Dante's Ultimate Gamble (4 page)

She pushed a button with smooth precision and started a new conversation. “Davida, what—” Pause. “Listen up. If you fail that course, you’ll be on academic probation. No, I can’t get you off again. You’ll have to go in and speak to your professor. Well, why did you miss the exam? Oh, for— Yes, that was exasperation you heard in my voice. Recovering from a frat party is not an acceptable excuse for… I don’t intend to argue the point. If you can’t work it out with your professor, you know the consequences.” A fraction of a pause this time.
“Oh, really? Well, let me spell it out for you. Colleges no longer offer BS degrees in Flirting. If you get kicked out, there’s a job waiting for you in the mailroom at Bling. Why, Vida, that’s brilliant. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me to suggest you speak to your professor and throw yourself on his mercy.”

She flipped the phone closed. It immediately began its “Answer me!” chirp.

“Téa—” Luc began.

She held up a preemptory Wait-A-Minute finger which he would have found amusing if it had been aimed at anyone other than him. “What did you do this time, Kat?” Téa asked the instant she answered the shrill summons. “Again? That’s the third time you’ve been in detention this month. It’s also the third time I’ve had to speak to the principal this month. Listen, I have to go. Madam needs me. I’ll see you later tonight and we’ll discuss it then.”

Luc winced at the way she said “discuss.” He didn’t envy Kat that particular conversation. Téa hesitated, her hand hovering over the lavender phone that had caused them so much trouble earlier in the day. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, but didn’t pick it up.

“Well?” Luc prompted. “I thought you said you took her call anytime, no matter when or where.”

“Yes,” she confessed. “But I really don’t want to answer this time.”

Amusement filled him. “Afraid she’ll know what you’ve been up to?”

She fixed her startling blue-green eyes on him and nodded. “She can read minds,” Téa answered, perfectly serious. “There’s no point in trying to lie to Madam. She knows.”

“She won’t know.”

“Yes, she will. You’ll see.” The response came out in a “we’re doomed” tone of voice. Bracing herself, she picked up the lavender phone and flipped it open. “Hi, Madam. What’s up?” she asked, sounding a shade too casual.

“It’s not that she can read minds,” Luc offered helpfully. “It’s that you don’t know how to lie.”

She scowled at him over the phone and mouthed, “Shut up,” gesturing to give the demand added emphasis. Then she froze, her eyes huge. Guilt stormed across her face like an invading army. “Nothing. No one.”

Luc snorted. “Give it up.” Crossing to her side, he snatched the phone out of her hand. “Hello, Madam. It’s Luc.”

There was a brief pause and then Madam said, “Luc? Are you and Téa still together?”

“Just ironing out the final details over dinner.”

An almost girlish laugh came across the airwaves. “I’m so relieved you agreed to do this. Nonna was just saying she wouldn’t trust anyone else with my granddaughter’s welfare, and neither would I.”

“Nonna’s with you?” So much for palming the job off on his associates. Even if he could get Madam to agree, Nonna would put a swift end to that particular dodge.

“She’s right here. The two of us made a day of it. We’ve been shopping. Visiting. You know…” He could almost see her airy wave. “Right now, we’re sitting in Primo’s garden, enjoying the night air over a glass of wine. Do you want to speak to your grandmother?”

He froze, hoping guilt didn’t decide to invade his face now that it was done with Téa’s. “No, no. That’s not necessary.”

“It’s been hours since lunch. And no one’s been able
to reach Téa all this time. That’s so unlike her. We were starting to worry.”

Luc couldn’t help himself. It must have been the alcohol that gave the devil access to his tongue while preventing his guardian angel from curbing it. “She insisted on turning off her cell phones while we put our differences to bed,” he explained in a bland voice.

Téa made a choking noise.

“Very wise,” Madam approved. “I’m just surprised it’s taken you so long to settle everything.”

“You know your granddaughter,” Luc replied smoothly. He fixed Téa with a hot, hungry gaze. “She’s very thorough. Likes to examine every inch of whatever you put in front of her and make sure she’s intimately familiar with each and every detail.”

Téa closed her eyes with a groan and sank back against the couch cushions.

“She is a bit of a perfectionist,” Madam conceded.

“I noticed that. And then the minute you think you’re finished, she wants to start at the beginning and go over it all again.”

“Well the two of you keep at it until you have it just right.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her you said so.”

With that the connection went dead, leaving Téa staring at him with death and dismemberment in her eyes.

“Well?” Nonna prompted. “Luc is still with Téa?”

Madam nodded slowly. “Interesting, yes?”

“Very.” Nonna’s expression turned crafty and she tapped her finger against her lower lip while she considered the possibilities. “They could not have been
discussing the job every minute of all this time, could they?”

“No.” Madam drew out the word. “I didn’t get that impression.”

“So? What do you think they were doing?”

Madam peered carefully around to make certain Primo was out of earshot. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I think they were having the sex.”

Nonna fought back a grin, while struggling to appear appropriately shocked. “Well, we thought we saw signs of The Inferno all those years ago when they first met at the lake as children. Little baby fizzes that suggest at what is to come. The same thing happened between Lazzaro and Ariana and look how happy they are together. This simply confirms our suspicions and means we did the right thing when we set this up.” A hint of satisfaction crept into her voice.

“You were right,” Madam conceded. “But then, you always are.”

“Once The Inferno strikes there is nothing they can do but give in to its demands. And maybe, if we are very fortunate, it will keep them too busy to ask uncomfortable questions.”

“What questions?”

“You have to admit, that story about Téa needing a bodyguard will not hold up for long,” Nonna said. “Luciano will soon discover that she is absentminded and when preoccupied prone to walk into walls, but is not in any real danger. We are lucky she had that little accident today or we might never have convinced him to help out.”

“Lucky!”

“Now, now. It could not have worked better if we had planned it. No one was hurt and it added credibility to
our story.” Nonna patted Madam’s arm in a reassuring manner. “Luciano is a good boy. Do not worry about your Téa.”

“I have always worried about her.” Madam’s dark eyes glistened with tears. “No one else does. She takes so much on her shoulders. Ever since her parents died. She blames herself, you know.”

“Luciano will ease her burden.” Nonna’s hazel eyes narrowed in thought. “So, step one is complete.”

“Step two will be far more difficult,” Madam warned.

Nonna lifted a shoulder in a shrug that spoke volumes. “There is always a way to get caught in the act, especially if nature is busy taking its course.”

“And once caught?”

Nonna’s smile grew cat-swallowing-canary smug. “Why, step three. A wedding, of course.”

Luc winced at the expression on Téa’s face. She stalked in his direction and snatched the cell phone from his hand. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“I’m sure she didn’t catch the subtext.”

Téa lifted an eyebrow. “And if she did?”

Luc felt dull color inch across his face. “Hell.”

“You think?” She marched to her handbag and carefully began reorganizing it. “You were right earlier,” she said as she arranged.

“Of course I was.” He paused a beat. “What was I right about?”

“I also vote to end things right now. Two ‘yes’ votes…that makes it unanimous. The motion carries. As of this minute our relationship is strictly business.”

He didn’t bother commenting, since ending the relationship was what he wanted, as well. Though why
he had a sudden urge to argue the point, he couldn’t say. Instead he frowned as the cell phones vanished into her shoulder bag. “Just out of curiosity, why do you have three phones instead of just one?”

“I tried that. There were so many messages, my cell exploded.”

His mouth twitched and he found himself relaxing. “Cell phones don’t explode.”

“Mine did.” Her graceful fingers continued sorting and arranging, dancing over her possessions with all the skill of a concert pianist. “After just twenty-four hours the poor thing whimpered like a baby. Then this mushroom shaped cloud erupted out of my purse and the phone melted into a puddle of electronic goo all over everything. It made a terrible mess.” She paused, a wistful expression creeping across her face. “A shame really. It was a pretty little thing. I quite liked it.”

He folded his arms across his chest and propped his shoulder against the wall. “That’s when you bought the individual phones?”

“Oh, no. Then I switched to one of those all-purpose PDA phones.”

“And?”

“It’s recovering nicely at the sanitarium. The doctors have high hopes it can be retrained as a dictionary or address book.”

Luc grinned, unexpectedly charmed. “And then?”

At long last she appeared satisfied with how she’d packed her shoulder bag and flipped open her briefcase. It was one of those with endless little cubbyholes and slots and zip sections. “Organization is important to me,” she said, stating the all-too obvious. “So, I assigned one phone for each need. My three sisters on one, my grandmother on the second and—”

“And?” he prompted again.

She shrugged, burying her head deeper in her briefcase. He suspected it was to avoid looking at him. “And a private line just for me.”

“Ah.” His focus narrowed, his hunting instincts going on full alert. “Who calls you on that one?”

For a moment, he didn’t think she’d respond, wouldn’t tell him whether there was someone special in her life. Then she admitted, “Sometimes work.” For a split second she appeared intensely vulnerable and self-conscious. “I’ve been meaning to cancel it. There’s really no point in keeping it since I rarely use it.”

For some odd reason it took a moment to respond. “Don’t,” he insisted gruffly. “Don’t cancel it.”

Now she did look at him, all ruffled and defenseless and clinging gallantly to her dignity. “Why ever not?”

“That one will be our phone.”

“
Our
phone?” She frowned. “We don’t need a shared phone. We’ll be together often enough that you can just tell me whatever you need to in person.”

“There may be times over the next six weeks when we’re not together and I’ll have to get in touch with you.” For some reason he found himself speaking gently. “If you’d rather not give me the number, I don’t mind sharing with your sisters.”

She dismissed the suggestion out of hand. “No, that won’t do.”

“What about my using Madam’s line?”

“Not a chance.” She sighed. “No. I guess it’ll have to be my private cell.”

He searched his pockets until he unearthed his phone. “Give me the number.”

Reluctantly she relayed it and he punched it in. “Once I turn twenty-five I’m going to cancel the service,” she
warned. She couldn’t have made herself any clearer if she’d announced, “In six weeks I’m deleting you from my phone, my work, my life…and my bed.”

“Understood,” he said, the word ripe with irony.

She stood, and he could tell she was intent on leaving. “Could you call me a cab?”

“Sure. Just as soon as we clarify one thing.”

“Which is?”

“This.”

He crossed to confront her, his arms closing around her. To his surprise, she didn’t attempt to slip from his grasp. Instead her curves settled against his, fitting like a key to a lock. Only this key and this lock were filled with heat and demand. Even more important, this key and lock opened a treasure beyond compare, one he’d never believed existed. One that tempted and seduced.

One he wasn’t quite certain he could walk away from in six weeks…though he’d find a way.

“We weren’t going to do this again,” she protested.

“We weren’t going to do this again once we started working together,” he corrected. He swung her into his arms. “Our working relationship doesn’t begin until tomorrow.”

“Your leg!”

“My leg will survive.” His lips curved into a wry smile. “It’s the rest of me that’s questionable.”

She teetered on a knife’s edge between resistance and capitulation and he waited to see which way she tipped. Then her expression softened into exquisite surrender.

“Well, guess what?” Her arms crept upward and wrapped around his neck. Her lips nuzzled into the hollow at the base of his throat. “Some things may be questionable for you, but I believe I have the answers. Shall we see if I’m right?”

He eyed her with amused appreciation as he carried her to the bedroom. “If you insist.”

“Oh, I do insist. In fact, I demand.”

“A demand is it?” He deposited her on his bed. “I guess a man has to do what a man has to do,” he said with a gusty sigh, and reached for his belt buckle.

L
uc wasn’t the least surprised when he woke the next morning to find Téa long gone, no doubt with her briefcase, shoulder bag and cranky cell phones in tow. Some bodyguard he was, allowing his assignment to slip away with such ease.

The apartment felt strangely empty and silent, qualities that until a few hours ago he’d not only prized, but actively sought. He glanced toward the bedside table where he’d stashed his cell phone. He was tempted to try the number she’d given him, but since he’d see her soon at work, there wasn’t much point.

He rolled over, planning to get up and shower and make tracks. But something stopped him, the faintest of scents. It sweetened the air next to him, coming from the indentation that was all that remained of Téa. He snagged the pillow and breathed her in.

Her light, crisp perfume saturated his lungs and made
him hungry for her. Hungry to repeat the excesses of the night before. But there was another reaction he hadn’t anticipated, one that was far worse. His palm throbbed and itched and he found himself rubbing at the sensation just as he’d seen Dante men do their entire lives.

As much as he wanted to deny it, he could feel The Inferno stirring like some great dragon waking from a deep sleep. Flames sparked and crackled, surging through his veins and heating his blood. Not good, he realized in alarm. Not good at all. Somehow, someway, he’d have to return the dragon to its eternal rest. Because if there was one thing he intended to avoid experiencing, it was The Inferno.

He refused to consider that it might be far too late.

Luc arrived at Billings less than an hour later. It was an impressive place, he decided. Thick pearl-gray carpet sucked up all peripheral noise. Not that there was much. The few people he saw spoke in hushed undertones. The furniture was all heavy wood, stained a deep, somber shade of brown. A jungle of plants sprouted from every corner, dense enough to hide a tiger if one wandered in by mistake.

It was all a bit on the stuffy, pretentious side, especially when compared to Dantes. Still, if the purpose of the decor was to give the visitor the impression of wealth and prestige, it succeeded.

The attractive, impeccably tailored receptionist seated behind an intimidating fortress of wood and electronics assured him that not only was Ms. de Luca there, but expecting him. After making a discreet phone call, she examined his identification and presented him with credentials that would allow him to breach the upper echelon of the company’s executive offices.

She then escorted him to a bank of elevators and actually pressed the call button for him. He couldn’t quite decide if it was the limp that made her so solicitous, or if she just thought men with limps had trouble pushing buttons.

Before he could ask, a gleaming elevator accented in mahogany and chrome and playing a soft operatic aria in the background arrived and carried him directly to the executive level where another impeccably tailored receptionist—this one male—escorted him down a heavily forested hallway. He didn’t see any tigers lurking in the brush, which disappointed him. But at least this receptionist didn’t have to press any buttons for him.

Instead he knocked on a door and opened it before motioning Luc into a corner office. A small break in the march of skyscrapers outside Téa’s window allowed for a sliver of sunshine to creep through, along with a splash of grayish-blue water. Luc stepped inside the office and closed the door in the receptionist’s face, if only to prove himself capable of that much.

“How nice,” he said to Téa, squinting at the sliver of water. “You have a view of the bay.”

Téa looked up from her computer screen. For an instant, he saw their last waking moments together reflected in the turbulent blue-green of her eyes. Then she smiled at his jest, robbing him of breath and making his palm throb. Other parts throbbed, as well, but he did his best to ignore those.

“Good morning,” was all she had to say to make the throbbing intensify.

“You left.” He didn’t mean to say that, let alone growl it. For some reason, he couldn’t stop himself. “You left without saying goodbye.”

“I did.”

He didn’t quite know what to respond to such a simple and ingenuous admission. He crossed to the window and snatched at his tie, tearing at the knot that threatened to choke him. “Maybe now would be a good time to decide how this bodyguarding stuff is going to work, don’t you think?”

“We were supposed to do that last night.”

He released a short laugh. “We seemed to spend a lot of last night doing what we weren’t supposed to and not doing what we were. How is today going to be any different?”

“We’ll start fresh,” she said lightly. “See if we can’t get it right this time.”

He spun to face her. “It felt like we got it right last night.”

“Don’t.”

Images ripped through his mind. Téa splayed across his bed, her glorious hair captured in the final rays of sunlight turning each strand to a blazing, vibrant russet. Téa, her pale skin soaking up the moonlight and glowing with a soft, pearl-white radiance. Those silken limbs twined around him, holding him in the cradle of her hips with surprising strength. The look in her eyes when he joined with her. The sound she made when she climaxed.

His mouth twisted. “Tell me how to stop and I will.”

A wistfulness crept into her expression, a hint of the want she’d expressed with such generosity the night before. He could see her swing, light as a summer breeze, between desire and her precious logic.

“Luc.” His name escaped on the swing toward desire. “I—”

Before she could complete the thought, a tinny
version of “Here Comes the Bride” filled the air. Every scrap of passion vanished as though it had never been. Without another word, she took the call. From what little he caught of the one-sided conversation, Juliana’s fiancée was in the military and stationed overseas, which probably explained why Téa was involved in so many of the decisions. The conversation seemed to go on forever and it wasn’t only passion that drained from her face, but energy. She’d just wrapped up that call when Davida rang with an update on her college woes, followed by Madam with a series of financial questions. At least Katrina held off, but maybe that was because someone had locked her in a classroom. Or better yet, detention. He could only hope.

Completing the call, Téa snapped the phone closed and regarded him with an appealing hint of bewilderment. “I’m sorry. What were we discussing?”

Best to let it go. After all, they’d elected to avoid that particular entanglement. “It wasn’t important.” He tilted his head to one side and decided to probe. He doubted it was germane to the job at hand, but he wouldn’t know for certain until he had all the facts. “Is your family always so demanding?” he asked curiously.

She shrugged. “I’m sort of the mother figure.”

He asked the next logical question. “What happened to yours?”

“She and my stepfather were killed in a car accident when I was a teenager.”

He saw it then, the curtain that whisked across her emotions, hiding them from view and could tell there was a lot more to that simple statement than she was letting on. Way more. Took one to know one. He also had an incident that he kept carefully curtained. Knew how hard she must have practiced to perfect that calm,
matter-of-fact tone. How carefully she worded the explanation so it contained the clear statement: Don’t go there. I don’t want to discuss it.

He let her off the hook. “I gather Madam took you in.”

Téa nodded. “She raised us. But it was my responsibility to fill in for our mother.”

Interesting. “Who told you that?”

“Who…?” The question knocked her off stride and she blinked at him, a hint of confusion causing her brow to wrinkle. “No one told me. No one had to.”

“Uh-huh.” He made some swift calculations in his head and came up with…way too young. “Just out of curiosity, how old are your sisters?”

“Juliann is twenty-two, Davida is twenty-one, and Katrina is eighteen. She graduates from high school in a couple months. Maybe.”

That pretty much confirmed what he suspected. “Which makes you only two years older than Juliann.”

“Almost three.” This time her response came with a hint of defensiveness.

He throttled back, keeping his comments gentle and understanding. “Right. But even so, it’s not quite enough of a gap to make you a mother figure in their eyes.” He shot her an easy, confiding sort of grin, one meant to link them in some nebulous way. “I mean, we’re both stuck in the same predicament. We’re the oldest. We’re supposed to set the example for the younger ones. But, my sister, Gia, is six years younger than me and I guarantee she doesn’t see me as a father figure. Not even close.”

Téa mulled that over, no doubt searching for a flaw in his logic. Eventually she came up with something,
though it took her a minute. “Probably because your father’s still alive,” she said with a hint of triumph. “But when our parents married, they sort of looked at me as if I were—” She broke off with another shrug, her logic running out of steam since her stepfather and mother would have still been alive then, too.

“A mother figure? At nine?” he asked gently.

“Not exactly,” she conceded. “But…more mature and distant. An aunt or something. I guess it evolved into a mother figure after my parents died.”

He tried not to wince. In other words, they made her feel like the odd man out, despite the fact that their father eventually adopted her. He thought back to that long-ago summer at the Dante family cabin. How she’d kept herself apart from the rest of them. Now that he thought about it, she’d been different in every possible way from her sisters. In looks—like a flame dancing in the middle of a pile of coal. In attitude—a helpless fawn flitting among a pack of rambunctious panther cubs. In action—an oasis of calm amidst a storm of juvenile turbulence.

“I remember the first time I saw you,” he confessed.

“You mean in the intersection?”

He shook his head. “No, I mean the very first time. At the lake when we were kids.” He tilted his head to one side, watching the play of emotions that chased across her face, the unexpected vulnerability. “Don’t you remember?” he asked softly.

She fiddled with a thick file folder on her desk, flipping it open and then closed again. “Yes,” she said after a moment. She lifted eyes gone dark with memories.

“You made me itch even then.” The words escaped of their own volition.

She stiffened. Her fingers played across the palm of her hand, though he doubted she even noticed. “Itch?”

He wouldn’t admit it might have been the early signs of The Inferno. He wasn’t willing to look at it that closely. But something about her had gotten under his skin, even then. “You irritated me.”

She didn’t press, made a face instead, then accused, “You were a bully. You all were.”

It was his turn to shrug. “It wouldn’t surprise me. We were probably operating under a pack mentality back then. And you didn’t fit in.”

She flinched. “No, I didn’t.”

He leaned across the desk toward her, sweeping a lock of hair off her brow and tucking it behind one ear. His fingers lingered, stroking. “You didn’t want to fit in.”

“Not then,” she agreed, leaning into the caress. “I wasn’t used to so much noise and confusion. Before we became de Lucas, it was just me and my mom. We lived a fairly quiet existence except when my Billings grandparents descended. Then it got a bit rocky.”

That snagged his attention and his hand fell away. “Why is that?”

“I don’t remember much, but according to Mom, Grandfather Billings was somewhat controlling.” She gave a quick half smile, confiding, “Of course he’d have been excruciatingly polite about it—not like the de Lucas who handle any disagreement at top volume.”

Luc grinned. “The Dantes have been known to go at it a time or two, though Nonna will bring us to a fast stop if it continues too long.”

“As will Madam. She’ll rap her knuckles on the table and if there isn’t instant silence…” Téa shuddered.

“She can be intimidating.”

“She terrified me during those early years,” Téa confessed.

It was a telling comment. “So how did Grandfather Billings take the news that your mother was going to remarry?”

“Not well. He was dead-set against it. In fact, he cut us off when she married Dad.” She leaned in closer still and dropped her voice, possibly because they were deep in Billings’s territory. Perhaps on some level old man Billings still infused the walls with his essence and she didn’t want to chance him overhearing. “It surprised the hell out of me when he named me his successor in the will. Until then I’d planned to get a law degree.”

And probably surprised the hell out of her cousin, Conway Billings. Luc decided against saying as much. “You call your stepfather Dad. And you use his name. I assume he adopted you?”

“Yes, when I turned sixteen. Six months later—” She broke off, but he caught the glint of tears in her eyes.

He gathered up her hand. Heat licked across his skin where their palms joined. It was a pleasant sensation. Reassuring on some level. It was as though what had been parted was once again joined and he could relax. “I’m sorry. Losing both of your parents like that must have been rough.”

“It would have been far worse if Madam hadn’t taken all of us in.”

“And now it’s time to pay her back for her generosity.”

For some reason that provoked a smile. “Is that so wrong?”

“You’re the one who almost got taken out by a cab because you were so distracted. You tell me.”

“It’s temporary,” she whispered. “As soon as I turn twenty-five—”

“You’ll take over the reins of a huge company with limited experience. Your workload will increase dramatically and you’ll still have three demanding sisters and a grandmother to worry about.”

“You think I should just give it all up?”

“There are options.”

“None that will allow me the financial freedom I need.” She broke off at the knock on her door and snatched her hand from his. He watched her fight to compose herself before calling out, “Come in.”

A man in his mid-forties stuck his head through the opening of the door and gave a patently fake start of surprise. “Oh, you have company. Am I interrupting?”