Dante's Ultimate Gamble (5 page)

A smile bloomed on Téa’s face and she waved the man in. “You’re never interrupting, Connie. Come on in. I’d like to introduce you to Luc Dante. Luc, this is my cousin, Conway Billings.”

A man hovering somewhere in those unfortunate inches between medium and short entered the office. Out of sheer habit, Luc made a swift assessment. Conway was dressed in an expensive navy suit with a snowy white shirt, the collar held in place by pretentious gold clips rather than buttons. Matching clips decorated the cuffs of his sleeves. He wore his thinning auburn hair as short as Luc’s and was painfully clean-shaven. He also sported an old-fashioned pocket watch on a real gold chain—no doubt a subtle advertisement of Billings’s wares, had gold-rimmed glasses perched on the ball of his stub nose and kept his shoes polished to a mirror
shine. Unlike Téa’s creamy complexion, his glowed an uncomfortable shade of red that clashed with his hair.

For some reason, Luc’s hackles went up. Maybe it was Conway’s pretense of surprise and ridiculous opening question. The door was closed. He had to have heard their voices. Of course he was interrupting. How could he not be? But then, this man ran Billings. At least, for the moment. No doubt his position meant that no matter who or what he interrupted, it wasn’t an interruption.

Luc also suspected that someone had alerted him to the fact that a Dante was in the building talking to Téa. And since Dantes was Billings’s biggest client, no doubt Cousin Connie wanted to find out what the hell was going on.

Luc stuck out his hand. “A pleasure,” he lied.

“Yes, it is,” Conway lied right back.

Luc’s eyes narrowed. Okay, at least he knew where he stood. He edged his hip onto the corner of Téa’s desk, staking his claim, only to ruin the possessive maneuver with a wince of pain. Damn hip. “Nice place you have here,” he managed to say.

“Thanks.” Pride rippled through the single word. “Billings has been the gold standard ever since my great-uncle established it, two and a half decades ago.”

He placed enough emphasis on the words “gold standard” that Luc realized it was meant as a play on words. Supplier of gold. Gold standard. Ha-ha. Luc bared his teeth in a grin. “Don’t sweat it. Dantes doesn’t mind doing business with newcomers like Bling.”

Conway stopped laughing. Either Cousin Connie didn’t care for the company’s nickname, or he didn’t appreciate the reminder that Dantes had been around twice as long as Billings.

“Why are you here, Mr. Dante?” he asked bluntly.

“Make it Luc.” He waited.

“Luc,” Conway repeated through gritted teeth.

“I’m here on behalf of Dantes.” He picked up on Téa’s incipient protest and turned to her. Catching her hand in his, he gave it a light squeeze. “Just six more weeks, isn’t it? We’ve almost left it too long.”

“Left what too long?” Conway asked sharply.

He hadn’t missed the touch Luc and Téa had exchanged, an intermingling of fingers that could be taken as a sign of intimacy—and in this case most assuredly was. He regarded the man with the sort of patience one did a child. Good ol’ Connie caught the look, interpreted it as just that and bristled in offense.

“Téa takes over Billings then, doesn’t she?” Luc didn’t wait for confirmation. “As your largest and most important customer, Dantes wants to make certain all our needs will be met before, during and after the transition. So, I plan to work closely with Téa these next few weeks to ensure everything proceeds smoothly.”

Téa’s eyes narrowed on Luc in warning before she offered her cousin a reassuring smile. “You don’t mind, do you, Connie?” she asked.

Conway seized the question with grim determination, using the opportunity to regain control of the situation. “As a matter of fact, I do, Téa,” he informed her gravely. “If Dantes wants my assurance that Billings will continue to provide excellent goods and service—”

Luc cut him off without hesitation. “It’s not
your
assurance I’m interested in. You’re no longer the one in charge. Your cousin is.”

Beside him, Téa stiffened. “Luc,” she murmured in protest.

A sweep of heightened color darkened Conway’s
cheekbones and a protest tumbled out before he could prevent it. “Not for another six weeks, she isn’t.”

Luc lifted an eyebrow. Interesting. Her cousin sounded a bit possessive for a man who—how had Téa described him? Oh, right. As a man who couldn’t wait to get out from under his responsibilities. It might be interesting to find out just what sort of business Conway intended to start up…assuming there actually was one.

Luc shook his head with a mock frown. “Six weeks isn’t very long. It might be just enough time for Dantes to satisfy ourselves that your gold standard will be upheld after the transition.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t have any objection to my being here, do you?”

“As a matter of fact—”

“Hey, no problem,” Luc interrupted and stood. “If you don’t want me around, I’m gone.”

“I think that would be best,” Conway said with a decisive nod. He appeared more assured now that he’d regained the upper hand. Or at least, thought he had. He smoothed his suit jacket like a bird unruffling its feathers. “I’m sure you understand, Dante. But this is my company—”

“
Our
company,” Téa interrupted with a spark of irritation.

Conway started. “Right, right.
Our
company.” His tone turned aggrieved. “You must agree, Téa, that it wouldn’t be appropriate to have someone looking over
our
shoulders, as it were.”

“Got it.” Luc retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and began pressing buttons. “Let me apprise Sev of these latest developments. It’s an unfortunate setback, but my cousin is accustomed to those. Very decisive and proactive that cousin of mine.”

“Is this really necessary?” Conway demanded.

Luc paused. “What? The phone call or my being here?” He shrugged. “Not that it matters. I assure you both are critical to our continued good relationship.”

Téa sliced neatly through the testosterone thickening the air with icy shards of feminine disapproval. “If Conway objects to your being here, Luc, then that’s that. Here’s what I suggest in order to straighten this out and satisfy all parties involved.” She clicked off her suggestions like a general commanding her troops. “Luc, please call Sev and ask if he’ll take a meeting. The three of us will go over, sit down with him and see what can be arranged. But make it clear that we’ll do everything in our power to ensure the transition goes off without a hitch. Connie, since our contract with Dantes is up soon, I suggest we pull together some numbers in order to begin preliminary negotiations on a new one.”

Conway stiffened and Luc had the distinct impression he wasn’t used to his cousin being quite so assertive. And he sure as hell wasn’t accustomed to her issuing instructions to him. “That won’t be necessary, Téa,” he stated. “I have the contract details well in hand.” Frustration ate at his expression before he finally capitulated. “Okay, fine. Mr. Dante, if you must oversee certain aspects of the transition—”

“Luc.”

Silence reigned for an entire thirty seconds until Conway bit out, “
Luc
. If you insist it’s necessary to be here—”

“I do.”

Conway shot his cousin a smoldering glare. “Since you’ll soon be running the show, Téa, you work out all the various details, though I must insist that any changes to established routine be run by me beforehand.” He
hesitated, sparing Luc a suspicious glance. “As for you, Mr.—
Luc
. I think it only fair you be as forthcoming as possible about your intentions.”

“My intentions?”

The question caught Luc off guard and Conway picked up on that fact. He pounced with something akin to triumph. He rocked onto the balls of his feet with a quick bounce and jabbed his index finger toward Luc. “Exactly. Are you really here to ensure a smooth transition, or is this about the renewal of our contract? If you’re looking for a better price…”

Huh. Luc cocked his head to one side. “Can you offer one?”

“No, I just meant…” He eyed the two, his suspicion deepening. “I hope you don’t think Téa will offer you a better deal because she’s a woman, and therefore susceptible to masculine influence.”

“Masculine influence,” Luc repeated. He didn’t need to fake how much the comment offended him. “By that I assume you mean sexual influence.” He slowly stood, allowing every intimidating inch of his six-feet-three to loom over Billings’s five-feet-squat. “Just who the hell do you think I am? Who do you think
she
is?”

Conway retreated toward the door. “No! I didn’t mean—” A heavy flush stained his cheeks and he made a production of checking his watch. “Since I have an urgent appointment in a few minutes, we’ll have to finish this discussion some other time.” He fumbled for the door handle behind him. “Téa, you and Luc carry on. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” With that, he exited the room with as much dignity as he could muster.

Luc waited until the door banged closed before glancing at Téa. To his relief, he saw amusement glittering in her eyes. He edged his hip on the corner of
her desk again, managing not to wince this time. “I’m curious,” he said. “Could I use sex to persuade you to give Dantes a better deal?”

“Not a chance.”

He heaved a disappointed sigh. “Didn’t think so, but I had to ask. Sev would have been annoyed if I hadn’t at least tried.”

“I understand.”

“In that case, we better do what Conway ordered.”

A delightful confusion spread across her face. “I’m sorry?”

Luc grinned. “Didn’t you hear him? He told us to carry on. I suggest we get started.” He leaned in, feeling the pull of The Inferno and allowing it to consume him. “He is, after all, the boss.”

Her smile turned grim. “Only for six more weeks.”

And then she, too, surrendered to the heat.

T
he next week passed, at moments feeling as though it were on wings. Other times Téa was certain some sadistic creature had paused the minutes in order for her to fully experience the weight of desire building with each additional day she spent in Luc’s company.

It was a desire she couldn’t allow. One she didn’t have time to explore, not when she faced so many more urgent demands. Mostly it was one she didn’t deserve, not after the destruction she’d left in her wake all those years ago—a destruction she could never fully repair even though she’d do her best to mend the few rents within her capability.

Luc kept his word. Except for the single embrace they exchanged after the confrontation with Connie, he hadn’t touched her. At least, he didn’t touch her the way she longed to be touched. He kept their physical interaction as brief and distant as possible, though she
sensed that it was as much a struggle for him as it was for her.

His struggle wasn’t implicit in what he said, but she caught his reaction in small and significant ways. The deepening tenor of his voice. The slight hitch in his movement when he reached for her, as though he were deliberately switching gears from intimate to impersonal. A flash of awareness that turned his golden eyes molten with hunger before he deliberately banked the flames.

She didn’t find the process any easier. She had an urgent job to accomplish right now—to learn everything she could about her grandfather’s company before assuming the reins, while still carving out enough time each day to care for her family’s needs and demands…not to mention the unending phone calls. The last thing she could handle was another disruption. Unfortunately Luc excelled at disrupting her on every conceivable level—including hiding her phones whenever their constant demands threatened to overwhelm her.

She couldn’t say what clued her in the first time, other than the fact that she’d enjoyed several hours of blissful silence before noticing that her phones were no longer lined up along the edge of her desk. She stared at the empty space for an entire minute, on the verge of panic, before her gaze veered toward Luc and understanding dawned.

“Give them back.”

He flipped the page on the journal he read, something that had to do with electronic security. “Relax, Téa. Nothing can be that urgent. If it were, they’d call Bling directly.”

“That’s not the point. You can’t just take my cell phones.” Her voice rose and she struggled to lower it,
even out the shrillness. “They’re lifelines to my family. Madam and my sisters depend on me.”

He shot her a dangerous look, filled with a hard decisiveness she suspected was a natural part of his personality. Until now he’d never used it on her. “It’s vital to trust your team, to rely on them. But it’s just as vital to be self-sufficient enough to take care of business if one of those team members is lost.”

“In English, please?”

“If you take self-sufficiency away from your sisters, they become less effective on all levels, personal, as well as professional.”

“My family isn’t some sort of military unit,” she protested.

“They’ll also never learn to fend for themselves if you wipe their noses every time they sneeze. Your sisters need to learn independent thought and action.” His eyes narrowed, disapproval stirring in the deep gold depths. “Unless you want them dependent on you. Is that why you do everything for them? It makes you feel wanted? Needed?”

“No!”

“Are they incompetent? Handicapped in some way?”

“Of course not,” she snapped.

“Then why the obsession to micromanage?”

Her mouth tightened and she shook her head, refusing to answer.

He shrugged. “Then, barring emergency, they’re perfectly capable of handling their own affairs until after you’ve finished work for the day. Since I’m in charge of keeping you safe and distraction free, I’ve made the executive decision to confiscate your phones. I’ll return them at five.”

“And if there is an emergency?”

“There are enough brain cells between the four of them to call through to the Bling switchboard and alert you to that fact.”

She didn’t dare admit that not having the constant barrage of phone calls came as a tremendous relief. But it did. And Luc was as good as his word. The moment they stepped foot in her office he took possession of the phones, returning them at five on the dot.

Realizing that she’d been staring into space for the past fifteen minutes while he watched on, she forced her attention back to the spreadsheets piled in front of her. “You’re not supposed to put your feet on my desk, remember?” she said absently as she scanned the numbers.

“I vaguely recall you saying something to that effect.”

“And yet, I’m still seeing an impressive pair of size fourteens sitting here in front of me.”

“Elevating my feet makes my knee and hip feel better.”

She peered at him over the top of her reading glasses. “That’s low, even for you.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I would dream of telling you to move your feet elsewhere while I’m working.”

She returned her attention to the numbers. Something didn’t add up, but despite her affinity with all things accounting, she couldn’t quite figure out what was bothering her. She blew out a sigh. Maybe she’d have better luck if part of her weren’t constantly distracted by the golden-eyed panther lounging nearby, one that took great delight in ruffling her tidy little world.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

It didn’t surprise her that he picked up on her frustration. The man was beyond observant. “I don’t know. Nothing.”

He dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward in his chair. “If it were nothing you wouldn’t be analyzing the same report for the fifth time this week.”

“I’m having focus issues. I’m distracted.” She didn’t dare admit aloud that a huge part of that distraction was due to him. “That’s one of the reasons you’re here, remember? To save me from my own distraction.”

His mouth twitched, but he answered seriously enough. “All too well. Part of your problem is that you don’t get enough sleep.”

“I get plenty.” She couldn’t say for certain, but it was possible the testy note in her voice gave lie to her claim.

“According to Madam you get maybe five hours a night.”

She waved that aside. Maybe she’d have been in a better position to argue the point if the numbers weren’t doing a bizarre rumba across the page. “It won’t be for much longer.”

“No, it won’t.” He caught her hand in his and tugged her to her feet. “Come on.”

“What are you doing?” she protested. “I’m working here.”

He shot a sardonic glance toward her spreadsheets, then checked his watch. “It’s Friday and it’s almost four. In my book, that’s quitting time.”

“Not in mine,” she retorted.

“Yeah, well, I’m expected at my grandparents soon for a family celebration. It’s Rafe’s birthday.”

“Oh.”

She tugged fruitlessly at her hand before giving it up
and leaving it captured within his. Somehow the throb in her palm didn’t bother her as much when their hands were interlaced. Instead it calmed her, steadied her, even as it stirred the banked fires of desire kindling between them. She couldn’t decide which disturbed her the most, not having the connection created by their touch, or dealing with the urge to tug him into her arms and have her wicked way with him.

She cleared her throat, hoping it would also clear her thoughts. Not that it succeeded. “Well, you go ahead to the party. I have a few more hours to put in here and then, I promise, I’ll go straight home.” She offered a reassuring smile. “I’ll even pay attention to what I’m doing and dive for cover anytime I see a cab.”

For the past week he’d escorted her from door-to-door, unwilling to so much as debate the issue. No matter how early she attempted to leave for the office, or how late she stayed, he was always right there to shepherd her to and fro. She had a strong suspicion that Madam played a huge part in alerting him to any unexpected changes in Téa’s schedule. After a few days of attempting to circumvent their efforts, she’d given up trying since it proved a ridiculous waste of both time and energy.

“I have a better suggestion,” Luc countered. “Why don’t you come with me to the party. Then I’ll see you home, as usual.”

She spared a brief glance toward the stack of accounting reports. They held all the appeal of a root canal. She’d much rather spend the next few hours with Luc. Maybe if he hadn’t used the word “party” she’d have considered it. But that word carried negative associations, pushing every last one of her guilt buttons. Duty. Responsibility. Family obligation. They were brands she wore, ones burned into her heart and soul.

Something in her expression must have given her away. “What is it?” he asked sharply. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Not that the denial fooled him.

“Bull. You look like someone threatened with a firing squad. Why?”

She lifted her chin and forced herself to regard him with cool composure. “I don’t do parties.”

He studied her for an endless moment. “How about family dinners?” he asked neutrally. “You have a family, don’t you?”

“You know I do,” she retorted.

“And your family has dinners, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“And sometimes those dinners are to celebrate a birthday?”

She pushed out a sigh. She could see where this was going. What she couldn’t see was a logical way out of it. “It’s been known to happen,” she admitted.

“That’s what this is. A dinner to celebrate my brother’s birthday. I’d like you to come with me.” And then he turned downright mean and underhanded. “Please, Téa. Come with me,” he said softly.

She caved. But then, how could she do anything else? Not only did she want to, but she flat-out couldn’t resist the temptation, particularly when it was issued by such a bone-melting masculine package. “Fine. I’ll come.” She glanced down at her tailored slacks and jacket, the combination in a dignified, somber black. They screamed, “business.” “I’m not sure I’m dressed appropriately for a party, though.”

“You look gorgeous, as always. Just casual it up.”

She blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“You know how women do.” He gestured with his hands. “Undo certain stuff. Fluff other parts.”

“Undo and fluff.” Maybe if her sisters were here to interpret it would help. Particularly Vida. Téa suspected that her flirty middle sister excelled at the art of undoing and fluffing. “That’s man-speak for…?”

“Here. I’ll show you.”

Before she could stop him, he’d stripped off her jacket and tossed it aside. Then he released the first three buttons of her blouse. While she rebuttoned two of them, he ran his fingers through her hair, releasing the elegant little knot she’d fashioned that morning and sending her hair tumbling down her back in a cascade of exuberant auburn curls.

“Do you mind?” she demanded in exasperation.

“Not at all. All undone and fluffed.” He tilted his head to one side. “But there’s still something missing.”

He took a step back and examined her while she did her best not to feel too self-conscious. “Well?” she asked, squirming just a bit. “What’s wrong with me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s just…” He snapped his fingers. “Got it.” Reaching out, he plucked her reading glasses from the tip of her nose and set them carefully among the papers scattered on her desk. He studied her upturned face and offered a lazy smile filled with blatant male approval. “Much better.”

“I need those to read.” She wasn’t quite sure why she uttered such an inane comment. He just had that effect on her.

“You won’t need to read at the party,” he answered gravely. “The cake will say Happy Birthday, Rafe.”

Her lips quivered in the direction of a smile. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“Glad to help.”

Téa tidied up her desk and snagged her jacket on the way out of the office. “My phones,” she reminded, holding out her hand. For some reason, she felt reluctant to take them when he handed them over. That was a first.

She paused by her assistant’s desk on her way out and told him to take off early, before giving in to the pressure of Luc’s hand urging her toward the elevators. Five minutes later they were in his car, battling the start of rush hour traffic as they headed toward the Golden Gate Bridge. She used the drive time to deal with the accumulated calls, fighting a headache from the pressure of dealing with her sisters’ latest crises. The instant she finished, Luc stole the phones.

“For the next couple hours you’re off duty,” he said by way of explanation.

By the time they arrived in Sausalito and climbed the winding roads overlooking the bay, late afternoon was easing toward evening, resting a gentle hand on their surroundings and gilding it with a soft glow. Luc parked the car outside a wooden gate, squeezing in among the other cars piled up there. The gate led to a lush backyard, with rambling flowerbeds that rioted in color and fragrance. Carefully pruned black acacia and bay trees shaded portions of the large, fenced oasis while a mush oak spread its protective arms over a wrought iron table and chairs. The dining area offered the perfect place for an outdoor lunch or supper, with its glorious view of the bay, Angel Island and Belvedere. Currently it was the gathering place for nearly a dozen people, all of whom were talking and laughing at full volume, some in English and some in Italian.

Luc didn’t approach immediately, but pulled Téa close and murmured in her ear. “Hang on a minute.
You met the original Dante clan when we were children, but I don’t expect you can put names and faces together after all these years.”

“Not a chance,” she admitted.

“I’ll give you a quick rundown. First up are the cousins.” He indicated one of the men sitting near the table. He was a couple years older than Luc and bore a striking similarity in appearance. “Have you taken any meetings with Sev, yet?”

“Connie’s covering that for now.” She couldn’t explain why she felt so reluctant to admit as much. Nor why she hastened to add, “I expect I’ll have the chance to sit down with Sev when we finalize a new contract.”

“Well, you can at least press the flesh tonight.” He indicated two particularly gorgeous men with dark brown hair and Nonna’s hazel eyes. “Those are the twins, Marco and Lazz. And their youngest brother, Nicolò, is sitting in the grass with his wife, Kiley.”