Dante's Marriage Pact (15 page)

She took a moment to absorb the hit and found she couldn't. The impact had caught her completely off guard and it hurt. Dear heaven, but it hurt. Anger came to her rescue. “Let me get this straight. You want me to move out? You want me and your son to move out of your home? That's what you're telling me?”

“No! Yes.” He swore in Italian, though she could have told him that if it was to protect her poor, delicate ears, he failed miserably. She understood every word. “You asked—demanded—to have your own place before you'd agree to marry me. I'm simply giving you what you want.”

If only she could see his eyes, read his expression. Taking matters into her own hands, she circled the couch so the sunlight struck him in profile. “What about what you want, Draco?”

“That doesn't matter. It isn't important. You'll be in the city, nearby. Our son will be where I can see him every day.”

She saw it then. The stoicism. The tamped-down pain. The grit and determination to tough it out. Relief flooded through her. He was honoring his commitment not because he wanted to, but because he'd made a promise. One he took every bit as seriously as their wedding vows.

She smiled, taking a swift, eager step in his direction. “What if I told you I don't want to move? That I want to stay with you. Would you force us to go?”

His mouth opened and closed and he sucked in air as though he'd just taken a hit to the solar plexus. “Force…?”

Before he could say anything else, his cell phone rang. He glanced at it impatiently before swearing again, this time in English. He flipped open the phone and barked into it, “Damn it, Sev, I'm right in the middle of something vital here….” Dead silence, then, “
What?
You must be joking.” He froze, his gaze sweeping toward her, pinning her in place. “Are you positive? There's no mistake? No, I guess there wouldn't be. Let me get back to you.”

She'd only seen that expression on his face once before, when he'd been talking about the gemologist who'd swindled him. A fierce look, one filled with threat and vengeance and an unholy fury. It had never before been aimed at her. Until now.

“What's wrong?” she asked uneasily, falling back a step.

He stalked after her. “That was Sev. It would seem that the initial reports about the Charleston mines were inaccurate.”

She stared in confusion. “What do you mean? What are you talking about?”

“Your mines, Shayla. Or rather Dante mines now that the final contracts have been signed. They're played out—
still
played out. And I just want to know…” He took another step
in her direction, moving with predatory grace. “Were you in on the scam?”

Shayla paled. “Why are you assuming there's some sort of scam?”

“Because there aren't any more diamonds. Just those few Leticia removed and enough others to convince us the mines were viable. The reports claiming otherwise are forgeries. Very clever, very convincing forgeries. But you already know that, don't you?”

She shook her head. “No. No, I didn't know that. How can you even think such a thing?”

“I just want to know if it was a setup right from the start.”

Tears glittered in her eyes, turning them to jet. “There was no setup.”

“No?” He smiled, a humorless flash of teeth that caused her to fall back another pace. “And yet, you ended up in my bed. Played your role brilliantly, I might add. Your shock and outrage when you discovered I was a Dante. Dropping the information that you had a meeting with my relatives before rushing off, knowing full well I'd crash the party. The stones hidden in your purse—a purse with a broken catch. The list. All tantalizing tidbits meant for me to find. Meant to whet my appetite.”

A hint of anger flashed across her expression. “Stop and think, Draco. I was just there for the initial lease negotiations. Why would your name be on my list? Why would I involve you?”

“Because I grade the gemstones. Because I'd be the one who would have pushed to go forward with the lease, and later the sale.”

“You're also the one who kept his name out of all the Dante literature, who kept the lowest profile of all.”

He waved that aside. “I'm sure you had ways of uncovering
my identity. Granted, the pregnancy probably came as a bit of a shock. But then, why not use that, too?”

She darted toward the carrier and snatched up Stefano. “Don't you dare bring him into this. He's your son! He's an innocent.”

“But his mother isn't, is she?” He circled her. “You could have approached me at any point once you realized you were pregnant. But I didn't find out until you were days away from giving birth. Convenient, wouldn't you say?”

“There was nothing convenient about my pregnancy,” she snapped.

Not that he paid the least attention. “By the time I discovered your whereabouts there was no time to think. To consider. You knew I'd rush you to the altar in order to give our son the Dante name. And you were right. Our marriage was your safety net. After all, once we bought the mines and discovered it was all an elaborate con job, you and I would be married.”

“What difference would that make?” she asked tightly.

“You know damn well that my family would never go after my wife. And they sure as hell wouldn't go after the mother of my son.”

It was the last straw. Shayla gently returned Stefano to his carrier. Then she approached, got right up in her husband's face. “I'm going to say this once and only once. I knew nothing about the mines. I'm not interested in the mines. I never have been, nor will I ever be. I don't swindle people, as you damn well should know…or would if you took two minutes to stop and consider the situation logically. If there's a problem, look elsewhere for the cause.”

“Even if your grandmother is responsible, how the hell could you not at least have suspected?”

“How about you?” she shot right back. “You've even had
experience being swindled. Or haven't you ever heard the expression, ‘fool me once'?”

He winced. “So I should have seen the swindle coming?”

“Yes. At the very least one of you clever Dantes should have suspected my grandmother was up to something and dug in to the possibility. Which, in case it has escaped your notice, is not my job.” She drilled her finger into his chest. “It's yours.”

“She's
your
grandmother!” How the hell had she managed to shift the dynamics, putting him on the defensive?

“And yet…I'm not the one doing business with her.” She unplugged her finger from his chest and aimed it at the door. “I'm done discussing this. You may leave.”

“Leave?”

“That's right. You offered me the suite and I'm taking you up on your kind offer. Now go.”

“I'm not finished with our discussion.”

“Well, I am.” She stalked to the door, yanked it open and jerked her head toward the hallway. “You can call tomorrow once you've had time to cool off and smarten up. Until then, I have nothing further to say to you. And FYI,
you
have nothing further to say to
me.
At least, nothing worth listening to.”

He visibly considered his options, and she watched, barely clinging to anger over tears, while he weighed the advantage of pursuing a fruitless argument versus gathering more information to damn her with. She saw his decision a second before the tears won out.

“Fine,” he announced. “I'll leave. But when I come by, I expect answers. Real answers.”

Draco stalked past her and she slammed the door behind him. Then he stood in the plush hallway for a full minute wondering how the hell he'd come to be on the wrong side
of the door, feeling as though he'd also been on the wrong side of their argument.

More than anything he wanted to bang on the door and demand she let him in. After all, it was his family's suite. His wife. His child. His life unraveling at the seams. But until he met with Sev and heard the entire story, what would be the point?

Swearing long and bitterly, he left, telling himself he was doing the right thing. They both needed time to cool off and he wanted to get his facts straight before he confronted her again. Of course, when he returned late that afternoon it was to discover that history had repeated itself. Shayla was gone.

And so was his son.

 

Leticia Charleston greeted her granddaughter with a smile of satisfaction and a snap of tartness. “About time you returned home where you belong. Now make my day and tell me you've left that despicable Dante husband of yours.”

Shayla hid her sigh by placing Stefano's carrier on the floor beside her chair and across from the settee where her grandmother sat. Since his belly was full and his diaper pristine, he'd fallen sound asleep. Perfect, considering the upcoming conversation would take a while. A long while.

“Actually, I'm here to discuss something with you, Grandmother.”

Leticia sniffed. “I'm not sure I like the sound of that.”

“I'm sure you're not going to like the sound of most of what we'll be discussing,” Shayla responded smoothly. “I asked Bess to bring in tea and snacks since we're going to be here for the next few hours.”

Leticia took immediate umbrage. “That's rather highhanded of you, coming into my house and ordering my housekeeper around.”

“You're right.” Shayla offered her most sunny smile. “I only get more highhanded from here.”

Leticia folded her arms across her chest and fixed her granddaughter with her most intimidating glare. Once upon a time it would have worked like a charm. But not any longer. Any one of the Dantes' glares could easily trump it. Especially Primo's. Though, now that Shayla considered the matter, the one Draco turned on her the previous day had been the most impressive she'd ever seen.

Bess appeared with a loaded tray and set it in front of Shayla before scuttling out again. “Tea?” Shayla offered.

Leticia's mouth fell open at the effrontery of being offered tea as though she were a guest in her own home. After a few seconds her mouth buttoned up tight and her eyes narrowed to calculating slits. Shayla could practically see her weighing and considering, plotting and planning. “I'll take my tea with lemon,” she ordered at long last. “One lump of sugar instead of two. I'm cutting back.”

“I can understand.” Shayla poured and served with the ease of long practice. “You wouldn't want to risk becoming too sweet.”

There was stony silence for an endless minute before a sound escaped her grandmother, one Shayla had never heard before. A snort of laughter. Then she tipped her head back and let it rip. When she finally gathered herself again, she took one of the dainty napkins from the tray and dabbed her eyes with it. “Oh, Shayla, you are so good for me. I've missed you.”

“I've missed you, too.” And surprisingly, she had. She considered how to ask her next question. She could use delicacy and tact, but considering it was her grandmother, decided to go for broke. “Why did you do it?”

To her credit, Leticia didn't feign ignorance. “Oh, honey, you know why.”

Shayla leaned back against her chair and sipped her tea while she contemplated her grandmother. “I have to admit…I really don't know. I understand you being angry with the Dantes for contributing to Charlestons going under. I can even understand you blaming the Dantes immediately after Dad's death. But that was more than a decade ago. Why swindle them now, after all this time? You must have been able to put emotion aside and look at the facts logically after so many years?”

Leticia played with the ring on her necklace, her restless movements causing the diamond to flash and burn. “It's a long story.”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

“No, I suppose you aren't.”

And so she told her tale. She even told nearly all of it, and mostly stuck to the truth. When she finished, she regarded Shayla with affectionate relief. “There's only one other thing I'd like to say, though it has nothing to do with—” She waved a dismissive hand to indicate their conversation up to this point. “It's about your father.”

Shayla perked up. “Dad?”

“I don't think I ever told you this about Stefan, but he was the kindest man I've ever known. Gentle. Generous. Easygoing.” She sighed. “Too easygoing to have successfully run Charlestons. I loved that man to pieces, but he didn't inherit any of my steel. You, on the other hand…” She tilted her head to one side and gave her granddaughter a long, hard look. “I always thought you were just like him. But you aren't, are you? You have his kind nature, but it hides my steel. I'm right, aren't I?”

“Yes.” Shayla lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “But do me a favor. Don't tell Draco. I don't think he'd take it well.”

Her grandmother actually smiled, a wide, natural smile,
revealing a beauty Shayla had never noticed before. “We'll consider it our secret.” She placed her delicate porcelain cup and saucer onto the tray with a gesture of finality. “You're going back to him, aren't you? You and little Stefan are leaving Atlanta and returning to San Francisco.”

“Stefano.”

Leticia rolled her eyes, but her heart wasn't in it. “He'll always be Stefan to me.”

Shayla let it go. “And yes, to answer your question, we're going back. Though where I live depends on any number of factors.”

Since the information Leticia had imparted was one of those factors she nodded in understanding. “What do you think your Dantes will do to me?”

Shayla answered with complete honesty. “I don't know. We'll find out when we get there.”

“We?”
Leticia drew back in alarm. “I'm not going to San Francisco.”

Shayla fixed her grandmother with a cool, unrelenting stare, leaning on each and every crisply spoken word. “Just so you know, this is where I show some of that spine I inherited. So, yes, you are coming with me. And when you get there, you'll have a lot of explaining to do. You'll manage. You always do.”