CHAPTER THIRTEEN

IT was her wedding day. Strange because she’d never given a lot of thought to her wedding day. Although, when her mind had wandered to the event she’d imagined—the very few times she’d imagined anything—a lot of color.

Glitter, naturally. Having some friends and family present, no matter how fraught the relationship, would have been nice, too.

But she’d opted out of it because she simply hadn’t told her parents, or siblings, that she was engaged, so that made it easy.

And now, in her gorgeous but sedate satin gown, with her hair pinned up, so that her pink stripe was covered, as commanded by the hairdresser, she felt a little sad about her lack of support. About the fact that she hadn’t put more of her own personal stamp on things.

Which was stupid, because this was a very temporary marriage to a man who meant nothing to her. A man who was just her boss. And who was just the most fascinating, interesting, sexy man she’d ever met. And who was, oh, yeah, also her lover.

So there was that, too, but it was still no big deal and not worth getting worked up over.

Too bad she was worked up.

She blamed some of the worked up on getting out of the shower last night and finding Dante sitting in the rocking chair, holding Ana against his chest. Singing.

That had made something crack apart in her chest. Had left her feeling vulnerable, tender. Different.

She took a deep breath and bunched up handfuls of her slippery skirt. She didn’t have time to get all moony. Ana was already in the church, with Genevieve who was acting as an attendant and babysitter. They’d opted to include Ana in the ceremony because, honestly, the party was for her. The whole thing was for her.

Paige hoped, sincerely, that Ana never doubted how loved she was. Because this was nothing, only a small piece of what she was willing to go through in order to secure her daughter’s safety and happiness. In order to keep her in her life.

She would walk through fire. All today required was a corset and mascara. And some vows. In a church.

So maybe she would walk through fire for all this eventually.

At least now she felt equipped to do it. Felt like she had the strength. She didn’t know what had happened to her over the past few weeks, but something in her had changed. She wasn’t afraid that everything she touched would turn to sand and blow away in the wind. Wasn’t afraid that she was destined to fail. She felt…powerful. Like she had the power to do what had to be done.

“Ms. Harper?” The wedding planner, the one who had thrown everything together at the last minute without batting an eye, poked her head into the waiting area Paige was standing in.

“Yes?”

“It’s time to queue up.”

Paige nodded and walked out of the quiet little entryway into the foyer of the church. Two wooden double doors loomed in front of her. She could hear people talking quietly, and she could hear music.

“Dante, Genevieve and Ana are already in place. You just wait until I signal you.”

Paige nodded, unable to come up with any words.

Then, way too quickly, the wedding planner gave her the signal and the doors swung open. Paige took a deep breath and started to walk slowly down the aisle, her heart pounding in her head.

She didn’t really like having everyone’s eyes on her, because there was a very high likelihood of her tripping or otherwise making a fool out of herself, and she really didn’t relish a thousand people bearing witness to her clumsiness.

One foot in front of the other.

She concentrated on that. On making it down smoothly. And she didn’t once look up at Dante. She found Ana first, clinging to Genevieve, her frilly white dress bunching out around her, a headband with an oversize flower decorating her short hair.

Only at the end, when she had nowhere else to look, when it was time for her to take Dante’s hand, did she look at him.

And it was like the whole sanctuary, the whole city, the whole world, cracked apart around her and fell away. He was beautiful, but he was always beautiful. The tuxedo highlighted the hard lines of his trim physique, the candlelight casting shadows in the hollows of his face, making his cheekbones sharper, his jaw more square.

But that wasn’t it.

He took both of her hands and the pastor began the ceremony. She managed to say the vows, managed to repeat them when it was her turn, to keep from stumbling over her words.

But when the command was given to kiss the bride and Dante’s lips touched hers, she realized what it was. And it filled her with a sense of bone-deep terror, and a kind of pure, intense elation that she’d never experienced before in her life.

Dante wasn’t just her boss. He wasn’t just a man who was helping her. He wasn’t just her temporary husband. He wasn’t even just her lover.

Dante was the man she loved. The only man she’d ever loved. The man who was worth the risk. The man who had made her fear of being unwanted seem like nothing. Because she was willing to fight for him. Willing to risk herself, her heart, for him.

Because she loved him.

And she knew that the admission would send him running back up the aisle alone.

So, she said nothing, and she kept on kissing him.

“And now I pronounce them, not only husband and wife, but a family,” the pastor said.

Genevieve handed Ana to Paige and Paige took her, held her daughter close against her chest, her heart thundering, as Dante took her free hand.

“I am proud to present the Romani family.”

Dante was grinning, the kind of grin designed to make the headlines. The kind of grin designed to impress child services. The kind that Paige knew was a fake. Because she could see the emptiness in his eyes.

She was finding it a little hard to fake it, considering the revelation that had just slapped her in the face.

She wasn’t sure when it had happened, the love thing. When a crush had changed into something real, something deeper. Sometime in between when he’d stood in front of her desk like an avenging angel demanding an explanation, and when he’d cradled Ana against his chest and sang to her with the most profound tenderness she’d ever seen from him.

They walked down the aisle, to thundering applause, and she wondered, for the first time, who the people in attendance were. Friends of Dante’s family. And friends of their friends, she imagined.

Paige forced a smile, and tried to keep a hold of Dante’s hand. He leaned in, the motion likely seeming like an affection nuzzle to their audience. “Smile,” he said.

“I am,” she whispered back.

The double doors opened for them and they entered the empty foyer.

“You aren’t,” he said, once the doors closed behind them.

“Well, I’m not as good of an actor as you,” she said.

He looked stricken by that statement and she couldn’t understand why. It’s what he was doing, she could tell.

“Well, you had best become better at it. We are headed to the reception now, and you are going to meet my parents.”

* * *

Dante watched as Paige, pale and drawn, attempted to converse with guest after guest in the massive ballroom. He could tell she was fading. Ana had faded long ago, and was asleep in his arms, her face pressed hard against his shoulder.

Strange, how easy it was to get used to carrying the little girl, when he had avoided it for so long. It seemed natural now. Right.

Don and Mary, his mother and father by every right, caught his eye and made their way across the ballroom, their hands unlinked, but touching lightly with each step. They weren’t overly affectionate and never had been. But they presented a strong front of solidarity. One that went well beyond a front, he was certain.

“Dante.” Mary leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, resting her hand on Ana’s back. “We’re so very happy for you.”

He nodded, discomfort assaulting him. He hadn’t wanted to lie to them. Not for anything.

Don smiled. “We were certain you’d never settle down, and then this. Out of the blue. Instant family. A granddaughter for us, too.”

Guilt stabbed him. “A surprise for me, as well.” That was the strict truth.

Paige looked over at him, and in moments she was flitting across the room. She came to his side, her hand on his arm.

“You must be Dante’s parents,” she said.

“And you’re the world’s most unexpected woman,” Mary said. “We never thought Dante would choose family life.”

“Ah, well,” Paige said. “I sort of roped him into it. He didn’t have a choice really.”

Don and Mary laughed, because it sounded too ridiculous to be true. Even if it was. Though, that he’d had no choice was where Paige was wrong. He had a choice. He could walk away at any moment, but something was keeping him from doing it.

If only he knew what it was. Ana shifted against him, and a strange tightness invaded his chest.

“We do have a bit of a surprise for you,” Don said. “Dante told us you weren’t planning a honeymoon because of the baby. So Mary and I thought we would offer to take Ana for the night, and that we would send you to a hotel downtown.”

Heat flooded through Dante’s veins at the thought of a night alone with Paige. Not the best moment to be flooded with heat, all things considered. “One of your hotels?”

Don laughed. “Naturally.”

“Oh,” Paige said. “I don’t know. I…”

Mary put her hand on Paige’s. “I know you don’t know us, but Dante does. And we’re Ana’s grandparents now. We want to be involved.”

The statement made Paige look even more sallow than she had all day. “Right. Of course.”

Dante handed Ana over to Mary, and Ana stirred, pinning her sleep-clouded eyes on the older woman. But she didn’t shriek or make a fuss. That was one thing he found fascinating about Ana. She seemed to make instant assessments about people and then decide how to react according to that assessment.

In so many ways, she could have been his daughter. She was decisive. Focused.

The thought doused the fire that had been raging through him, killed it off with a streak of ice. She wasn’t his daughter. She never would be.

Just like Paige wasn’t really his wife. And they shouldn’t be. For their own sakes, it was a blessing they were not. And he could only hope that there would be no other child. That Paige wasn’t pregnant.

He ignored the faint, treacherous feeling of hope that burned in him. The hope that she was. That he could keep her with him.

No. He would go on their mini honeymoon and enjoy their wedding night. But the fact that they’d signed a document didn’t change anything. It didn’t make any of it real. It didn’t make any of it possible.

Forgetting that wasn’t an option.

* * *

The suite was stunning. And Paige was shaking.

She’d hardly said two words to Dante for a week, and now they were going to get naked again, and have amazing sex, which was great. Except that sex with him had such a high cost to her emotions and while she was willing to pay it, she did have to gear up for it.

“That was very nice of your mom and dad,” she said.

A muscle twitched in Dante’s cheek. “It was.”

“So this is your dad’s hotel?” She knew he called his parents by their first names, but she felt awkward about it.

She walked across the sleek, modern room, to the window that provided a view of the lights in the Gaslamp Quarter. The city was glowing, still alive in spite of the late hour. And yet up in the top of the hotel, everything seemed so distant. Unreal.

It felt like an alternate reality up there. Both safer for its separation from the world and more dangerous for it.

She turned around to face Dante and her heart crumpled. He looked so perfect in his tux, his tie open, the top buttons on his shirt undone. He looked less than perfectly pressed for once. As if the day might have actually pierced that armor he valued so highly.

And she knew why now. She saw it clearly. What the press took as aloofness, a kind of unfeeling detachment, she knew had been a survival technique. To protect the little boy who had felt too much.

The boy whose world had broken before his eyes one horrible day, at the hands of the man who should have loved him. Should have loved his mother.

She also saw, clearly, that Dante’s parents loved him. That Don and Mary had deep, real affection for the boy they’d brought into their home as a teenager. And she saw that Dante didn’t realize it. That he kept himself from returning it, or at least showing that he did.

Still protecting himself. Still guarding himself against pain.

She recognized it clearly. It was a grand scale version of what she’d done for most of her life. Don’t care, don’t hurt. Don’t try, don’t fail.

“Champagne?” she asked, walking over to the full kitchen area in the suite, touching the top of the bottle that was sitting on ice, two crystal flutes set out for the newlyweds.

“Why not?” he asked. “It seems a traditional thing to do on one’s wedding night.”

“Yes,” she said. “And fitting, since you promised me the rest of the night would be traditional, too.”

He looked down, a lock of dark hair falling forward. “I did. And I must apologize for that. For the way I treated you before I left.”

“I’m over it, Dante.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “I behaved like an ass and I deserve for you to be annoyed with me.”

“I’m not, though. Since that first night with you I didn’t have any intention of going to bed alone on our wedding night, so your demand was well in line with my plans.”

He glowered at her, so serious and irritated she nearly laughed at him. “You’re impossible, Paige.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told that.” She took the champagne out of the bucket and worked the cork, wincing when it popped out. She poured two glasses and held one out to him. “I’ve been told I’m quite impossible, in fact, but I never seem to change. And there was once a man who told me that maybe the problem isn’t with me, but with other people.”

He took the glass from her hand and held it up in salute, and she did the same.

“To your impossibleness,” he said.

“I’ll drink to that.” She took a sip of the dry, bubbly liquid, her eyes never leaving his. “You know what’s funny?”

“What?” he asked, leaning against the counter.

“The other times I’ve been called impossible…it wasn’t because I was stubborn. Actually, I’ve spent my whole life being very, very not stubborn. I was impossible because I wouldn’t apply myself. Because I never listened when my mother told me I should try harder. Or, rather because I stopped listening at a certain point.”

“Explain.”

“You know I’m going to. At length.”

“Yes, I do know that about you.”

“Anyway, the thing is, it became clear very early on that school was hard for me. My brother and sister, they were brilliant. My sister in academics, my brother in academics and in sports. They were stars. From day one they were like hometown heroes. My sister would go to national spelling bees and science fairs. My brother brought the high school football team to the state championships and scored the winning touchdown. My sister was the valedictorian of her graduating class.”

She took another sip of her champagne and tried to stop the tears that were forming. It shouldn’t hurt. Not after all this time.

“So then there was me. And I struggled to pay attention in class. To pull average grades. And it wasn’t good enough. I was accused of not trying when I was. And I did try. I tried to do well. I tried to make friends and…and fit in. But it didn’t work. And so I just…stopped. Because if I didn’t care, then it didn’t hurt so much. You remember I told you about the braces incident? That was another one of those moments. If I laughed with everyone else and made it a big joke, it was funny that I cut the hell out of a guy’s tongue during my first kiss. If I could just laugh, when I got a flier handed to me in the halls that had a picture of me, covering my chest, with eggs on my face, well, then maybe I could be part of the joke instead of just being the butt of it. But I shut down inside. And I stopped trying.”

Dante frowned, his dark eyebrows drawing together. “I have never looked at you and seen a woman who wasn’t trying, Paige. Never.”

“Not now,” she agreed. “I’ve been changing, slowly over the past three years, since I moved. Since I got the job at Colson’s and I saw that I could be really good at something other than just splashing paint on a canvas.”

“People make a lot of money splashing paint on a canvas,” he said drily.

“Yes, but I wasn’t. And no one thought it had any kind of value, not in my family. Not in my community.”

“Blind and stupid,” he said, his tone harsh. “You have a gift for color and design. I still don’t understand how they couldn’t see it.”

His anger on her behalf warmed her. Caused a little trickle of satisfaction to filter through her veins. But that wasn’t why she was telling him about herself, about what she’d been through.

“And then there was Ana,” she said. “Suddenly another person was depending on me caring. On me making a success. Throwing myself into it and not giving a thought to failure. Because I couldn’t afford to think of failing. For Ana, it’s been a pursuit of success at all costs and suddenly I realize that I can achieve things. With your help, I grant you. But…”

“But it was your bullheaded stubbornness that got me to help,” he said.

“And that was something I didn’t know I had.” She looked into her drink, watched the bubbles rise to the surface as she picked her next words carefully. “But I had to be willing to stop trying to protect myself. I had to be willing to be hurt in order to grab anything worthwhile.”

His expression flattened, light leaching from his dark eyes. “I’m happy you were able to do that.”

So, he wasn’t going to understand what she was saying. Or he was going to pretend that he didn’t.

But she’d changed. And just because it wasn’t easy, didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try. Because whether or not Dante ever loved her, Dante deserved to feel loved. He deserved to be healed. And he was worth any level of pain or disappointment she might face.

Because he was worth something. Everything.

Of all the realizations she’d had about Dante, the most terrifying, heart-wrenching one, was that her enigmatic, alpha boss, didn’t see himself as valuable. He saw himself as a liability. As a roadblock to the happiness of others. As a danger, in many ways.

She would change that. No matter what happened between them in the end, she was determined to change that. She wasn’t going to be the happy-go-lucky Paige Harper of three years ago. She wasn’t even going to be the Paige she’d been a few weeks ago.

She was stronger now. She knew she had power. She knew she could succeed.

She set her glass on the counter, walked back over to the window, sensing Dante’s gaze following her movements.

With the curtains open, the lights from the city casting a pale glow on the living area, Paige reached behind her back and gripped the tab on her zipper, sliding it down slowly, the fabric parting, exposing her back to the cool air.

The straps on the gown loosened, and she pushed them off her shoulders, the gown slipping down her body and pooling in a silken mass at her feet. She stepped away from it, keeping her back to him.

The strapless, lace undergarment she was wearing pushed her breasts up high, contoured her waist, ending at her hips, just above the white, lace thong that barely covered anything. She left her stilettos on, bright pink and shocking, with glitter dusting the heels.

Confidence—unfamiliar, empowering—burned inside of her, along with a steady pulse of desire that beat a rhythm through her entire body, centered at the apex of her thighs.

“I can tell you something else I want,” she said. “Something I’m determined to have.”

“What’s that?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

“You. Tonight, I’m going to have you.”

“Do you think so?” His voice was closer now, feral. Arousing.

“I know it.” She turned to face him, and the lean, hungry look on his face gave total evidence of her victory.

“My little innocent has become a seductress?”

“I always have been,” she said. “I just needed to find her. She was always there. But you helped bring her out. Because you…knowing you, has changed me.”

She could see it, clear and quick, a flash of fear in his eyes. “Have I?” he asked, his voice rough.

“Yes. You’ve helped me find my power. My peace with myself.”

“How did I do that?” he asked.

“By being you.”

She took a step toward him, her heart thundering, the need burning in her like fire overtaking any insecurity that might threaten to ruin the moment. Her moment. His moment.

She reached behind her back and started to undo the hooks and eyes on the corset bra, letting it fall to the floor, her breasts bare for his inspection.

He was watching her, motionless as stone, his body tense, his expression blank. But there was a wealth of information in that blank slate. She knew him well enough to know that now. That the less she saw, the more there was. The more desperately he was trying to hide. To keep control.

She wouldn’t let him have it. Not tonight. She wanted more. More than their first night, more, even, than the night in the kitchen. She wanted it all. All of him.

She hooked her fingers in the sides of her panties and tugged them down her legs, kicking them to the side. Then she closed the distance between them, pressing her body against his, still fully clothed in his tux. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Handy thing about the high heels,” she said. “I don’t have to get up on my tiptoes. But I do think they leave me a little overdressed.” She toed them off and shoved them out of the way. “And you are way overdressed.”

Paige put her hands on his shirt and concentrated on undoing every last button, shoving it, along with his suit jacket, onto the floor.

“Relax, Dante,” she whispered. “Don’t you ever relax?”

“Show me a man who can relax while you’re doing this to him. He does not exist.” His voice was strangled, affected.

She planted her hand on his chest, feeling the heat of flesh and muscle beneath her palm. “I don’t know very many women who could relax with you looking like this. I know I’m not exactly relaxed. Just incredibly turned on.”

A groan escaped his lips and she captured it with hers, sliding her tongue over his, pressing her breasts to his bare skin. She pulled away from him, kissing his neck, tasting the salt of his skin, before traveling lower to his chest.

She traveled lower, lavishing attention on each ridge of muscle, his stomach contracting beneath her lips, his fingers tangling in her hair, working at the pins that held it in place.

She stopped at the waistband of his pants, tracing the line where flesh met fabric with the tip of her tongue. Then she started loosening his belt, pulling it slowly through the loops, watching the effect each movement had on her captive.

The muscles in his stomach jumped as her hand brushed the hardness of his cloth-covered erection, his eyes like black fire, burning into her, his attention rapt on her. There was no disinterest now. No flatness. Nothing veiled, nothing hidden.

She pushed his pants down his lean hips, leaving him gorgeous, naked and aroused for her exploration. She circled his length with her hand, testing the weight of him, the hardness. She squeezed him gently and earned a rough growl of pleasure. So uncivilized. So uncontrolled. So everything she wanted from him.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” she said, on her knees in front of him, a subservient position. Ironic, because in that moment she knew, for a fact, that she was the one with all the power.

“What is that?” he asked. She could hear the strain in his voice, could hear the edge, how close he was to losing his control completely.

And she pushed. She leaned in, flicking her tongue over the head of his erection. Tasting him, testing him. So good. So perfect.

She dipped her head, taking him inside of her mouth, her lips sliding over his length. He pushed his fingers deeper into her hair, her curls falling out of the pins and cascading over her shoulders.

“Dio, Paige.”

Her name on his lips was fuel for the fire. She continued to explore him with her mouth, her tongue, pushing him higher, harder. Pushing herself right along with him. She could feel him shaking, the muscles in his thighs, his hands in her hair unsteady.

“Enough,” he said, his tone pleading. “I can’t hold back.”

And part of her didn’t want him to. But another part, the selfish part that won, wanted to stop so that she could join him in release.

She pulled away from him, moving into a standing position, her eyes never leaving his. In the dim light, she could see the dull flush of arousal staining his high cheekbones, could see his chest rising and falling sharply with each labored breath.

Could see that she was close to uncovering the man beneath the armor.

“Come to bed with me,” she said.

And he complied.

There were condoms in the bedside table, and Dante quickly rolled one on, joining her on the bed, stroking the silken seam between her thighs with his fingers, sliding a finger deep inside of her, testing her readiness.

“Oh yes,” she breathed, the white-hot friction created by his touch sending a streak of pleasure through her each time he brushed his fingers over her clitoris.

“Ready for me?”

She bracketed his face with her hands, her eyes locking with his as she pressed a kiss to his lips. “Always,” she said.

He slid inside of her, his eyes never leaving hers as he filled her, joined himself to her, in the most primal, basic, profound way possible.

This was why they called it becoming one. Because she couldn’t tell anymore where he began and she ended. Couldn’t tell whose pleasure she was feeling, whose desperation.

The need for release pounded through both of them, and each thrust of Dante’s body within hers, each press of hers against his, brought them closer. She moved her hands over his back, felt the tension in his muscles, tension that echoed through her, tightened more and more, unbearably so.

He thrust hard into her one last time and pushed them both over the edge, a rough growl on Dante’s lips.

She lay there, holding him against her body—her world, her defenses, at his feet. Somehow, it wasn’t just about him anymore. It was about her. Not about breaking him down, but being broken in front of him. Of offering him everything, regardless of the consequences.

She ran her fingers through his hair, pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “I love you.”

* * *

I love you.

It shouldn’t matter how she felt. Ultimately, it changed nothing. It didn’t alter the plans he’d been making, slowly, since the wedding. Since the moment she’d appeared at the church. Since he’d seen his parents with Ana.

What she felt changed nothing. On one thing, he was sure Paige was absolutely right: her love had no darkness to it. There was nothing in Paige but pure, beautiful light. And there was nothing more than that in her feelings.

She was all strength, determination and generosity.

He was the one who had to be kept on a leash. Of that he was certain. He had the blood of a monster in his veins. He had seen what love had done to that man. How he had let it get twisted inside of him. Love becoming about hurting someone else, controlling her, never controlling himself.

He would never do that. Would never allow it.

He had lost something of his control back in that bed with Paige, but he would not allow it to happen again. The feeling, though, with her, was proving addictive. The temptation to drown in passion, in her arms, was strong.

He gripped the rail of the balcony and looked out at the city below. The air was warm, but he was cold to his bones. There was no need for him to exact punishment on himself tonight, no need to remind himself of the destruction he was capable of.

I love you.

Paige loving him, what it might do to her, that was the cruelty. That was the punishment.

Maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe it will keep her with you.

Not a kindness on his part, perhaps, but he had been considering it, strongly. To keep Paige and Ana in his life. In his house. Something to thank his parents for all they had done, a source of stability and warmth for his home. A place for them to be protected and to live in luxury.

Feelings he hadn’t counted on, hadn’t wanted from her. But it wasn’t the end of everything. He could keep her. He could make her happy. And he could do it without endangering her.

Without exposing himself.

It was wrong to want this. But he did.

He turned and walked back into the bedroom, looked at Paige curled up in bed. He slipped beneath the covers with her and gathered her close, pressing a kiss to her hair.

This could work. He would make it work. Tomorrow, when they were back home, he would tell her he wanted her to stay with him. And she would.

She had to.