Modern Romance September Books 1-4. Julia James
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In seconds she had an armful of squirming, overexcited chihuahuas in her lap and she sat down on the floor of the corridor below Dante’s disbelieving gaze and slowly calmed them down with a quiet voice and an occasional sharp no.
‘Do you want to hold them now they’ve settled?’ she asked Dante over her shoulder.
‘No,’ Dante said flatly.
Belle suppressed a sigh and resisted the temptation to ask him to make an effort. She petted the little animals, wondering how Dante could withstand those little pleading dark eyes. He had been doing it for a year, she reminded herself wryly.
‘They’ve never behaved that well for me,’ he confided. ‘Clearly, you’re the beast whisperer.’
Belle sighed as she returned the dogs to their kennels and they whined and clawed at the mesh in disappointment. ‘I suppose I was expecting your brother to have hunting dogs...well, something large and macho.’
‘Cristiano was liked cute dogs,’ Dante admitted quietly. ‘He was gay, and the more our parents criticised him, the more flamboyant he became.’
‘They couldn’t accept him as he was?’
‘Oh, they’re very liberal and accepting in public, and they have gay friends, but they still didn’t want a gay eldest son and heir,’ Dante derided. ‘They tried to disinherit him, tried to change the succession rules to prevent him from inheriting my father’s title, but there was no legal recourse. Tragically, his death suited them.’
Belle stroked his arm as they got into the limo, Charlie already on board, tail thumping noisily inside his plastic carrier box. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘As children we were never allowed a pet because my mother doesn’t like animals. Tito and Carina were Cristiano’s first rebellion. He used to joke that at least the presence of the dogs prevented our mother from making unannounced visits to his apartment in Florence,’ he told her gruffly.
Belle smiled. ‘He had a sense of humour, then.’
‘In the right mood he was the life and soul of the party, but he always suffered from low self-esteem and when anything went wrong, he blamed himself.’
‘Does your mother make unannounced visits to your home?’ Belle asked apprehensively.
‘Not for a long time. Relax... If she shows up, I will deal with her,’ Dante assured her confidently.
‘How far are the kennels from your house?’ Belle prompted.
‘A ten-minute drive.’ A faint hint of colour flared over Dante’s high cheekbones as he met her surprised violet eyes. ‘I’ll look into rehoming the dogs. It wasn’t what Cristiano wanted for them but you’re right, it would be kinder.’
He wasn’t used to pets, having been raised without them, but her heart ached at the depth of grief and guilt that still tormented Dante. He was so very different from the man she had initially assumed him to be. His emotions ran deep and strong. There was nothing superficial about him. If she discovered that she was pregnant, she didn’t believe that he would try to pressure her into doing anything she didn’t want to do and that was a relief. She had had a friend once who had allowed her boyfriend to persuade her into a termination. Her friend had agreed in the belief that it would save the relationship, but it hadn’t, and it had taken a very long time for her to get over the decision she had made. Belle didn’t want to be put in that position, although in her case, she acknowledged unhappily, there would be no relationship to save.
The limo was travelling up a spiralling road with hairpin bends and, almost at the top of the hill, it turned into a lane. Belle was still twisting her head around to catch another glimpse of the staggeringly beautiful view of the Tuscan countryside, green hills and valleys studded with cypress trees, little pale stone hilltop villages, composed of houses with vivid terracotta roofs.
‘Welcome to the Palazzo Rosario,’ Dante murmured, and she swivelled back to be confronted by the magnificent mansion sited at the foot of the drive and her brows went up in stunned surprise.
‘You could’ve mentioned that it was a Palladian palace,’ she whispered in awe.
‘How do you know it’s the work of Palladio?’ Dante enquired.
Belle flushed and her soft full mouth compressed. ‘Why? Isn’t a waitress supposed to know about stuff like that?’ she snapped.
‘Few would recognise the fact at first glimpse,’ Dante told her wryly. ‘I’m curious.’
‘My grandfather had a great interest in architecture and a big collection of books,’ Belle admitted. ‘Growing up he dreamt of being an architect but, of course, it was just a dream.’
‘Why?’
Belle sighed. ‘When he was young, working-class boys went straight out to work as soon as they were legally able to leave school. It didn’t matter how clever they were. Further education wasn’t free, and it wasn’t an option. Grandad worked as an accounts clerk in an office all his life.’
‘But he taught you about architectural history,’ Dante gathered.
‘It was his personal interest. He would save up to buy these big books and then he would share the best pictures and highlights with me,’ she recalled fondly, thinking once again that she had been very fortunate in her grandparents.
‘I learned young as well. The palazzo belonged to my uncle on my mother’s side, Jacopo Rozzi. He was an art historian. He never married and when he died, he left his entire estate to me, which effectively made me independent of my family,’ Dante admitted. ‘I owe him a great debt for his generosity.’
‘Is that how you started out in business?’ Belle asked curiously, climbing out of the limo to look up in wonder at the long colonnaded frontage and the perfect symmetry of the rows of tall windows.
‘Jacopo invested in my business while I was still at university and got me off to a flying start.’ Dante looked down at her, the glow of her usual exuberance drawing him even as he reflected in bewilderment that he had never done so much talking in his life with a woman as he had done with her. She was so natural with him and he had not had that experience with her sex before. Even the attention she was giving the palazzo, rather than him, was outside his normal experience and weirdly annoying.
‘Belle...?’ he breathed silkily before she could rush up the stone steps ahead of him, a newly released Charlie dancing at her heels.
And she turned back to him, wide violet eyes bright below the tangle of red-gold curls on her pale brow. Dark eyes dazzlingly gilded by sunlight, he stared down at her and the hunger she incited surged up inside him with volcanic force. He pulled her into his arms, one hand locking to the back of her head, his fingers meshing into her curls, and he devoured her soft, smiling mouth with his own. Taken by complete surprise, Belle stiffened and then leant into the solid heat of him, the wild, ferociously sweet taste of his hunger melting her deep down inside to create a blossoming ache of need.
Distinctly dazed by that embrace, she stumbled when he set her free and it was all the encouragement he needed to sweep her up into his arms and carry her up the steps with Charlie racing in their wake and barking to indicate his enthusiasm. Belle started to laugh. To say that they made an entrance to the palazzo would have been to understate the case, for a group of goggle-eyed staff awaited them there.
Belle slid down out of Dante’s arms, flushed and embarrassed by his hot-headed behaviour but immediately soothed by the huge smiles that greeted their arrival. Their luggage was being brought in and she accompanied Dante upstairs. Only belatedly did it dawn on her that that seemingly spontaneous kiss had most probably been driven by Dante’s desire to make them seem more like a loving couple. It had been a public statement, nothing more. At that acknowledgement, the bounce dropped straight out of her step again and she scolded herself for believing for one minute that he had simply succumbed to an overwhelming passion.
The first-floor landing was open-plan to the