Dante's Honor-Bound Husband (4 page)

More than anything, she wanted to fall for David. Wanted The Inferno to strike with someone who wanted her as much as he did. Who would put her first in his life instead of picking her up when he found time—an afterthought that he could discard whenever he tired of her. And why, when David kissed her with such hunger were her thoughts consumed by Constantine? She pulled back, pasting a smile on her face.

“Well?” David prompted softly.

She avoided his gaze. “I need some time,” she replied.

He stilled, his expression cooling. “Time. Time to decide about New York? Or time to respond to my surprise?”

“I'm a little distracted by the gala,” she explained, avoiding a direct answer. “I also need to check my calendar.”

He lifted a light brown eyebrow. “Does that mean you're interested in a romantic weekend and all that entails?”

“I'm interested in discussing it,” she temporized. She checked her watch and winced when she saw the time. “I'm sorry, David. I need to get inside. Could we table our discussion until later?”

“Table our discussion,” he repeated.

Gianna sighed. “Sorry. I didn't mean to sound so businesslike.”

“That's fine. I get it.”

Without another word he exited the car. Circling the Jag, he opened her door and helped her out. They walked in silence to the elevators, the silence deepening as they shot upward to the appropriate floor.

The instant she stepped into the hallway, she sensed Constantine. He was nearby. Her reaction, primal and fierce, made her think of jungle animals responding to the pheromones of their mates. Part of her wanted to leave David's side and search through the warren of corridors until she found Constantine.

She closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. This had to stop. Now. She couldn't remain on this emotional roller coaster. Pushing emotion aside she focused on logic and practicality. If she caved to desire she'd be lost. She needed to focus on David d'Angelo. But with every step she took, all her senses remained tuned to one man. Consumed by him.

Constantine Romano. The man who'd stolen her heart and soul.

G
ianna stepped into the ballroom to discover that most of her family had already arrived. The instant they caught sight of her they descended and swept her off with David following reluctantly in their wake.

She remembered his comment about her family breathing down their necks and couldn't help wondering if he felt like a Dantes' afterthought the same way she felt like Constantine's afterthought. What a mess.

After checking to ensure that all the various details for the gala had been finalized, Gianna joined her family in the reception line while David helped himself to a flute of champagne and wandered among the various displays, attempting with only limited success to conceal his boredom.

“He is the only man I know who can look at the most beautiful jewelry in the world with all the excitement of someone tasting sour milk,” Gianna's brother Rafe growled
in her ear. “Make him stop before he sends all of our guests fleeing into the night.”

“How do you suggest I do that?”

“Your date. Your problem. But you'd better hurry up or I'll have to go over there and give him an attitude adjustment.”

“Are all of you this polite to David when I'm not around?” she asked suspiciously.

Her eldest brother, Luc, joined them, followed by Draco. They started in as though they'd rehearsed their remarks, which possibly they had. “We don't like him,” Draco announced, folding his arms across his chest. “And he doesn't like any of us.”

“He's preoccupied with money. Granted, he
is
a banker.”

“But it's all about the bottom line with him.”

“He has no poetry in his soul. He's cold-blooded. We don't want our baby sister married to someone so passionless.”

Gianna held up her hands. “Wait a minute. Just wait a minute. You've all been doing the big-brother thing with him, haven't you?” She eyed one after the other of her older siblings, none of whom had the grace to look the least shamefaced. She groaned. “Oh, Lord. You have.”

“He didn't pass the test,” Rafe explained helpfully. “He refused to attend a Giants game with me.
Box
seats.”

Luc nodded in agreement. “Failed miserably. He doesn't even
play
basketball. I don't think he likes to sweat.”

“He's a jerk,” Draco offered with a toothy grin that would have done a dragon proud. “He turned down a case of Primo's homemade beer. Sneered at it. I've never seen our grandfather so ticked off.”

“I would kill for a case of Primo's beer.” A new voice dropped into the conversation. A painfully familiar voice. One which had haunted her thoughts and memories for nineteen impossible months. “What a foolish man to turn
it down. Who are we talking about? Is this fool a friend of yours, Gianna?”

She spun around to face Constantine, her eyes widening at the sight of him. He was absolutely devastating in his tux, filling it out even better than David. Everything feminine within her responded to him. “What are you doing here, Constantine?” she demanded in a ragged undertone.

“What do you think?” His black gaze fastened on her as though she were the only one present. “I've come to claim what's mine.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw David approach. Not that it mattered to Constantine, if he even noticed. Instead, with her date and relatives looking on, he captured her chin in his hand and tilted her face up to his.

And then he consumed her.

Gianna didn't attempt to evade Constantine's kiss, regardless of who was watching. His lips took possession of hers and ignited a flame she'd never experienced with any other man. Definitely not with David. For a brief moment she forgot all those witnessing the potent embrace. Forgot the time, the day, even her own name. All that remained was the strength of Constantine's hold, the heat of his body and that incredible mouth that moved on hers with such possessiveness.

He said so much with that single kiss. He spoke of longing, of their endless parting. Of hunger and intense pleasure. But most of all he spoke of the simple, yet undeniable fact that the two of them belonged together. There was a certainty to his kiss, a confidence in the way he took her mouth. A rightness. He knew her and what she wanted. And he gave it to her.

Any thought of resistance faded. Why would she resist when she wanted this more than she wanted air to breathe? Everything about him drew an elemental response from her.
His crisp, unique scent. The hard, undeniable maleness of his body locked against hers. The molten burn of his touch. Just a single touch and The Inferno went wild, shaking her to the very depths of her being. Even the beat of his heart resonated with her own.

And all the while, the explosive desire that heated their embrace sizzled with an intoxicating joy that they were together once again. She could practically feel his certainty grow with every second that passed, a fierce determination that formed the foundation of his character. It told her that he would have her for his own regardless of what obstacles he faced—including David.

It didn't matter that Constantine came from Italian aristocracy or that he'd been educated in the finest schools or that the Romanos were renowned for their civility and propriety. When stripped of all his social refinement, the man who held her remained a pirate at heart, intent on taking what he considered his. Intent on taking her.

She shivered within his hold, teetering on the brink of surrender. It wasn't until David dropped a hand on her shoulder and literally ripped her from Constantine's arms that she realized where she was—and in whose arms.

Heat burned in Gianna's cheeks and she took another hasty step backward, struggling to regain her composure. How could she have kissed Constantine like that in public, with her entire family looking on, not to mention the A-list roster of clients she'd personally invited to the gala? What must they all be thinking? She spared David a brief glance and cringed at the blatant outrage darkening his expression. No question what
he
thought.

Snatching a deep breath, she fell back on the sort of courtesy she had been taught since the moment she could first form coherent sentences. “David, this is Constantine Romano. He's…well…he's a member of the family. Sort of.”
She spared Constantine a swift glance, startled by the flash of recognition when he first looked at David, fury following swiftly. That's right. They had a passing acquaintance. By the looks of things, maybe a passing enmity would better describe it. Tension thickened the air between the two men. “Constantine?” she asked hesitantly.

“I am not a member of the family,” he contradicted in a hard voice, adding, “Yet. And David and I have met.”

David smiled with a cold, cutting amusement that stole every ounce of charm from his expression. “Romano.” He flicked a speck of lint from the cuff of his snowy dress shirt, making her wonder if he'd like to flick Constantine out of his way with a similar disdain. “As usual your timing leaves something to be desired.”

Constantine took a step in his direction and to her alarm, her brothers packed in behind him. “What you mean is…as usual, I've arrived just in time.” He spoke to Gianna without taking his gaze off David. “Is this him?” he demanded. “Is d'Angelo the bastard you told me about?”

How in the world did she answer that? She couldn't remember ever feeling so uncomfortable before. “He's the man I mentioned to you, yes,” she confessed. “We've been dating for the past couple of months.”

“You don't owe Romano an explanation,” David said. “He's not a factor in your life, any more than he's a member of your family.”

“To the contrary. Gianna and I are discussing ways we might change that. In the very near future I intend to be a permanent fixture in her life.”

David froze and his intense blue eyes narrowed. Sharpened. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

Constantine smiled, a dangerous, predatory baring of his teeth. “I mean just what you think I mean. I've moved to
San Francisco with the express intention of asking Gianna to do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

Conversation exploded around them. “Oh, God,” Gianna murmured, swaying in place.

As though from a great distance she could hear the excitement and approval of her family, the congratulations that made it clear that the Dantes were firmly aligned in Constantine's corner of this hideous triangle. She spun to face an infuriated David.

He gathered up his self-control and forced out a smile. She couldn't begin to imagine how much effort it took. “You're delusional, Romano. Gia and I already have an understanding, one that will be cemented on our upcoming trip to New York City. A private suite at the Ritz. Candlelight and roses.” He gestured carelessly toward one of the display cases. “Is Sev the one I should see in order to purchase a Dantes' engagement ring? I'm assuming Tiffany's or Cartier is out of the question. A shame really.”

Dead silence followed David's comment. She could feel the waves of fury pouring off Constantine, which was no doubt the point. And after the crack about Tiffany's and Cartier, her family didn't appear any calmer. How could David be so foolish? It was so unlike him. Granted, he hadn't formed the sort of tight relationship with her brothers she'd hoped he would, but he'd never been deliberately rude. In fact, he'd always been polite, intent on making a good impression, even if it lacked a certain warmth.

Time to act, Gianna realized, and fast. The first item on her agenda was to remove David from the line of fire before someone decked him. Then they'd have a talk. A
long
talk. She needed to decide once and for all whether there was any possibility of a future for her with David. If not, the only honorable option was to end things between them.

“If you'll excuse us, my date and I have a few important matters to discuss,” Gianna announced.

David grinned in triumph and dropped an arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his arms. For a split second she thought matters might turn physical. Maybe they would have if David's impromptu embrace hadn't placed her squarely between the warring factions. An accident, she was certain. Her oldest brother, Luc, grabbed Constantine's shoulder in one hand and Rafe's in the other, actively restraining the two men.

“Later,” she heard him murmur. “This isn't the proper time or place.”

Clearly David had no intention of waiting for the proper time or place. “Yes, boys, heel” came his parting shot before he swept her away.

“What is going on?” she demanded in an undertone.

His congenial mask faded. “I planned to ask you the precise same questions.”

“Answer mine, first. What's between you and Constantine?”

“Old history. Nothing to do with us. Come.” He gestured toward the terrace off the ballroom. “Let's find somewhere private to talk.”

Though it was midsummer, a cool haze embraced their surroundings, creating a pale, misty curtain. The sprawl of the city glittered softly through the veil, muffling sight, sound and light. It was almost as though they were cut off from the rest of the world, trapped within an oasis of fog. Tables dotted the terrace, situated in cozy, shadow-draped alcoves. David selected the most private.

“Why don't you sit here for a moment while I get us both a drink.”

She wasn't going to let him off the hook. “Then you'll explain?”

“Absolutely. Just as you will.”

She heard the clipped warning in his voice and winced. She didn't look forward to that part of the conversation at all. She used her time alone to consider how to describe her relationship to Constantine, not to mention that kiss. It would be lovely if she could get away with a short: “It's none of your business.” But she knew David better than that.

Before she could come up with a firm plan, he returned with a flute of champagne for her and a Campari for himself. He even offered a congenial smile. After his earlier anger, his sudden equanimity surprised her. She took a sip of champagne and wrinkled her nose at the aftertaste. What in the world…? She'd had this wine before and never experienced the faintly bitter finish she did on this occasion.

He raised his highball glass. “To us.”

Aware that David was waiting for a response, she quickly switched gears and tipped her flute in his direction. “To us,” she hastened to repeat, gently tapping her glass against his and took another tongue-curdling sip of her wine. As much as she preferred to avoid the coming confrontation, she knew she couldn't. But maybe she could delay her own explanation by taking the offensive. “What's going on, David?”

“You tell me.” He eyed her over the rim of his glass. Though he'd banked his anger, she could sense it smoldering just beneath the surface. “That wasn't exactly a familial kiss you exchanged with Romano.”

“We're old friends.”

“
Intimate
old friends?”

She couldn't discern his expression in the darkness of the terrace, but his tone didn't require the bright light of day to decipher. He was flat-out furious. She took her time responding, sipping her champagne, then wished she hadn't
bothered. She chose her words with care. “We dated,” she admitted. “Very, very briefly.”

“You slept with him.”

Anger rippled through her and she set her flute on the table, the crystal singing against the wrought iron. “That's none of your business.”

She thought he'd argue the point. He must have reconsidered, because he shrugged. “You're right. It isn't,” he conceded. He lifted her glass and handed it to her again, in what was clearly meant to be a peace offering. “I was jealous. Considering that kiss you and Romano exchanged, is it surprising?”

“I guess not.”

She accepted the glass. This time when she sipped, she attempted to analyze what was off about the wine. It wasn't flat or sour. The carbonation remained strong and crisp, the flavor light and fruity with a hint of yeast. And yet, the bitterness persisted. She made a mental note to check with the caterer. For now, she'd let the problem go and give her full attention to David.