Dante's Contract Marriage Read online

  “You and Marco kissed?”

  She must have heard the edge in his voice, because she answered promptly. “Before he met Caitlyn, yes. But it didn’t rock either of our worlds.” Her use of the idiom would have amused him if the circumstances had been different. “Despite his expertise, it was like kissing in the hopes of finding a lover and finding only a good friend. Do you know what I mean?”

  “No.”

  “Ah, well. Perhaps it’s never happened to you.” Again came that tiny pause, and he had the strong suspicion she was laughing at him. “Are you…inexperienced?”

  “Hell, no!”

  “I thought since you’ve been so insistent that you’re Marco’s complete opposite that perhaps this is another area in which you are lacking.”

  She was poking at him, the same as when she’d been a child, he realized with equal parts amusement and annoyance. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he warned. “Jerk a kitten’s tail, and Marco might scratch you. Jerk my tail, and you’re dealing with an entirely different kind of animal.”

  Her breath escaped in a soft laugh. “Touché. I have gathered as much from our negotiations. Your list of marital demands have been quite…interesting.”

  “As have yours. Particularly your latest, which is why I’m calling.” Lazz regarded the printout he held with a basic masculine confusion. “Why do you want your own room? I can understand your own bedroom, but—”

  “I require a room with a lock and a guarantee of utter privacy. Did I phrase my request in a way that confused you?”

  “Not at all.” Suspicion roared to the surface. “You phrased it in a way that makes me wonder what you’re hiding and why.”

  “I am not hiding anything. I’m being quite explicit. This is not a matter for one of your infamous negotiations. Refuse my request and it’s a deal-breaker.”

  “Why?” he repeated.

  Her laugh came to him, rich and earthy, and filled with a honeyed warmth. “How many times must I tell you? I’m a woman. Women need their privacy.”

  “Your own bedroom isn’t private enough?”

  “I can’t do what I have in mind in a bedroom.”

  “That’s a relief,” he muttered.

  Ariana’s laughter teased him again, decimating the barriers of logic and rational thought Lazz had worked so hard to erect. He struggled to remember what she looked like, but nothing came to him, possibly because nearly two full decades had passed since he’d last seen her. Maybe he’d ask Marco. His brother had conducted protracted business dealings with the Romano family. Worse, Ariana and Marco had kissed. No question he would be able to describe Ariana. Knowing Marco, he’d be able to do it right down to the last tiny freckle.

  Lazz grimaced. Or perhaps he wouldn’t ask his brother a damn thing, since he suspected Marco would use the opportunity to either give him some serious grief, or even worse, try and talk him out of honoring the contract their father had signed with Vittorio Romano. And all because of that ridiculous Inferno nonsense.

  “Are you going to tell me why you need a private room?” Lazz asked again.

  “No.”

  “You simply expect me to comply with no explanation or clarification?”

  “Yes. I expect you to comply the same way you expect me to comply with your marital demands.” She paused, before asking delicately, “How many are we up to now? Ten?”

  “Five,” he corrected. “Six, if you count the one I’m sending you later today about the disposition of Brimstone.”

  “Of course that one counts. And how many have I made?”

  “Three.”

  “Which leaves me with three to spare, should I choose to use them. And maybe I will. Maybe I’ll save my extra three demands for after we’re married. You can be the genie to my wishes.” Her sigh of pleasure drifted across continents. “I quite like that idea.”

  For some reason that sigh caused a hunger to gnaw at the pit of his stomach. “That’s not how it works.”

  “It works however we say it does. You claim you’re the logical one.”

  “I am the logical one.” He always had been, and marriage to Ariana wouldn’t change that fact, a point he intended to make crystal clear. He attempted to get them back on topic. “About the room. If you’d just explain—”

  “Are you worried that I intend to take a lover? Would you feel better about my request if I tell you I promise to honor my vow to remain faithful to you for the duration of our marriage?”

  Yes. He closed his eyes at the silent acknowledgment. He knew where his suspicions came from. Understood his knee-jerk reaction to anything that hinted at a secret or a hidden agenda. He could lay that little issue squarely at Marco’s door—and at his own. Just as Marco had used subterfuge to sweep in and carry Caitlyn away, Lazz had been every bit as guilty of a few secrets and deceptions of his own in the course of that entire debacle. Still, it had been quite a blow to his pride when the woman he’d hoped to marry had chosen his twin brother over him.

  The entire incident had left a sour taste in Lazz’s mouth and created a general distaste for lies and deception. And yet, here he was embroiled in just that. It might have been of his father’s making, but he’d chosen to keep the reasons for his impending marriage a secret from two of the people he loved most in his life. And though he attempted to rationalize his decision, there were certain lines that couldn’t be smudged.

  What he was doing was wrong and he knew it.

  “You’re not going to tell me why you need a private room, are you?” Lazz asked. “Despite my condition that we not have secrets from each other, you still refuse to explain.”

  “I’m sorry, Marco.”

  “Lazz,” he corrected softly.

  “Now I really am sorry.” There was no mistaking her sincerity. “I swear I wasn’t ‘jerking your tail’ as you called it. Using your brother’s name was an honest mistake. You sound so much like him.”

  “I look like him, too,” Lazz warned. “But I’d appreciate it if you’d remember my name by the time we marry. My grandparents might find it a bit suspicious if you keep calling me Marco. They believe we met and fell in love the last time you were in San Francisco, and it’s imperative that they continue to believe that for the duration of our marriage.”

  “Of course. You made it a condition, one I heartily approve of.” A note of formality stole the summer warmth from her voice. “I will be very careful to play my part. Believe me, I don’t wish my grandmother or my mother to find out about this devil’s contract any more than you want your grandparents to discover the truth.”

  “My grandparents would do everything in their power to stop the wedding if they knew about the contract.” Primo had once told him that to marry without The Inferno would turn a blessing into a curse. So Lazz had allowed his grandparents to believe that he and Ariana had experienced what he privately denied.

  “Don’t you find it disturbing that you’re marrying a virtual stranger,” she asked, “knowing nothing about what sort of person I am?”

  “It’s not forever, Ariana. And it enables us to achieve the same goal. We both want to prevent Brimstone from being thrown away.”

  “So we marry for profit.”

  Her concern came through loud and clear. She sounded on the verge of backing out, something he couldn’t allow to happen. “If privacy is what you need in order to make all of this more palatable for you, you can have it. I agree to your third condition. I also promise we won’t stay married a minute longer than necessary.”

  “How can I possibly refuse such a romantic offer?” she asked lightly.

  His grin slid into his voice. “I can’t imagine. So, when are you coming over?”

  “Not until right before the ceremony. Both my grandmother and mother are shrewd women. I’m afraid if they see us together, they won’t believe our story of a whirlwind love affair. It took a lot of maneuvering to convince my mother to delay our arrival. She wanted to fly over weeks beforehand. Fortunately, once I explaine
d my problem to my father, he supported my request. We arrive the morning of the rehearsal.”

  “That makes sense.” Lazz glanced at the calendar on his desk. “Not long now. Just three more weeks.”

  “August 28th. And then we’ll be married,” she murmured.

  “Temporarily.” Lazz’s mouth tightened. And The Inferno be damned.

  “So what’s his latest demand?” Constantine asked his sister. Ever since the contract between their father and Dominic Dante had come to light, her brother had scoured the fine print, watching over the negotiations like a hawk.

  “He’s just reiterating one of his older ones. We’re to have no secrets.”

  Constantine grinned. “Are you serious?”

  “No. But he is.” She dropped into the chair in front of her brother’s desk and lifted her feet to rest on the edge. “I’m beginning to realize that Lazz is nothing like Marco.”

  “I like Marco. He’s fun.”

  “Maybe a little too much fun, just as his brother is a little too much business.” She released her breath in a sigh. “Isn’t there a happy medium?”

  “You’re looking at him.”

  Ariana chuckled and nudged a stack of files with her bare toe. They cascaded in his direction, creating a flurry of papers that swamped his desk. “Aren’t we full of ourselves, especially for virtual paupers.”

  Constantine busied himself for a moment, straightening the papers she’d knocked over, but Ariana understood. They’d been broke for years due to a series of bad investments their father had made. Since then, they’d lived off their name, as well as off friends who were willing to pick up the tab in order to have the Romanos grace their homes. And though it didn’t seem to bother their father, Ariana had watched with serious concern the impact it had on her brother.

  Constantine hated being broke. Hated freeloading. Hated having their maternal grandmother, Penelope, use the money from her Mrs. Pennywinkle royalty checks to keep the Romano estate intact. He had a head for business, but so far lacked investors. And the few who’d shown interest didn’t plan to allow Constantine to run the concern, but simply wanted the Romano name attached to the project and her brother installed as a figurehead.

  This marriage offered salvation for all of them. With their share of Brimstone, it would be more than enough to seed Constantine’s business, as well as provide her father with a comfortable retirement.

  “Do you think Grandmother suspects anything?” Ariana asked.

  “Not at all. She’s downright giddy over your wedding.”

  “I’m so relieved she’s well enough to come.”

  A light tap sounded at the door, and the object of their conversation wheeled herself through the doorway. “Oh, there you are.” She beamed at her grandchildren. “I was hoping to find you here. I just wanted a word with Ariana about a few wedding details.”

  Constantine shoved back his chair. “In that case, I’ll make myself scarce.” He bent over his frail grandmother and kissed her rose-petal-soft cheek. “You call me if you need anything, Gran,” he said before making good his escape.

  “Would you like some tea?” Ariana asked. Even though Penelope had left England more than fifty years ago when she’d married her Italian-born husband, she still preferred a cup of hot tea over any other beverage.

  “I just had some, thank you.” She regarded Ariana with china-blue eyes that sparkled with good humor. “I have to confess, I told a small fib just now.”

  Ariana grinned. “You didn’t want to discuss wedding plans? I’m shocked.”

  Penelope waved that aside. “You and my dear daughter are more than capable of handling the wedding arrangements on your own. Plus you have all of the Dantes at your disposal.”

  “So, if this isn’t about my wedding…” Ariana tilted her head to one side in question.

  “You know perfectly well what this is about.”

  Ariana blew out a sigh. “Mrs. Pennywinkle.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Pennywinkle. You can’t delay any longer.”

  The stories her grandmother created were beautifully illustrated tales, all about a china doll named Nancy who passed from needy child to needy child. With each subsequent owner came exciting adventures and heartrending problems for whichever youngster came into possession of the doll. By the end of the book, Nancy had helped resolve the child’s problems and magically moved on to the next boy or girl in need. Ariana even owned the very first Nancy doll to come off the production line. It was one of her most treasured possessions.

  “Have you finished the sketches the publisher requested?”

  “The portfolio’s ready to go, as is the storyline,” Ariana admitted. “But I’m not sure Talbot Publishing is ready for such a significant change to books that have become classics over the years.”

  “Nonsense.”

  Ariana curled deeper into her chair. “I’m serious. My artistic style is nothing like yours. I’m not certain children will take to the change.”

  “It’s time the books were revamped. Mrs. Pennywinkle has been in serious need of a face-lift for years now.” A tiny frown marred the beauty of Penelope’s English rose complexion. “Sales are dropping. If I don’t find a way to turn it around—” She broke off with a shrug.

  Ariana froze, understanding dawning. “Your money…It’s running out?”

  “It will if we don’t get Mrs. Pennywinkle turned around.” She leaned forward, lines of worry furrowing her brow. “Your mother doesn’t have the talent or the interest. But you do.”

  “I definitely have the interest. It hasn’t been decided whether I have sufficient talent. Which reminds me…” Ariana hesitated, reluctant to broach the subject. “I asked Lazz for a room where I can work on my illustrations, and he’s curious about why I need both the room and such privacy. Would you mind if I tell him about Mrs. Pennywinkle?”

  “You mustn’t,” Penelope cut in, her agitation increasing. “The Dantes attract media attention the way bread attracts butter. It’ll get out. People will discover I’m Mrs. Pennywinkle. It’ll be like it was after my accident.”

  Compassion filled Ariana at the mention of the accident that had killed her grandfather and chained Penelope to a wheelchair for the rest of her life. And though she understood why her grandmother preferred to keep her identity private, and respected that decision, Ariana had also made a promise to Lazz. She closed her eyes. There was no question which promise took precedence. Her grandmother’s well-being came before all else.

  “If you prefer I not tell Lazz what I’m up to, of course I’ll respect your wishes,” she said gently. “Besides, there’s nothing to tell him. Not until your publisher accepts me as the new Mrs. Pennywinkle.”

  Penelope relaxed ever so slightly. “Since I’m no longer capable of continuing the series, thanks to these arthritic hands of mine, he won’t have any choice.”

  Ariana wasn’t as certain. Profit was the bottom line in today’s business world, and if Talbot Publishing didn’t feel her talent could change the face of Mrs. Pennywinkle in a way that would enhance the bottom line, they’d find someone else or allow the series to end. She’d do just about anything to ensure that didn’t happen.

  She shot her grandmother a concerned glance. She could only hope it all worked out in the end…and that she could keep the truth from Lazz for the length of their temporary marriage. Besides, it was only one tiny secret. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind.

  “So, what’s her latest demand?” Marco asked.

  Lazz scanned the printout of Ariana’s e-mail for the umpteenth time. “You’re married. Explain this to me. What the hell does it mean when she says she needs a private room? One that I won’t invade, no less. Why does she need an entire room in order to be private?”

  “And more importantly, why can’t you invade it?” Marco asked.

  “Yes, exactly. I mean, no, damn it! I wouldn’t invade. Much.” Lazz winced at his brother’s bark of laughter. “Does Caitlyn have a private room?”

  “Of course.
I call it the bathroom, but she’s turned it into some sort of female sanctuary, and God forbid I enter at the wrong time.”

  “When’s the wrong time?”

  Marco grinned. “Anytime she’s in there.”

  “You’re joking around, and I’m asking a serious question here.”

  Marco held up his hands in surrender. “Caitlyn has private areas. All women have them. They need places they can go to be alone and enjoy their femininity with all the delightful mystery that entails.”

  Lazz crumpled the e-mail in his fist. “Apparently, Ariana needs an entire room in order to be feminine.”

  “If it’s such a problem, maybe you should reconsider marrying her.”

  “So you’ve said.” Lazz’s voice cooled. “As has Nicolò, twice. And Sev, at least a half dozen times.”

  “They’re worried about you.” Marco attempted to placate. “We all are. You don’t have to honor that damnable contract Dad drew up. And you sure as hell don’t have to marry Ariana in order to get your hands on Brimstone. No diamond, no matter how valuable, is worth that sort of sacrifice. None of us expect it of you.”

  Lazz lifted an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you all aren’t worried about the curse if I don’t go through with the marriage.”

  “That diamond is only cursed if we believe it is,” Marco said with a hint of unease. “Sev has secured our position in the jewelry world. It’s ridiculous to believe that without Brimstone our family will never know true happiness or success. That’s just a silly fairy tale.”

  “Just like it’s ridiculous to believe The Inferno is anything more than a silly fairy tale?” Lazz asked pointedly.

  Marco’s jaw took on a stubborn slant. “That’s different. One legend has nothing to do with the other.”

  “Right.”

  “Oh, can the sarcasm, will you? You’re making a mistake marrying Ariana for business reasons, and you know it.”

  “So Sev and Nicolò have said.” Lazz lobbed the balled e-mail in the direction of the trash can. It bounced off the rim before landing in the basket. “They think it’s a mistake to marry Ariana because she’s not my Inferno bride.”