Wife By Force: International Billionaires II: The Italians (17 page)

The protective instinct she had for the school reared its head. Barriers rose inside her and she bristled. “Inspect it, you mean? Check out whether your investment was wise?”

A black brow lifted and his eyes grew cool. “No. The school is important to you. So it is important to me. I want to see what my wife will be doing with much of her time.”

A flush of guilt ran up her neck and she sipped her coffee to give herself some time before responding. She’d overreacted, which wasn’t unusual when it came to her school. The children deserved her loyalty and she would never expose them to ridicule. Now she’d had a moment more to think, however, she must acknowledge the fact she couldn’t imagine her husband ridiculing children. He might be cool and calculating, but not cruel. She’d learned enough about him during the past two weeks to know this.

Still, it stunned her.

He cared about her school? Cared about what she was going to do while he worked his million euro deals?

She’d supposed he would want her to be like so many other Italian wives married to wealthy men. Shopping and lunching and shopping some more. She’d anticipated a fight on this issue as well. Another situation where she’d have to put her foot down and state her intention to do worthwhile things with her time.

“Lara?” His voice held a thread of exasperation.

“Don’t you have to go in to work?”

“I am the boss.” A long finger tapped on the edge of his mobile phone. “I can do what I want.”

He wanted to see her school? Instead of resuming his role as Entrepreneur of the Decade? She couldn’t wrap her head around it. Frowning, she tried to re-orientate her impression of what was vitally important to her husband. Her school had to be low on the list.

“Lara?” The thread of exasperation had turned into whole cloth.

“I didn’t think you’d care that much.”

“Not care? Not care what my wife is so passionate about?”

“I would have thought you’d see the school as some kind of distraction. Something I shouldn’t spend my time on.”

His mouth tightened. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know.” She managed to give him a nonchalant shrug.

“You assumed I would tell you to quit after our marriage.” His stark words plunked down between them.

“Yes.” All the old memories, all the old putdowns and dismissals by her first husband, echoed inside her.

“You were wrong.”

His harsh tone drew her gaze to his. Black intense eyes. Telling her clearly this husband was not like her last. His eyes also held…hurt. Her heart slipped into the wretched guilt she kept trying to keep at bay. “I’m sorry.”

Grimacing, he relaxed in the wicker chair. “I admit when our children come, I hope you will cut back on your time. But I would never ask you to quit something I have come to realize is so important to you.”

A quick twist inside made her take a deep breath. There would be no children and all of a sudden that hurt. Which was crazy and pointless. But guilt pumped, pummeled. Pushing the thoughts and emotions aside, she agreed with some reluctance, “Okay, you can come with me if you want.”

“
Grazie
.” His voice was bone dry.

“The place can be fairly loud,” she warned. “It might be a bit chaotic. The students are allowed to run around between classes.”

Her husband’s mouth quirked at one edge. “I have some experience with children and chaos. If you remember, I have six younger siblings.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“So, you see, I am not concerned about meeting your students. I believe I will survive the experience.”

“They are special children, Dante.”

“Every child is special.”

His words hit her heart with a solid punch. Her gaze flew to meet his and in his black eyes she saw more than she expected, maybe more than there truly was. Was that understanding? Compassion? Her nails bit into her palm. “These children are special in a different way.”

“
Si
,” he nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “I know.”

“What do you know?” she whispered.

“Do you think I would not…look into…your school?”

“Investigate, you mean.” A blinding realization came over her. Why hadn’t she figured this out before? The Dante she knew would never offer marriage until he knew everything about the woman. Everything. “You investigated the school.”

“I did some research.” He sighed at the expression on her face. “I asked some basic questions. I found it interesting you would choose to school these kinds of students.”

“These kinds of students?” Her voice crackled with immediate outrage.

His big hand lifted, showing her a broad palm. “That was not an attack or a judgment. I merely made a comment.”

She tried to stuff down her instant antagonism. Yet the scars were deep and old. “These students are important.”

“As I said before, all children are important.”

She braved a look into his solemn stare. “These particular children are important to me.”

“I know.” He met her gaze. “I have watched you during the last few weeks. I know a lot more about you now.”

“You don’t know everything about me.” A gurgle of the old wretched insecurity bubbled in her throat. She should embrace the thought that maybe, maybe when he found out her other secret, a secret far more important than her lost virginity, he’d reject her. Reject her because she wasn’t only inexperienced, she was flawed.

Dante. Rejecting her. Because she was stupid.

She stared at him across the table. He stared back.

Lara abruptly realized his rejection would be far worse than anything Gerry had ever done to her. The thought only added to the distress coating her throat. “Or you wouldn’t have married me.”

“No?” His mouth quirked again. “Are you going to tell me your deep, dark secrets now we are safely married,
tesoro mio
?”

“Maybe.” She sucked in a breath, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

He gave her a steady look. “Go ahead.”

“I’m dyslexic.” She felt a bit as if she’d jumped off a cliff and didn’t know where or how she’d land.

“Ah.” Obsidian eyes held hers, a flare of surprise running through them. “This explains your attachment to the school.”

“You didn’t know.” Why did that shock her? As a young child, she’d never been a whiz at school, but she’d managed to struggle through the reading courses while shining in her math classes. The Derricks had spoken Italian in their home and only after she’d arrived in England to confront the nuances of the English language had she realized she had a real problem. By that time, Dante had been out of her life.

So why did she feel as if he should have known this essential piece of her?

“No.” He sat back in the chair, totally at ease.

“And it doesn’t matter to you?” This casual acceptance was nothing like Gerry’s critical condescension.

“It apparently matters to you,” he muttered.

“No, I—” she stumbled to a halt.

“Did you believe I would think less of you?” His tone held an edge of frustration.

Yes. That was exactly what she’d thought. She jerked her shoulders in a shrug, the chaotic emotions running through her making it hard to appear nonchalant. “I didn’t know.”

“But you assumed. Again.” He clenched one hand on the table.

“Many people have thought less of me.”

“Many people?”

She didn’t answer.

“Or perhaps one in particular?”

She shrugged again.

A heavy pause filled the air. One of his fingers smoothed along the edge of his cup and then dropped to the table. “Why do I feel as if I am answering for crimes I did not commit?”

There it was again. He wanted her to talk about Gerry—her past, her pain. But she wasn’t interested in spilling her emotions in front of him. She stood, pushing her wicker chair away. “If you want to see the school, we’d better go.”

Dante leaned back, all elegance and pure male class. His eyes were shadowed by his long lashes, as he looked down at the remnants of his coffee. “
Va bene
, Lara. I will let this go for now.” His gaze snapped to meet hers. “However, we will need to talk about this at some point.”

Turning, she hastened toward the kitchen door. “Not if I can help it,” she stated under her breath.

T
he school was housed
in an old warehouse, but the ancient stone was the only thing old-fashioned about it. As soon as he entered the building, bright, modern colors crowded his senses. The walls were painted in brilliant turquoise and vermillion. Cork boards hung everywhere, strewn with colored drawings of families, horses, dogs.

Dante strode behind his wife and looked around as they walked down the center of a long line of doors. Out of each door spilled high, childish voices asking dozens of questions. Laughter bounced off the walls, and the deeper tones of teachers trying to corral the energy and make some sense of their lessons reverberated through the hall.

“Lara!” A matronly woman turned one corner, and at the sight of his wife, broke into a broad smile. “You’re back.”

“Ana.” His wife swept the woman into a warm hug. “I’m back. Did you survive?”

The woman’s brown eyes danced. “Barely. Still, as you can see, the place didn’t explode or collapse. We missed you, though.” Her focus landed on him, and he felt the immediate assessment begin. It was not in him to curry favor with anyone, yet it suddenly was vitally important he impress this woman who was a good friend of his wife. He nodded towards her, acknowledging and accepting the assessment.

Lara turned and waved his way. “My husband, Dante Casartelli.”

The woman kept assessing. However, she did nod at him.

“Dante,” his wife said. “This is Ana Santoro. She is the mainstay of the school.”

“Psssh,” the matron dismissed. “You exaggerate.”

“Hardly.” His wife’s affectionate smile was one she’d never blessed him with. The smile struck him sideways. He tried to let the frustration slide away.

Take it slow, and all things will come to you
.

The matron stepped forward and her action cleared the echo of his father’s advice from his mind. A short, firm handshake told him she was no nonsense. “Good to meet you,
Signore
Casartelli.”

“Dante.”

His wife’s fine eyebrows rose at the offer of his first name.

“Dante, then.” Ana smiled. “You are a very lucky man.”

“Ana—”

“I am aware of that.” He looked directly into the round, lively face.

“Good, good.” Her brown eyes went friendly. Ignoring his wife’s muttering, she turned to bustle down the long corridor. “There’s a lot I have to update you with.”

“I’m sure.” Lara followed, leaving him to trail behind.

His humor kicked in.

It wasn’t often he was left to follow the crowd. A new experience for him and one he didn’t mind. He was here to experience, to understand his wife. Not to make an impact, make decisions, or make a difference. The realization gave him a sense of freedom he hadn’t experienced since he was a child.

The experience felt good.

Lara shot questions at Ana as they passed room after room filled with children. His investigation had told him the school housed only two dozen in dormitories, yet day school students numbered over a hundred. The scope of the enterprise was more than he’d expected.

Pride pulsed through him.

His Lara had done all this. She’d found the old building, bought it, and supervised the restoration. She hired the staff, designed the advertising, signed the first students. The school was under-funded, many of the students being on scholarship, but it obviously was well run.

And his wife had created all of it.

True, he’d given his commitment to future schools in that stupid contract she’d forced him to create and sign. Something she knew about.

What she didn’t know, and if he had his way would never know, was how he’d made sure the property was available at a price she could afford. She had no idea he’d done a bit of backroom dealing to make sure the permits she needed came through. His Lara would go ballistic if she knew about the hand he’d played in blocking her initial attempts to found her school in England.

He’d used her dream to get her back home.

Dante kept walking.

He had no regrets. She was here and she was his. Whatever he’d had to do had been worth it.

The point was she’d never find out from him. Her father had strict instructions to keep silent. He’d only involved Hugo because he’d needed an intermediary to make the suggestion to come back to Italy to start her school. But he trusted her father to keep quiet.

She would never find out.

That was good. Because he wanted her to be proud of what she’d accomplished. After this morning’s talk, he wanted this for her with even more conviction. Her ass of a dead husband had evidently destroyed her confidence. And honestly, when everything was said and done, she’d put this school in place and deserved the credit. He’d merely helped oil the wheels.

He slowed his walk and stopped in front of one open door. The teacher’s voice spoke rapidly in Italian and then translated into English. A dozen children were ranged around a large table strewn with colored paper and pens.

“These children learn best with pictures.” His wife’s soft voice came from behind him.

“I see.” He focused on the teacher as she printed on the board and the children followed, tracing various colors on drawing paper.

“They are as bright, often brighter than regular children.”

“But their dyslexia means they need to learn differently.”

“Yes.” Her voice held a hint of surprise at his understanding. “Many schools don’t have the capacity or the time to deal with their special needs.”

He glanced at his wife. “So you stepped in.”

“There’s such a need out there.” Lara’s face shone with fervent belief. “Every city should have a school like this where these children learn how special and intelligent they truly are.”

“If I know you,
bella
.” Pride welled in his voice. Along with his all-consuming love for this woman. “You will make it happen.”

Her honey eyes widened. “You believe in me?”

“I believe in you.” He managed the words through the sudden knot in his throat. Didn’t she know how deeply he believed in anything and everything she did? “I believe in your dream.”

“Really?” A light gilded her beautiful eyes. “Thank you, Dante.”

“I will help you achieve this dream.”

Her hand landed on his chest, right where his heart pounded with solid determination. “I think you mean that.”

“I do.” The two words were as solemn a commitment to her as his marriage vows.

T
his was his world
. Completely.

Lara stood by her husband’s side, watching the swirl of black tuxes, silk dresses, smiling faces, feathers and flounces. The heavy air was filled with the fragrance of perfume and the aroma of flowers. Waiters roamed the crowd carrying trays of champagne and appetizers. The party was for some charity, she couldn’t remember which one, but it was obvious what the real business was tonight.

See and be seen.

She was certainly the center of attention. All eyes on her. Well, Dante, and thus, her. This was the first big bash they’d attended as a married couple, only a week after coming home from their honeymoon. This had to be the reason she felt so conspicuous. The amount of attention was shocking.

Yes, she’d known he was rich.

Yes, she’d known he was powerful.

Yes, she’d known he was important.

But she hadn’t known how easily he took center stage, how he moved into the spotlight as if he owned it. She hadn’t realized the impact his power had on others. How much they idolized him. How much they sought his attention. How much they courted him.

The king was in his element.

Yet she wasn’t sure she could carry off the role of queen with any kind of finesse or polish. The thought made her grumpy. By tough and determined steps, she’d rebuilt her self-confidence over the last eighteen months. She’d gotten her degree at last. She’d found the funding to start the school. She’d made a success of it.

She was as worthy as Dante Casartelli.

More worthy, actually. She had principles. He merely had power.

The power he held in his hands, though, was amazing.

They’d arrived less than an hour ago and from the first moment, Dante had been surrounded by a throng of fervent admirers: everyone from corporate CEOs to Internet millionaires to international entrepreneurs. All wanting her husband’s advice, support, or money. Or all three.

Even with her pep talk ringing in her ears, she was still unsettled. With Gerry, she’d endured the faculty parties. She’d dutifully smiled and played her part, the young wife staring with an adoring gaze at her older, smarter husband. That was nothing compared to this. Gerry had been a large fish in a small pond. Dante was a very large shark totally comfortable roaming the entire world’s ocean. As his wife, she was along for the ride, held in his gleaming white teeth.

His arm tightened on her waist as if he sensed her unease. “You are not enjoying yourself?” His tone hinted at amusement. And confidence. Apparently, he had no problem with the avid interest surrounding them.

“I’m fine.”

Sighing, he peered at her face. “You have nothing to worry about. You are the most beautiful woman here.”

“Please.” She made a face. “I’m not worried about my looks.”

His brow rose. “This from the woman who spent two hours deciding what she was going to wear tonight.”

“True.” She chuckled at the light dig. “I still don’t know if I chose correctly.” A glance around confirmed her fears. Every woman was decked out in the latest couture, while she’d decided on a simple shift she’d found in a London shop years ago.

Her husband’s perusal moved down her body with deliberate heat. The look touched on the skimpy spaghetti straps curved over her tanned shoulders. It then slid to the pink silk covering her breasts with a sleek hold. The warmth of his gaze immediately affected her nipples and the tight buds strained against the silk in an embarrassing display. Yet he continued his slow, steady stare, moving across the roundness of her hips and the softness of her upper thighs. The hem of the dress hit her mid-thigh, the only marginally sexy part of the garment in her opinion. Dante’s eyes gleamed with admiration for the length of her legs covered with silvery stockings. He ended his inspection at her shockingly high heels, the strappy leather barely keeping the shoes tied to her feet. Her toes curled from the impact of his intense stare.

“You chose perfectly.” His voice was low and hoarse.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“In fact, you chose so well, it is hard for me to concentrate on anything else this evening.”

“Dante.” The heat coming off his body zipped through her. Her skin tightened and a light sweat broke out between her breasts. Gazing into his eyes, she saw the blinding passion coursing through her reflected in his black stare.

“I believe we will have to leave,” he muttered. “To save my sanity.”

“Dante.” A booming voice cut through their sexual tension with a crack. She swung her head around to confront a huge man, stuffed into a tuxedo. His florid face beamed with a friendly grin. A pigeon of a woman clutched one gigantic arm, her short legs and compact body an amusing contrast to her companion’s hulking form.

“George.” Her husband’s voice was calm and cool. The husky words he’d expressed mere moments ago appeared to never have been uttered. Lara glanced at Dante’s face and encountered the bland expression she’d seen so many times before, but now she knew about the man beneath the mask. She noticed, for instance, his hand was still clamped tightly at her hip, the fingers kneading her skin. There appeared to be a muscle in his jaw that was not following his orders. It was as tightly clenched as his hand.

She smiled. Well. The king could no longer hide every one of his secrets from her. The thought filled her with surprising satisfaction.

Meanwhile, George had managed to capture her husband’s other hand and was pumping it for all he was worth. “Good to see you.”

Dante slipped his hand from the giant paw and nodded to the chubby woman. “Miranda. I hope you are well.”

“Yes, yes,” she enthused. “I love it when we come to Italy.”

“May I present my wife, Lara.” His mild smile gave nothing away. “Lara, this is George and Miranda Marchond. They have been kind enough to invest in some of my endeavors.”

“Kind enough?” George threw back his head and gave a loud guffaw. “More like lucky enough.”

“How brilliant to meet you, my dear.” Lara found herself engulfed in a vanilla-scented cloud of perfume and plump arms. The woman drew back and beamed. “I’m so glad Dante married such a lovely wife. A nice man like Dante should have a lovely wife.”

Nice? Lara shot an amused glance at her husband.

One brow rose a millimeter, yet his composed look stayed in place. “You are right, Miranda. My wife is very lovely.”

The compliment was smooth and suave and a month ago she would have thought it was part of his façade, a mere nod to social dictates. Now, though, she sensed some element to his tone she would have missed in the past. Some strand of truth. Her heart warmed.

“How did you meet?” Miranda burbled.

“Our families have been friends for years,” her husband said.

“I bet you were young sweethearts as children. Meant for each other from the first. How romantic.” The older woman clasped her hands in delight.

“Not exactly.” Lara’s words were edged with wry humor.

A low rumble of a chuckle from Dante tickled her side. The sound scarcely cracked the loud chatter surrounding them, but she heard and felt it. Surprised, she glanced his way and found a slight curl edging his mouth and a responding smile was hard to keep back. That humor of his, she was always shocked by its appearance and how much it tugged at her own.

“What do you do, dear?” Miranda was a chatterbox, while George seemed happy to stand beside her and beam.

“I help run a school.” Flustered at the question, she tried to ignore the unease she always felt when talking about her mission, because she knew how quickly she could slip into defensiveness.

“A school?” Miranda cocked her head like a little red robin.

“
Si
, a school for dyslexic children.” Dante’s deep voice held enormous respect and conviction. “The teaching is designed to help the children overcome any handicap and achieve every success possible.”