Dante's Dilemma (a Dante Legacy Novella) (7 page)

Tito groaned impatiently. “Come on, Julietta. It’s no big deal. I just want to make love to my fiancée. Just a little kissing.” He thrust his hand into the bodice of her dress and cupped her breast. “And maybe a little touching.”

“No!” She fought harder, frantic at the idea of any man other than Rom putting his hands on her. “Don’t touch me.”

Her dress ripped, the sound of rending cloth a sharp note of discord against the sleepy nighttime murmurs surrounding them. Tito froze, his grasp loosening. It gave her the opportunity she needed. She shoved him away, scrubbing the back of her hand across her lips and spitting the taste of him from her mouth.

The instant she had, she froze, realizing what she’d done. The breath caught in her throat, and she stared at him in distress. Slowly, she pulled the torn edges of her dress across her breasts, terrified of what he’d do to her for offending him so. He returned her gaze, his dark eyes stony and his expression carved into deep lines of insult. But he didn’t react with the anger she’d anticipated. Instead he gathered himself with a calm dignity that filled her with shame.

“So it’ll be ice. I must admit, I’m disappointed.” He took a step back. “Not that it changes anything. Our marriage was always about gain. I gain a vineyard. You gain a rich husband. But a word of advice,
amore
. You might not want to show your distaste quite so clearly. You’ll find your husband is far more cooperative if you preserve the illusion you can actually stomach his touch.” And with that, he walked away.

Julietta lifted a shaking hand to her mouth. What had she done? And how could she undo it? She shook her head. It wasn’t possible. Tito would never forgive her for her actions. And even if he did, the idea of his putting his hands on her ever again filled her with horror. Tears burned her eyes.

How could she possibly marry a man who repulsed her? And yet, how could she refuse to marry him when her family’s welfare was at stake? She stared in the direction Tito had taken—toward the lights and music of their engagement party. Turning, she fled in the opposite direction.

Tito stormed back toward the party with one goal in mind. To get blinding, stupid, fall-down drunk. If it weren’t for the vineyards, he’d put an end to the farce of his engagement and follow in his father’s footsteps. But ever since he’d been a toddler and first discovered the wonder of a new plant erupting from the soil as if by magic, he’d known he possessed the heart of a farmer, rather than that of an entrepreneur. The land and its bounty drew him. And not just any crop would do.

Grapes called to him.

It had taken him years to convince his family he could increase their fortunes by adding a vineyard to their other business concerns. It had taken even longer for Tito to persuade his stubborn father that he was the best man to run the new venture. Finding the perfect vineyard had been nothing short of a miracle. And if all it took to acquire the vineyard was some money and a proposal of marriage, then, by God, that’s what he’d do. Anything, if it gave him his dream.

So he wouldn’t enjoy passion in his marriage bed the way he’d hoped. Many men found satisfaction elsewhere. He’d simply join their ranks. He reached the outskirts of the party and attached himself to a group of old men who were passing around a bottle. Not wine or beer, but something a lot more potent. Just what he needed.

Julietta’s sister Serena approached before he’d taken more than a sip or two. “Would you like a drink?” he offered, certain she’d refuse.

She surprised him by accepting, tossing back the liquor in a way that left him grinning. She handled it with amazing aplomb for an entire five seconds before choking. “What is that?” she wheezed.

“I’m not sure, but it’s guaranteed to grow hair on your chest.”

Her eyes widened, and then she laughed. “Now you tell me.” She linked arms with him and drew him away from the men—and the bottle. “I gather you and Julietta had a fight?”

“Why do you say that?”

She shot him a chiding look. “Why else would you drown your sorrows, while my sister is nowhere to be seen? Would you like to talk about it?”

“Practicing to be a nun already, are you? Offering comfort and counsel to the needy?”

She pinched his arm. “Don’t be an idiot. Despite what my family’s wishes, I’m not cut out for the life.”

They skirted the edge of the party and stood beside a gate leading to his mother’s vegetable garden. It was far from the noise of the party, and a sultry darkness dwelled within, the air sweetened by the scent of growing plants. Serena nudged open the gate with a rounded hip and stepped into the garden. The night wrapped her in a gentle embrace that smudged the contours of her shape. He could see her movements, the graceful flutter and sway so unique to a woman. But her outline lacked definition, adding a hint of mystery to the moment.

“So, what happened with my sister?” Her voice drifted to him, ensnaring him and pulling him deeper into the fertile pocket of ripening fruit and vegetables. “Why did you fight?”

“It was my fault,” he conceded. He’d rushed Julietta. Though he doubted going slow with that one would have made the least difference, not when his touch clearly repelled her.

“Your fault?” Serena sounded startled. She swung around to face him, her fists planted on her ample hips. He caught the piercing flash of her eyes, cutting through the darkness. “What did you do to her, Tito Rossi?”

He could never say what insanity seized him. He couldn’t even blame it on too much drink since he’d barely enjoyed a sip or two of the potent brew. Maybe it was the scent of growing vegetation, bursting with the lush, intoxicating nectar of life. “Why don’t I show you?” he suggested.

He planted his hands on her hips and tugged her close. To his surprise, she didn’t protest but allowed him to fit her body to his. She was taller than Julietta and more full-figured, her curves sweetly generous. She stared at him, her dark eyes as calm and serene as her name. He hesitated, recalling his fiancée’s reaction to his touch.

She tilted her head to one side. “You fought about a simple embrace?” she asked.

“No.” Her lips tempted him. They were like the rest of her, round and plump and welcoming. More than anything, he wanted to experience them, see if they tasted as delicious as they appeared. “We fought over this….”

He gave into temptation and kissed her, taking it slow and easy. Not that he needed to. She responded instantly, her lips parting beneath his, welcoming him inward. It couldn’t have been any more different from what he’d experienced earlier.

Where before he’d met ice, now he found fire. Where before he’d struck resistance, now he discovered welcome. Her arms slid around his neck and tightened, pulling him closer, while her tongue dueled with his. Desire swept through him, exploding in a way he’d never dreamed possible. He wanted this woman with a passion every bit as great as his passion for the land. Maybe more.

He didn’t know how long the moment would have continued if someone hadn’t approached from the direction of the party, singing in a low, off-key baritone. Serena stiffened, dragging her mouth from his. With a sigh of regret, Tito released her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her hands slid a path of reluctant retreat across his chest. “I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” He covered her hands with his, holding them against his heart for a brief moment before releasing her. “I had too much to drink.”

Though he no longer touched her, she continued to stand close enough to stoke the embers of their embrace. “Are you going to tell Julietta what happened between us?”

Would his fiancée even care that he’d made love to her sister? “I don’t think that would be wise, do you?”

Serena shook her head. “Probably not.” She searched his expression, though he suspected the night concealed it from her—
grazie a Dio
—since it would have given away far too much. “I think she’d call off the engagement.”

“I can’t let that happen.” His hands dropped briefly to her shoulders, his touch communicating an underlying urgency. “I asked for your hand first, did your father tell you?”

Serena shook her head and tears glittered in her eyes. “They’ve promised me to the church,” she confessed in a low voice. “Though it is not the path I would take if given the choice.”

“That’s what I was told. Nor does it change the bottom line for me.” He forced himself to say the hurtful words, even though they wounded him every bit as much as Serena. “I want your family’s vineyard. And marrying your sister is the only way I’ll get it.”

She didn’t debate the issue. She simply nodded, accepting the truth of his statement. But he noticed she surreptitiously wiped away a tear. That, more than anything, threatened to gut him. “I should return before anyone misses me.”

They waited until the man passed by, heading for the main road. The instant silence blanketed the garden, Serena crossed to the gate. She paused there, perhaps to gather in a final breath of what might have been. Tito followed. Unable to resist, he slid his hand along the supple length of her spine and whispered, “It should have been you.”

Rom frowned in concern. Where the hell was Julietta? Tito had returned twenty minutes ago without her, looking thoroughly pissed, before disappearing again. But she hadn’t rejoined the party. Maybe he should track her down, just to be on the safe side.

Calling himself every sort of idiot for involving himself in business that was none of his concern—even if his heart told him something far different—he headed into the orange grove. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, the moonlight lending some assistance. About a hundred meters into the grove the glitter of glass caught his eye, and he found the broken shards of the wineglass she’d been carrying.

“Julietta?” he called, concern giving a sharp edge to his voice.

He heard a movement a little deeper into the grove and followed the sound. He found her a short distance away, curled up at the base of an orange tree, crying.

“Julietta? “ He sprinted to her side and crouched beside her. Her head jerked up at the sound of his voice, and moonlight struck her face. Tears tracked a silvery path along her cheeks, and the wreath she wore in her hair had slipped to one side. “What happened? What did that bastard do to you?” he demanded.

“Nothing.” She drew away from him, sitting a little straighter, and the bodice of her dress slipped from one shoulder. Her breath hitched in her lungs, and she fumbled with the torn material, attempting to cover her breast. “It was nothing.”

He saw red, fury scorching him with white-hot flames. “That isn’t nothing.” He helped her adjust her dress, keeping his touch cautious and soothing. “I swear, I’ll kill that
figlio di puttana
.”

She shook her head. “No. No,” she repeated, more forcefully. “He didn’t do anything wrong. He just kissed me. I overreacted.”

Rom clenched his teeth, fighting to control the seething fury that gripped him. She was engaged to Tito, he reminded himself. His friend had every right to kiss her. Hell, in another week, he’d have the right to do far more than demand a kiss. He shoved the image aside, focusing instead on Julietta and her needs.

“You can’t go back to the party like that.”

“Maybe you could find Serena.” Julietta made a helpless, fluttery gesture. “She can explain to the guests. Make my excuses. Tell them I’m not well or something.”

Rom shook his head. “I don’t want to leave you alone in the orchard. I’ll get you home, first, then let Serena know you’re not well.”

She gripped his arm. “Promise me you won’t say anything to Tito. That you won’t argue with him about this.”

He took a moment to consider. Every instinct he possessed urged him to confront his friend, to go after him for hurting Julietta. But how would that help? If anything, it might cause irreparable harm. “What happened when he kissed you?” He asked the question reluctantly, knowing her answer would influence his decision. “How did your dress get torn?”

He didn’t think she’d respond. After a brief second, she closed her eyes and shuddered. “He kissed me.”