Page 44

CHAPTER 44

Dante and Maarja stayed the night at Connor and Owen’s, the four working far into the wee hours, doing a deep dive into all things related to relatives and associates of the family business. Connor found a long, slow money leak originating from Dante’s office, confirming suspicions that the problem originated among his inner circle. Yay for Connor.

When Maarja yawned, Dante announced it was time to quit, but before they did, he sent out a manifesto to the Arundels announcing his continued survival and his intention to wed Maarja Daire. With the marriage, he decreed the long feud would be ended, and he commanded them to Octavia’s home in three days to witness his nuptials.

Then he showed his teeth in a hostile parody of a smile and predicted that he’d ended a great night’s sleep for many. Amid the general agreement, he took Maarja back to their bed, gave her a luxurious massage that eased her pain, and eventually eased her into arousal. He pleasured her with his mouth until she heard herself moaning those long luxurious moans that meant she’d found the ultimate pleasure.

Lifting himself from between her legs, he smiled into her face. “Go to sleep now, darling.”

“After that?” She slid her fingers into his dark curling hair. “I can’t sleep.”

He chuckled and wrapped her in his arms.

To her chagrin, she fell asleep in seconds.

Maarja woke alone, wandered down to the kitchen, and found Connor snoring with his head on the kitchen table while Dante worked on Connor’s laptop. She poured herself a cup of coffee and one for him, and sat. “Any closer to finding the embezzler?”

Dante stretched. “With so many software blind alleys and hack U-turns, I’m spinning my wheels. Connor is a wizard at this stuff. He’ll figure it out eventually, but he was up all night and no good to us now.”

“Should we put him to bed?”

“I’m going to help Owen drag him in there. Owen was up half the night, too, ordering clothes for us and luggage to carry it in.”

“And having a marvelous time!” Owen trilled as he came in from the backyard.

Maarja wondered briefly when she’d lost control of her own wardrobe.

Oh, yeah. When she’d rescued Mrs. Arundel from the explosion.

Owen came over and started massaging Connor’s shoulders. “I ordered electronics, too. One computer, two phones, one tablet. That should set you up for the moment.”

“As soon as the packages arrive, we’ll drive to Oakland to your mom’s house and you can start doing wedding things.” Dante waved a vague hand as if he wasn’t sure what those would be. “I’ll answer the six million calls, texts, and emails from the family and put the fear of Dante in each and every one of them who dares question my decision to marry you.”

Maarja sipped the coffee. “I can only imagine.”

“I’ll also let them know we’ve discovered an embezzlement and I’m not going to be too picky about punishing the right person.” His malevolent smile caused a small frightened flutter in Maarja’s own heart.

“Just a thought, but isn’t that going to cause possible panic and maybe someone getting hurt who’s innocent?” she asked.

“I doubt it, and if it does, Dante’s justice is swift and painful.” Connor raised his head. His eyes were bloodshot. His words dragged. But he sounded certain. “It will flush out any other attempts at embezzlement and cause panicked finger-pointing, which is always revealing.”

“In case of finger-pointing, who are you suspicious of?” This whole labyrinth of moves and countermoves confused her and confirmed she was right in her decision to avoid playing chess.

“The pointer, of course.” Connor yawned, a magnificent jaw-cracking yawn. “I’ve got to go to bed. Owen and I will be at the wedding venue as soon as I can regain consciousness.”

“I hate to miss any of the wedding preparations, but Connor’s right.” Owen hoisted Connor to his feet. “He’s vile if he doesn’t get his sleep, so we’ll stay here until he’s his usual loving, cheerful self.”

She stared at Owen, then at Connor. Somehow Connor had made Owen believe that. Love was really a miracle worker. She looked sideways at Dante. If this powerful, dark, intense man loved her, her knees would buckle, he could sweep her away, and she’d be happy, holding him in her arms and heart. She would know she’d discovered what most people never did: a mate who clearly saw into her soul and loved the person she was.

But Dante was more than a businessman and more than her lover. He was the head of a family—Family with a capital F. Family like gangsters and godfathers, people who made decisions with fists and bullets. Based on his canny sense of human nature, he made judgments and passed verdicts. He enforced his will on the reluctant. He knew how to terrify, and he knew how to soothe. He suffered no challenges from any upstart and he never ever took his gaze off his endgame.

“In less than an hour, the clothes and bags will be delivered by messenger. Help yourself to breakfast.” Owen waved his hand around the kitchen. “We’ll see you later today!”

As the two guys disappeared toward their room, Dante contemplated her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

She simply didn’t quite understand his endgame in reference to her. Or she did understand it—he’d told her often enough—but she could not comprehend quite why.

“Thinking,” she said.

He cupped her cheeks and looked into her eyes. “Stop. You’re doing it wrong.”

Maybe, but she couldn’t stop.

She wasn’t beautiful, she wasn’t charming, she wasn’t tactful, she didn’t flatter him. She was the last remaining Daire; the last remaining enemy of the Arundels. Sure, he wanted to sleep with her. That was clear. After that night in Gothic, more than clear. But why the rest of it? Why want marriage? Why claim her and cause such trouble among the already contentious Arundels?

He was going to kiss her, so she asked, “Fast-food breakfast okay?”

“Hm.” He caressed her lower lip with his thumb. “We’ve got time. You put ice on your boo-boos.” He opened the freezer and tossed her two ice bags. “And I’ll pop the toast in and make us PB and Js.”

“That sounds good.”

He stuck his head in the refrigerator and came out with all-natural peanut butter. “Damned hippies,” he muttered.

She smiled, because he wanted her to, and pressed the ice on her bruises.

In the end, all the events past, present, and future came down to one question: Did this man toy with her like a crafty cat with an unwary mouse? When she embraced him, did she embrace her own destruction?

After all, Benoit Arundel was Dante’s father. Nothing could change that.

As Dante and Maarja drove away, clothes in the trunk, she asked, “Do we trust Connor and Owen completely now?”

Dante laughed shortly. “I attached an app to Connor’s computer that reports all his activities to me.”

“So, short answer, no. What about his other computer? I assume there’s more than one. Or Owen’s computer?”

“All the electronics in the house and probably a few beyond respond to the app.” Dante rubbed her thigh. “I’m proud of the way you’re thinking like an Arundel.”

She answered tartly, “I’m thinking like a survivor who’s recently suffered too many close calls.”

“As I said, an Arundel. We have a lot in common, Maarja. Not just an ancient blood feud. Not just a bottle reunited with its top. We have the same instincts, we think alike, and in the far distant future, long after the wedding, when we’ve been together for all our lives, we’ll even look alike. Wait and see.”

“I don’t see that there’s a lot of choice,” she muttered.

“No. We no longer have any choice.” On that cheerful note, Dante hit the freeway toward Oakland.