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Authors: Day Leclaire,Day Leclaire

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BOOK: Dante's Stolen Wife
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“Oh?” Curiosity sparked, along with a hint of amusement. “You want to up the stakes?”

“Absolutely. How about this…You lose, I want every last piece of Dante jewelry you own. I’ll even reimburse you for whatever you paid for them.” He covered the microphone and his playfulness faded, replaced by a dangerous edge. “You see, Britt, I don’t want you wearing anything we’ve ever crafted. Furthermore, you’re banned from ever entering a Dantes store from this day forward.”

Humiliation sent hot color streaking across her cheekbones. “And if I win, I want all of you to admit that this whole Inferno business is nothing but a publicity stunt,” she announced in ringing tones. “And I want you to tear up my confidentiality agreement. I’ve decided there are a few more articles I’d like to write about you Dantes.”

Before Caitlyn had time to beg Marco to turn the offer down, he nodded in agreement. “Done.”

Marco turned toward Caitlyn, but Britt stepped between them. “Oh, no, lover boy.” An almost vicious note crept into her voice, one that didn’t go unnoticed. “I’m not giving you an opportunity to speak to her and arrange for some way of signaling her. We do this my way.”

“I have no problem with that,” Marco said with an easy shrug.

He glanced over Britt’s shoulders toward Caitlyn. She met his look, waiting to see the anger and disillusionment from when they’d parted earlier in the week. But not a trace of it remained. In its place was something that had tears flooding her eyes again. She saw a calm certainty. There was no doubt in her mind that he believed in her, without hesitation or exception. Before she could do more than stare in bewilderment, Britt crossed to her side.

“I’m going to put Lazz and your husband in front of you. When I tap your shoulder, you point either left or right toward your husband.” She leaned in and spoke quietly enough that they couldn’t be overheard. “When you lose, my expression of triumph is going to be the first thing you see and my laughter the first thing you hear. And, honey, I flat-out can’t wait.”

With that, she oversaw the placement of both earplugs and hood, before maneuvering Caitlyn to the center of the dais. There was an endless delay during which she sensed movement around her. And that entire time, she stood frozen in panic.

If Lazz and Marco had been lined up in front of her, even with their backs turned as Francesca had suggested all those weeks ago, Caitlyn no longer questioned her ability to tell one twin from the other. But blindfolded? How was she supposed to pull this off?

And what would happen if she chose wrong? Not much question about that. If she didn’t succeed, they’d lose the Romano account for good. The campaign she’d come up with would flop because The Inferno would be disproved. But worst of all, Marco would realize she wasn’t really his Inferno bride.

Why had he done this? Why had he looked at her with such confidence, with such…love. She stiffened. Dear God, that’s what she saw in his eyes when he looked at her. He didn’t just believe in her and trust her. He loved her. And because of that love, the crazy man was convinced that she could feel him through the hood, through the earplugs, through everything that separated them. Had he lost his mind?

She could only think of one way—and a darned slim one at that—this might work. Her only hope was to trust in herself and believe that she could sense her husband, as she had the day she’d lunched with Francesca and Nonna. That The Inferno would miraculously help her separate him from Lazz. And with that thought came the realization that she was putting her faith in something she’d always insisted didn’t exist.

Somehow, at some point during their marriage, she’d started to believe in the existence of The Inferno. To accept it as fact instead of fiction, truth instead of fairy tale. The breath hitched in her throat. Whatever The Inferno was, she could feel it warming her, connecting her to Marco like a living conduit.

Britt shuffled her into position and tapped her on the shoulder. Caitlyn hadn’t a clue why it had taken so long. Not that it mattered. She closed her eyes, despite the blanket of darkness provided by the hood, and focused on Marco. As she did, memories swept through her.

Marco offering his hand in the lobby of Dantes and the two of them experiencing that initial, startling electric shock. Marco on the balcony of Le Premier, kissing her for the very first time while pretending to be Lazz. Their wedding, where he’d gazed down at her with such passion she shivered just recalling it. Their wedding night, a night so beautiful it would be an integral part of her until the day she died. All the intensely passionate nights since, when the two of them had become one. And finally, Marco staring at her before Britt had placed the hood over her head, staring with absolute faith.

With love.

She opened herself to her husband, pausing in confusion when she didn’t sense him in either of the two men standing before her. And then she felt the tickle of awareness, not in front, but off to her right. She turned. Hesitated. Felt the distinct throb in her palm. And then she didn’t hesitate at all. She made a beeline for her husband.

His arms closed around her, lifted her. And then he stripped off the hood and gently pulled free the earplugs. “Any more questions about whether or not The Inferno exists?” he asked with a broad grin.

“Not a one.” Caitlyn wrapped her arms around Marco’s neck and kissed him, while cheers erupted all around them. “I love you, Marco.”

“I love you, too,
cara
, from the minute we first touched. For the rest of our lives you are my Inferno wife.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anything else.” She dropped her head to his shoulder. “I just have two questions.”

“Name them.”

“Why didn’t you come home last night?”

“Because I would have wanted to prove to you once and for all that I love you, and that The Inferno exists. But I realized it was more important that you discover that for yourself. I needed you to trust me without the words. To trust your feelings for me.”

“To trust in The Inferno.”

“Yes.” He smoothed her hair back from her face.

“What’s your second question?”

“What took so long?” she asked with a sigh.

He chuckled, the sound low and intimate. “I believe that’s my question for you. What took you so long to trust in The Inferno?”

She answered readily enough. “The Inferno wasn’t logical. It still isn’t. But—” she blew out her breath “—you can’t argue with facts.”

He blinked in surprise, then gave a shout of laughter. “Do you realize you just called The Inferno fact?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Scary, isn’t it? But that wasn’t actually my second question. What I want to know is, why did it take so long to start Britt’s experiment?”

“Oh, that. My brothers weren’t happy about Britt changing the rules at the last minute. When she stuck Lazz and Nicolò in front of you, we almost had a riot on our hands. Even the crowd booed.”

“But not you,” she guessed shrewdly.

“I knew you’d find me.”

Her arms tightened around him. “And now that I have, I’m never going to let you go.”

Epilogue

I
t was a full week later before Caitlyn remembered something else she’d found in that cursed box of personal files. The instant she did, she tracked down her husband, barging straight into his office. “Marco, there’s something you need to know. Something important.” She offered an apologetic look. “I would have told you sooner, but—”

He lifted an eyebrow, amusement gleaming in his eyes. “You’ve been a little distracted?”

How could she not after the blissful week they’d shared? “Yes.” She worried at her bottom lip until he put a stop to it with a lingering kiss.

“First, before we deal with any more business, I have a present for you.” He held out a box that he’d personally wrapped and tied with a slightly lopsided bow.

“Fair warning. It sparkles.”

“Oh, Marco. You know you don’t have to buy me jewelry.”

“I will be buying you jewelry,” he told her quite definitely. “In fact, I intend to shower you in fire diamonds. But this…This is something a little different.”

Without another word, she took the box. The weight of it surprised her and she opened it, lifting out the velvet inner box. After she removed the lid, she stared at the contents and then began to laugh. He’d bought her a gorgeous glass paperweight. And floating inside the glass, like glittering diamond bubbles, was every last piece of Dante jewelry that Britt Jones had owned. She threw her arms around her husband and kissed him. How had she gotten so fortunate? A man who could make her laugh…and shower her with diamonds.

She didn’t want this moment to end. And even though she knew she had endless moments like this ahead of her, soon she’d have to put romance aside and get down to business. Marco must have sensed her thoughts. He pulled back and cupped her face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

He didn’t give her a chance to respond, but took her mouth in a series of deep, penetrating kisses. It was just as well. She really didn’t want to tell him that she’d found evidence in the “box from hell” that the Dantes might not be the only legal owners of the fire diamond mine.

Later. She’d tell him later about the O’Dell brothers, who were the original owners of the mine. And she’d tell him about the possibility that Cameron O’Dell’s granddaughter, Kiley, could have a legitimate claim to half the mine. Or maybe she’d put Nicolò on the case. After all, he was the Dante family troubleshooter, not Marco.

Her husband pulled back again, his smile one of wicked promise. “Well? What’s up?”

“Nothing important.” Caitlyn tightened her arms around Marco’s neck and lifted her face for another of his drugging kisses. “At least, nothing as important as this.”

His expression softened and he captured her mouth once again, his words the last thing she heard before she tumbled into the golden future stretching before her. “Nothing will ever be as important as how much we love each other.”

ISBN: 978-1-4268-1666-6

DANTE’S STOLEN WIFE

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.

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