Wife By Force: International Billionaires II: The Italians (10 page)

He only had to prove it to her.

Finding out she knew about his involvement in sending her to England had shocked him. He’d behaved badly because of it, trying to use sexual desire to convince her of the bond between them. However, his actions had backfired into tears and accusations.

He needed to change his approach.

His new strategy, one he’d carefully prepared during the last couple of weeks, was going to take some time, but so be it. Having Lara was worth all his time even if it took forever.

His first step was this deal between her father and brother and himself.

His second step was to become her friend when she softened towards him after hearing about this deal. He would show her what kind of man he actually was. Not a monster out-of-control. No, a man of honor and integrity. A man worthy of respect. A man she could trust.

He would not lose his temper.

He would not pounce.

He would act in a civilized manner.

Losing control is the worst thing you can do, son.

Si
, his father had been right. From now on, during every one of his dealings with her, he would keep a tight rein on everything. His temper, his libido, his goals. He would not growl at her, he would not kiss her, and he certainly would not proclaim his final goal by stating it to her every time they met.

You are mine
.

A statement by a crazed man. A claim made by a cave dweller. A declaration sure to incite a woman with any spirit into full-blown rebellion.

Not only had he acted like a monster, he’d acted like
un
cretino
.

Not anymore.

He slowly closed his laptop and glanced up into three sets of Derrick eyes. One set worried, one sullen, one already showing sparks of accusation.

He could handle this. All right, she was here and would find out more details than he’d been willing to share with her. But he’d negotiated with the best minds in the world and won. He’d win this one too and he’d win Lara Derrick. Eventually.

He took in a deep breath, readying himself to win.

“Lara.” Hugo Derrick’s voice was unusually stern, turning the conversation ugly in a second.

Precisely opposite of what he wanted. “Hugo—”

“Why are you back so early?” Her father’s bushy brows lowered in condemnation.

Dante knew the man was only trying to show him he’d meant to keep his daughter away from this conversation as requested. Still, now that she was here, there wasn’t any use in accusing and haranguing. This would only get her riled—

“I can’t come home anytime I want to?” Just as he expected, her tone was harsh.

She was already upset, her hackles rising.

“Sis, this isn’t something you should be part of,” her brother’s voice chimed in.

She squared her shoulders, a militant gleam appearing in her golden glare.

Stronzo
.

She started storming towards where he stood at the side of her father’s old oak desk. Evidently, she had zeroed in on the male she wanted to blame, even though he hadn’t been the one to get her riled up. Not this time. It didn’t seem to matter. Not by the look she gave him, brimming with the usual aggravation and hostility.

His gaze lowered, trying to escape her accusing glare, lowered to the soft, subtle swing of her breasts under her plain white T-shirt.
Dio
, she was not wearing a bra. Did she wish every male mind in her vicinity to turn to mush?

With a will of iron, he directed his focus down, over her rounded hips, her long legs…

Barefoot. She was barefoot.

His body went from semi-hard to fully erect in one sharp second. He stifled another curse. He did not have a foot fetish. He did not. And he’d seen a thousand women walking without a bra on and had not been affected in the least.

Merda
.

“What’s going on?” Her voice wavered as she planted herself solidly in front of the desk. She swung her head, allowing herself one glare at her father. “What is
he
doing here?”

He
bristled at the accusing tone of her voice. Temper crept around his control, edging his blood pressure skyward.

Maledizione
.

Taking a deep breath, he clamped down on his irritating libido and unruly temper.

“Dante is a guest in this house.” Her father stood up and leaned over his desk. “I’m surprised at your attitude.”

“When I’m not included in a family discussion, but Dante is, I’m afraid my attitude turns sour.”

“Lara.” Her brother groaned, rubbing a hand through his blond hair.

“I repeat,” she demanded. “What’s going on?”

Her father grumbled under his breath, his bushy eyebrows bristling, his bald head reddening. She whipped around and stared at Andrew, who wouldn’t meet her glare. In the end, she turned to Dante and pinned him with a fierce look. “Fine. You tell me.”

She didn’t know. Any of it. By her manner and the tinge of fear in her gaze, it was apparent. He’d thought that at least her father would have given her a bit of information. Plainly, though, this wasn’t the case.

So now she wanted him to be the bearer of bad news. She’d picked him to carry the load, lower the hammer, be the bad guy.

Cazzo
!

This was not how he’d wanted this situation to play out. There was nothing to be done but face it, however. Nothing to be done but shoulder the duty and make the best of it. As he always did.

“Lara—” her father rumbled.

“Hugo. Andrew.” He clenched his hand by his side. “Leave us.”

Her brother stood with a jerk, his tall, lanky body slumping toward the door. “Come on, Pop.”

Her father took a deep breath. “I don’t want her in the middle—”

“You do not trust me?” Dante pinned the man with a pointed look.

“Of course, I trust you.” The older man’s shoulders slumped. “This is such a bloody situation.”

“
Si,
yet I have put forward the path out of the situation.”

“True.” Hugo Derrick lifted his head and stared into Dante’s eyes.

“Then you agree and will sign the contract?”

“What contract?” Her tone came shrill and sharp. “Papa, don’t sign anything with—”

“Lara.” Her father cut her off, a frown of disapproval lowering his eyebrows. “Dante is doing us a fav—”

“I will handle this, Hugo.” He didn’t want her father reciting his virtues right now. By her attitude—the sullen turn of her mouth, her golden gaze alive with distrust—her attitude told him it wouldn’t help his cause. Better to be blunt with the truth and give her some time to come to the conclusion on her own that what he’d done for her family was worthy of respect. “She has a right to know what is going on and I am the one who should tell her.”

“I agree.” Her brother gave his approval.

“Obviously, it doesn’t matter to all you Neanderthals,” she said, “but I agree I have a right to know what’s going on.”

With a sudden dry chuckle, Hugo Derrick walked around his desk. Taking his daughter into his arms, he gave her a swift hug. “I only wanted to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection, Papa.” She gazed into his face, her eyes finally going soft. “I keep telling you that.”

“All right. All right.” Hugo let her go and turned with an outstretched hand to Dante. “You have a deal.”

“No, Papa—”

Breaking into her aggravating objection, he took the older man’s gnarled hand in his. “
Buono
. There is nothing more to worry about.”

Beside him, she snorted, as always ready to disagree.

He continued, not letting her voice her disapproval, keeping his focus on her father and her brother who stood at the library door, inches from escape. “I will let Lara know the details and convince her it’s a wise move for everyone involved.”

Another female huff. Yet, she stayed silent. One small victory, at least.

Hugo Derrick looked at his daughter. Then Dante. A small smile edged onto his mouth. “I’ll leave you to it. Andy and I will be in the garden room when you’re done with your conversation.”

The sound of the library door creaking shut behind the two men ended in a hushed silence. Dante gathered his wits and turned to stare down into her face. They were close, close enough he could hear her hitched breath and smell her rosy scent. Close enough a tingle of sexual awareness slithered down his spine.

No, no, no. This was not the time for any of that. This was a time to be blunt, precise, and then leave, letting time and her family work to his benefit.

“Tell me.” Her eyes were a dull gold, like hard stones staring out of her face.

“Your brother traded outside his job.” Brusque and tough, his words landed in the stillness of the room.

“No,” she gasped.

“
Si
,” he countered. “This violated his contract, so he’s been fired. There’s a chance he might be brought before the governing board of the Borsa Italiana.”

She slumped into the chair nearest her and took a deep breath. “Why? It’s unlike him to break the rules.”

In order to stop himself from lifting her into his embrace and comforting her, he walked to the edge of the oak desk and leaned on it, crossing his arms. “Your father.”

“What?” Her head jolted around and she met his stare once more.

“He has been struggling for a while. The upkeep on this house is not inconsequential.”

“I didn’t know. He never said anything.” Her skin paled to the color of parchment. “So Andy—”

“Tried to help. He took your father’s remaining holdings, used his insider knowledge of the markets, and tried to make up some ground.”

“It didn’t work?” Her knuckles showed white in contrast to the tan of her pants. “He failed?”

“He failed. And got caught.”

A dead silence reverberated in the room. She wilted into the chair like a rag doll. Her face radiated none of its usual vibrancy. He’d never seen her face when it wasn’t lit with an inner glow. Whether it was joy at seeing him or anger against him, there’d always been a glow.

Her reaction hit him hard, hard enough to feel like a blow to his gut. His brain stuttered, the intention he’d had to lay the facts out before telling her of his rescue crashed inside him. Nothing mattered except stopping her hurt and pain. His words burst forth. “All is not lost, however.”

“What?” She didn’t even glance his way.

“I know the man Andrew worked for. Fairly well.”

“You will talk to him?” A light mark of color seeped into her cheeks.

“I already have. I have the situation in hand.”

She looked down, focused on the movement of her hands smoothing down her capris. “I suppose I should thank you.”

A curl of irritation at her grudging tone laced through him, dampening his desire to ease the severity of this discussion for her sake. “You are welcome.”

Her head came up at his sarcastic words, her mouth twisting. “You love this, don’t you?”

Irritation turned to ire. “I love calling in a favor from a respected peer because your brother is a stupid young man who botched his career?”

“Don’t call him stupid.” Her eyes no longer resembled stones, they were alive with fury.

“He
was
stupid.”

“And you love throwing this in my face, don’t you?” Her hands fisted in her lap. “You love playing the lord and master who’s fixed all the problems for us poor, stupid peons.”

If she only knew what he’d done for her family. If she only knew he’d not only saved her brother’s neck—

“Just stand there,” she snarled. “Looking high and mighty.”

“Lara—”

“But you can stand there forever. I’m not going to grovel at your feet in thanks.”

His temper bubbled under his firm control. Pushing and pulsing beneath his determination to keep this meeting, this one meeting between them smooth and civilized. He took in a deep breath, trying to keep it suppressed, yet frustrated words burst from him, hammering at her. “Your brother’s situation is not the only problem.”

She stilled as if caught off guard. Fear replaced contempt in her golden gaze. “What do you mean?”

The fear in her eyes swept around his anger, creating a mess inside him. He felt tied in knots and yet torn apart at the same time. Before he found himself making the mistake of sweeping her into his arms to comfort her, he forced himself to walk over beside the fireplace and lean on it. “This is bigger than Andrew.”

“There’s more?”

“Your father has lost everything.”

She sucked in a deep breath.

“Everything, Lara.” He stopped himself from trying to lessen the blow. She needed to understand the true situation to be appreciative of everything he was going to do for her family. He needed her to feel complete and utter gratitude if he had a chance of cracking her misconceptions of him.

“The house?” Her voice was flat and low.

“He has not paid the mortgage for many months. The bank has called the loan.”

“His savings?”

“Gone. Andrew used the last of his equity and lost it.”

“We’re going to lose our home?” The cry was soft, haunted.

All temper leached from him. “No, I’m—”

“Bloody hell.” Sudden realization made her eyes widen. One tear streaked down her cheek. “Papa won’t be able to help with my school anymore.”

“Lara—”

“Gerry’s inheritance won’t be enough. I’ll have to close it.” The knowledge seemed to drain the last bit of life from her.

“An option.” He wanted to rush to her, hold her tight, tell her everything was going to be fine. Still, he also wanted to use this moment to show her how awful it could have been. Without him. “But there are other options.”

Her head slowly lifted and her dull stare centered on his chin. “Other options?”

“Options which include me.”

His statement lingered in the heavy stillness. He watched her as she took in his words. Her head tilted, her look questioned, her hands tightened around each other.

Then those golden eyes closed. Her spine went rigid and her mouth curled in disgust.

“Bastard.”

Her one word sliced across him like a knife.

“What?” Dante jerked upright. He had missed something. Her womanly logic had either dropped into a deep hole which he couldn’t follow or else had zoomed past him at ten times the speed of light.