Dante's Contract Marriage (10 page)

His own temper made a swift return, no matter how hard he attempted to tamp it down. “What secrets have I kept from you? I’ve answered every question you’ve asked, been as honest as I can.”

“You kept The Inferno a secret.” She cut off his incipient reply with a sweep of her hand. “And you lie to yourself, as well as to me, when you claim it doesn’t exist. One touch from you and I’m ruined for any other man.”

“Ruined?” He couldn’t disguise how the word appealed to him. Apparently it didn’t appeal to his wife quite as much.

Tears vied with temper. “Yes, ruined! But did you bother to warn me of that possibility? No!”

“The Inferno is the lie, not my denial of it.”

“You think so?” She closed the distance between them and interlaced her fingers with his, sliding into the burn of palm against palm. Her hand tightened around his, deepening the connection. “Deny this, husband of mine. Deny your Dante heritage and whatever created this bond. Like it or not, we’re stuck with each other.”

The rush hit him, stronger than ever before. Like it? What a watered-down word to describe what he felt. It wasn’t just physical anymore. If that were the only connection between them, he wouldn’t have been so furious when he’d discovered Ariana dining with another man. “It’s lust.” Truth became jumbled with self-preservation. “Desire.”

Her fingers trembled within his. “You repeat those words like a mantra, when the truth is you’re so determined to be logical that you can’t see what’s right in front of your nose. You are afraid of losing control. You are afraid that your heart will overrule your head. You are afraid to give yourself, fully, to another person.”

“I’m not afraid,” he denied. And he wasn’t. He simply knew what he wanted in his life and, more importantly, what he didn’t. “I’m pragmatic. Being pragmatic means I refuse to allow myself to be controlled by my emotions.”

A hint of a smile curved a path across the lushness of her mouth. “So I noticed at lunch.”

“I believe that proves my point,” he bit back. “Don’t you get it? I come from a passionate family, all of whom allow their emotions to overrule their common sense. And how has it benefited them?”

“The last time I looked, they all had strong, happy marriages.”

“I’m sure my parents’ marriage was the same when it first started out. But it doesn’t last. And when it goes wrong, it goes very wrong. The minute you put your well-being in someone else’s hands, you’re going to get hurt.”

Anger eased into compassion. “Life hurts, Lazz. You can’t protect yourself from the bruises it doles out. Your relationship with Caitlyn is a perfect example of that. But you can allow someone else in, someone who’s willing to share all of that with you. The pain. The joy. The sorrow. The laughter. Can’t you open the door a crack? Allow nature to take its course and see where we end up in a few months.”

“If we allow nature to take its course one more time, in a few months our twosome risks becoming a threesome,” he said drily.

Soft color streaked across Ariana’s cheekbones. “What’s happened between us wasn’t supposed to happen at all.”

“It was inevitable,” he said gently. “The only one who didn’t know it was you.”

“Lazz—”

“Shall I prove it to you?”

He didn’t give her time to respond. He hooked his fingers around the lapels of her suit jacket and tugged. She didn’t resist. Couldn’t resist. It was beyond either of them. She came into his arms, fitting herself to him, a lock to a key. She’d asked him to let go of his control, to allow nature to take its course. He didn’t have any other choice. Common sense vanished whenever he touched Ariana.

His hands eased into her hair, destroying the sophisticated little twist as he gave in to temptation. Her irresistible siren’s call grew more powerful with each passing day. Did she even realize it emanated from her in the way she walked, in the way she looked at him, in every word she spoke? That despite what either of them claimed, their hunger for one another overrode every thought and intent?

He fell into the kiss. Fell into her warmth and the generosity of her welcome. He never understood how she could open so utterly to him. And yet, she had from the very beginning. How did she allow herself such intense vulnerability when it was the one thing he most wanted to avoid? She gave so unstintingly that he couldn’t just take. More than anything, he was driven to give back.

In that instant, the quality of their lovemaking changed. Slowed. Became more than a physical expression. One by one, he released the buttons of her suit jacket. It parted, revealing a scrap of black lace that cupped her breasts, the play of ebony against cream providing a visual feast.

“It’s going to happen again, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Without question.”

A smile sweetened her expression, creating a fascinating dichotomy to her lush earthiness. She was a woman of endless facets and contradictions. An innocent sophisticate. A practical dreamer. An open mystery. And he wanted to know and explore each and every one of those facets.

He unclipped the front fastening of her bra and palmed the silken weight of her breasts. Her breath escaped in a low moan, and her head fell back. He swept his thumbs across the tips of her breasts, watching as desire caused them to flush and tighten. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen anything that aroused him more. Lowering his head, he dragged his teeth across her nipple, then soothed it with his tongue.

Italian erupted from her, a strangled stream of plea and demand. He’d planned to keep the pace slow and leisurely. But she didn’t give him that option. She tore at his shirt and tie, stripping them off him with impressive speed.

“Are we doing this here?” she demanded. “Now?”

He refused to make love to her again without proper protection. “No. We’re doing this in my bedroom.”

“Fine. The bedroom it is.”

After kicking off her heels, she unzipped her narrow skirt and shimmied out of it. She straightened, standing before him in a black thong, garter belt and stockings. He must have groaned because laughter competed with the passion in her gaze. She threw herself against him and practically leaped into his arms. Her head nestled against his shoulder and waves of heavy, dark hair spilled across his arm in a silken curtain.

“Take me to your bedroom,” she ordered. “Now.”

He gathered her close. “If not sooner.”

It was difficult enough to walk with the fullness of her breasts pressing against his chest. But her thighs—round, sleek thighs—wriggled within his grasp while her hip and the curve of her backside flirted with his groin. He had no idea how he made it the short distance from the living room to the bedroom without dumping them both on the floor and losing himself in her. Every step was sheer torture.

Lazz kicked the door closed behind him, enclosing them in dusky solitude. Muted sunshine filtered through the blinds, chasing after them as they reached the bed. He dropped Ariana to the mattress, not bothering to pull back the comforter. It was almost painful to strip off his trousers and shorts. At the last minute he remembered protection.

He yanked open the bedside drawer, pulling it free of its mooring and dumping it onto the floor. He swore in frustration and then swore again when Ariana slipped off the bed. “Wait,” he said. “Let me—”

“I’ve got it.”

She gathered up one of the foil squares and fumbled slightly with the wrapper, betraying her inexperience and rousing a fierce wave of tenderness in him. Then she ripped it open and removed the circle of latex. There was a hint of curiosity in her expression as she examined it, before turning her attention to him.

She shook her head in dismay. “This will never fit. Have you nothing larger?”

If his need hadn’t been so dire, he’d have laughed. “It fits,” he said. “Give it to me. I’ll do it.”

“No, no. Let me.” She fit the latex over him and cautiously rolled it down his length. She caught her lip between her teeth. “Am I hurting you?”

“You’re killing me.”

She froze. “Should I stop?”

“No. Not unless you want to drive me straight out of my mind.”

A tiny laugh slipped free. She struggled to contain it, without success. “I’m not laughing at you, I promise. It’s…” She waved a hand as though to summon the right words. “Look at us. We have no clothes. All we want is to make love. We are desperate.”

“Very desperate.”

“If we don’t make love right this instant, you have assured me we will either expire or go insane.”

“Any second now it’ll be over,” he confirmed.

“And I haven’t a clue what I’m doing.”

He grinned. “You’re making me laugh at a totally inappropriate time. That’s never happened to me before.”

“Me, neither.” His gorgeous, sophisticated wife grinned like a street urchin. “It is funny, yes?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Give me a minute and I’ll be serious again.”

“I don’t want you serious.” And he didn’t. “Just be yourself.”

For some reason that caused her laughter to fade. He’d already bared her, physically. Now he watched as she bared her emotions, betraying the gentle want, the soft hunger. The need for him, and him alone.

Slowly, her hands moved again, stroking him into hardness. When she was done, she bent slightly to remove her garter and stockings, and her hair swirled forward across her shoulders. The sheer grace and sensuality of her impacted like a blow. Unable to help himself he caressed the vulnerable spot at the nape of her neck and followed the pure silken line from there down to the base of her spine.

She shuddered beneath his touch and whispered something in Italian. Whether plea or confession, he didn’t quite catch it. But when she straightened, the last of her clothing formed a dark pool at their feet. Together they fell back onto the comforter, and he mated their bodies.

They moved slowly at first, taking those first few moments to reacquaint themselves with the fit and feel and flow of one into the other. “Oh, yes. Like that,” she murmured.

He gave to her. And then he gave more, taking the time to unlock the subtle secrets of her body, the movements and caresses that were unique to her and caused her to soar to places she’d never been before. The burn came. The flame that connected them exploded with heat and light and pleasure as it consumed them.

Lazz felt her quiver beneath him, teetering for an endless second on that pinnacle between climb and tumble. Her breath caught, held, and then burst from her lungs as she shot up and over into a helpless free fall. He didn’t hesitate. He leapt with her.

And he lost himself in her. In this woman. In his wife. Within that intense release came a shattering, and all he could do was surrender to it.

A
riana regarded her grandmother with a hint of exasperation. “I can’t believe I agreed to this.”

“And I can’t thank you enough, especially considering you’re still practically on your honeymoon.” Penelope said.

“One month tomorrow,” Ariana confirmed before shaking her head. “What in the world made you suggest I attend this benefit in your place? Mrs. Pennywinkle has never made a public appearance before. Nor has she ever had a representative.”

“They caught me at a weak moment,” Penelope confessed. “It’s for children who are burn victims. Once they promised no media attendance, how could I refuse?”

Ariana softened. “You couldn’t, of course. Are you certain you don’t want to go yourself?”

One look at her grandmother’s face answered that question. “I can’t run the risk I’ll have a panic attack and frighten the children.”

“Never mind,” Ariana soothed. “I’m happy to stand in for you.”

“Thank you. I was hoping you’d say that.” A hint of mischief glittered in Penelope’s eyes. “I also had an ulterior motive for my request.”

“You thought it would convince me to do everything in my power to become the new Mrs. Pennywinkle?”

“I can’t fool you, can I? I even had your Nancy doll flown in for the occasion. I thought it would make a nice prop. You have no idea how much I’ve longed to attend a charity event—” Penelope broke off with a sigh.

“Don’t.” Ariana stooped beside Penelope and enfolded her in a tight embrace. “You’ve done so much for the family. Worked so hard. I just wish you’d let me explain to Lazz. It’s been weeks since he saw me with Aaron. Even though he doesn’t mention it, it’s still there between us.”

Penelope shook her head, adamant. “The Dantes are under constant media scrutiny. I know they’d agree to keep my secret.” She gazed intently at her granddaughter. “But secrets have a way of getting out.”

Ariana flinched. She sincerely hoped not. At least, she hoped certain secrets didn’t get out. “He’s my husband, Gran,” she insisted gently. “He has a right to know.”

“Maybe once Aaron Talbot agrees to take you on as the new Mrs. Pennywinkle, we could reconsider.”

“If Aaron agrees,” Ariana corrected. “After our luncheon meeting, I’d have to say it’s going to be difficult to convince him. He’s determined to keep Mrs. Pennywinkle sacrosanct.”

Penelope dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “He’ll give in. He won’t have any choice if he wants more Mrs. Pennywinkle books. And once you’re the new Mrs. P, the media attention will be on you. They might have a passing interest in me, but once I’m back with Carolina and Vittorio on the Romano estate, they won’t have the opportunity to approach me unless I choose to let them.” Pain and fear added definition to her wrinkles. “It won’t be like it was after the accident.”

“No, it won’t.” Ariana kissed her grandmother’s cheek and straightened. “I’d better go or I’ll be late.”

“Will you come back to the hotel room afterward and tell me how it went?” Penelope asked.

Ariana shook her head. “I’ll have to fill you in tomorrow. I’m supposed to meet Lazz for dinner, and that won’t give me much time to get back to the apartment before he returns from work.”

“Be careful with your doll. I’d be crushed if it were lost or damaged. She’s the very first one ever made.”

Ariana smiled indulgently. “I remember. I wouldn’t dream of allowing any harm to come to her.”

Penelope nodded in relief. “Try and have fun.”

That would be a stretch. Still, she would do everything in her power to make it a special occasion for the children. Giving her grandmother a final hug and kiss, Ariana picked up the Nancy doll Penelope had given her as a child and left the hotel room.

“Are we all set?” Lazz asked one of the benefit organizers. “I’m hoping this Pennywinkle representative will be an acceptable substitute for the author. Fortunately, the publisher sent free autographed copies of Pennywinkle’s book, so that should please the children.”

He also hoped the representative didn’t have an adverse reaction to some of the more severely deformed burn victims. Of all the Dantes, he was the most passionate about this particular organization and worked tirelessly on its behalf. He’d hate to think what should have been a special treat for the children might turn into a nightmare of rejection.

“I believe the rep just arrived,” the organizer replied, nodding toward the ballroom doorway.

Lazz turned to look, then grinned. “That’s not Pennywinkle’s rep. That’s my wife.”

“Oh, of course,” the man hastened to say. “I guess it was the Nancy doll that fooled me.”

Lazz took a second look. Ariana stood near the doorway, shaking hands with the assistant he’d assigned as the “official greeter” for Mrs. Pennywinkle’s representative. And in her arms she cuddled a Nancy doll. After excusing himself, he left the small group of organizers to their last-minute details and joined his wife.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he greeted her.

For some reason she didn’t look thrilled to see him. Shocked might be a more appropriate description. “Lazz? What are you doing here?”

“I sit on the board of the organization. I’m the one responsible for today’s benefit.” He cocked his head to one side. “And you?”

She hesitated for a telling moment. “Mrs. Pennywinkle is an old family friend. She asked if I’d represent her.”

Interesting. There wasn’t time to ask further questions, but he had to admit he was curious to know more about the reclusive author. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said simply. “Let me introduce you to the children.”

She linked her fingers with his, and the distinctive tug hit the instant their palms joined, a ribbon of desire that continued to connect them even as the program began. Over the next hour, lunch was served. While everyone ate, Ariana read from the latest Mrs. Pennywinkle book and cuddled one of the children on her lap. Lazz held the book and turned the pages for her.

He wondered if she realized her emotional reactions to the situation caused a hint of an Italian lilt to weave its way through her voice. If anyone else picked up on it, they didn’t let on. But he noticed. He noticed something else, as well. He noticed how his wife maneuvered from table to table, never seeming to rush. Never seeming too busy to speak to or hug or laugh with each and every child.

Toward the end of the event, she joined the very last table and sat with one of the more severely burned children, a painfully shy little girl. Although the child carried a tattered Mrs. Pennywinkle book, she was the only one so far who didn’t also have a Nancy doll clutched in her arms.

“Does Cecelia not like dolls?” Ariana whispered to the mother at one point.

Bright color swept across the woman’s cheekbones as she shook her head. “We can’t afford one,” she replied stiffly. “Maybe for Christmas.”

Lazz watched as tears gathered in his wife’s eyes. Turning to the little girl, Ariana indicated the doll she’d brought with her to the event. “Did you know this is the first Nancy doll ever made?”

Cecelia stared, wide-eyed. “The very first?” She reached toward the doll’s ruffled skirt before jerking her hand back. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“You can touch her. In fact…” Ariana settled the doll carefully in Cecelia’s arms. “This Nancy doll is magical, maybe because she was the first. Her job is to live her life the same way she does in the storybooks. She wants to be with someone she can help. Otherwise her magic will fade away.”

Cecelia froze, hardly daring to breathe. “She wants to be with someone like me?”

“Just like you,” Ariana confirmed. “She’s to stay with you until you don’t need her any longer.”

Cecelia bit down on her lip. “What if that’s a long, long time? What if the operations take years and years?”

It took Ariana a moment to reply. “Nancy will stay with you for as long as necessary. And when you don’t need her any longer, then it’s your job to pass her on to someone else who does.”

The little girl stared up at Ariana, a mixture of adoration and determination reflected in her ruined face. “I will,” she promised fervently. “I’ll give her to someone who needs her as bad as me.”

Lazz could only imagine how difficult it must have been for his wife to give away her treasured doll. But when it was done, she stood, smiled at everyone and then walked away without once looking back. After excusing himself, he went after her and took her arm. She didn’t require his physical support, but there wasn’t a question in his mind that she desperately needed him emotionally.

“Hang on just a minute. It’s almost over.”

He stopped at the dais long enough to give a brief speech thanking everyone for attending and wrapping up the event. He didn’t have a moment’s doubt that the children would remember this occasion for years to come. Finally, he gestured toward the side door.

“Let’s go.”

“I can manage,” she insisted.

He could hear the strain dragging through each word. He didn’t reply. He simply ushered her into the hallway. The minute the door closed behind them, he wrapped her up in a tight embrace and kissed her. She stiffened within his hold, resisting him for all of five seconds before dissolving, responding to him as passionately as every other time he touched her.

Eventually he pulled back and regarded her with a tender expression.

“Are you all right? I imagine giving that doll away was one of the most difficult things you’ve ever done.”

She didn’t deny it. “Helping others, paying it forward. It’s what Mrs. Pennywinkle stands for. It’s the message that underscores every single one of her books. How could I not honor the true meaning of the Nancy doll by passing her along the same way all the children do between the pages of the Pennywinkle books?”

“You couldn’t. It’s not in your nature.” He draped a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Come on. What do you say we go home?”

“Sounds perfect.”

When they reached the apartment, Ariana took Lazz’s hand in hers. Instead of leading him to the nearest bed, she paused by the door to the room she’d requested for her third marital condition. She opened it without a word and flipped on the lights.

He walked in and stared, stunned. “My God.” He took his time, moving through the room, examining painting after painting. “You did these, didn’t you? I’d recognize your artwork anywhere.”

“Yes, they’re mine. Most of them I painted while in Italy. They’re for a new Pennywinkle book. At least, they might be, depending on what Aaron decides.” She took a deep breath and faced him. “Aaron Talbot publishes the Mrs. Pennywinkle series. That’s why we were meeting at lunch the other day. He’s considering me as a replacement for the previous Mrs. Pennywinkle.”

“It was a business meeting?” Lazz winced. That finally answered his question about Talbot, and he couldn’t begin to express the relief he felt, as well as his remorse over his earlier suspicions. “I’m so sorry, Ariana. I really am an ass, aren’t I?”

“Occasionally.” She smiled to soften her response. “And your apology is accepted. Sometimes it’s hard to reach an accurate conclusion when you don’t have all the facts.”

“Sev warned me of that. But that still doesn’t excuse my reaction.” Lazz studied the paintings and shook his head. “These are amazing. I assume Talbot has agreed to take you on?”

“Not yet.”

That caught him by surprise. “He hasn’t already snapped you up as the new Pennywinkle? Is he crazy?”

Ariana laughed, though he heard a hint of anguish underscoring her amusement. “I happen to think so. So does Gran.”

Just like that, it clicked. “Penelope. Penny. Pennywinkle. She’s Mrs. Pennywinkle.”

Ariana nodded. “She started painting as a form of therapy after her car accident. Now that her arthritis makes it too difficult to continue, she wants me to take over.”

“I don’t understand.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “If Penelope’s the real Pennywinkle, why didn’t she attend the benefit?”

“One of the side effects of being trapped for two days in a wrecked car is that she suffers from panic attacks. The intense media attention afterward only made her more fearful. She refuses to make appearances in case she has an attack and frightens the children.”

Compassion swept through him. “Losing control like that would be difficult for anyone, but it must be especially tough for a woman of her strength of character.”

“Extremely.”

Lazz returned his attention to his wife’s artwork. He’d been impressed when he’d seen the sketches she’d done while on their honeymoon. He’d even gone out of his way to rescue and salvage her sketch pad because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing such amazing drawings. But those were mere shadows of what she’d accomplished here.

“You’ve actually shown these to Talbot? And he rejected them?”

“Not exactly. I showed him a portfolio of my work. He rejected that. He says my illustrations are too whimsical. And those are nowhere near as whimsical as these. What he really wants is for me to copy my grandmother’s style so no one knows there’s been a change in authorship. I tried to do what he asked.” She crossed to a stack of canvasses leaning against the wall and removed one of them, pulling back the cloth covering. “This is how they come out.”

“Ouch.”

“My reaction, exactly.”

“There are other publishers, Ariana, any number of whom would be delighted to produce a new, updated Mrs. Pennywinkle. Have you considered approaching someone else?”