Excerpt from Dante's Blackmailed Bride:
Sev’s plans
for the evening of the Fontaine’s show seemed perfect…right up
until he saw her.
For some
inexplicable reason, she drew his gaze the moment he walked into
the ballroom and the impact from that one look struck with all
the power and sizzle of a lightning bolt flung from on high.
Every business plan, every thought about taking over TH, of
tracking down this new designer and acquiring him for Dantes
leaked from Sev’s brain and puddled at his feet. In its place
one imperative remained.
Get. The.
Woman.
She stood in the midst of a group of people,
a tall, golden swan surrounded by sparrows. Everything about
her spoke of old-time grace and elegance, the very embodiment of
Timeless Heirlooms’ motto—jewelry that mates past with
present. He knew many beautiful women, but something about
this one captivated him on a visceral level. Unremitting desire
entangled him in an unbreakable web and refused to let go no
matter how hard he struggled to break the bond.
For a split
second Sev forgot why he’d come or what he hoped to accomplish.
Instead, he felt compelled to follow that primal tug. He would
have too, if Marco hadn’t grabbed his arm.
“Hey, where
are you going? The Fontaines are in the other direction.” He
glanced toward the section of the room that held Sev’s attention
and grinned in sudden understanding. “Bella, yes?”
“Yes.” The
single word—one riddled with desire—betrayed him and Sev shook
his head in an effort to clear it. What the hell was happening
to him? He never lost focus like this. Nothing ever came
between him and business. Nothing. Not even a drop-dead
gorgeous woman whose very presence sang with all the promise and
allure of a Greek Siren.
Marco
straightened his suit jacket. “Since my assignment is to mingle
with the guests while you see what information the Fontaines are
willing to cough up, I believe the lady in question is on my
list.” He clapped his brother on the back. “Looks like you’re
out of luck, Sev.”
The mere
thought of his brother getting anywhere close to this particular
woman had Sev seeing red. Marco, the charmer. Marco, who could
entice any and all women into his bed with a single look.
Marco, who had never met a woman he hadn’t enjoyed to the
fullest, before discarding. Marco, with his golden swan.
A faint
roaring filled Sev’s ears, a noise that deafened him to
everything but one increasingly urgent demand. Get. The.
Woman. “Not her,” he ordered. It amazed him that he could
still speak coherently, considering the compulsion that infected
him and drove him to react in ways in complete and utter
contrast to his normal character. “Stay away from her.”
Marco still
didn’t get it. “You’re not playing fair,” he protested. “Why
don’t we let the lady decide who she prefers?”
Sev simply
turned and looked at his brother. “Not her,” he repeated.
Marco held up
his hands, the humor fading from his expression. “Fine, fine.
But if she approaches me, I’m not sending her away. Not even
for you.”
Sev’s hands
collapsed into fists and it took every ounce of effort to keep
from using one of them to rearrange Marco’s features—arresting
features that attracted women to him with lifelong ease, not to
mention unparalleled success. “If she approaches you, send her
over to me.”
Marco
frowned. “Have you met this woman before? Do you have a
history with her? You know I don’t poach my brothers’ women.
Not unless your relationship’s over.” His smile glimmered
again. “I don’t suppose it’s over by any chance?”
“It’s not
over. In fact, it hasn’t started.” His gaze fixed on his
quarry. “Yet. I’m just staking my claim. Now are we clear, or
do I have to spell it out with my fists?”
“No, it’s not
clear. Stake your claim? Spell it out with fists?” Marco’s
frown deepened. “Have you lost your mind? When have you ever
spoken about a woman like that? What’s gotten into you?”
Sev drew in a
slow breath, fighting to clear his head, with only limited
success. What had gotten into him? Marco was right. He
never reacted like this over a woman. Nothing and no one came
ahead of business. But another glance in the blonde’s direction
caused the desire to erupt in messy waves of molten heat. It
filled him with a whispered demand to go to her. To seduce
her. To take her and make her his, no matter who or what stood
in his way. It overshadowed all else, rooting into his very
soul and sending out powerful tentacles that latched on to every
part of him and refused to let go.
“Hey! Wake
up, big brother.” Marco snapped his fingers in front of Sev’s
nose, concern bleeding into his voice and expression. “I’ll
tell you what. Why don’t we check out the new designs before we
get to work? See what we’re up against.”
“Good idea,”
Sev managed.
Despite the
arm his brother dropped on Sev’s shoulder, it took every ounce
of self-control at his command to turn his back on the blonde
and walk away. With every step, he could feel the quicksand of
need sucking at his feet and legs. It didn’t matter how much
distance he put between them, he could still sense her on every
level, and that awareness unsettled him more than he cared to
admit.
They found
the spring collection staged on sweeps of raw silk and took
their time studying the pieces. Models also roamed the
ballroom, their beauty enhanced by the glitter of diamonds and
colored gems. Marco flirted with the models, while Sev assessed
the displays. He kept hoping the blonde might gravitate this
way. Since she wore one of the premier sets, he assumed she
must be a model, as well, especially with her height and regal
bearing. But she kept her distance and he couldn’t decide
whether to be relieved or annoyed.
Marco ended
his conversation with a leggy redhead wearing a solid three
million worth of high quality stones and returned to Sev’s
side. “I don’t get it. Nothing I’ve seen so far is enough to
save Timeless from going under,” he said in an undertone. “It’s
all the same old thing.”
“No, not all
of it. Not this, for instance.”
Sev paused by
a display unique in its simplicity. Not that the jewelry needed
a fancy backdrop to make it stand out. The pieces spoke for
themselves. White gold, diamonds, and jet formed a sweeping
pattern as elegant and sophisticated as any in recent memory.
And yet, an air of romance permeated each item, a promise that
by gifting this necklace, or this ring, or this bracelet, the
recipient would receive a tangible expression of utter love and
devotion.
An image of
the blonde wearing the gems flashed through his mind. He could
see the delicate strands of the necklace encircling her neck,
the graceful length accentuated by the simple drop earrings. It
would look perfect on her, particularly when complemented by
acres of pale, creamy skin and a simple black silk sheath.
“Aw, hell.
This is the first I’ve seen of this designer’s work. It’s just
the sort of collection I had in mind for Dantes’ expansion,”
Marco said. “We are so screwed.”
In more ways
than one. If Sev didn’t get his mind back on business, he might
as well kiss Timeless Heirlooms goodbye. “Find out who designed
these and get the information to Lazz and Nic,” he instructed
his brother. “I’ll go talk to the Fontaines. Maybe I’ll learn
something helpful.”
Or maybe he
should head for the kitchen, grab a bucket of ice and pour it
over his head in the hope of dousing the inferno rampaging
through his system. Dammit to hell! What had that blonde done
to him and how had she done it?
Marco
grimaced. “Whatever you learn better be helpful, because I have
a feeling they no longer need to sell TH.”
“I hope
you’re wrong.”
Unfortunately, Sev had a nasty feeling his brother was right.
Still, his conversation with the Fontaines elicited a few
interesting facts. They had, indeed, hired three new designers
for the express purpose of revitalizing TH. And they had some
big deal in the offing, all very hush-hush. Whatever the deal,
the Fontaines were convinced it would catapult them into the big
times.
Yet, Sev
caught a hint of desperation Tina couldn’t quite conceal, which
told him all he needed to know. Despite tonight’s success, they
were still vulnerable. He just needed to uncover the source of
that vulnerability and exploit it. He headed for the far end of
the room where French doors opened onto a shadowed balcony with
a stunning view of San Francisco. The light breeze held a final
nip of winter’s chill, but he found it a welcome relief after
the perfumed warmth of the ballroom. Removing his cell phone
from his jacket pocket, he flipped it open and pressed the
button for voice activation.
“Lazz,” he
said.
A few seconds
later the call went through. “Sev?” A rapid clicking bled
through the line, indicating his brother was typing as he
spoke. Ever the multi-tasker. “I just spoke to Marco.”
“And?”
Lazz sighed.
“You’re both at the same party. So why am I the one keeping you
two up to date?”
“Do I really
need to answer that?”
“Okay, okay.
Marco has two names for you so far. There’s a Clifton Paris
and a Deborah Leighton. He’s working on the third one, but
everyone’s being very mysterious. He thinks it’s because
they’re planning some big announcement in regard to this final
designer.”
“Which means
he’s the one we’re after.”
“Probably.
Marco said there’s some big deal TH is about to close, also
involving this particular designer.”
“The
Fontaines said the same thing. Does Marco know what the deal is
or which designer?”
“Actually…he
does, at least in part. They’re about to sign a big name
actress.”
Sev fought
for patience. “There’s a lot of big name actresses out there.
Which one are we looking at?”
“Don’t know,
yet. But the rumor is, she’s top drawer. If they do sign
someone like Julia Roberts or Nicole Kidman or Juliet Bloom,
it’ll be huge for them. And it’ll effectively prevent both a
buyout and, quite possibly, our ability to compete with them on
the open market.”
Sev grimaced
at his brother’s all-too accurate assessment. “I need to find
out who they’re courting and get the agreement delayed. Put
Nicolò on it.”
“Right away.”
“We also need
leverage. Call that PI we hired last year—Rufio—and have him
start and immediate investigation of the designers Marco’s
already identified. Then call Marco and tell him I want that
third name ASAP. Tell him to alert me the minute he has it.”
“Check.”
Sev flipped
the phone closed and pocketed it. Time to gather himself for
round two. He glanced toward the glow of lights, where the
subdued chatter of voices wafted from the ballroom. To his
relief, his reaction to the blonde had eased somewhat. Five
minutes and counting without a single image of her
short-circuiting his brain and sending the rest of him into
overdrive.
Or so he
thought until she appeared in the doorway and stared straight at
him. For a split second he believed she came in search of him,
that the ever-tightening tendrils between them were acting on a
subliminal level and drawing her to him. Then he realized that
her eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness that cloaked him. He
nearly groaned. She couldn’t see him at all. Did she even
sense him? Doubtful. That was his insanity, not hers.
She hesitated
for a split second while light streamed around her, capturing
her in its warm embrace. She’d dressed simply, in a silk sheath
of palest lilac. No doubt the color had been selected to
complement the jewelry she wore—the set unquestionably the work
of TH’s mystery designer. A delicate rope of silver hugged the
base of her neck studded with the unmistakable glitter of
diamonds and Verdonian amethysts, while a simple confection of
the same stones flashed discreetly on the lobes of her ears.
Understated. Stylish. Sophisticated.
With a sigh
of relief she stepped onto the balcony. The light from the
ballroom gave her a final caress, slipping through the thin silk
to reveal a womanly shape that nearly brought Sev to his knees.
Full breasts strained again the low-cut bodice, while a nipped
waist and shapely hips gave the simple dress an impressive
definition.
She crossed
to the balustrade and stared out at the view, absently rubbing
her bare arms against the spring chill. Sev found he couldn’t
move. The rational part of his brain ordered him to return to
the gathering and finish the job at hand. But an overwhelming
need eclipsed that small voice of sanity. It was as though some
primeval part of himself dominated reason and rationale. He’d
become a creature of instinct. And instinct demanded that he
inhale her very essence and imprint it on his mind and body and
soul until two became one.
Her instincts
must have been as finely tuned as his own for she lifted her
head as though scenting the air. Then, with unerring accuracy,
she spun to face him and her gaze collided with his.
“I’ve been
waiting for you,” he said.
