children.”
“Because of what happened?” his grandfather asked shrewdly.
There was no point in denying the truth. “Yes.”
Luc shied from the memories, knowing if he didn’t build a strong enough bulwark they’d consume him. One key lesson had come from the incident, an undeniable fact he’d learned about himself. He never wanted to give so much of himself to another person that he couldn’t live without her. To trust to that extent. To risk so much. Rafe had warned him when his own marriage had ended in disaster. But the accident that had ruined Luc’s knee had brought the fact home in spades.
Primo stabbed his cigar in Luc’s direction. “The Inferno is not something you can simply turn off. It has happened and you will have to deal with it. You can do as your uncle did—God rest my Dominic’s soul.” He crossed himself, grief still haunting his black eyes. “Like Dominic, you can turn from it and destroy your life. Or you can follow your parents’ excellent example. You can embrace it and discover a happiness unlike anything you could imagine.”
“And when it ends?” Luc demanded.
Primo regarded him in bewilderment. “Who says it must end? What is this ending?”
“All things end,” he insisted in a hard voice. “Love is a gamble, the ultimate gamble. When it ends, you don’tjust lose. It can destroy you. I’ve seen it happen. That’s why I’ll never give into it, why I only bet when I know I can win.”
Understanding dawned in his grandfather’s face and an uncomfortable compassion settled into the deep lines bracketing his mouth. “You speak of the accident, yes? That unfortunate family?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Death is part of life, Luciano, just as love is. No one can control it. You witnessed that during your military service. Everything in life is a risk. But you can’t win unless you play. Take the love while you have the chance. Worrying about the other does you no good.”
Nonna’s voice drifted in from the backyard, warning of her approach. Without hesitation, Primo snatched his cigar from between his teeth and shoved it into Luc’s hand. By the time his wife entered the kitchen, he was across the room with a virtuous expression pinned to his face.
Nonna’s hazel eyes landed on Luc before arrowing toward Primo. “You know what the doctor said about smoking. No more cigars.”
“Do you see a cigar in my hand, old woman?”
“Do you think me a fool, old man?” After nearly sixty years of marriage, her imitation of her husband was uncanny.
Primo held his hands out. “ Che cosa? I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“You look as innocent as a wolf with a lamb between its teeth, Primo Dante. My Luciano does not smoke.” Nonna planted her hands on her hips. “You think I do not know the meaning of dried manroot? I know all about that canister in your spice cabinet.”
“Dried cucumber,” he protested. “Just a bit of seasoning.”
“Hah! A joke at my expense, is what it is. Only the joke is on you when I tell all our friends that Primo Dante keeps his dried manroot in a jar in our kitchen cabinet!”
“You would not dare…!” He thumped his chest. “I am your husband and I am telling you—”
She lifted an eyebrow.
Primo cleared his throat. “And I am telling you that as of tonight there will be no dried manroot in my spice cabinet.”
She nodded in satisfaction. “I thought that might be what you wanted to tell me.”
Six
T he evening didn’t end as well as it began.
Téa expected Luc to join her after he’d finished his conversation with Primo. But instead, Sev Dante, the head of Dantes, the family’s international jewelry empire, slipped into the seat next to hers. She offered him a smile, one he didn’t return.
Her smile faded. “Is something wrong?”
He frowned, adding to her concern, and kept his voice low, so their conversation didn’t carry to the other Dantes sprawled around them. “I know a birthday
“Because of what happened?” his grandfather asked shrewdly.
There was no point in denying the truth. “Yes.”
Luc shied from the memories, knowing if he didn’t build a strong enough bulwark they’d consume him. One key lesson had come from the incident, an undeniable fact he’d learned about himself. He never wanted to give so much of himself to another person that he couldn’t live without her. To trust to that extent. To risk so much. Rafe had warned him when his own marriage had ended in disaster. But the accident that had ruined Luc’s knee had brought the fact home in spades.
Primo stabbed his cigar in Luc’s direction. “The Inferno is not something you can simply turn off. It has happened and you will have to deal with it. You can do as your uncle did—God rest my Dominic’s soul.” He crossed himself, grief still haunting his black eyes. “Like Dominic, you can turn from it and destroy your life. Or you can follow your parents’ excellent example. You can embrace it and discover a happiness unlike anything you could imagine.”
“And when it ends?” Luc demanded.
Primo regarded him in bewilderment. “Who says it must end? What is this ending?”
“All things end,” he insisted in a hard voice. “Love is a gamble, the ultimate gamble. When it ends, you don’tjust lose. It can destroy you. I’ve seen it happen. That’s why I’ll never give into it, why I only bet when I know I can win.”
Understanding dawned in his grandfather’s face and an uncomfortable compassion settled into the deep lines bracketing his mouth. “You speak of the accident, yes? That unfortunate family?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Death is part of life, Luciano, just as love is. No one can control it. You witnessed that during your military service. Everything in life is a risk. But you can’t win unless you play. Take the love while you have the chance. Worrying about the other does you no good.”
Nonna’s voice drifted in from the backyard, warning of her approach. Without hesitation, Primo snatched his cigar from between his teeth and shoved it into Luc’s hand. By the time his wife entered the kitchen, he was across the room with a virtuous expression pinned to his face.
Nonna’s hazel eyes landed on Luc before arrowing toward Primo. “You know what the doctor said about smoking. No more cigars.”
“Do you see a cigar in my hand, old woman?”
“Do you think me a fool, old man?” After nearly sixty years of marriage, her imitation of her husband was uncanny.
Primo held his hands out. “ Che cosa? I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“You look as innocent as a wolf with a lamb between its teeth, Primo Dante. My Luciano does not smoke.” Nonna planted her hands on her hips. “You think I do not know the meaning of dried manroot? I know all about that canister in your spice cabinet.”
“Dried cucumber,” he protested. “Just a bit of seasoning.”
“Hah! A joke at my expense, is what it is. Only the joke is on you when I tell all our friends that Primo Dante keeps his dried manroot in a jar in our kitchen cabinet!”
“You would not dare…!” He thumped his chest. “I am your husband and I am telling you—”
She lifted an eyebrow.
Primo cleared his throat. “And I am telling you that as of tonight there will be no dried manroot in my spice cabinet.”
She nodded in satisfaction. “I thought that might be what you wanted to tell me.”
Six
T he evening didn’t end as well as it began.
Téa expected Luc to join her after he’d finished his conversation with Primo. But instead, Sev Dante, the head of Dantes, the family’s international jewelry empire, slipped into the seat next to hers. She offered him a smile, one he didn’t return.
Her smile faded. “Is something wrong?”
He frowned, adding to her concern, and kept his voice low, so their conversation didn’t carry to the other Dantes sprawled around them. “I know a birthday
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