“By Téa’s grandmother and three sisters. Madam is Nonna’s closest friend,” he explained. “When Primo heard what had happened, he stepped in and insisted Luc do the right thing.”
“Meaning…marriage?”
Her voice had risen ever so slightly, and Rafe flashed her a look of concern. “It all worked out. They were in love. They even claim to have experienced The Inferno the first time they touched.” He hadn’t succeeded in reassuring her and gave it another try. “My marriage may not have been a shining example of happily-ever-after, but Luc and Téa seem genuinely in love. Hell, for all I know, their marriage might last as long as my grandparents’.”
She fell silent for a moment, which he took as a bad sign. If there was one thing he’d learned about Larkin, she didn’t do silence. Sure enough, she leaped into speech. “I don’t think I can do this,” she announced in a rush. “I don’t like deceiving people, especially people as kind as your grandparents. They take marriage and this Inferno stuff seriously.”
He started the car and pulled out of his assigned parking space before replying. “That’s what makes this so interesting. We’re not deceiving anyone.” He paused at the exit and waited for Larkin to relay her address before pulling onto the one-way street. “Admit it. We felt something when we touched.”
The overhead streetlight filled the car with a flash of soft amber, giving him a glimpse of her unhappy profile. She stared down at her palm, rubbing at the center in a manner he’d seen countless times before by each and every one of his Inferno-bitten relatives.
The sight filled him with foreboding. As far as he knew, no one outside the family was aware of that intimate little gesture, one that his relatives claimed to be a side effect of that first, burning touch between Inferno soul mates. God forbid he ever felt that tantalizing itch. His palm might throb. It might prickle. That didn’t mean it itched or that he’d find himself rubbing it.
“Okay, so I felt something,” she murmured. “But that doesn’t mean it’s this family Inferno thing you have going, does it?”
“Absolutely not,” Rafe stated adamantly. Though who he was so determined to convince, himself or Larkin, he couldn’t say. “The point is… We can’t rule out the possibility that it’s The Inferno. Not yet. Until we do, that’s what we’re going to assume it is and that’s what we’re going to tell my family.”
“And they’ll believe it?” He could hear the doubt in her voice.
“Yes. Implicitly.”
“But you still don’t.”
“I have no idea,” he lied without hesitation. “It could be The Inferno. Or it could have been static electricity. Or just a weird coincidence. But telling my family that we think it might be The Inferno won’t be a lie. And until we discover otherwise, we go forward with our plan.”
“Your plan.”
He drew to a stop at a red light and looked at her. She sat buried in shadow, her pale hair and skin cutting through the darkness while her eyes gleamed with some secret emotion. He didn’t know this woman, not really. Granted, he had a mound of facts and figures, courtesy of Juice. But he hadn’t yet uncovered the depth and scope of the person those dry facts and figures described. Just in the short time he’d spent with her, he’d gained an unassailable certainty that he’d find those depths to be deep and layered, the scope long-ranging and intriguing.
And he couldn’t wait to start the process.
The light changed and he pulled forward. “It started out as my plan. But as soon as you told my grandparents that you were my fiancée, it became our plan.”
“But it’s a lie.”
“First thing Monday I plan on putting a ring on your finger. Will it still feel like a lie when that happens?”
He heard her sharp inhalation. “A ring?”
“Of course. It’s expected.” He spared her a flashing grin. “In case you weren’t aware, we Dantes specialize in rings, particularly engagement rings.”
A hint of a smile overrode her apprehension. “I think I may have heard that about you.”