“You didn’t issue a warning. You told us a fairy tale when we were impressionable children. Why would we put credence in something so implausible?”
“It was real. You just chose not to believe. Not to remember.”
The quiet words held an unmistakable conviction, one that threw Sev. “So now I’m supposed to accept that you and Nonna took one look at each other and it was love at first sight? Alove inspired by this... thisInferno?”
His grandfather shook his head. “No, youngling.”
Youngling? At thirty-four? Sev just barely managed not to roll his eyes. “Then what happened?”
“I took one look at your grandmother and it waslustat first sight.” He studied the burning tip of his cigar and his voice dropped to a husky whisper. “And then I touched her. That is when The Inferno struck in force. That is when the bond formed, abond that has lasted our entire lives. Whether you are willing to believe it or not, it is a bond our family has experienced for as long as there have been Dantes.”
“Lightning bolts. Love at first sight. Instant attraction.” Sev shrugged. “All names for the same spice. How is our story any different from thousands of others? What makes itThe Infernoversus the simple chemistry most lovers experience?”
Primo took his time responding. When he did, he came at his answer from a tangent. “Your grandmother belonged to another man. Did you know that?” Bittersweet memories stirred in his distinctive eyes. “She was engaged to him.”
Aw, hell. “Not good.”
“Now that is an understatement if ever I heard one,” Primo said dryly, stabbing the tip of his cigar in Sev’s direction. The ring drifted between them like the period to an exclamation point. Sev clenched his hand. Or like the ring of itchy fire centered in his palm. “You need to understand that all those years ago an engagement was as much a commitment as marriage vows, at least in our little village. So, we fled the country and came here.”
“Have you ever regretted it?” Sev asked gently.
Primo’s expression turned fierce, emphasizing the contours of his strong Roman nose and squared jawline. “Never. My only regret is the pain I caused this other man.” His mouth compressed and he lifted his beer for a long swallow. “He wasmio amico.No, not justmy friend. Mybestfriend. But once The Inferno strikes...” He gave the sort of shrug only a true Italian could pull off. “There is nothing that can stop it. Nothing that can come between those who have known the burn. Nothing to douse the insanity but to make that woman yours and keep her by your side while The Inferno burns evermore, never to ebb or douse. She is your soul mate. Your other half. To deny it will bring you nothing but grief, as your father discovered to his great misfortune.”
Sev wanted to refute his grandfather’s words, to dismiss them as an aging man’s fantasy. But he hesitated, reluctant to say anything now that Primo had mentioned Sev’s father. And one other fact held him silent. Everything Primo said precisely matched his reactions last night, which created a serious dilemma for him. He had plans for Francesca, plans other than taking her to bed. To restore Dantes to its former glory, he had no choice but to steal her away from the Fontaines.
“When you first saw Nonna—before you touched—what was it like?”
Primo hesitated as he considered and dug bony fingers into his right hand, massaging the palm. Over the years Sev had witnessed the habitual gesture more times than he could count, long ago assuming it resulted from arthritis or some other physical complaint. Now he knew better. Worse, he’d caught himselfimitating the movement over the past few hours. Even now he could barely suppress theurge.
A far away expression entered Primo’s ancient gaze. “I had been away at university and returned formio amico’sengagement party. Icut through a meadow on my way home and there she was, gathering wildflowers.”
The mention of wildflowers made Sev think of Primo’s garden. As long as he could recall it had overflowed with local flora. “That must have been a sight.”
“You have no idea, boy.” The long-ago memory dampened his eyes and his voice grew rough with longing. “She crouched beneath an orange tree in full blossom, singing beneath her breath, her hands like little, graceful hummingbirds darting among purple hyacinth and daises and brilliant, red poppies.” He moved his own gnarled hands in slow, clumsy imitation. “So young. So young and innocent I thought God would stop the beat of my heart for daring to gaze upon such beauty and virtue.”
Sev could see the image as though it moved before him. “Then what?” he demanded.
“The wind whispered to her, sending a shower of orange blossoms raining down on brown ringlets that tumbled all the way to her hips. She wore a thin cotton dress and the afternoon sun shot it full of golden rays, outlining—” Primo broke off abruptly andglared at his grandson. “Never you mind what it outlined,nipote. Suffice to say, the minute I set eyes on Nonna, it was as though we were connected. As though a ribbon of desire joined us. The closer we came, the stronger it grew. When we touched, the ribbon became stronger than a steel cable, binding us together so we could no longer distinguish my heartbeat from hers. We have beat as one ever since.”
The story affected Sev more than he cared to admit, probably because it rang with such love and adoration and simple sincerity. True or not, Primo clearly believed every word. Not that the origins of his grandparents’ romance helped with his current predicament. Okay, so he’d felt that connection, the shock and burn when they’d touched, that ribbon of lust, as he preferred to consider it. But ribbons could becut.
“How do I get rid of it?” he demanded.
Primo drank down the last of his beer before setting the empty bottle on the table with enough power that the glass rang in protest. “You do not,” he stated unequivocally. “Why would you want to?”
“Because she’s the wrong woman for me. There are... complications.”
Primo released a full-bodied laugh. “More complicated than her belonging to your best friend?” He swept his hand through the air, thegesture leaving behind a smoky contrail. “It is impossible to cut the connection. The Inferno has no respect for time or place or complication. It knows. It chooses. And it has done so for as long as there have been Dantes. You either accept the gift and revel in the blessing it offers, or you walk away and suffer the consequences.”
Sev stilled. “What consequences?”
“You ignore The Inferno at your own peril, nipote.” He leaned forward, each word stone-hard. “If you turn your back on it, you will never know true happiness. Look at what happened to your father.”
“You think The Inferno killed him?” Sev demanded on a challenging note. “Are you that superstitious?”
Primo’s expression softened. “No, it didn’t kill Dominic. But because he chose with his head instead of his heart, because he married your mother instead of the woman chosen for him by The Inferno, he never found true happiness. And both our business and our family suffered as a result.” He took a slow drag of his cigar, the tip flaming with an unholy red glow. “I am warning you, Severo Dante. If you follow in your father’s footsteps you, too, will know only the curse, never the blessing.”
Tina Fontainethrew herself into a chair near where Francesca sat at her drawing board, while Kurt filled the doorway leading into the small office. One look at their expressions warned Francesca that her previous night’s indiscretion had left her career teetering on a knife’sedge.
