Wife By Force: International Billionaires II: The Italians (25 page)

“I need to find him. I have to find him.”

“I think that would be a good first step.” Her father’s voice was mild, yet firm. “Find him and tell him you love him as much as he loves you.”

A flush of embarrassment warmed her skin. “How did you know?”

“Papas know their daughters.” Wise eyes met hers. “You’ve loved Dante for a long time.”

Tears threatened once more. “Yes.”

“Go find your husband.” He patted her arm. “And whatever you did, make it up to him.”

B
y the time
she arrived at the apartment in Florence, exhaustion weighed down every bone in her body. Not too late in the day to start contacting members of the Casartelli family, though. Now, it was even more imperative she find him and not only confess her love, but solve the mystery of why he’d let her think so poorly of him. If what her father said was true, Dante had allowed her to misjudge him for months. Years.

Why?

Curiosity blended with love inside her and it powered her on. Someone in his family would know where he was and she would make them squeal. Slumping into one of the leather couches, she focused on what she would say, how she would explain this mess without alarming everyone and raising too many questions.

The intercom buzzed. “
Signora
Casartelli?” The disembodied voice of the doorman echoed through the living room.

Could this be another missive from her husband? Perhaps he’d had second thoughts abut the divorce. She raced towards the intercom. “Yes?” she cried, holding her breath.

“There is a Tomas Casartelli here to see you.”

Her heart stuttered. Tomas could be here for just a friendly visit and she didn’t have it in her to pretend everything was fine. Or maybe, Tomas was here in his brother’s stead. Her heart picked up its beat. This was worth the risk to her pride. “He can come in.”

Pacing over the gleaming hardwood floors and colorful oriental rugs, Lara waited impatiently for the knock that finally came. She ran to the door and threw it open. “Tomas.”

“
Si.
” His eyes reminded her of his older brother’s at his worst. Distant and dark. He’d learned his brother’s tricks in the facial department as well. Bland and blank.

She suddenly wanted to shake him. Shake the information out of him. Because she’d gotten good at reading between the lines of the Casartelli control.

Tomas was here for a reason. And that reason was Dante.

“Come in.” Restraining herself by a thread, she stepped back.

He walked past her, his Armani jacket smooth, his tie knotted discreetly and perfectly under his chin, his entire body language one of subtle power. His older brother would be so proud.

Again the urge to shake her husband’s whereabouts out of him nearly overcame her. “Tell me what’s going on with Dante.”

“That’s not why I’m here.” He turned from his contemplation of the Florence skyline. “I’m here to pick up some papers he sent you. He was going to send his solicitor, but decided a family member should do this.”

Her heart stopped. “Papers?”

“
Si
.” His mouth thinned. “He said you would want to expedite the proceedings.”

“You’ve talked to him.” Hope surged through her, swamping the momentary pang of knowing her husband believed she wanted a divorce.

“Briefly.”

“What did he say?” she snapped.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Tomas grimaced. “He wants to be done with this. He said you would readily agree.”

“Done with my marriage?” She stuck her hands under her armpits to stop their trembling. “Your brother is wrong.”

“Lara—”

“Listen to me.” She paced up to him and got in his face. “Your brother might be a god in your eyes, but he can be wrong.”

“I don’t want to get in the middle of this.” His cool demeanor was slipping away, and his glare now held frustration and a hint of pain.

“You put yourself in the middle of this. Or in reality, Dante did.”

Swearing, the younger man walked toward the kitchen. “I need a drink.”

“You can have anything you want.” She followed him with tenacious intent. “As long as you tell me where he is.”

“
Dio
.” Whipping around, he stared at her in astonishment. “Do you want to see me killed?”

She gave him a pointed look. “I doubt your brother will kill you for telling his wife where he is.”

“You haven’t seen how he is.” He paced to the refrigerator, yanked out a dark beer and popped the top. Taking a long swig of the brew, he at last met her glare. “He’s not himself.”

“Where is he?”

Another long tug of the beer. “Lara. He’s…he’s…” Shaking his head, he stopped.

“He’s what? More importantly, he’s where?”

Silence descended as the young man openly struggled with his words and emotions. “What happened?” he erupted. “You both looked so happy the last time I saw you.”

“We were.” Sorrow lanced through her for what she’d so easily taken for granted.

“I don’t get it.” Slamming the beer bottle on the counter, Tomas paced into the living room again.

She followed, sensing a crack in his desire to do his brother’s bidding. “You don’t have to get it. You merely need to tell me where he is and let me take care of the rest. You do know where he is?”

Her brother-in-law’s broad shoulders sagged. “
Si
.”

“Tell me.” She put one hand on his arm and prayed. “I’ll make it right with him.”

Turning, he glanced at her, black eyes blurred with worry. “I’ve never seen him like this.”

“I’ll make it right.”

“He’s out of control,” he whispered the words as if this was worse than having the plague.

These Casartelli men and their need to hide their emotions. As if by hiding them they could deny how deeply and fully they cared for their family. She stared straight into his face. “I love him and he loves me.”

“Of course he does.” Tomas’s eyes widened. “He would never have gone off the rails if he didn’t love you to distraction. He says he wants to quit the company and have me take over.”

The horror in his voice would have been almost comical if it hadn’t matched her own horror at his words. Evidently, her husband was in a complete tailspin. Not only had Dante lost control of his emotions, he was also contemplating leaving the Casartelli empire? She could understand the male disbelief vibrating before her because she felt the same emotion. “He needs to see me. I’ll calm him down.”

Sudden relief flooded his taut face. “You can do this?”

“Yes.”
Please God, help me.
“Yes.”

Digging his car keys from his pocket, Tomas was all action. “It would be impossible for you to find him. I’ll drive you there.”

She didn’t care how she got to Dante: airplane, car or donkey. Just so she could finally see him. “Let’s go.”

“
W
e’re almost there
.” Tomas handled his jaunty red Ferrari with the same finesse as his older brother did his elegant Mercedes.

The bats in her stomach commenced a new dance that reached her throat. Now that she had her goal in sight, the words and phrases she’d practiced for days fled her mind. The only words she could think of to say to Dante were…
I love you
.

Hopefully, they would be enough.

“You’re ready?” Her brother-in-law’s question made every bat flying inside her claw madly at the lining of her stomach.

“Yes,” she croaked through dry lips.

The car slowed to turn into a rutted lane. Rows and rows of grape vines lined one side, while a wild crop of sunflowers brightened the other. There was no sign of a house or a villa or even a hut.

“What is this place?”

“My grandfather’s hideaway.” Tomas had to slow the car’s forward movement to a crawl in order to handle the bumps. “Dante comes here when he needs to think.”

Think about divorcing her.

Glancing around at the rolling hills, the silence of the fields hit her. This was as far away from her husband’s usual life as could be. She wondered what else he’d been thinking during these silent hours. A trembling fear swelled in her. Had he had time to button down all his emotions, tie up all the loose ends of his feelings for her? Was she too late?

The car popped over a hill and she spotted a small, simple villa perched on a rolling knoll. The place appeared slightly decrepit, as if it had long been ignored. A copper shingle flapped on the roof. The windows were tightly shut, even though the sun tried to penetrate the dark curtains. But the views of the surrounding countryside must certainly compensate for the simplicity of the living quarters.

“I like it.”

Tomas turned to stare at her with mild incredulity. “Honestly?”

“Yes.”

“You and my brother are the only ones, then. The rest of the family won’t go near the place.”

The car surged down the last of the driveway and came to a stop. The bats continued their crazy dance and her heart now joined them in a tribal thudding Lara was sure anyone close to her could hear.

Tomas seemed oblivious. He had his own concerns, mirrored in the slight horror in his face. “I’ll come in with you. I guess.”

Even in the midst of her own distress, she had to stifle a grin at the fake heartiness of his tone. “I’d rather you left.”

“You mean it?” Tomas had not perfected his older brother’s ability to completely wipe any emotion from his demeanor. His relief was palpable.

“Yes.” Scrambling out of the car, she turned to give her brother-in-law one last look. “Thanks, Tomas.”

He pinned her with his dark gaze. “Go find him and turn him back into the brother I know.”

“I will.” With more conviction in her voice than she held in her soul, she marched over to the front door, ignoring the purr of the engine as it headed down the lane.

Evidently, Dante had not heard the approach of the car because she saw no shadow of a man waiting for her behind the glass window of the door. Not wanting to give him any advance warning, she carefully pushed the door and found it unlocked. Stepping into the cool interior, she tiptoed down the hall, taking a moment to peer into each room. There was a simple sitting room on the left, with an ancient stone fireplace for the winter nights. Another door opened into a small study. A pile of books stood on a side table by a small sofa.

No laptop. No phone. Very un-Dante.

He was here, wasn’t he?

Picking up her pace, she came to the end of the hall and walked into a charming kitchen. Copper pots hung from scattered pegs. An old brick oven held a prominent position beside long wooden counters. A bottle of wine stood by a glass, half-filled.

He was here.

Finally, she saw him through a half-opened, glass-paned door leading out to a stone terrace that appeared older than Roman times. His back was to her. He was dressed in a simple, loose white cotton shirt, the sleeves rolled up. Tan chinos hung on him. His hands were on his hips as he stared at the land rolling in front of him.

A king surveying his kingdom.

“Dante,” she whispered.

He didn’t move; he hadn’t heard her.

One step closer.

“Dante.” His name was a clear call from her heart.

With a sudden jerk, he turned.

And she gasped.

His face was haggard and pale. His eyes held no spark of humor or tenderness. They were entirely dead. As she watched, a thin line of white appeared around his tightened mouth.

“
Dio maledetto
Tomas.” Before she could say a word, he strode off the terrace and started jogging down a long row of vines.

“Wait.” Running out the door, she jumped down the old steps, trying desperately to keep up with his retreating figure. “Stop!”

He ignored her and his long legs soon put a significant distance between them. She was determined, though, on fire. She’d found her quarry and he was not going to get away. For a second, she halted and impatiently slid off her high-heeled sandals; she’d picked them out before leaving with Tomas and now wished she’d dressed for a marathon instead of lovemaking.

Hiking up her skirt, she sprinted after her husband. It wasn’t worth yelling at him, he wouldn’t listen, and she didn’t have any excess breath as it was. Huffing and puffing, she kept after him, gaining a bit as he came to a halt to glance around.

He cursed again.

“I’m not going to give up,” she cried between gasps.

He turned and continued at a faster pace.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered.

Down one rolling hill and up another. His shirt became plastered to his sweating back in the heat of the late afternoon. Long legs flexed and bunched, his butt a piece of pure poetry in its movement. Even in her breathless state, she admired the shift of his muscles beneath his clothes.

He was her man. He was hers. She would never let this gorgeous male go.

Abruptly, he stopped.

At last, she got to within a few feet of him and stopped herself. “Dante.”

He was breathing hard, his shoulders rising and falling, the sweat rolling down his neck. “Why are you here?” he growled over his shoulder. “I’ve given you everything you want.”

“A divorce?” Taking deep breaths, she tried to marshal her thoughts, tried to remember the words she’d put together as she rode to this place. “I don’t want a divorce.”

His shoulders stiffened and his hands fisted by his sides. “You don’t want to be married to me.”

“I do. I want to be married to you.” The fancy words fell away and blunt truth was the only thing she had to offer. “In fact, I’ll force you to stay married to me if I have to.”

Wrenching around, he stared at her with blank astonishment. “What?”

“It’s true.” She met his glower without flinching. “I’m not letting you go.”

He paced away and she prepared to chase him once more, but he turned around and looked at her instead. His face was pale, but his eyes were now alive. Burning and alive. “I don’t understand.”

“Why did you let me think I had to marry you to save my family?” It was time they put everything on the table and cleared it away. Then, hopefully, they could move on to fulfill the promise of the marriage they could have. The happy marriage she’d sometimes glimpsed between their fights and misunderstandings.

Dante closed his eyes at her question and stood silent.

“Well?”

“You found out.”

“I talked to Papa.”

“Ah.” Running his hand through his hair, rumpling it into a complete mess that tugged at her heart, he paced away again. “Finally. The shoe drops. I thought you would find out way before this.”

“But I didn’t.” She wrestled with the chain of logic. There must be
some
kind of strange logic behind his actions. Her husband was not a man without a strategy. “What were you thinking? If I’d found out before the marriage—”