Wife By Force: International Billionaires II: The Italians (24 page)

Her hand trembled as she pushed the car door open and stepped out.

“Lara.” Hugo Derrick emerged from around the side of the villa, garden trowel in hand, face quizzical but filled with a warm welcome. “What a surprise.”

In a flash, all her shaky composure disappeared and she was a small girl again, running to her papa after falling or fighting with her brother or any myriad of childish hurts. Yet this wasn’t a childish pain; this was a gigantic yawning claw of anguish she could not contain inside any longer.

“Well, well,” her father muttered, his arms coming around her quaking body to hold her in a warm hug. “Something’s amiss, I take it.”

A watery chuckle escaped the sobs. Leave it to her father for English understatement. “Papa,” she whispered into the leathery neck, letting the smell of his tobacco soothe her.

He grumbled and groused, but his arms continued to hold her until the wave of crying subsided. “Let’s sit down.”

Allowing him lead her to one of the many stone benches dotting the property, she blotted her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt, trying to bring herself back from utter despair. As soon as they sat, her father’s bushy eyebrows rose with a look at her face, and one more time she found his arm around her shoulders, her head planted firmly on his chest.

“Not like you to do this,” his voice rumbled above her. “Must be something major.”

“It is.” A hiccup broke through her tears.

A warm, rough hand patted her shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it when you’re ready.”

Tell him all about it. Tell him she’d been forced to marry to save him and Andy. Tell him she’d fallen in love with her husband against her will. Tell him she’d stupidly hurt her husband with her stubbornness and her unwillingness to admit her new feelings. Tell him she’d been served with divorce papers and couldn’t find her husband to confront him.

Another wave of tears accompanied her thoughts and her papa’s arms tightened around her. “Now, now,” he murmured.

After wetting his shirt to the point of dripping, finally she felt the last of her tears dry on her skin. Slumping into his hold, her mind dulled to exhaustion. What would she do now? She’d gone everywhere she knew. She supposed it was time to confront his family. Someone would know where his bolthole was. It would be embarrassing, but she was beyond any shame. She wanted her husband back.

Lifting her head and sitting upright, she mopped her wet face with her sleeve.

“Do you want to talk about it now?” Her father’s mild voice was edged with concern.

She glanced at him. He was looking straight at her, his eyes filled with affection. “I love you, Papa.”

Chuckling, he patted her arm. “And I love you. Whatever has happened, we’ll fix it.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible.” She stared at her clasped hands. “I’ve screwed it up royally.”

“It?”

Her hands tightened. “My marriage.”

“Hmm.” Her father relaxed back on the bench. “You and Dante have had a fight.”

“More than that.”

He hummed again.

A lulling silence fell. The tree leaves above them rustled in the soft wind and the buzz of a bee rambling among the fountain flowers wafted in the air. The morning sunshine hit her legs, warming and soothing her. Some of the tension of the past few days started to slide away. Her papa always did this to her; he centered her with his love and gave her hope with his acceptance.

“He’s left me.”

“Dante?” He coughed. “That surprises me.”

“I can’t find him. I’ve been everywhere.”

“Apparently not everywhere or you’d have found him.”

Her father’s dry humor reminded her of her husband’s. If she’d had any tears left, the thought would have brought them forward, but she was drained. Dropping her head down into her hands, she closed her eyes.

He patted her leg, and in typical fashion, remained patient and quiet.

Sighing, she confessed what she could. “I was mad at him and I did some stupid things.”

“We all do that on occasion.”

“Finally, I guess, he’d had enough.”

“Lara.” He pulled her forward until she looked into his weathered face. “Whatever has happened, know this—he loves you.”

“Papa,” she cried, a wild hope bursting through her pain. “Do you think so?”

“I know so.” His voice was firm. “No man would have done what Dante did for your family without a great love.”

A knot of faint anger stirred in her soul, but she stamped it out of existence. The past was the past. She’d forgiven him and she wasn’t going to let the old anger stand in the way of her love. “He was marrying me, Papa. That’s why he helped you and Andy out.”

“No.” Her father’s face turned stern. “You have that wrong.”

“What?”

“He agreed to help us before you accepted his proposal.”

“That’s not…possible.” Utter shock held her still.

Running a hand over his bald head, her father appeared chagrined, yet determined. “Dante talked to me, the morning he came to ask for your hand.”

He was so old-fashioned, her husband. Now, though, the knowledge filled her with a warm affection instead of irritation. “When was this?”

“Right after Carlotta’s wedding. Perhaps a day or two after.”

Further shock ricocheted through her body. Even after she’d called him a monster and run from him, he’d still held out hope she’d become his wife? The arrogance of the act would have made her scream in the past, but now it only filled her with a hot glow. Because it might not have been arrogance. Maybe it was...maybe it was...love?

“He told me he’d loved you for a long time.” Her papa’s broad hand patted her knee. “But I’d known that for what seems like forever.”

“What did you say?” She gaped at him in astonishment.

“Lara, Lara.” He shook his head. “The man was devastated when you married that Englishman.”

“No, that can’t possibly be—”

“True. It’s very true.” Her papa stared at her, his brown gaze serious. “I saw him only a few weeks after the news and he appeared as if he’d lost a stone. His mamma fretted for months.”

“That couldn’t have been about me.” Chaotic emotion flashed through her. “He was probably upset about his father’s illness.”

“No, I don’t believe so. And during all these years, when he didn’t stop...”

She squinted at him as he trailed off. “Didn’t stop what?”

He coughed once more. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but I think you should know.”

Her head buzzed with a sudden premonition of something earth-shattering coming her way. “Maybe I don’t want to know?”

A twinkle lit in his eyes. “I thought you had a right to know everything, muffin?”

She gave him a tight smile in acknowledgment of the tease. Suddenly, his other words hit her. “Wait a minute. Who told you not to tell me—whatever you’re going to tell me?”

“Dante.”

Resentment flared inside. “Tell me.”

Her father looked at her and sighed. “Remember, Lara. He loves you.”

“Tell me.”

He leaned against the stone bench, his gnarled hands resting on his lap, his face solemn. “I didn’t want to let you go to England twelve years ago.”

“I know that.” She spat the words, her love for Dante twisting around the old anger. “I found out he was behind it.”

“You did?” He gave her a quizzical glance. “How did you—”

“Never mind.” She waved the question away, trying to wave the lingering hurt away also. “It doesn’t matter.”

Her father eyed her but continued. “The only way he got me to agree was by telling me his security team would protect you in England.”

“What?” Her spine went rigid.

“He watched over you. All those years.”

She breathed in. Out.

I kept track
.

His words at the pool came back to her with sharp clarity as shock cascaded inside her.

“Even after your marriage, he insisted on continuing.”

“He spied on me.” Her breath rasped in her throat. “For years.”

“No, muffin.”

She turned to glare at her father. “What else would you call it?”

“Love.” His gaze was earnest. “I’d call it love.”

The words hit her heart with heated truth. Could it genuinely be? All these years?

“He didn’t intrude on your life. He didn’t impose.” Her papa’s voice was thoughtful. “The only thing he did was watch out for you and make sure you were safe.”

The truth welled inside her, wrapping around her soul.

“I have to admit, I was grateful.” Her father squeezed her leg. “I didn’t think much of your Gerry’s ability to protect you.”

“I know you didn’t—”

“So it was nice to know Dante had it well in hand,” he chuckled. “As he always does.”

Reluctant affection ran through her. “He’s such a control freak.”

“He does enjoy arranging things, doesn’t he?” Her father grinned. “Which is why I wasn’t that surprised when he came to me about eighteen months ago, right after Gerry died in that car wreck.”

“He came to visit you then?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “He had a plan.”

Groaning, she put her head in her hands. “Why am I not surprised?”

“He wanted you home, in Italy.” Her father’s voice grew soft. “I wanted you here, too.”

“What did you both do?”

“It was mostly Dante, but I concurred.” His hand smoothed over her hair. “He made sure that property was available for your school.”

“What?” Her head whipped up.

Her papa’s brown eyes met hers. “He helped a bit with those permits you were having trouble with.”

“I can’t believe—”

“Believe it.” His gaze narrowed. “Also believe that it takes nothing away from your accomplishment. You have every right to be proud of what you’ve done.”

She took the words in, knowing they were true. “I know, but—”

“He merely eased your way.” Her father took her hand in his. “Because he loves you.”

“I don’t know—”

“He confirmed it when he came to ask for your hand.”

“What did he say?” she mumbled, confusion fluttering in her stomach.

“He said he’d waited forever and if he had to wait longer, he would.” Hugo clasped her hand, a wry smile on his face. “He said he’d wait forever for you if he had to.”

“He loves me.” The words vibrated in her soul. Yet a discordant twang echoed through her as well. He hadn’t waited for her. Not at all. He’d pushed, he’d demanded, he’d forced.

How could he have done that if he loved her?

“He loves me?” A whisper of doubt ran through her voice.

“Yes.” The one word rang with conviction. “Which was why I gladly gave my approval to his proposal. I knew you both had some issues, but I told him I was confident you’d figure it out together. I couldn’t think of a better man for you than Dante Casartelli.”

Her throat clutched at the truth in her papa’s words. “There’s no better man.”

“No, there isn’t. He proved it when he wanted to discuss my financial difficulties after I’d already approved of the marriage.”

The old hurt from being forced to marry him rumbled in her. She bit her lip. It didn’t matter anymore. She loved him, so she’d forgiven him. However, it still hurt like an infected wound.

“I found it hard to swallow,” her father continued. “My pride didn’t want to accept it. But it’s one thing to accept help from a mere neighbor, another to accept it from a son-in-law.”

The hurt twitched, burned.

“Yet Dante, being the man he is, wouldn’t let me believe that.” He grunted, his arms folding across his chest. “He made it clear the offer of help was not tied to the marriage.”

Astonishment blanked her mind. What? “What?”

There had to be some mistake.

“I can’t believe it.” Something was wrong with this. Something had been missed or misinterpreted. Her forced marriage was a certainty. So what was all this about?

“I’m telling you the truth,” her papa insisted. “He had the papers ready to be signed. I argued about it, said he was under no obligation, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. You walked in just as we were finishing.”

She scanned her father’s face and saw only solid truth. “You’re kidding.”

“Why would I kid about such a thing?” Shaggy eyebrows rose. “Your Dante was adamant. He swept every one of my objections aside.”

“That’s typical.” She was amazed she could enjoy some humor at this moment.

Her papa chuckled. “Yes, your husband is forceful. But he did it all for you.”

An aching joy mixed with hope blossomed in the pit of her stomach. “You think so?”

“Again, I know. He told me he didn’t want you to worry about anything. He still wanted to marry you, and he told me he would continue to try and convince you. However, either way, he would make sure Andy’s problem was solved and I would keep the house.”

Her heart thudded in her chest as the information sank in. “I’m…I’m…”

“Speechless?” Her papa’s mouth curved. “That’s unusual. Especially since you were very verbal that day.”

“I was angry.”

“An understatement. I’d assured him you wouldn’t be around, yet there you were.”

“I had a right to know what was going on.”

Her father chuckled. “I suppose.”

“Papa.”

“In any event, he had it well in hand.” His gaze sparkled as he met her own. “As he always does.”

“I’m not something to be handled.”

“Yes, yes.” Waving her objection aside, he continued. “But you must admit, muffin, he had you convinced by the end of the day.”

Convinced he wouldn’t help if she didn’t comply.

Convinced he was a monster.

Convinced he was forcing her.

But it had all been a lie. Why had he done it? She frowned in deep concentration.

“I was happy for you. Dante is a man I can admire, a man I can trust with my daughter’s happiness.”

“I’m not happy right now.”

“Well,” he said. “Marriages have ups and downs. Notably in the early going. Still, Dante isn’t one to walk away from his promises.”

“No. He’s not.” Not unless he was driven past the point of no return.

“Whatever’s happened, it can be fixed. He won’t want to lose you. He loves you too much.”

Was that the reason he had done something so rash? So crazy? Had her cool cucumber of a husband lost his head, lost his temper, and forced her because he truly loved her? A battalion of emotions poured through her: hope, fear, love, pain.