Dante's Contract Marriage (3 page)

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.”

“I happen to agree with them,” Marco said with deceptive mildness.

“Fortunately for all of us, I don’t believe in The Inferno or its curse.”

“Blessing.”

Lazz ignored the interruption. “Ariana and I have e-mailed extensively, and we both agree. We’ll marry. We’ll put on a show for our grandparents for a few months. And then we’ll go our separate ways. At some point, we’ll have the marriage terminated.”

Marco shook his head in open disgust. “I’m surprised at Dad. Considering how miserable he and Mom were, why would he want to force you into a similar type of marriage?”

“How many times do I have to explain? This isn’t a real marriage.” Lazz fought to control his impatience with only limited success. “Ariana and I will fulfill the terms of the contract and then have a friendly parting of the ways. Brimstone will be saved, and we’ll buy out the Romanos’ share of the stone. Nothing could be simpler and, best of all, everyone wins.”

“If you really believe it’ll be that easy, you’re crazy. Primo and Nonna think you’re marrying because of The Inferno. You’ve gone out of your way to give them that impression. Now you’re stuck maintaining the pretense for the duration of your marriage. The minute you and Ariana divorce, they’ll realize the truth.” Marco leaned in, his expression unusually grim. “When that happens, it’s going to crush them.”

“I don’t want them hurt,” Lazz admitted. “But better they think I was mistaken about The Inferno than they find out about Dad’s contract. In my opinion, that would crush them more than my confusing lust for The Inferno.”

“You’re wrong. They’d be more hurt to discover you’re marrying for any reason other than love.”

After a moment’s consideration, Lazz was forced to concede the accuracy of his brother’s observation. “Then I convince them that Ariana and I were in love when we married and that it simply didn’t work out. I thought it was The Inferno and it wasn’t. A simple case of wishful thinking. My understanding is that Ariana’s grandmother, Penelope, and mother, Carolina, also believe it’s a love match and we don’t want to disabuse either of them of that notion. The fact that Ariana and I have only met by e-mail will remain our little secret.”

“I’ll be interested to see your reaction when you two really meet.”

“Why?” The question slipped out before Lazz could prevent it.

Marco shook his head with a mocking smile. “I’ll just let you find out for yourself.”

“You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?”

“I’ll tell you this much…She’s gorgeous. Passionate about life and everything in it. Has a terrific sense of humor. And she has a soft spot when it comes to children.”

“You forgot to mention that she’s a good kisser.”

Marco laughed. “Told you, did she? Yes, she’s a good kisser. So, when’s the big meet and greet?”

“Ariana and her family are scheduled to come in the day before the ceremony. We’ll get together privately right before the rehearsal.”

Marco’s amusement faded. “You’re crazy if you think one brief meeting is going to establish enough of a rapport between you to convince everyone you two are romantically involved. You know nothing about each other and yet you think you can fake an intimate relationship—fake it well enough to convince Primo and Nonna, as well as Ariana’s mother and grandmother, that the two of you are madly in love.”

“Since it’s only for one evening, plus the reception after the wedding, I think we can pull it off, assuming everyone keeps their collective mouths shut.”

“Well, good luck. Primo and Nonna will be tough enough. But you’re really going to need to watch your step with Penelope. She’s a canny old bird. Too bad you don’t have my charm.”

“Fortunately, I have the brains you lack.”

Marco stood. “One last question before I leave you to your facts and figures. Have you warned your bride-to-be about The Inferno yet?”

Lazz regarded his brother in genuine bewilderment. “Why would I want to do that?”

Marco frowned. “Didn’t you tell me that one of the conditions of your marriage was that you won’t have any secrets from each other?”

“Fairy tales are not secrets.” With any luck at all, this was one fairy tale he’d never have cause to repeat.

“A word of warning. You may not consider it a secret, but Ariana may have a different view,” Marco said in parting. “Women can be funny about the details.”

Lazz groaned. Damn, but he didn’t like the sound of that. He could only hope his brother’s comment didn’t prove to be as prophetic as it felt.

August 28, 2008

T
he morning of her wedding, Ariana woke to a world encased in fog. She wandered out onto the balcony of her hotel room at Le Premier and felt as though she were stepping into a cloud. It blanketed her in cool droplets of moisture that sparkled like a thousand individual diamonds.

Carolina wandered out onto the balcony and handed her daughter a mug of fragrant coffee. “How did you sleep?” she asked with a yawn.

“Really well. Between our flight being delayed all those hours and the jet lag, I fell off the minute I crawled into bed.”

“We should have flown in earlier,” Carolina said. “I never should have let you talk us into flying in the day before the ceremony.”

“I didn’t consider the possibility we might get grounded due to weather,” Ariana conceded. “And I should have.”

Though privately she thought it couldn’t have worked out any better if she’d planned it. Not only had they missed the rehearsal, but the rehearsal dinner, as well. Now she only had to face the wedding. Anything between now and then that seemed a bit off or odd would be put down to wedding jitters. After that, she and Lazz just needed to put on a loving front long enough to get through the reception, and they’d be in the clear.

“Will it stay foggy like this? I’d so hoped for sunshine.”

“It’ll burn off in time,” Ariana reassured. She glanced past her mother toward her grandmother. “Come out and look at this. It’s amazing.”

Penelope wheeled herself onto the balcony. Ariana crouched to wrap an arm around her grandmother while Carolina clutched her other hand, three generations of women united. “It’s so strange to think we won’t be returning to Italy together,” Carolina murmured. “In a few hours you’ll be married and living in a strange country with a husband you barely know.”

“When it’s right, it’s right,” Ariana replied lightly.

There wasn’t time for more chatter. With three women in one hotel suite, every second counted as they prepared for the wedding. Little by little, order gave way to confusion, which gave way to chaos, which gave way to emotion-diffusing drama. Tears were shed, then rinsed away, just as the summertime sunshine rinsed away the final wisps of fog. As the hours ticked by and the time approached for the Romanos to leave for the church, tension turned to laughter and bittersweet reminiscences. Chaos organized itself into mild confusion, which drifted toward a messy sort of order.

At long last, Ariana stood in the middle of the suite, garbed in a gown that all three women had unanimously chosen as their favorite. The pearl-white color complimented her complexion and made her eyes seem deeper and darker, while the fitted bodice drew attention to the trim figure she’d inherited from her mother. The skirt floated around her like the wisps of fog she’d been admiring earlier. And she wore a lace-and-tulle veil that had belonged to her great–grandmother, anchored in place by a fire diamond tiara delivered to their hotel suite only that morning—a wedding gift from Lazz.

Her mother fluttered around her, making final minute adjustments, while Penelope simply sat and beamed. “You look stunning,” she stated.

A brief knock sounded at the suite door and then Vittorio and Constantine entered. Tears filled her father’s eyes as he embraced her. And concern ripped the stoic mask from her brother’s face. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” he whispered as they embraced.

“I’m positive.”

“It’s time to go,” Vittorio warned.

Ariana barely recalled the ride from Le Premier to the small, intimate church. The stone structure topped a hill close to downtown and offered a tantalizing glimpse of the bay with its dotting of islands and famous red bridge. Her mother and grandmother hugged and kissed her before proceeding into the chapel, leaving Ariana in the garden with her father.

The constant clamor of busy streets and bustling people faded away. In its place, a lush summer wind stirred her veil and voluminous skirts and caused the surrounding trees to creak and rustle. Birdsong rose and fell, sweet and life-affirming. And then came the joyful pealing of bells.

Vittorio tipped her chin up so their eyes met and held. “There’s something you need to know before you marry Lazz.”

“What is it, Papa? What’s wrong?”

He hesitated, conflict rife on his face. “It’s about Brimstone. It’s—it’s gone missing.”

It took a second for his words to sink in. Once they had, she fought to breathe. Oh, please let her have misunderstood. “What do you mean…missing? How does a diamond go missing?”

“I can’t find it anywhere,” he confessed.

“You mean, you’ve lost it?” At his reluctant nod, she shook her head in distress. “I don’t understand. Didn’t you have it in a safe deposit box? Isn’t it locked up?”

“It was.” He glanced over to where the wedding coordinator beckoned to them, indicating it was time to enter the chapel. “There’s no time to go into the details right now. Just believe me when I say that I’m doing everything I can to recover the stone.”

“I still don’t understand. Why are we going through with the wedding, Papa? Why didn’t you stop it as soon as you realized Brimstone was missing? Why haven’t you told the Dantes?”

He rushed into speech. “I just need time. Time to find it.”

“We don’t have any time,” she reminded him. “My birthday is in two days. If Lazz and I aren’t married by then, Brimstone will be disposed of—assuming, of course, you can find the diamond in order to dispose of it.”

He nodded unhappily. “If you want to cancel the wedding, we will.”

It was the only sensible option, Ariana conceded. But it also meant a tremendous loss should her father recover the diamond in the meantime. She thought fast. “What will happen to the family if I back out? How do you think the Dantes will respond?”

“We’d have to explain everything to Primo and your mother and grandmother.”

Ariana crossed herself with a moan.

“Don’t worry, bambolina. We’ll find a way to work it out.” But she couldn’t help noticing he didn’t quite meet her gaze. “I’m sure the Dantes will be reasonable about everything.”

Right. After all, look how reasonable Lazz had been so far with all of his premarital conditions. Somehow she didn’t see him being any more reasonable about the loss of the diamond. Her hands twisted together. What if the Dantes decided to take legal action? It would destroy her family and start a media frenzy. She and her father wouldn’t be the only ones affected, either. Constantine would never be able to start his own business. And as for Gran…She’d already been through one media nightmare. She couldn’t handle another. Even worse, if the Romanos were put under such intense scrutiny, someone might uncover her grandmother’s secret identity.

“I’m going through with it,” she informed her father. “That’ll give you time to find the diamond. But I beg you, Papa, make it fast.”

There wasn’t time for more conversation. The wedding coordinator scurried out, grabbed the two by the hands and literally dragged them toward the chapel. “Hurry, please. We’re late.”

Ariana and Vittorio paused in the vestibule. He bent and kissed her before helping settle a layer of the tulle veil over her face. Together they entered the still coolness of the chapel. The bells gentled, replaced by the sweet welcome of strings heralding her approach.

Ariana struggled against a wave of emotion. In that moment, she didn’t care why she’d agreed to this marriage or whether it had been a reasonable decision. Right now, she longed for more. All the trappings were here—the sanctity of the church, the beauty of the music, the warmth and well wishes of her family and Lazz’s. But it wasn’t real. It lacked the most important ingredient of all.

Love.

A man who looked exactly like Marco stood to one side of the altar, wearing a tux. No, she realized an instant later. He wasn’t quite identical to Marco. As she approached, she could detect minute differences. Lazz was every bit as handsome as his twin, but lacked the mischievous twinkle and ready smile. This man remained guarded and implacable, watching her with a deep, penetrating intelligence.

There was depth there and an innate power, as well as a delicious sensuality that tugged at her the closer she came. A hum of tension grew with each step. By the time she joined him at the altar, the hum had escalated to a sizzle of awareness unlike anything she’d ever felt before. She fought to conceal it, to keep from trembling in reaction.

As though experiencing something similar, Lazz stiffened and fixed her with a fierce gaze. His eyes were a similar shade of hazel-green to Marco’s, except that the green in Lazz’s eyes appeared more intense, the gold highlights slightly tarnished. Somehow his gaze went deeper and saw far more, reflecting the heart of someone who had been badly burned in the past and chose to keep his distance from the flames in the future.

Time seemed to catch its breath as he studied her through the veiling layer of tulle. It felt as though he spoke to her on some private wavelength. As though some part of him called to her, demanding a response. She almost took that final step separating them, intent on wrapping herself around him. Before she could cave to instinct, Lazz cupped her elbow and turned them to face the priest, his touch burning through the satin of her sleeve.

The ceremony passed in a haze, the familiar words settling over her like a comforting mantle. Finally the moment came when they were to speak their vows. The priest blessed their rings and presented hers to Lazz. She watched as he accepted the simple gold band, fascinated by the graceful sweep of his hand. She’d never noticed Marco’s hands before, but she did Lazz’s. They were long and powerful and unbearably elegant. At the priest’s direction, Lazz took her hand in his.

And that’s when it happened.

She’d felt the burn of his touch through the satin of her wedding gown. But it was nothing in comparison to the shock that struck her when skin touched skin. It hit with such force that if Lazz hadn’t been holding on to her, she’d have fallen. His fingers tightened around hers, and she glanced up, somewhat relieved to see his look of stunned disbelief. It would seem she wasn’t the only one to feel it.

“What the hell was that?” he muttered.

“Not quite the first words I’d hoped to hear my husband speak,” she whispered back. “But an excellent question. What just happened?”

With a swift glance toward the priest, Lazz shook his head and the ceremony resumed. He repeated his vows in a strong, clear voice. And then it was her turn. Whatever had caused the jolt of electricity had subsided into a bone-deep warmth that seeped inward and lapped through her veins, melting her into irrational want.

She struggled to focus on the words of commitment, but they turned into a meaningless jumble that twisted her tongue and had her switching impatiently to Italian. Sympathetic laughter drifted from those seated in the pews. No doubt they thought wedding jitters were responsible. But this—whatever this was—had nothing to do with jitters and everything to do with the man holding her hand.

Minutes flew by and then came the words she’d awaited with equal parts dread and anticipation. The priest pronounced his final blessing then instructed Lazz to kiss his bride. He took his time, driving her to the brink of insanity with his deliberation.

Slowly, he reached for her, capturing her veil and flipping it backward away from her face. He gazed down at her, his expression one of avid curiosity. It confirmed what she’d suspected. He didn’t remember her. The time they’d been in Marco’s conference room together hadn’t made the least impression, no doubt because he’d been focused on his brother and Caitlyn—the woman Marco had tricked into marriage, as well as the woman Lazz had hoped to marry.

Perhaps if circumstances had been different, she’d have found Lazz’s stunned reaction to her appearance amusing. Clearly, she met with his approval. As though unable to resist, he lowered his head and kissed her. She sensed he meant to keep it light and impersonal. But the instant their lips touched, heat exploded. His arms closed around her, powerful and possessive, and he locked her against him.

She’d been wrong. Oh, so wrong. Marco might have been a good kisser, but her husband was incredible.

One minute Lazz controlled both his life and destiny, and the next he took a woman he’d never truly met before for his wife and stepped into the vortex of a tornado.

If his life depended on it, he couldn’t have said what had happened in the course of the past ten minutes. From the instant he took Ariana’s hand in his own, everything changed. His illusion of control was ripped away, shredded in the howling winds of the tornado that tore through him. Reason vanished, as well. One thought consumed him.

Claim this woman. Grab hold of her and never let go.

He needed to make her his in every way possible. To make her understand that they were connected. That they belonged together. He vaguely heard the priest instruct him to kiss Ariana, and he wanted to shout in exultation.

First came the touch that linked them. Then came the kiss. And later, when they were alone, he would complete the bond between them. He would make her his in every sense of the word.