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  Lazz took a moment to digest that. “Did she also tell you Brimstone is gone?”

  “No, she told me Brimstone’s been found.” Sev chuckled, his eyes turning a rich, dark gold. “Judging by your expression, I gather that’s news to you. Come on. I think you could use a drink.”

  “Explain first,” Lazz ordered.

  “Okay, Mr. Logic. See if you can follow this.” Sev led the way to his study while he gave his brother the shorthand version of what Penelope had done with the diamond and how Ariana had unwittingly disposed of it.

  When Sev finished, Lazz held out his hand. “Give me that drink,” he ordered. He snatched the tumbler from Sev and tossed back the generous finger of whiskey in a single swallow. “Well, hell.”

  “I’d say that pretty much sums it up,” Sev concurred. “Which leaves us with a choice. We can go after the diamond, assuming it hasn’t already been passed along. Or we can let it go and allow fate to control its destiny.”

  Lazz grimaced. “If my vote counts for anything, I say let it go. That damn rock has been nothing but bad luck since the day it was ripped from the ground.” He fixed his brother with a wary eye. “You’ve done a fantastic job of returning Dantes to its former position in the jewelry world. We don’t need Brimstone to solidify our financial or business position, do we?”

  “No, we don’t. And it may interest you to know that your vote makes it unanimous.”

  Lazz couldn’t conceal his surprise. “You discussed this with Nicolò and Marco?”

  “I just got off the phone with them. If you choose not to try and recover the diamond, the rest of us will go along with your decision.”

  No question. No hesitation. “Let it go. If the Romanos want to track it down, let them. But my opinion is that no one should benefit from that rock.”

  After helping himself to a drink and refreshing Lazz’s, Sev settled on the couch and waved his brother toward a nearby chair. “Next order of business. Now that all the secrets are out in the open, what do you plan to do about Ariana?”

  “What we agreed from the beginning. End the marriage.”

  Compassion tarnished Sev’s gaze. “She made a mistake, Lazz.”

  “She betrayed me.”

  “She was protecting her family. No doubt it’s been drummed into her the same way it’s been drummed into us. That doesn’t mean she’s not your soul mate. That doesn’t mean you didn’t experience The Inferno with her.”

  “Don’t.”

  “You still don’t believe, do you?” Sev leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. “Why, Lazz? You’re the most logical of us all. How can you deny its existence when the evidence is all around you?”

  “You’re forgetting one vital piece of that evidence.” Lazz’s mouth compressed. “You’re forgetting that Dad and I share similar personalities. You’re forgetting that The Inferno didn’t work for him and Mom.”

  Sev tilted his head back and swore. “Of course. I am such an idiot. I had no idea you thought that or I’d have set you straight years ago. But you were only a teenager when our parents died, and I didn’t want to destroy your memories of them.” He released his breath in a sigh. “Dad absolutely believed in The Inferno. But he and Mom never felt it toward each other.”

  Lazz froze. “What?”

  “After they died, I found letters indicating that Dad had experienced The Inferno with one of his designers. He chose to ignore what he felt, despite Primo’s warnings. He married Mom for her business contacts…and regretted it for the rest of his life. That’s why he drafted that contract with Vittorio. He saw an incipient form of The Inferno spark when you and Ariana first touched as children, and he wanted to be certain that the son who most shared his logical bent wouldn’t make the same mistake he made.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “From the letters. And I’ve spoken to Primo and Vittorio about it.” Sev paused. “And because you’re sitting there attempting to rub a hole in your palm.”

  Silence reigned for five solid minutes before Lazz spoke again. “I don’t know if I can let go,” he confessed. “I don’t know if I can choose the possibility over the reality.”

  Sev took a second to gather his arguments. “I understand what you’re going through. So do Marco and Nicolò, since we’ve all been there. We’ve sat right where you’re sitting now and faced the same decision. You have two choices, Lazz. You can forgive your wife, surrender to The Inferno and have a life fuller and richer than you can possibly imagine. Or you can make the same mistake our father made and die in perpetual regret. I suggest you choose fast, before it’s too late.” He stood. “Now get the hell out of here before I beat your decision into that ugly mug of yours.”

  Lazz had no memory of returning to his apartment. When he opened the door, he could feel the lack of connection, the sense of emptiness that signaled his wife’s absence. Even so, he called to her, praying she’d respond with an enthusiastic volley of Italian. Of course, there was no answer. But there was a message from Vittorio.

  I’ve collected all of Ariana’s belongings except her paintings. Will return later tonight for those.

  At a loss, Lazz wandered through the empty apartment. He couldn’t help but notice that the bits and pieces that Ariana had contributed to his home—and his life—had been stripped away, leaving it cold and sterile. He fought against a pain he had no hope of easing. Had he really lived like this before Ariana? How the hell had he survived it?

  Eventually, he found himself in the Mrs. Pennywinkle room. He glanced around, absorbing the beauty and whimsy of his wife’s artwork. It was a beauty and whimsy that had slipped into the other areas of his apartment and into all aspects of his life. Into his heart and mind and body. And straight into his soul.

  Sev was right. He could reject it, reject The Inferno, along with his wife. Or he could embrace the true meaning of the legend. He could embrace the love that Ariana had given him so unstintingly. The joy and laughter and passion. And he could give it back to her just as unstintingly. He could have love, or he could cling to his common sense and reason and return to the barren existence he’d known before.

  It didn’t take any thought at all.

  He bent down and picked up a piece of paper that had missed the trash can, realizing as he started to ball it up that it was a letter. Aaron Talbot’s name leapt off the page and Lazz stiffened as he read. Son of a—He pulled out his cell phone and punched in Penelope’s number. She answered on the first ring.

  “Talbot rejected Ariana?” he asked tersely.

  “Yes,” she confirmed. “Ever since Aaron took control of his father’s publishing firm, he’s been fanatical about preserving the sanctity of Mrs. Pennywinkle. Young fool. At least Jonah would have been more open to change.”

  “I can fix this,” he offered. “I just need time.”

  There was a brief pause. “What’s the point, since Ariana’s returning to Italy? Your marriage is over, isn’t it? Isn’t that what you told her?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Not by a long shot.”

  “It took you long enough to come to your senses,” she said with a touch of acid. “Now, what are you going to do to straighten out this mess?”

  He grinned as he glanced around the room at his wife’s paintings. His gaze narrowed as an idea came to him. Maybe. Just maybe…“First, I need you to delay Ariana for a day or two,” he said. “Assuming you’re willing.”

  “I could be talked into it,” she graciously conceded.

  “Next, I’m going to get my digital camera and take a few pictures. And then you’re going to tell me how to get in touch with Aaron’s father.”

  “Ma’am?” The bellboy hovered by the open door to the hotel room. “Your grandmother is waiting in the limousine. She asked if you’d come now.”

  Ariana gathered up her handbag and gave the suite a final check. “I’m ready.”

  Lazz stepped into the room. “Actually, she’s not. Tell the limo driver he can leave now. I’ll esc
ort Mrs. Dante to the airport.”

  It took Ariana an instant to react, just long enough for Lazz to hand the bellboy a bill and jerk his head toward the door. With a cheeky grin, the boy snagged the Do Not Disturb sign and hung it on the outside handle before closing the door behind him.

  “You can’t do that,” she protested. “I have a plane to catch.”

  He crossed to the sitting area and dropped his briefcase onto the coffee table. “There will be other flights if you miss this one. But there might not be another opportunity for us.”

  She wanted to resist. Wanted to turn and run before he hurt her again. But something kept her from leaving. Maybe it was the sincerity in his eyes and voice. Or maybe it was something else. Something that caused a fragile seedling of hope to blossom with new life. “Okay, I’m listening.”

  He opened the briefcase he carried and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “I assume you recognize this.”

  “Is that the contract our parents signed?”

  He nodded. “As well as the list of conditions we agreed to.”

  “That’s why you’ve come?” she demanded, outraged. “You’re going to throw those in my face? Try and bind me to you with a pile of documents that never should have been drafted in the first place? You think you’re going to keep me here with rules and logic and paper?”

  “Not even a little.” In one swift motion, he ripped the papers in half and tossed them to the carpet in a flurry of black and white. “I’m hoping to keep you here because of a marriage. Our marriage.”

  The seedling that had taken root unfurled, its roots grappling to anchor into good, strong soil, while its leaves reached toward the warmth of the sun, toward an Inferno of light and heat. “Go on.” She couldn’t contain the smile flirting with her mouth. “I’m back to listening.”

  He reached into his briefcase again and pulled out more papers that reeked of “contract.” “And then there’s this,” he said.

  She was tempted to follow his example and rip those apart, as well. “What is it with you Dantes and contracts?” she muttered.

  “I think this is one contract you’re going to like. It’s for a new Mrs. Pennywinkle book.” He held it out. “It’s yours, if you want it. All you have to do is sign.”

  She shook her head, stunned. “I don’t understand. Aaron rejected me as my grandmother’s replacement. How did you manage this, Lazz? What have you done?” Her eyes widened in dismay. “Tell me you didn’t bribe him.”

  He chuckled, the sound deep and rich, causing tendrils of desire to slip through her and grab hold. “I didn’t bribe him with anything more than your own artwork.”

  “How?”

  He removed the mock-up of the book he’d created and handed it her. “With this.”

  She took it from him and flipped through it. Tears filled her eyes. “You made this and showed it to Aaron? It must have taken you forever to put together.”

  “It didn’t take forever. Just a very long twenty-four hours.”

  It took her a moment before she could speak through her tears. “And it convinced Aaron to give me a contract?”

  “There might have been a tiny bit of prodding from Aaron’s father. But you got the contract through your own hard work and talent. Your illustrations sold you, not me. They just needed to see the evidence in a more recognizable form. And now that they have they’ve realized what I did from the start. You, Mrs. Pennywinkle, are amazing.” He took the book from her and set it aside. Then he gathered her close. He ran his thumbs along her cheekbones, brushing away the tears. “Does this give you enough reason to stay in San Francisco, instead of returning to Italy?”

  She shook her head. “I can be Mrs. Pennywinkle in Italy just as easily as here,” she pointed out. “If you want me to stay, give me a better reason.”

  “I thought you might say that. And my response is…” His voice altered, softened. The words were filled with unwavering certainty and a passion she couldn’t mistake. “Stay because of me. Because of us. Not because of a diamond, or a contract or family obligations. Let’s start over, for the right reasons this time.”

  “And what reasons are those?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Because we belong together. We have from the very first touch. My world exploded around me that day and it’s never been the same since.”

  “Exploded?”

  The expression that swept across his face dazzled her. “Burst into flames?” he dared to tease.

  She stilled. “Are you telling me you believe in The Inferno now?”

  “I believe in this…” He threaded his fingers through hers until their palms met and the warmth came. “If this is The Inferno, then yes. I believe in The Inferno.”

  It took her a moment to gather herself enough to respond. “Even though it defies logic and common sense?” she managed to ask.

  His smile turned tender. “I sacrificed those the moment we first joined hands. And I would much rather have what I found as a replacement.”

  “And what’s that?” she whispered, daring to hope. Daring to believe.

  “Love. I love you, Ariana Dante.”

  It was all she wanted him to say and everything she needed to hear. “And I love you.”

  Her arms tightened around his neck and she kissed him. Kissed him until the fires burned and they were consumed in the flames. He swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He lowered her into a nest of down and butter-soft cotton, his weight a delicious dichotomy to the smoothness beneath her.

  He feathered a kiss across her lips, just a quiet, fleeting pressure that still managed to push her ever closer to that delicious edge between reason and insanity. Between need and desperation.

  “I can’t imagine my life without you,” he admitted between kisses.

  “But if I’d left…”

  He smoothed her hair back from her face. “I’d have come after you. You are…” He lowered his head, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder. He inhaled her scent before pressing a string of kisses along the length of her neck. Then he found her mouth again, his hunger for her taking on a sharp edge. “You are everything to me. You are my life.”

  “Oh, Lazz.” She cupped his face. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? Don’t you realize that it’s the same for me?”

  “I’d hoped,” he admitted gruffly.

  They moved in concert, their clothing slipping away in a slow, sweet process interrupted by kisses and filled with intimate laughter. When nothing remained between them, she reached for him, surprised when he stopped her at the last moment.

  “I didn’t come prepared. Is it safe to make love?” he asked.

  “Not even a little,” she warned.

  Satisfaction swept across his face. “I was hoping you’d say that. Do you mind?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Not even a little,” she repeated softly.

  They didn’t speak again for a long, long time. This time when they came together it was different. It was as if those other occasions had been mere shadows of the real thing. Preludes to a song as yet unsung. As though they’d experienced only the disparate parts without ever knowing the whole. This time all the pieces came together, locking into place and creating a union of intense color and light and rightness. This time they surrendered everything they had, giving themselves up to love.

  And in that ultimate joining, the Inferno had fulfilled its promise. The last Dante man fell. In fact, the last Dante man didn’t just fall into the flames.

  He leapt.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-2284-1

  DANTE’S CONTRACT MARRIAGE

  Copyright © 2008 by Day Totton Smith

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette
Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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  *The Royals

  *The Royals

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  †The Dante Legacy

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