meant avoiding Sev—well, after the lunch he’d forced on her—then that’s what she’d do. Because nothing was more important than having the opportunity to get to know her father, even if she could never tell him the truth about their relationship.
“Thank you for offering me another chance,” she said with as much composure as she could manage. “You won’t regret it.”
“All right,” Francesca stated the minute she joined Sev at Fruits de Mer. She took the seat across from him and folded her arms across her chest. “You blackmailed me into coming here. What do you want?”
Sev studied her silently for a long moment. If he could peg her with a single word it would be defensive. From the moment she’d stepped foot in the restaurant and spotted him, she’d had trouble meeting his gaze. He could guess why. He’d seen this woman naked. Had taken her in his arms and made love to her, not once or twice, but three times during their night together, each occasion more passionate than the last. It should have ensured an ease between them. And maybe it would have, except for one vital detail.
Forty-eight hours ago they’d been total strangers.
And yet, nothing had changed. No. That wasn’t true. If anything, the attraction between them had grown, become more palpable. He could see the hunger and desire lurking in the depths of her gaze, unwanted as it was undeniable. Her pulse throbbed in her throat and a heated flush touched her cheeks. Most damning of all, her body reacted to his presence. A heated flush touched her cheeks and her pulse throbbed in her throat. His gaze dipped downward briefly, not surprised to see the hard peak of her nipples against the thin silk of her blouse.
“You expected things to be different,” he said. “Didn’t you?”
She looked at him, the unremitting darkness of her eyes making a startling contrast to her pale complexion and honey-blond hair. “Today, you mean?” She gave him her full attention, a painful vulnerability lurking in her gaze. “Let’s just say I’d hoped things would be different.”
She’d changed toward him since their night together and he could guess the reason. Now that she’d discovered his identity, she’d decided to end things between them, something he refused to allow. “You hoped our reaction to each other would change now that you know who I am. Because you work for Timeless Heirlooms and I own Dantes, you thought that fact would put a stop to what we’re experiencing.”
“Yes.” A slight frown creased her brow. With a swift glance toward nearby tables, she dropped her voice to a whisper. “I need to explain something. I don’t know who that woman was two nights ago. I’ve never—” She took a deep breath. “I’m not making excuses.”
“Of course not.” He understood all too well. “But that doesn’t alter the facts.”
She retreated from him, icing over tension and longing with such speed he suspected she’d had many years of practice. “As far as I’m concerned, whatever happened between us has run its course.”
He tilted his head to one side. “Because you say so? Because it would be so much more convenient on the work front?” He couldn’t help laughing. “You’re kidding, right? This isn’t something you can cut off like a light switch.”
“I think it is.”
He studied her for a moment to assess her veracity. Satisfied she actually believed the nonsense she trotted out, he placed his hands flat on the table. He slid them across the linen-covered surface, inch by inch. When his hands came to within a foot of hers, she released a soft groan.
“Okay,” she said, snatching her hands back. “Point made. Maybe this . . . this—”
“Attraction? Desire?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Lust?”
She waved the choices aside. “Those are just varying shades of the same thing.”
“And you’re still experiencing each of those shades, as well as every single one in between.”
He caught the faint breathy sound of air escaping her lungs. “Whatever this is hasn’t run its course at all, has it?” she asked.
“Not even a little.” He massaged the tingle in his right palm. “I could feel you, you know.”
Her brows shot up. “Feel me? What do you mean?”
“When you walked in the room, I didn’t even have to see you,” he admitted. “I could feel you.”
Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “I don’t understand any of this,” she confessed. “How is that possible?”
He didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. “Is it the same for you? Has it eased off any since that night?”
She wanted to lie, he could read it in the hint of desperation in those huge, defenseless eyes. “Maybe it has.” She moistened her lips. “I’m sure it’s not quite as bad as the other night. It can’t be.”
“There’s an easy way to tell.” He extended his hand across the table once again. “Go ahead. Touch me.”
Francesca hesitated for a telling moment before splaying her fingers and linking them with Sev’s. She gasped at the contact, going rigid with shock. The next instant everything about her softened and relaxed, sinking into what he could only describe as euphoria. Then the next wave hit. A hot tide of need lapped between them, singeing nerve endings and escalating desire.
“I want you again.” He told her precisely how much with a single scorching look. “If anything, I want you even more than last time.”
“We can’t do this. Not again,” Francesca protested. “I’ve already put my job in jeopardy by spending the night with you. If the Fontaines find out it was you at the show, that you were the reason I left, they’d fire me on the spot. I won’t risk that. Working at TH is too important to me.”
Didn’t she get it? “You want me to stop?” He lifted their joined hands. “Tell me how. Because I’d love to know.”
She leaned forward, speaking in a low, rapid voice. “What I want is an explanation. Maybe if I understood how and why, I could make it stop. Why do I feel such an odd sensation every time we join hands? Why does just a touch cause me to go all wonky inside?”
His mouth twitched toward a smile. “Wonky?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Hungry. Lusty. Horny as hell. God, I can’t even believe I’m saying those things!”
He hesitated, loath to repeat the story Primo had told him. But she deserved some sort of answer, even one as far-fetched as The Inferno. He didn’t believe they were experiencing anything to do with something so fantastical. Or that his grandfather’s Inferno fairy tale belonged just there, in fairy tales. None of that mattered. Regardless of what he thought, she should know.
He forced himself to release her hands, despite an almost uncontrollable urge to sweep her up in his arms and bolt from the restaurant with her. More than anything he wanted to hole up somewhere with acres of bed, twenty-four-hour room service
, and a suitcase full of condoms.
“Look, I think I can explain this, though the explanation is going to sound a bit crazy.” Nor was this the venue he’d have chosen to tell a woman about The Inferno. But at least a crowded restaurant would give the illusion of safety once she’d fully ascertained the extent of his family’s insanity. He gave it to her straight. “There’s a Dante legend that my grandfather swears is true, about an Inferno that occurs when a man from my family touches the woman meant to be his.”
Her eyes narrowed, but at least she didn’t run screaming from the restaurant. “Somehow I don’t think this is the sort of story we should hash out in public. Do you?”
“Not even a little. My place isn’t far from here. We can talk there, if you’d prefer.”
“Talk?” A swift laugh bubbled free and she regarded him with wry amusement. “That would make a nice change. I don’t suppose you can promise that’s all we’re going to do?”
He shook his head. “I can’t promise a thing where you’re concerned.” He leaned back, giving her enough room to breathe. Hell, giving them both enough room to think straight. “But I swear, I’ll try. Will you trust me enough to come with me?”
She turned those bottomless dark eyes on him in silent assessment. He’d never met a woman quite so fascinating. She faced the world with elegance and strength and feminine dignity. And though he sensed they were integral parts of her, he also suspected they were a shield she used to protect herself from hurt.
Every so often he caught a glimpse of a waif peeking out, nose pressed to the glass, the want in her so huge and deep it amazed him that one person could contain it all. And yet, he also saw the steely determination that carried her through a life that—if he correctly read all she struggled to conceal—had slammed her with hardship while offering little joy to compensate.
After giving his offer a moment’s thought, she nodded. “I promised to meet you this one last time before we parted company, and I will. Besides, I always did like fairy tales even though they never come true.” A tragic smile played about her perfect bow mouth, tempting him beyond measure. Then she surprised him by lifting a hand and signaling the waiter. “But who knows. Maybe this one will be different.”