Sev's Blackmailed Bride (The Dante Inferno: The Dante Dynasty Series Book 1)

by Day Leclaire

He scoured his face with his hands. All the while, The Inferno consumed him, raging with the urge to go to her. To fix this. To take her back into his arms and make her his again. His jaw tightened. The hell with it. This was just one more roadblock. A huge one, granted. But surely they could—

  The front door opened and quietly closed, locking behind her. Sev charged into the living room, but she was gone, leaving nothing behind but a cold gleam emanating from the fireplace. Sitting on the hearth he found the engagement ring he’d given her. He crossed the room and picked it up.

  Maybe it was his imagination, but he could have sworn the fire deep within the heart of the diamond had dimmed.

  Francesca sat at her drawing board in her New York office, an office not that dissimilar from the one she’d occupied in San Francisco. Exhaustion dogged her, thanks to an endless round of sleepless nights. She’d only been in New York for a month, but already it felt like a lifetime. She rubbed her eyes, struggling to get them to focus on designs that could only be described as mediocre, at best. For some reason, her heart wasn’t in her work anymore.

  But then, how could it be? The past few weeks had been some of the darkest and most difficult of her life, far worse than anything she’d gone through in foster care. Worse even than her father’s rejection. She’d made a hideous mistake when she’d contacted Bloom’s rep.

  Why hadn’t it occurred to her that by helping the Fontaines, she was betraying Dantes . . . and more specifically, the man she loved? She’d been so busy easing her own guilt over leaving TH, that she never gave a thought to how her decision would impact Sev. Or that thanks to their feelings for each other, he wouldn’t see her actions from a business standpoint, but take her betrayal personally. She’d simply reacted to what she’d perceived as an unfair situation, and taken matters into her own hands.

  That still didn’t explain why he hadn’t acknowledged the designs she’d given him on their last night together. She’d hoped he’d understand what they meant. Hoped he’d realize that while she’d won the Bloom account for TH, she’d left him something far more valuable.

  A familiar longing filled her as The Inferno gave her a small, petulant kick. Even after all this time the connection remained—stretched thin and taut, granted. Yet, it held with unbelievable tenacity.

  The phone on her desk let out a shrill ring and she picked it up, surprised to have her greeting answered with a cheerful, “Ciao, sorella. It’s Marco.”

  Pleasure mingled with disappointment at the sound of his voice. Pleasure to hear from a Dante. And disappointment that it wasn’t the right Dante. “It’s good to hear from you,” she replied. “Though I’m surprised that any of you are willing to talk to me.”

  “You’d be even more surprised by how many of us are on your side.” He hesitated. “I’m afraid I can’t talk right now. I actually called to ask about some missing designs. Sev would like to know what happened to them. They’re not in your old office. I don’t suppose you took them with you to New York?”

  She frowned. “I don’t understand. I gave them to Sev.”

  “When, Francesca?”

  “The night—” She broke off. The night they’d last made love. “The night before I transferred to New York. I brought them to Sev’s apartment.”

  “He claims he doesn’t have them.”

  Memory kicked in. “It had been raining the night I gave him the designs and I was soaked through. I vaguely recall he took them and tossed them onto the floor, out of the way.” An image flashed through her mind. “I think they slid under that lovely old armoire he has in the entryway. You know the one I mean? He may not have noticed.”

  “Got it. Thanks, Francesca.” He hesitated. “Are you . . . are you doing okay?”

  No. Not even close to okay. “I’m fine.”

  “Right.” She could hear the irony slipping through the line. “About as fine as Sev, I’d guess.”

  Francesca closed her eyes. “I have to be fine,” she whispered. “We both do. There isn’t any other choice.”

  “You didn’t need to come with me,” Sev informed Marco. “I’m perfectly capable of looking under my own coat closet.”

  “I came to try and make you see sense, as you damn well know.”

  “I always see sense. I’m the most sensible

  of the lot of you.”

  “Not about this. Not when it comes to Francesca.”

  Sev shoved his key into the front door lock and twisted so hard it was a wonder the metal didn’t snap off in his hand. “What’s gotten into you, Marco? What part of she betrayed us don’t you get?”

  “And how many times did you betray her?” his brother shot back. “I know. I know. You had valid reasons. It was all about protecting Dantes. So, answer me this, hotshot. What makes that okay and what she did not okay? She was protecting her family the same as you.”

  That very question had been tearing Sev apart. How could he explain to his brother that it wasn’t about business anymore? How could he explain the irrational belief that this betrayal felt personal? That this time he’d allowed his emotions to override his common sense? For the first time in his life, he, the Dante who prided himself on cool, emotionless deliberation, who used calm logic and rational thinking to govern all of his business decisions, hadn’t been able to utilize any of his skills or abilities.

  When it came to Francesca he was neither emotionless, nor logical, let alone cool and calm. The very thought of her caused a burning desire so overwhelming it didn’t leave room for anything else.

  Marco followed Sev into the apartment. Stooping, he reached under the coat closet and snagged a large, thick envelope. “Here it is. Right where she said it’d be.” He sent the packet spinning in Sev’s direction. “Happy now? Glad you didn’t accuse her of selling her designs to the competition?”

  Sev jerked as though punched. “She’d never—” he said automatically.

  “You’re right. She’d never.” Marco glared at him. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are? Do you have any idea what the rest of us would give to feel The Inferno for a woman like Francesca? To know we could actually share a life with a woman like her, instead of longing for what we can never have? Instead of settling for second best? I never thought I’d say this to you, of all people, but you’re an ass, Severo Dante.”

  Without a word, Sev ripped open the envelope and pulled out a sketchpad. He flipped it open and spared it a swift glance. And then he froze. “Marco . . .”

  “What now?” He shifted to stand beside Sev and whistled softly. “If you needed proof how much she loves you, here it is.”

  Sev nodded. Page after page revealed some of the most incredible jewelry designs he’d ever seen. Designs ideal for the expansion Dantes’ planned for some point in the future. It didn’t take much thought to understand what she’d done.

  Or why.

  He understood all too well why she’d left these designs, designs she’d clearly been working on for years. She’d taken with one hand by giving the Bloom account to TH, and given with the other by presenting Dantes with these designs, dispensing a rough sort of justice. Only, she had more than compensated Dantes for what she’d given to Timeless Heirlooms.

  She’d left him an incomparable gift, one that decimated the priorities he’d set in stone the day he’d first taken over from his father. A gift that made him realize there could only be one priority in his life from this point forward, and it wasn’t Dantes.

  The gift she’d given him wasn’t the designs contained in her sketchpad. She’d left behind the gift of her heart.

  Another month passed after Francesca’s conversation with Marco. A month of pain and sorrow and regret. During those weeks, she’d come to the realization that Sev’s feelings for her were truly dead, that The Inferno no longer burned for him the way it still burned for her.

  Even when she received instructions to return to San Francisco on company business, she’d been unable to summon so much as a spark of hope. After all, miracles didn’t
exist. She’d learned that at the tender of age of eight when she’d been discarded by the people she’d hoped would one day be her adoptive parents. She knew better than to expect the door to open and for her to be welcomed in. She’d been disappointed too many times. And Sev had made himself abundantly clear before sending her to New York. She no longer belonged to the Dante inner circle.

  She crossed to the mirror and examined her dress. She’d been specifically asked by Sev’s assistant to wear red in order to fit in with the theme chosen for this evening’s festivities. What theme, no one had bothered to explain. So, Francesca picked the brightest, most glorious shade of red she could find.

  The fitted bodice glittered with Swarovski crystal beads, while the chiffon skirt drifted outward from her hips to the floor in layers of handkerchief veils that lifted and swirled on an invisible breeze. After some debate, she chose to leave her hair down and it fell in heavy curls to shoulders bared by the halter neckline of the gown.

  Dantes had sent over jewelry to wear for the evening. She’d never seen the pieces before, but they were positively breathtaking. The necklace and earrings were simple confections, as romantic as they were elegant, featuring some of the most stunning fire diamonds she’d ever seen. Based on the design of the engagement ring she’d worn for far too brief a time, she would bet these latest items were Primo’s creations, as well.

  After checking the mirror a final time, she forced herself to leave the relative safety of the suite before Sev sent out a search party. Not giving herself a chance to reconsider, she took the elevator to the lobby and crossed to the steps leading to the ballroom. She hesitated at the threshold, searching for a friendly face. Instantly a hum of desire turned her insides molten. She didn’t doubt the cause. Without any hesitation, she turned her head, keying in on Sev.

  How could she ever have imagined The Inferno had finished with them, or her love would dwindle over time? The urge to go to him, to touch him, to have him possess her mouth, her body, her very soul, slammed through her. It grew so strong, she could do nothing more than obey the silent imperative. She took a half-dozen steps in Sev’s direction before a sudden whisper of voices swelled, then faded, leaving behind a thunderous silence.

  Her step faltered and she glanced around, only then realizing that while she wore flaming red, everyone else present was dressed in black and white. Only one other person also wore red, if only a scrap of the color. Sev’s pocket handkerchief was a rich shade of ruby that stood out against his black suit and white dress shirt. Feeling painfully conspicuous, she held her head high and finished wending her way toward him.

  She greeted him with a cool nod, while inside she thumbed with the hellish fires of desire. “Mr. Dante.”

  A small smile played about his mouth. “Ms. Sommers. If you’ll come with me?”

  He led the way to a small dais and approached the microphone. “I’d like to thank everyone for coming this evening to Dantes’ launch of a brand-new collection. With me is the creator of that collection, its heart and soul, Francesca Sommers.”

  She froze in total shock. More than anything she wanted to grab Sev’s hand for support, to demand an explanation. She turned to look at him, and every thought slid from her head, except one. She still loved this man. Utterly. Totally. Completely. From this day until the end of days.

  “What’s going on?” she pleaded.

  “Smile, sweetheart,” he murmured. “They’re all here for you.”

  “But . . . why?”

  He stepped toward the microphone again. “Please enjoy your evening, as well as our grand launch of—” He swept his arms wide. “Dante’s Heart.”

  From either side of the ballroom, models appeared, each wearing a different one of the designs Francesca had left behind for Sev to use. Designs she’d envisioned as a teenager. Designs she’d worked on for a full decade and never quite brought to life, until she’d opened her heart to love. To Sev’s love. Only then had she found the spark that turned her creative flame into a creative inferno.

  She began to tremble in reaction. “You’re using my designs to relaunch Dantes into a full line of jewelry?” Why had he done this? What did it mean?

  “Jewelry for the contemporary woman.” His hands settled on her shoulders and he gazed down at her with eyes more vivid than the sun. “You’re Dante’s Heart, my love. At least you’re this Dante’s heart.”

  Applause exploded around them and excited chatter swelled as the assembled guests got their first look at the new line. Tears filled Francesca’s eyes. “I love you, Sev. More than you can possibly guess. I’m sorry, so sorry for everything—”

  He stopped her words with a shake of his head. “Don’t apologize. That’s for me to do. I never should have put you in such an impossible position. It won’t happen again. From now on you are, and always will be, first in my life.” He inclined his head toward the gathering. “Do you hear them, sweetheart?”

  She said the first thing that popped into her head. “They’re clapping.”

  He grinned. “How could they not? They’re witnessing something extraordinary.” He laced his hand with hers and something deep inside gave way, a rending of barriers that had been erected when she’d been a frightened child of five. And in its place, the connection between them expanded and grew, rooting deep and permanent. “Come with me. We need to talk.”

  She glanced toward the doors leading onto the balcony. “I think I know the perfect location.”

  Together they left the dais, intent only on escape. Not that they were allowed such an easy out. Family came first, as Primo enveloped her in a huge bear hug, followed by a warm embrace from Nonna. Marco approached, sweeping her into a dizzying dip and laughing kiss full on the mouth. Then Lazz, who settled for a chaste peck on the cheek. And finally, Nicolò, who kissed the back of her hand with old-world gallantry.

  Next, friends and associates impeded their progress, raving about the collection and using words that left Francesca choked with emotion. Words like “spectacular” and “unparalleled” and “generation defining.” Mere feet from escape, Francesca came face-to-face with the Fontaines.

  Instantly, Sev’s arm wrapped around her, offering strength and protection. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, an unspoken message that even though she appreciated his support, she intended to handle this confrontation on her own terms.

  “Tina, Kurt.” She offered a smile. Not one of apology. Not one of nervousness or regret. But an open smile of genuine affection. A smile from the heart.

  To her astonishment, they responded in kind. “Has Severo told you the news?” Tina asked.

  Francesca glanced in bewilderment from Sev back to the Fontaines. “What news?”

  Sev shook his head. “I was hoping we’d run into you, so you could tell her, yourself.”

  Tina grinned. “We reached a compromise. Timeless Heirlooms is now a subsidiary of Dantes. But Sev’s agreed that we can continue to run it, with a few changes to assist the bottom line.”

  “Such as Dantes being in charge of acquiring new designers,” Sev inserted. “And a few fiscal repairs that Kurt will oversee.”

  Tina waved that aside. “With Dantes’ name behind us and our contract with Juliet Bloom, TH is guaranteed to skyrocket to the top.” Ever the businesswoman, she added, “Anytime you want to contribute one of your designs, my dear, you’re more than welcome.”

  Sev gave Tina a pointed look. “I believe there’s something else you wanted to tell Francesca.”

  Tina squirmed. “Oh, right. That.” She released a gusty sigh. “I owe you an apology. Sev didn’t tell me about your connection to Kurt. His PI did. The man tried to double his profit by reselling the information.”

  “I’ve since taken care of the matter,” Sev added.

  The tone of his voice left little doubt in Francesca’s mind that the PI was bitterly regretting his most recent business decision. “Thank you for clearing that up,” she said.

  A nervous light appeared in Kurt’s so
ft-blue eyes. “We were wondering . . . That is, Tina and I were wondering . . . Perhaps you’d be available some evening for dinner. I’d like the opportunity to get to know my daughter. If you’re willing, that is.” He visibly braced himself. “After all we’ve put you through, I’ll understand if you’d rather not.”

  Francesca could feel her face crumpling and knew she teetered on the edge of totally losing it. Only Sev’s presence at her back gave her the necessary strength to respond. “I’d like that. I’d like that very much,” she managed to get out, praying they didn’t hear the tears sprinkled through the words.

  Tina broke from her husband’s side and gave Francesca a swift hug. “I never wanted children. It’s a messy business, one that never suited me. But having a grown stepdaughter sort of appeals. We can, I don’t know, do lunch, or something. Shop and have drinks. Or if you’d prefer a more traditional stepmother, I can have you sweep out the hearth and fix me tea and dress you in soot-covered rags.”

  Francesca grinned through her tears at the Cinderella reference. “Works for me. The first part, I mean. Not the rest.”

  “Well, then. Fine.” Tina cleared her throat, more awkward than Francesca had ever seen her. “We’re all good, right?”

  Francesca laughed. “Very good.”

  The instant the Fontaines departed, Sev cupped her elbow and urged her through the double doors and onto the balcony. The night held an unseasonable warmth, soft and balmy. Together they wandered to the balustrade and leaned against it. From their Nob Hill perch they could stare out at the bright lights that glittered below them like a carpet of diamond shards.

  “This is where I first saw you,” Francesca murmured.

  “This is where I first fell in love with you.” He turned to face her. “I’m sorry, Francesca. I should have trusted my instincts from the beginning. Hell, I should have trusted you. For most of my adult life it’s been my job to protect my family and our business from all threats.”

  “And you saw me as a threat.” Not much question about that.