Free Dante's Stolen Wife by Day Leclaire Page A

first kiss, because in a way that’s what it would be. Hurt and anger warred with a desire she couldn’t suppress, no matter how she might long to. The connection he’d referred to—a connection she wanted to deny—continued to link them. Not that she believed his superstitious nonsense about The Inferno. All it did was gave a name to the uncontrollable emotions she’d experienced in the lobby. It was a pretty bow used to dress up a battered box. This was lust, not love, no matter how bright and shiny the ribbon.
    Caitlyn stared at Marco, determined to turn away. But it was almost as though her body divorced itself from her brain. Without a word she wrapped her arms around his neck. She watched him closely, waiting for a glint of satisfaction or triumph. But the only emotion that came through was a stoic longing and a barely banked heat. Slowly she pulled his head down to hers and gave him the kiss he’d requested.
    She’d planned to make it fast and passionless. To prove that whatever had existed between them had been destroyed by his duplicity. And she would have, except for one small problem. The instant her mouth touched his, she lost total control.
    Hot, heavy desire ripped her apart while images flashed through her mind. A voice, deep with passion asking her to trust him. Soft, shared laughter. A priest blessing their union. The tenderness with which he touched her. The fun he’d somehow incorporated into the short time they spent together. The joy. The romance.
    The passion.
    She turned her head sharply away and shoved against his shoulders, fighting back tears. “I can’t. I can’t do this.”
    Before he could argue, his cell phone rang. “Time to face the music,” he murmured. Releasing her, he picked up his trousers and rummaged through the pockets for his phone. He flipped it open and listened for a second, then winced. “Sorry, Sev. I completely forgot I’d promised to meet with the Romanos. It’ll take me a couple hours to get there. Can you postpone the meeting until after lunch?” He thrust a hand through his hair, rumpling it into appealing disarray. “Never mind where I am. You can tell Lazz—Forget it. I’ll tell him myself. I’ll explain everything when I get there.” He ended the call and pocketed his cell. “We need to return to San Francisco.”
    “And then?”
    Determination settled over his features. “You’re my wife, Caitlyn. That hasn’t changed. Since we can’t go back, there’s only one way to go from here.” His determination solidified. “And that’s forward.”
     
    It took the entire flight home for Marco to convince Caitlyn to give their marriage a chance instead of ending it precipitously. And it took the entire drive from the airport into the city to gain her promise to say nothing to Lazz until after his meeting with the Romanos.
    She argued, long and determinedly, that she should break the news to Lazz herself. Heaven protect him from a logical wife. Though Marco didn’t say it—he wasn’t that stupid—he had no intention of allowing her anywhere near his brother without being glued to her side.
    They used up precious time returning to their respective apartments to change, before driving into Dantes together. “If you’d stay in my office during my meeting with the Romanos, I’d appreciate it,” he said as he worked his way through noontime traffic.
    “That’s okay. I’ll just go to my office and—”
    He released his breath in a frustrated sigh. “That wasn’t a request, cara , despite how it may have sounded.”
    She stiffened. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
    “I’m afraid not. As soon as we announce our marriage to the family, you’ll be free to return to work. Until then, it would be better to keep a low profile.”
    “I see,” she said, though he could tell that she didn’t. Not even a little. “And what am I permitted to do during your meeting? Is twiddling my thumbs acceptable?”
    “Perfectly acceptable. Though if