CHAPTER FOURTEEN

PAIGE was overjoyed to be reunited with Ana, who had grown spoiled overnight in the company of the people who now considered themselves her grandparents. Her heart ached at the thought of what their deception was doing. Over the people it could hurt.

She hadn’t counted on this. On how far it would spread. No, she hadn’t thought at all. And now it had all become one big emotional tangle. Don and Mary Colson loved Ana, and she loved them. Ana loved Dante. Paige loved Dante and she had been foolish enough to tell him so.

And he hadn’t said a thing back. Hadn’t said a thing about it since, not even in denial of it, or rejection of it.

With his parents around, she hadn’t really thought he would. But once they were gone and a very cranky Ana who was coming off being treated like her Royal Highness the Grand Duchess had been put down for her nap, she’d expected something.

Instead, Dante had retreated to the office. Really, it was Tuesday and they both could have gone in, but she’d felt sulky over his behavior, and reluctant to leave Ana, and he hadn’t pressed.

Paige put the finishing touches on her sketch and looked out at the ocean. She had another window designed for Christmas, and with only one more main display to concern herself with, she was running well ahead of deadline.

Dante’s seaside house was certainly good for inspiration. Even if the man himself was turning her into a quivering ball of nerves.

She set her sketchbook down on the table and stood, stretching her arms up over her head, then shaking her hands out, trying to get rid of some of the adrenaline that was running through her.

Thinking about Dante had that effect on her. Remembering being in bed with him did that to her. Most especially, remembering that she’d told him she loved him had that effect on her.

She took a deep breath of the ocean air and put her hand on her stomach. Dante’s parents, their feelings, were just a part of the unintended side effects of this whole thing. It was still possible that she was pregnant.

The idea had panicked her at first. The thought of caring for two babies. Of what it might do to the adoption. Now…now she felt like she could do it. Like no matter what happened, it was within her power to handle it.

Because she wasn’t the same person she had been. Or rather, she didn’t see herself the way her family, or the people back in her hometown had anymore. She wasn’t deficient. She had everything in her that she needed to succeed. Most importantly, she knew just how much power love had. How it had changed her. With Ana, and now with Dante.

Another baby would mean more love. And no matter how difficult it might be to manage everything, she couldn’t regret that.

She turned and walked back into the house, and nearly ran into Dante, who was walking through the living room with long, purposeful strides.

“You’re back.”

“Yes,” he said. “I am.”

“It’s before five, so it surprised me.”

“There was pressing business for me to take care of here.”

“What…what’s that?” she asked, sure she didn’t want to know. Because she was sure she already knew. It had something to do with the I Love You incident and while she had wanted to talk to him about it, she found that, as she was faced with it, she was changing her mind.

“I’ve been thinking. The coverage of the wedding in the media has been very positive.”

She grimaced. “Yeah, I hadn’t really looked at it.” Frankly, she hadn’t wanted to see pictures of the moment she’d realized she was in love with the world’s most impossible man.

“I had Trevor send me the highlights. But, as I thought, the wedding, the relationship in general, has had a very positive effect on my image.”

“Well, that’s nice.” This was about as far from feelings as it got, and she found she was more annoyed than relieved.

“There is the possibility you’re pregnant.”

“I’ll know soon-ish,” she said.

“Also,” he said, pressing on as if she hadn’t spoken, “it didn’t escape my notice how quickly Don and Mary took to Ana. And how quickly she took to them.”

Her stomach fell. “Oh. Yeah, I feel bad about that.”

“Why? There’s no reason to. If anything, it confirms what I already suspected we should do.”

“And what’s that?” she asked, not sure she was going to like the answer. Afraid she might love it.

“I think this should be a permanent arrangement.”

She did love it. A rush of joy, of complete and utter joy, filled her. “Really?”

“It seems the best thing to do, all things considered.”

“Yes,” she said, walking to him and throwing her arms around his neck. “Yes.” Her mind went blank of everything, everything but the moment. Everything but him.

He pulled her in tightly, kissing her lips, his hands roaming over her curves. They kissed as they went up the stairs before Dante swung her up into his arms, holding her to his chest, his mouth devouring hers as he set her on the bed, stripping his clothes and hers as quickly as possible.

* * *

In the aftermath, she lay there replete, the room spinning, her heart pounding. She rolled over, ready to pull Dante into her arms, but he was already up and getting dressed, his expression tight, shuttered.

“I think we’ve proven that there are even more reasons for us to stay together,” he said, as he tugged his pants on, his tone conversational. “The chemistry between us is incredible.”

“The chemistry?” she said, feeling thick and fuzzy from her release still. Chemistry didn’t sound right, though. It sounded like nothing more than a base, chemical reaction and yet she felt like there was so much more between them. There was for her, at least.

“It’s the best sex I’ve ever had.”

She felt struck by that comment. So bald and so basic. At any other time, she might have found it sexy to hear him say that, felt complimented. But when she’d offered love twelve hours before, and this was her gift in return, no, it didn’t feel so good.

“And is that…all?” she asked.

“There’s nothing more, Paige. Nothing else that matters.”

“Dante…”

“Now that we’ve settled things, I do have more work to do.” He tugged his shirt on and buttoned it with deft, steady fingers. He slicked his hair back with his hand and it was like nothing had just happened between them. As if a storm hadn’t just blown through the room, blown through them.

He turned and walked out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him. Paige pulled her knees up to her chest and sat there, stunned. She felt…sad. Drained. Used.

She let the feeling wash over her, wash through her. But only for a moment.

Then she remembered the look in his eyes. That awful blank look that she knew so well. Dante was running scared. Trying to have the basest arrangement with her without giving anything of himself. Only his money, his body.

But she wouldn’t accept that. The old Paige would have. She wouldn’t have tried for more.

But this Paige, this woman who was, in part of Dante’s making, was going to try for everything. All she needed was a plan.

* * *

Dante couldn’t concentrate on his work. He could concentrate on nothing. He had left work at three in the afternoon, come home and had passionate, intense…It was sex and yet at the same time, something more, with a woman who seemed determined to break him open with a battering ram.

And she was close. Too close.

Three hours on and his body still burned. His chest aching like there was a hole in it.

“Dante.”

He turned and his heart nearly stopped. Paige was standing there, a chiffon gown that had no substance at all wound around her curves, the light behind her showing the silhouette of her body beneath the gown.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his throat tightening, threatening to choke him.

“I’m here to talk.”

“You don’t look like you’re here to talk,” he said.

“But I am. I’m here to lay it out for you, as clear and honest as I can.”

“Lay what out?”

“Everything. What I feel. What I feel for you. I’m not going to do it while I’m half-asleep, while you can pretend you didn’t hear. I’m going to tell you now, to your face.”

She crossed the threshold of his office and came to stand in front of his chair, her blue eyes bright, determined. She cupped his face, her eyes never leaving his as she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“I love you,” she whispered. She kissed his cheek. “I love you.” Then his lips, the touch feather-soft and perfect. “I love you.”

He gritted his teeth, trying to fight against the pain, the need, that was building in his chest, threatening to overwhelm him, to consume him completely. “I’m glad, Paige. If that makes you happy, then I’m glad.”

“Is that all?” she asked, searching his face, demanding honesty.

He gritted his teeth and looked away. “It’s all I have to give.”

“You’re a liar, Dante.”

Anger flooded through him, unreasonable and hot. “I’m a what?”

“A liar. And not just about this. Your entire life is a lie. Your whole existence.”

He pushed up from his chair and she leaped backward, her eyes wide with shock. “Of course,” he snarled, battling against the pain in his chest. “How could I forget? I’m the Italian bastard, adopted by a respectable family. The one who doesn’t belong. Of course my existence is a lie. I have spent years pretending to be civilized, pretending to be a man of honor, when we both know I am not. I don’t share their blood,” he said, speaking of his parents. “I have the blood of a killer in me. The blood of a low-class, violent coward who abused women. Killed them. That’s who I am…of course this is a lie,” he said, sweeping his hand around the well-ordered, perfect room. The lie he had built for himself.

He stared her down, stared into her wide eyes, waiting for the fear to win. Waiting for her to realize that what he said was true. That he wasn’t the man she thought he was. That he wasn’t the man he pretended to be. That beneath his armor, was a darkness that no one would ever want to touch.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You idiot. You think I don’t know that’s what you think of yourself? You think I buy what the press writes? What you show everyone? Don’t forget I’m the one who dragged you out of that cold shower. I’m the one who warmed you with her own body, so don’t try to scare me now with the same lie you tell yourself every day. Because this is the lie, Dante Romani. That you’re broken. That you can’t love or be loved. Look around you…people love you. Because you’re worthy of it. Don and Mary love you. Ana loves you. I love you. And you won’t let us. Because you’re too damn afraid.”

“Hell, yes, I’m afraid,” he growled, feeling the walls he’d erected around his heart crumbling. “I am half of that man, Paige. Do you know what that means? Passion is poison for me. It could be.”

“It’s not true.”

“You think it’s not true. Why? Because you love me? She loved him, Paige.” He shouted the words, desperate to make her understand, to make her believe him. “That’s why she didn’t leave. She loved him…she thought he could be different. That he could change. Don’t you understand? Love doesn’t fix anything. It hides flaws. Makes people blind to them. But love is not all brightness and sunshine. It can’t heal a damned thing.” His voice broke, the memories of his mother flooding his mind. “It has a dark side. Everything does.”

She shook her head. “Only if you choose to dwell in the dark. He made a choice, Dante. You can’t blame love for that. That wasn’t love.”

“Passion then. Emotion. A lack of control. I won’t let myself do that. Do you see this?” he asked, sweeping his arm across his office. “Order. Control. That’s who I am. It’s what I’ve made myself. What I’ve trained myself to be. So that I will never hurt someone like that. So that I will never become that man.”

“So that you’ll never be hurt,” she said, her voice soft.

“That, too,” he said, everything in him feeling exposed now. Raw.

“This isn’t real,” she said, looking around the room. “It’s just stuff. It’s just the outside. It doesn’t fix who you are.”

He laughed, the sound divorced from humor. “Nothing can, I’m afraid. All I can do is keep hiding who I am. Keep it locked up.”

She bit her lip and shook her head. “You’re a good man, Dante. I don’t know why you don’t know it. Why you don’t believe it. Look what you’ve done for me. For Ana. You keep almost every bit of yourself locked up tight and you make me work to reach it, but when I do, that’s when I know.”

“When you know what?” he asked, his lungs frozen, incapable of drawing breath.

“When I know that I love you. And not just that, but why. Because you are so strong. And so broken. And yet, in spite of everything you’ve been through, you’ve grown up to be a good man. A man who puts the needs of others before himself. A man who is capable of great love, if only he would let himself feel it.”

He shook his head. “That’s not me, Paige. I’m sorry you’re confused about that.”

“You love me,” she said.

Something inside of him broke completely, opening up a flood of emotion, of need so strong he wasn’t sure he could withstand the onslaught. But he stood still, composing his face into a mask, doing what he had to do.

“No.”

She shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”

“Then you have fooled yourself.”

A tear spilled down her cheek, then another, each track of moisture a stab in his chest, a drop of his own blood shed inside, bleeding him dry. She shook her head. “No, Dante. Stop now. How long will you punish yourself for sins your father committed?”

“Love only means one thing to me, Paige. It is rage, and loss and grief so deep it consumes everything in its path. It puts you on your knees, steals your breath with the pain that it causes.”

“That isn’t love, Dante. That’s evil. It was evil that tore love from you, that made your father do what he did. There was no love in it.”

“Then it’s the potential for evil I see in myself. Thank you for making it clear.”

“You say you’re half of your father like that makes everything certain. Like you aren’t half of your mother. Don’t forget that. Don’t forget she gave you life, and that she would want you to live it fully. And don’t forget what Don and Mary gave you, not through genetics, but what they taught you. You’re bigger than one man, bigger than one event.”

“And you speak like you have anything more than frivolous thoughts in your head,” he growled, hating the insult, hating the words even as they left his lips. He was a coward. And in that moment, he knew it. Knew he was using anger to make her leave so he wouldn’t have to listen to her anymore.

Because she was too close to tearing the veil away. To exposing him, not just to her, but to himself, for the first time.

“Out,” he said. “Get out.”

She stood for a moment, her blue eyes fixed on his, windows into her soul. Her pain, her sadness, worst of all, her love. For him. Love he didn’t deserve. Couldn’t accept.

“Get out, Paige. I don’t want you here. I don’t want you.” The last words were torn from him, taking a piece of his soul with them. A lie he had to tell. A lie he hated.

She bit her bottom lip and nodded, then turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. He didn’t want to follow her. He didn’t want to watch her walk out of the house, drive away. Out of his life. He would deserve it. He should want it.

But he didn’t. He so desperately didn’t. He wanted to cling to her words. To tell her that she was right. To will himself to believe it no matter what. So he could have her. So he could have Ana.

He looked around his desk, it was well-ordered. So perfect. And for the first time, he realized that everything around him was a lie. He was broken. Disheveled. Destroyed. And no amount of cleaning his surroundings would fix it.

He put his hand on his desk, on top of a mug that was placed at a right angle, in the exact spot it needed to be for him to reach it with ease when he was seated. He picked it up by the handle and looked at it, felt the weight of it in his hand.

And he looked back down at the surface of his desk. A place for everything, everything in its place. And he hated it.

He growled and hurled the mug at the wall, splintering it into a hundred pieces. He braced himself on the desk, then he pushed everything to the floor.

His pencil holder. Stapler. The lamp. The damn zen garden that was supposed to make him feel calm. A stack of papers. Until his office was littered with the kind of destruction that mirrored the man he was within.

Piece by piece, he exposed himself. Tore away the walls. Tore away the facade until he had to look at it. Until he had to look at himself.

Pain tore at his chest. For once, he didn’t have to strike out to cause physical agony as punishment. It was all in him, burning him alive from the inside out. He dropped to his knees, leaned forward, his forehead and forearms touching the floor.

She was right. He was a liar. He was scared, of himself. But not only of that, of caring and losing again. So much so, he had spent his life training himself never to care, on the excuse that he was protecting everyone from himself.

When he was really protecting himself from everyone else. Still a scared child, hiding behind a sofa, waiting, waiting for the monster to find him. A monster from outside, or a monster inside of himself.

He had believed, wholly, that he had banished his every emotion. But it was a lie, too. He hadn’t. He had simply embraced fear and allowed it to dictate everything he did. Who he was.

For a brief moment in time, he’d had love in this house. A woman who loved him. A child who trusted him completely.

And he had thrown it away. The final punishment for his sins. The ultimate penance. He had fallen in love. The thing he had sworn he must never do. And he had done it. So he had pushed her away, pushed them away.

And now he was reduced to nothing. Raw and bleeding, all of his protection gone. All of his defenses, his ways of dealing, exposed for the flimsy nothings they were. He could do nothing. Nothing but lie there and embrace the pain, the love, the misery, the loss. Not just for Paige, not just for Ana, but for every moment in his life.

The walls he’d built to protect himself burned to nothing, reduced to ash before his eyes. He was not the man he pretended to be. He was not the man the media thought he was. And he let himself hope, for a moment, that he was the man that Paige saw. A man worthy of her love, worthy of Ana’s admiration. Worthy of the Colsons’ adoption.

For a long time he lay there, stripped of his protection. Of everything. Anguish washing over him, beating against him.

Finally, he stood, his hands shaking, and dialed his mother and father’s phone number.

“Dante?” His mother answered on the second ring.

“Why did you adopt me?” he asked. He had never asked. He had always feared the answer. Had always feared that the media was right. And over the years, he had simply started to assume they were.

More than that, he was afraid of loving again. Of caring and losing. But that fear had carried him nowhere. That fear had nothing for him. Had given him nothing.

“Because,” she said, her tone simple, matter-of-fact, “we fell in love with you the moment we saw you. An angry teenage boy with so much potential, in so much need. We knew you were our son. The one we’d been waiting for.”

“I wasn’t ready to hear that,” he said, swallowing hard, holding the phone tight to his ear. “Until now.”

“I know,” she whispered.

He closed his eyes and released his hold on fear. “I love you,” he said.