Dante's Stolen Wife (10 page)

“Where’s Britt?” Caitlyn demanded.

Angie stared at her in confusion. “I thought she was with you. She asked if I’d cover her desk while she went over to the warehouse.”

Caitlyn inhaled sharply. The warehouse. The warehouse where sitting on her desk were files that were a literal goldmine of information for
The Snitch
’s snitch. She fought to stay calm and think. First off, she needed help. Marco and Lazz were out of the country. Sev was in New York with Francesca. That left Nicolò.

A single phone call confirmed that he hadn’t arrived at work yet, which left her on her own. She thought fast and then headed for the legal department, hoping against hope that Marco had gotten them working on that confidentiality agreement. She could have kissed the man when he handed it over without a qualm. Next she requested that a notary be located and sent to the warehouse. And then she made a beeline for the exit, struggling not to panic as she went tearing back to her office.

She already knew what she’d find, despite praying she’d be proven wrong. Sure enough, Britt sat in Caitlyn’s chair, her feet resting on the desktop, one of the personal files Caitlyn had protected with such care open in her lap.

“Put it down,” she snapped out the order.

Britt simply grinned. “Wow. You look a bit peeved. Bad morning?”

“I’m not going to ask you again, Britt.”

“Funny. I don’t remember you asking me the first time.” She dropped her feet to the floor but didn’t close the file. “This makes for fascinating reading.”

Caitlyn retrieved the document she’d picked up from legal and slapped it in front of Britt. “I’ve called for a notary. She’ll be here in the next few minutes. When she arrives, you’re going to sign this.”

“Let me guess. It’s a confidentiality agreement.” Britt shook her head. “Too little, too late, I’m afraid.”

“We’ll see.”

“You know…something’s been bugging me.”

Caitlyn lifted an eyebrow. “Bugging you down to the bones? Isn’t that one of the lines you used in your latest article for
The Snitch
? As soon as I read it, I knew it had to be you. You used that expression when we last spoke.”

“Caught that, did you?” Britt lifted a shoulder. “I wondered when I wrote it if you would.”

“What did you do? Listen at the door when Lazz, Marco and I had our disagreement? There are too many accurate quotes in that article for it to have happened any other way.”

“You all made it so easy for me. Why shouldn’t I take advantage of the opportunity?” She waved that aside.

“You know, I’ve been curious for some time why everyone’s in such an uproar over my stories. I mean who cares what
The Snitch
prints about the Dantes? It’s free publicity. It sure as hell hasn’t hurt sales from what I’ve seen and heard.”

“It’s affecting Dantes’ expansion into the European market.”

“Yes, Lazz was kind enough to explain that part to me. But what I didn’t get for the longest time is why the Romanos care about what
The Snitch
prints. What’s it to them, anyway?”

“They’re protecting their reputation.”

Britt snapped her fingers. “Truer words have never been spoken. And would you like to know precisely what they’re protecting?” She leaned across the desk and whispered, “The Romanos are broke.”

“You’re making that up.”

Britt shook her head. “No, I’m not. Ironic, isn’t it?” She leaned back in Caitlyn’s chair and folded her arms behind her head. “Marco’s spent all this time and money to win their patronage and the Romanos can’t even afford a nickel-plated nose ring, let alone a Dantes original.”

“How in the world could you possibly know anything about the state of the Romanos’ finances, Britt? You write for a penny-ante scandal sheet.”

“Oh, I have a few European contacts. According to them, rumors about Vittorio Romano have been floating around for quite a while now. But the Romanos still have an amazing amount of influence over there.” Her hand fluttered through the air. “Italian royalty and all that. They’ve managed to squelch any negative talk. But that won’t last much longer.” She tapped the file she held.

“Unless, of course, they decide to force Lazz to honor his father’s little business contract. Won’t
The Snitch
readers find that a fascinating little tidbit.”

An idea came to Caitlyn, as though a gift from on high. Not just how to stop Britt, but how to use her as she’d been using Dantes. She just needed a few minutes to think. To organize the various pieces into a logical whole.

“I don’t think your readers will find your next story interesting at all,” Caitlyn said with exquisite calm. “Because you’re not going to print it. In fact, your days writing about the Dantes are about to end.”

Britt’s eyebrows shot upward. “And you’re going to somehow end them?”

“Well…The way I figure it, the Romanos—those same Romanos who have such an amazing amount of influence—will have a bit more sway over here than you might think. And I’m guessing they’re not going to be too happy when I tell them what you’re about to do. I’m also willing to bet that you’re going to find yourself in an even more uncomfortable position now that you’re outed as
The Snitch
’s snitch. What use will you be to the tabloid when Dantes fires you? Or sues you for defamation? The Romanos might not have the money to pursue legal action, but I assure you that the Dantes can afford it, and then some.”

Britt gave a careless shrug, but a hint of worry flickered behind her eyes. “I still have plenty of ammunition to sell to
The Snitch
.”

“It’s going to run out eventually,” Caitlin pointed out. “And then where will you be? I doubt
The Snitch
is going to keep you around when you can’t deliver the goods any longer.”

Britt’s expression turned shrewd. “I gather this is leading somewhere? Maybe a deal of some sort?”

Caitlyn nodded. “You leave the Romanos alone, as well as forget all about that contract you found, and I’ll give you a huge final story. A really special one.”

“I don’t know…” Britt caressed the folder she held.

“The story I just found is pretty darn special. Why would I give it up?”

“That contract is twenty years old. It isn’t worth the paper it’s written on. Plus, although the Romanos might get big play in Europe, the average American reader doesn’t know them. Why would Snitch readers care whether some aristocratic European family is struggling financially? Your editor isn’t going to pay much for that story. Trust me, Britt. The one I have in mind is far better.”

Avarice gleamed in Britt’s eyes. “How much better?”

“A dream come true.”

Suspicion tempered her greed. “If your story is so much better, why are you willing to trade it for the Romanos? I must be missing something.”

“For one reason and one reason only. It will salvage Marco’s deal, and I’ll do anything to help my husband.”

She didn’t say anything more, but waited to see if the other woman would take the bait. For a minute Caitlyn didn’t think it would happen. Then greed won out.

“This had better be good, or it’s all going in.”

Caitlyn shook her head. “You’re going to sign that confidentiality agreement. After this story, you’re done writing about the Dantes and their associates.” She almost laughed at the sly expression in Britt’s eyes. “Don’t bother looking for a loophole. Marco had Legal create a nice, airtight document. Knowing them, you probably can’t even speak the Dante name without serious repercussions.”

Britt moistened her lips. “Is your story that good?” At Caitlyn’s nod, she pressed. “First, I need a hint.”

“Fair enough. Ever heard of Dantes’ Inferno?”

Britt’s eyes widened. “Once. When I asked Lazz about it, he clammed up and I couldn’t pry another word out of him.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “I take it we have a deal?”

“Absolutely.”

“Just one other question while we wait for the notary.”

Britt grimaced. “I can guess. You want to know why. Why would I betray the darling Dantes after all they’ve done for me.” She rolled her eyes. “Would you like me to make up some sob story about a poor, sick mother? How about a desperately ill child? Would that satisfy you?”

“The truth will do.”

“Oh, come on, Caitlyn. Why do you think?” She caressed the earrings she wore, earrings she’d bragged about during lunch that fateful day Marco had swept her off to Nevada. The fire diamonds licked coldly across Britt’s earlobes. “I got ticked off when Marco and Lazz wouldn’t give me the time of day but were all over you. Seemed to me selling my stories to
The Snitch
was the only way I was going to get my hands on the Dante jewels, even if they weren’t the ones I’d originally had in mind.” Then she had the nerve to wink.

The notary arrived a short time later and Britt signed the confidentiality agreement. The minute they were alone again, she leaned forward. “Just so you know, I’m going to quote you, word for word. Your name’s going to be all over this article so that everyone knows it was you who betrayed Marco and the Dante family. You may be Mrs. High-and-Mighty Dante now. But how long do you think your marriage will last once your husband finds out what you’ve done?”

Caitlyn didn’t have any doubt about that. It would last about as long as Britt’s future at Dantes.

C
aitlyn had planned to tell Marco what happened with Britt the instant he walked through the door. To explain what she’d done and why. But the longer it took for him to return home, the less she wanted to confess her sins. Pacing through the empty apartment, she faced some hard, cold facts.

Her actions today, even though she’d tried to base them on the better good of Dantes, would damage her relationship with Marco, perhaps irreparably. She could explain that she’d attempted to choose the lesser of two evils, but in all honesty she’d made some huge mistakes along the way. For one thing she’d confronted Britt on her own without consulting the Dantes first. Granted, there hadn’t been anyone to consult when she’d reached her decision. But that didn’t change the fact that it wasn’t her decision to make.

Worse, she’d told Britt about The Inferno. Would Marco understand that she’d revealed the information with the best of intentions? Would he understand that she’d thought it would protect the Romanos, in addition to the Dantes European expansion? That she had a plan in mind when she’d made the revelation?

Or would he believe she’d put a friend before family loyalty? That her doubts about The Inferno had led her to be indiscreet? Because if there was one thing that she and Marco agreed to disagree about, it was The Inferno.

Still, that didn’t mean she had to tell him what she’d done the minute he walked in the door, she suddenly realized. This night could still be theirs. All she had to do was remain silent until morning.

His key sounded in the lock and the next instant he was there, filling the apartment with body and spirit. Filling her heart to overflowing. “Why are you standing here in the dark?” He dropped his bags just inside the door and kicked it closed behind him. “
Cara
? Is something wrong?”

“No.” She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t hide what she’d done from him. “Yes.”

He was by her side before the words had even left her lips. His arms closed around her and she simply melted. Everything about him ripped her to pieces, shredded her emotions and then put them back together again. With one touch he turned her world upside down and sent everything safe and rational spinning into chaos. And with the next touch he made that world right again, made her realize that this was where she belonged. In his arms, tucked close to his heart.

She inhaled the crisp, delicious scent of him, filling her lungs until she was dizzy with it. She’d missed him, been empty without him. And more than anything, she needed his hands on her. Needed to feel him moving over her, the sweet dichotomy of male in life-affirming opposition to female. To hear desperate Italian endearments ripping through that deep, lyrical voice. To watch those beautiful angled features harden with passion, while the burn of want swept into his eyes and set them afire with sparks of gold and amber and jade.

She forced herself to ignore the yearning and tell him what she’d done. “Something happened today that I need to discuss with you.”

“Stop.” He covered her mouth with his fingers. “I’ve been gone a week. First things first.”

He cupped her face and lifted her for his kiss. With a soft moan she opened to him, welcoming him home. He swept inward with lazy intent, nipping playfully, and she tumbled headlong into the embrace. Thrusting her fingers deep into his thick hair, she angled her head for better access and whispered her encouragement. His playfulness faded, replaced with blatant hunger.

At least here, when they came together like this, they were perfectly attuned. She only wished it could be enough. With a sigh of regret, she turned her head aside. “We need to talk first. We can have sex afterward.” Assuming he still wanted to.

“No.”

Surprise had her looking at him. “No?”

“No, damn it.” Frustration ate through his words.

“It’s not just sex and you know it. From the moment we first touched it’s always been something more than that.”

“The Inferno.”

“Is that so hard to accept?”

“Funny you should mention that. I—”

He took her hand in his and locked it, palm to palm, with his. “Tell me you don’t feel that.”

She closed her eyes, shivering. Heat warmed the center of her hand, sinking deep inward and sending desire screaming through her body. “It’s you. Just you.”

“Someday you’ll admit the truth.” He stopped her before she could argue. “I know, I know. Fairy tales aren’t truth.”

“Marco—”

“Later. Right now I’m going to give you a taste of happily-ever-after. And if that’s not enough to convince you, we’ll start over again with once-upon-a-time. And I will tell you the tale again and again until you’re convinced it’s real, no matter how long it takes.”

With that he swept her up and carried her through to the bedroom. They tumbled to the mattress together, locked in each other’s arms. He found her mouth again and worried at her bottom lip before seducing her with slow, drugging kisses.

She fumbled with the knot of his tie and loosened it, stripping away the length of silk before tackling the buttons of his shirt. He moved to help and she chased his hands away, rolling until she was on top. “No. It’s my turn. Let me do this for you.”

One by one, she slipped button through hole, pushing aside the soft cotton. Heaven help her, but he was a beautiful man. She never tired of looking at him, of touching the delicious male contours that were so different from her own. She traced a path over his smooth chest, easing the shirt from his shoulders. He lifted onto his elbows so she could sweep it aside.

He remained silently watchful, his expression giving nothing away. Not that he’d remain impassive for long. She’d see to that. She lowered her head to trail kisses down the center of his chest. Then lower still. Without a word she unbelted his trousers and stripped him. And then she gave him the most intimate kiss of all.

She heard the harsh groan, the choked sound he made when he attempted to push out her name. His fingers forked into her hair. She resisted their tug, intent on giving him as much pleasure as he had given her over the past weeks. His voice filled the air, the Italian poetic in its expressiveness, ripe with power. She didn’t have to understand the words to hear the desperate plea behind them. And then the tenor changed, became demand, a demand she found impossible to resist.

He dragged her upward, making short work of the few garments she wore. She expected him to take her then, fast and frantic. He must have read her thoughts because he simply shook his head.

“I can’t,” he told her. “This is too important to rush. Don’t you understand? I want these times we spend together to last, so I can relish every moment of them. They’re beautiful and intimate. These are the times I feel closest to you. Why would I rush that? That’s not how I want you. It never has been.”

He watched as confusion came, then eased. “We’re dancing again, aren’t we?” she asked in sudden understanding. “The goal isn’t getting to point Z.”

He caught the reference from one of their discussions early in their marriage and smiled in response. “No, it’s not. It’s all the points in between that are most important.”

Mischief sparkled within her eyes. “Are you sure about that?”

He nuzzled the soft curve of her breast. “Point Z is inevitable in all things, not just making love. But to fully enjoy the culmination you have to savor each step in between. And that’s what I plan for tonight. To savor you,
cara
.”

“Oh, Marco.”

Tears sparkled in her eyes and he saw something there he’d waited a long time to see. Did she even realize she loved him? Or did fear keep her from acknowledging that the way it kept her from acknowledging the truth of The Inferno?

If she couldn’t see it for herself, he’d have to show her in every possible way. Time slipped softly by, an unnoticed tempo to the points along the way as Marco lingered over each step of their lovemaking. He adored kissing her silken skin, worshiping it with lips, tongue and teeth. Loved the contrast of fine-boned strength that lay just beneath the lush roundness of feminine curves.

She called so sweetly to him as her climax approached, and that night the song she sang as she went over was unlike anything he’d ever heard before. He wanted to spend a lifetime drawing that song from her. Moving to it. Making love to it. Creating endless harmonies to accompany it.

Night filled the room when they exchanged a long, leisurely kiss and drifted into an exhausted slumber, arms and legs entwined. Marco smoothed his hand down his wife’s spine and tucked her close. She wiggled against him, pillowing her head in the crook of his arm.

She murmured something in her sleep, something remarkably like, “I love you, Marco.”

“I love you, too,
cara
,” he whispered. And then he slept.

Marco woke not long after dawn, the soft burr of his cell phone pulling him from a deep, peaceful sleep. Swearing beneath his breath, he carefully eased himself from his wife’s embrace and snatched up the phone. Then he padded naked into the living room.

“This better be important,” he growled.

“Where’s Caitlyn?” Nicolò asked in abrupt Italian.

Marco glanced over his shoulder. The bedroom remained shrouded in silence. “The same place I should be.” He answered in Italian, as well. “In our bed. Asleep.”

“Listen, you need to come down to Dantes. We’ve got a problem.”

“What’s it got to do with Caitlyn?”

“How do you know—”

“You asked where she was. You’d only have done that if whatever’s going on somehow involves her.” At his brother’s continued silence, Marco snapped, “Does it?”

“We’ll explain when you get here.”

Jet lag ate at the frayed edges of his temper. “You’ll explain now.”

“I can’t do that. Won’t,” he corrected. “There’s something you need to see. To read.”

“And whatever this something is has to do with Caitlyn?”

“Yes.” Nicolò paused. “And Marco? We’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this meeting to your wife.”

Marco didn’t know what the hell was going on, but he suspected he wasn’t going to like whatever his brothers had to say to him. In fact, he knew he wouldn’t. After quietly dressing he scribbled a quick note to Caitlyn, in case she woke before he returned, informing her he’d be back in an hour or so. Then he drove to Dantes.

His three brothers were all waiting for him when he arrived, grouped around the smoked-glass conference table off Lazz’s office. He examined them one by one. Sev appeared troubled, and sat silent and tense. Lazz looked equally concerned, and that worried Marco since he suspected that his twin still had feelings for Caitlyn, even if they now leaned toward a more brotherly regard. If Lazz had aligned himself with Sev and Nicolò, that didn’t bode well for Caitlyn. Worst of all, Nicolò, the family troubleshooter, quietly steamed, his eyes black with anger.

Nicolò took the lead, spinning a well-thumbed copy of
The Snitch
across the length of the table toward Marco. “That edition came out yesterday, before you and Lazz returned home. Read it.”

Taking his time, Marco gave the article his full attention. Fury boiled through him with each successive word. “What the hell is this?” he demanded. “How could they know what happened that day in Lazz’s office? There were only three—”

“Exactly,” Nicolò pronounced.

Marco’s head jerked up. “You can’t think…” They did think. Every last one of them. “No way. No damn way did Caitlyn hand this information over to
The Snitch
. She wouldn’t do it.”

Next Nicolò shot several typed pages stapled together in a thin packet down the table toward Marco. “Now read this. I don’t think you were meant to find it until Monday. But I came into work today to leave some papers in your office and found it sitting on your desk.”

Reluctantly Marco picked up the papers. Dantes’ Inferno, screamed the title. Marco’s bride tells all. He read every last word. The innuendos. The endless quotes. The underlying mockery that clung like slime to every sentence. Through it all he looked for key phrases. Phrases like “fantasy” or “superstition” or “fairy tale.” But they weren’t there. He sucked in a slow, calming breath before lifting his gaze to his brothers’.

“So?” he said with a shrug. “She didn’t do this, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Nicolò shoved back his chair. “How can you say that?” he challenged in disgust. “Because she’s your Inferno bride? Because once she’s been struck by the family curse, she wouldn’t dream of betraying us?”

“Blessing,” Marco and Sev said in unison.

Nicolò swore. “This is serious. There were only three of you in Lazz’s office the day you had that argument. Lazz says that most of what
The Snitch
has quoted is accurate.”

“It is,” Marco reluctantly confirmed.

“Now we have advance copy on the next article and once again Caitlyn is quoted.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“I called the paper, Marco! I asked them about it and they’ve admitted this is the exact same article their reporter turned in to them, although they refused to identify her. Her,” he repeated. “They’re planning to run this story in their next edition. Now, are you still going to tell me Caitlyn’s innocent in all this?”

“Ah, guys—” Lazz began.

Marco waved him silent and shot to his feet. “You want me to explain how I know she isn’t involved?”

“Oh, please.” Nicolò folded his arms across his chest.

“This I’ve got to hear.”

“Fine. I’ll tell you.” Marco planted his hands on the table and leaned in, speaking with absolute conviction. “I know Caitlyn didn’t do this because I know my wife. Not because of The Inferno. But because I’ve lived with her. Worked with her. Spent time with her. And she’s as honest and decent and honorable as the day is long. Nothing you can say will convince me that she betrayed us.”

“Marco—”

“Stay out of this Lazz.” He locked gazes with Nicolò.

“Now are we through here?”

Nicolò’s smile was harder than Marco had ever seen it before. “I’m not sure. Why don’t we ask your wife.”

Marco froze. Caitlyn was here? Why hadn’t he felt her? Why hadn’t he sensed her presence? The Inferno had always worked as a warning system before this. He spun around and found her standing there. Just standing there, looking more devastated than he’d thought possible.