“I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?” She blew out a breath. “I mean, even if they don’t like me it really doesn’t matter. It’s not like this is re—”
He stopped the words with a kiss, the unexpected power of it almost knocking her off her legs. Every last thought misted over, vanishing beneath his amazing lips. She shifted closer and wound her arms around his neck, giving herself up to the delicious heat that seemed to explode between them whenever they touched. She couldn’t say how long they remained wrapped around each other, doing their level best to inhale one another. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Time held no meaning. When he finally lifted his head, she could only stare at him, dazed. He grinned at her reaction.
“Interesting,” he said. “I’ll have to remember to do that anytime I want to change the subject.”
“Who…? What…?” She took a tottering step backward. “Why…?”
His grin broadened at her helpless confusion. “You were about to say something indiscreet,” he explained in a low voice. “I kissed you to shut you up. You never know who might be listening.”
Larkin’s brain clicked back on, along with her capacity for speech. “Got it.”
It was so unfair. For her their embraces felt painfully real. But for Rafe… Didn’t the heat they generated melt any of his icy composure? She could have sworn it did. She sighed. Maybe that was just wishful thinking on her part, which meant she was putting herself in an increasingly vulnerable position if she didn’t find a way to keep her emotions in check.
“I’ll be more careful from now on,” she added, as much for her own benefit as for his.
She drew in a shaky breath and aimed herself toward a large wooden gate leading to the back of the house. To her profound relief, she discovered she could walk in a more or less straight line without falling down. Rafe opened the gate, and they stepped into a beautifully tended garden area filled with a rainbow of colors and a dizzying bouquet of fragrances. An array of voices greeted them, coming from the people who spilled across the lawn or sat at a wrought iron patio set beneath a huge sprawling mush oak.
The next hour proved beyond confusing as Rafe introduced her to an endless number of Dantes. Some were involved in the retail end of the Dantes jewelry empire. Others, like Rafe and his brother Luc, ran the courier service. Still others handled the day-to-day business aspects. She met Rafe’s father, Alessandro, who was as easygoing as his son was intense. And she met the various wives, their radiance and undisguised happiness filling her with a wistful yearning to enjoy the sort of marital bliss they’d discovered with their spouses. Not that it would happen. At least, not with Rafe.
“Have all of the married couples experienced The Inferno?” she couldn’t help but ask at one point.
Rafe gave a short laugh. “Or so they claim.” She considered that with a frown, one that he intercepted. “What?”
“Well, you’re the logical one, right?”
“No question.”
She indicated his relatives with a wave of her hand. “And every couple here, including your parents and grandparents, claim that they’ve experienced The Inferno.”
He shrugged. “What can I say? I’ve come to the conclusion that the Dante family suffers from a genetic mutation that causes mass delusion. Thank God I was spared that particular anomaly.” His gaze drifted toward his younger brother and sister. “Time will tell whether Draco and Gia escaped, as well.”
That earned him a swift grin. “Mutations and anomalies aside, Primo mentioned that he and Nonna have been married for more than fifty years. And I gather your parents must have been married for thirtysomething years, right?”
“Your point?”
She suppressed a wince at the crispness of his question. “Despite your unfortunate genetic anomaly, doesn’t logic suggest that, based on all the marriages you’ve seen to date, The Inferno is real? I’d also think that the fact that you didn’t experience it with Leigh and your marriage failed only adds to the body of evidence.”
He didn’t have a chance to answer. Draco dropped into the conversation and into the vacant chair beside them. “You’re not going to convince him. Rafaelo doesn’t want to believe. Plus, he’s a dyed-in-the-wool cynic who isn’t about to allow something as messy and unmanageable as The Inferno steal away his precious self-control.”