Luc's Unwilling Wife (The Dante Inferno: The Dante Dynasty Series Book 5) Read online

  Caving to the inevitable, Rafe nodded. “I think he’s more thrilled about the birth of their son,” he replied. “But this would probably rate as icing on the cake.”

  Draco inclined his head, then slanted Rafe a look of open amusement. “So, tell me. How many of the lovelies fluttering around the room have our beloved grandparents introduced to you so far this evening?”

  Rafe’s expression settled into grim lines. “A full dozen. Made me touch every last one of them, like they expected to see me set off a shower of fireworks or light the place up in a blaze of electricity or something.”

  “It’s your own fault. If you hadn’t told Luc you and Leigh never experienced The Inferno, the entire family wouldn’t be intent on throwing women your way.”

  The fact so many of his relatives had succumbed to the family legend only added to Rafe’s bitterness toward his own brief foray into the turbulent matrimonial waters. Time would tell whether their romances lasted longer than his own. They might claim they’d found their soul mates, courtesy of the Dantes’ Inferno. Rafe, the most logical and practical of all his kith and kin, adopted a far simpler and pragmatic—okay, cynical—viewpoint.

  The Inferno didn’t exist.

  No eternal bond established itself when a Dante first touched his soul mate, no matter what anyone claimed, any more than Dantes Eternity wedding rings could promise the marriages for which they were purchased would last for all eternity. Some hit it lucky, like his grandparents, Primo and Nonna. And some didn’t, like the disastrous marriage to his late wife, Leigh.

  Rafe stared broodingly at his older brother, Luc, and his bride of three months, Téa. They were dancing together, swirling across the floor, gazing into each other’s eyes as though no one else in the room existed. Every emotion blazed in their expressions, there for the world to witness. Hell, even when Rafe had been in the most passionate throes of lust, neither he nor Leigh had ever looked at each other like that.

  In fact, he’d been accused by the various women in his life that his penchant for practicality and hard, cold logic—his lone wolf persona—bled over into his personal life with dismaying frequency. Possessing a fiery passion in the bedroom definitely compensated, as did his striking Dante looks, they conceded, but not when that passion went no farther than the bedroom door. Emotionally distant. Unavailable. Intimidating. For reasons that bewildered him, the word always came accompanied by a shudder.

  Why couldn’t any of them understand he didn’t do love? Not the brutal, I-married-you-because-you’re-a-rich-and-powerful-Dante love his late wife, Leigh, had specialized in. Not the casual, melt-the-sheets-and-enjoy-it-while-the-bling-lasts type that characterized the women interested in an affair with him. And definitely not The Inferno brain-frying-palm-burning-happily-ever-after brand of bull spouted by his more emotional and passionate Dante relatives.

  Rafe knew himself all too well. And he could state with absolute certainty he wasn’t hardwired that way. He never had and never would experience an Inferno love.

  Which was just fine by him.

  “It was annoying the first few times they dangled a potential bride in front of me,” Rafe informed his brother. “Since it Nonna and Primo did the dangling, I couldn’t say much. But now everyone’s gotten into the act. I can’t move without having some gorgeous thing shoved under my nose.”

  Draco signaled to someone over Rafe’s shoulder. “A fate worse than death,” he said with a fake shudder.

  “It would be if it were you under the gun.”

  “But I’m not.” Draco leaned past Rafe and helped himself to a flute of champagne. “Want one?”

  “Sure.”

  “Consider this your lucky day. The tray’s right behind you.” He offered a cocky grin. “And don’t say I never did you a favor.”

  Confused by the comment, Rafe turned to take a glass and found his elusive pixie standing there, holding the tray of drinks. Up close he found her even more appealing than from across the room.

  He gestured to her with the flute. “Thanks.”

  Her smile grew, lighting up her face, the room, and some cold, dark place in his heart. “You’re welcome.” Even her voice appealed, rich and husky with an almost musical lyricism.

  Draco watched the byplay in amusement. “You know, if you want the relatives to leave you alone, there is one possible way.”

  That snagged Rafe’s attention. “How?” he demanded.

  Draco grinned. “Find your Inferno bride.”

  “Son of a—” Rafe bit off the curse. “I already told you. I’m never going to marry again. Not after Leigh.”

  He heard the pixie’s sharp inhalation at the same time the flutes on her tray began to wobble unsteadily. The glasses knocked against each other, the crystal singing in distress. She fought to steady the tray, almost managed it, before the flutes tipped and cascaded to the floor. Glass shattered and champagne splattered in a wide arc.

  Reacting instinctively, Rafe encircled the waitress’s narrow waist and yanked her clear of the debris field. A tantalizing heat burned through the material of her uniform, rousing images of pale naked curves gilded in moonlight. Velvety-smooth arms and legs entwined around him. Soft moans like a musical symphony filling the air and driving their lovemaking.

  Rafe shook his head, struggling for focus. “Are you all right?” he managed to ask.

  She stared at the mess on the floor and nodded. “I think so.”

  She lifted her gaze to his, her eyes wide and impossibly blue, the only color in her sheet-white face. He didn’t see any of the desire that had swept over him. Remorse and, oddly, a hint of panic, sure. But not so much as a flicker of passion. A shame.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I started to step back so I could circulate some more and my foot slipped.”

  “You’re not cut?”

  “No.” She blew out her breath in a sigh. “I really do apologize. I’ll get this cleaned up right away.”

  Before she could follow through, another of the catering staff crossed the room to join them. He was clearly management, judging by the swift and discreet manner in which he took control of the situation and arranged to have the broken glass and champagne cleared away. The waitress pitched in without a word, but once she’d finished, the manager guided her over to Rafe.

  “Larkin, you have something to say to Mr. Dante?” he prompted.

  “I want to apologize again for any inconvenience I may have caused,” she said.

  Rafe smiled at her, then at the manager. “Accidents happen. And in this case, I’m the one at fault. I’m afraid I bumped into Larkin, causing her to drop the tray.”

  The manager blinked at that and Rafe didn’t have a doubt in the world he’d have accepted the excuse if Larkin hadn’t instantly protested, “Oh, no. The fault is entirely mine. Mr. Dante had nothing to do with it.”

  The manager sighed. “I see. Well, thank you for your gallantry, Mr. Dante. Larkin, please return to the kitchen.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Barney.”

  Rafe watched her walk away, still the most graceful woman in the room, at least in his opinion. “You’re going to fire her, aren’t you?”

  “I wish I didn’t have to. But my supervisor has a ‘no excuses’ policy for certain of his more exclusive clientele.”

  “I gather Dantes is on that list?”

  Barney cleared his throat. “I believe you top the list, sir.”

  “Got it.”

  “It’s a shame, really. She’s the nicest of our waitresses. If it were up to me . . .”

  Rafe lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t suppose we can forget this incident took place?”

  “I’d love to,” Barney replied. “But there were too many witnesses and not all of our help is as kindhearted as Larkin. Word will get out if I turn a blind eye and then both of us will be out of a job.”

  “Understood. I guess it would have helped if she’d allowed me to take the blame.”

  “You have no idea” came the heartfelt response.
“But Larkin’s just not made that way.”

  “A rare quality.”

  “Yes, it is.” Barney lifted an eyebrow. “If there’s anything else you or anyone in your family needs . . . ?”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  The two men shook hands and Barney disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, no doubt to fire Larkin. Rafe frowned. Maybe he should intercede. Or better yet, maybe he could arrange for a new job. Dantes was a big firm with plenty of branches. Surely he could find an opening for her somewhere. Hell, he was president of Dantes Courier Service. He could invent a job if one didn’t already exist. The thought of Larkin’s sunny smile welcoming him to work each day struck him as appealing in the extreme.

  Draco approached. “So? Have you given my idea any thought?”

  Rafe stared blankly. “What idea?”

  “Weren’t you listening to me?”

  “It usually works best if I don’t. Most of the time your suggestions only lead one place.”

  Draco grinned. “Trouble?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Well, this one won’t. All you have to do is find your Inferno bride and everyone will leave you alone.”

  Rafe shook his head. “Apparently, you’re not great at listening, either. After that disaster of a marriage to Leigh, I’m never going to marry again.”

  “Who said anything about marriage?”

  Rafe narrowed his eyes. “Explain.”

  “You know, for such a smart, analytical-type guy, there are times when you can be amazingly obtuse.” Draco spoke slowly and distinctly. “Find a woman. Claim it’s The Inferno. Maintain the illusion for a few months. Act the part of two people crazy in love.”

  Rafe’s mouth twisted. “I don’t do crazy in love.”

  “If you want everyone to leave you alone, you will. After a short engagement, have her dump you. Make it worth her while to go a long way away and stay there.”

  “You’ve come up with some boneheaded ideas in your time. But this one has to be the most ludicrous—” Rafe broke off and turned to stare in the direction of the kitchen. “Huh.”

  Draco chuckled. “You were saying?”

  “I think I have an idea.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Rafe shot his brother a warning look. “If you say one word about this to anyone—”

  “Are you kidding? Nonna and Primo would kill me, not to mention our parents.”

  “You?”

  Draco stabbed his finger against Rafe’s chest. “They wouldn’t believe for one minute you were clever enough to come up with a plan like this.”

  “I’m not sure clever is the right word. Conniving, maybe?”

  “Diabolically brilliant.”

  “Right. Keep telling yourself that. Maybe one of us will believe you. In the meantime, I have an Inferno bride to win.”

  Rafe headed for the kitchen. He arrived just in time to see Larkin refusing the wad of money Barney was attempting to press into her hand. “I’ll be fine, Mr. Barney.”

  “You know you need it for rent.” He stuffed the cash into the pocket of her vest and gave her a hug. “We’re going to miss you, kiddo.”

  One by one the waitstaff followed suit. Then Larkin turned toward the exit and Rafe caught the glitter of tears swimming in her eyes. For some reason a fierce protectiveness swept through him.

  “Larkin,” he said. “If I could speak to you for a minute.”

  Her head jerked around, surprise registering in her gaze. “Certainly, Mr. Dante.”

  Instead of exiting into the reception area, he escorted her through the door leading to the hallway. “Is there a problem?” she asked. “I hope you don’t blame Mr. Barney for my mistake. He did fire me, if that helps.”

  Ouch. “It’s nothing like that,” he reassured. “I wanted to speak to you in private.”

  Leading the way to the wing of private offices, he reached a set of double doors with a discreet gold plaque that read “Rafaelo Dante, President, Dantes Courier Service.” He keyed the remote control fob in his pocket and the doors snicked open. Gesturing her into the darkened interior, he touched a button on a panel near the door. Soft lights brightened the sitting area section of his office, leaving the business side with its desk, credenza, and chairs in darkness.

  “Have a seat. Would you like anything to drink?”

  She hesitated, then gave a soft laugh. “I know I’m supposed to say no, thank you. But I’d love some water.”

  “Coming right up.”

  He opened a cabinet door concealing a small refrigerator and removed two bottles of water. After collecting a pair of glasses and dropping some ice cubes into each, he joined her on the couch. Sitting so close to her might have been a mistake. He could sense her in ways he’d rather not. The light, citrusy scent of her somehow managed to curl around and through him, along with the warmth and energy of her body. Light caught in her hair and left her eyes in dusky blue shadow. He’d hoped the business setting would dampen his reaction to her. Instead, the solitude served only to increase his awareness.

  He gathered his control around him like a cloak, forcing himself to deal with the business at hand. “I’m sorry about your job,” he said, passing her the water. “Firing you seems a bit severe for a simple accident.”

  “I don’t normally work the more exclusive accounts. This was my first time.” She made a face. “And my last.”

  “The catering firm won’t switch you over to work some of their smaller parties?”

  She released a sigh. “To be honest, I doubt it. The woman in charge of those accounts isn’t a fan of mine right now.”

  “Personality conflict?”

  The question made her uncomfortable. “Not exactly.”

  If he was going to hire her, he needed to gather as much information about her as possible, especially if she didn’t deal well with authority. “Then what, exactly?” he pressed.

  “Her boyfriend was on the waitstaff, and . . .” She trailed off.

  “And?”

  “He hit on me,” Larkin reluctantly confessed.

  “Something you encouraged?”

  To his surprise, she didn’t take offense at the question. In fact, she laughed. “JD doesn’t require encouragement. He hits on anyone remotely female. I hope Janice figures out what a sleaze he is sooner, rather than later. She could do a lot better.”

  Rafe sat there for a moment, nonplussed. “You’re worried about your supervisor, not your job?”

  “I can always get another job, even if it’s washing dishes,” Larkin explained matter-of-factly. “But Janice’s nice, when she’s not furious because JD’s flirting with the help. I just got caught in the middle.”

  Huh. Interesting assessment. “And now?”

  For the first time a hint of worry nibbled at the corners of her eyes and edged across her expression. “I’m sure it will all work out.”

  “I overheard Barney say something about rent.”

  She released a soft sigh, the sound filled with a wealth of weariness. “I’m a little behind. What he gave me for tonight’s work should cover it.”

  “But you need another job.”

  She tilted her head to one side. “I don’t suppose you’re hiring?”

  He liked her directness. No coyness. No wide-eyed, gushing pretense or any sort of sexual over- or undertones. Just a simple, frank question. “I may have a job for you,” he admitted cautiously. “But I’d need to run a quick background check. Do you have any objections?”

  And then he saw it. Just a flash of hesitation before she shook her head. “I don’t have any objections.”

  “Fine.” Only, it wasn’t fine. Not if she were hiding something. He couldn’t handle another deceptive woman who faked innocence and then demonstrated avarice. Refused to deal with that sort of woman. “Full name?”

  “Larkin Anne Thatcher.”

  She supplied her social security number and date of birth without being asked. He pulled out his cell and texted Dan
tes’ head of security, Juice, with the request. He’d have gone through Luc, but there might be uncomfortable questions when he later presented Larkin as his Inferno bride. Better to keep it on the down low. In the meantime, he’d get some of the preliminary questions out of the way.

  “Have you ever been arrested?” Rafe asked.

  Larkin shook her head. “No, never.”

  “Drugs?”

  A flash of indignation came and went in her open gaze before she answered in a calm, even voice. “Never. I’ve needed to take drug tests for various jobs in the past, including this latest one. I have no objection to taking one here and now if you want.”

  “Credit or bankruptcy issues?”

  Indignation turned to humor. “Aside from living on a shoestring? No.”

  “Health issues?”

  “Not a one.”

  “Military history?”

  “I haven’t served.”

  “Job history?”

  Now she grinned. “How much time do you have?”

  Rafe eyed her curiously. “That many?”

  “Oh, yeah. The list is as long as it is diverse.”

  “Any special reason?”

  She hesitated again, but he didn’t pick up any hint of evasion, just thoughtfulness. “I’ve been searching.”

  “Right job, right place?”

  She seemed pleased that he’d understood so quickly. “Exactly.”

  “I can’t promise to offer that, but I might have something temporary.”

  For some reason she appeared relieved. “Temporary will work. In fact, I prefer it.”

  “Not planning on staying in San Francisco for long?” He tried to keep the question casual, but conceded that as attractive as he found her, he’d feel better about his proposition if she intended to move on a few months from now.

  “I don’t know. Actually, I’m looking for someone. I think he may be here.”

  “He.” That didn’t bode well for his little project. “Former lover?”

  “No. Nothing like that.”