Page 15 of Handsome Devil

Grace quietly slipped away, and Annabelle descended the staircase with a displeased expression on her face. He strolled toward her, taking stock of how the blue sleeveless dress emphasized her hourglass figure. He couldn’t help but admire her body and the way her hair damn near sparkled under the light from the chandelier above.

She wore it half up, with half the strands pooling on her shoulders like silken black and honey-gold threads. He longed to drag his fingers through them, or better yet, wrap his fist in their softness and tug her head back for his demanding kiss.

All in due time…

At the bottom of the stairs, Annabelle lifted her head higher to glare at him. “You’re late.”

“I’m never late. Everyone else is early,” Dante replied.

She rolled her eyes. “Let’s get on with it. Daddy is in the great room reading. Oh, before I forget.” She held out her left hand and showed off the engagement ring he’d given her eleven years ago.

Dante froze, his neck muscles tightening in shock. There wasn’t much that left him speechless, but he was temporarily stunned into silence. Seeing the ring brought back a host of memories.

He had gone through the formality of asking Annabelle’s father for her hand in marriage, but Clifton had been hesitant at first. He liked Dante well enough, though he didn’t come from money and wasn’t a member of their social class. He was concerned, however, that they were too young and moving too fast.

Dante hadn’t wasted any time convincing him that he loved Annabelle and knew their marriagewouldlast. How wrong he had been. Had he known, he would not have asked her to marry him only days later. The rented hotel room he had chosen for their weekend away had rose petals strewn on the floor and candles filled the air with the scents of vanilla and lavender.

In the flickering candlelight, he lowered to one knee and presented her with a princess-cut diamond ring on a gold band. Other than the single piece of property he owned, it was the most expensive item he had ever purchased.

The expense had been negligible when he saw the wide-eyed excitement on her face, and she said the one word he’d hoped to hear—Yes.

“I’m shocked you kept that ring. I assumed you threw it away, or perhaps sold it to buy something you appreciated more.”

“Believe me, I considered doing something like that, but I decided to hold on to it—as a sort of reminder, to make sure I didn’t make the same mistake again.” She spoke in a low voice and kept her eyes lowered to her fingers so he couldn’t read her expression.

“And yet here you are,” Dante said in a hard voice.

Lifting her head, her face was cool and expressionless. “I have a goal this time. One year, and I get what I want. We both do.”

She swung away, but before she could take a step, Dante grabbed her hand.

She stared at him with wide eyes. “What are you doing?”

She tried to pull away, but his fingers tightened, and he moved closer.

Annabelle stood firm, defiant, as if daring him to attack. He only knew she was agitated by the accelerated speed of the pulse at the base of her throat.

“If we’re going to act like we’re in love, holding hands will help us look the part,” Dante explained evenly.

She opened her mouth as if to protest, then thought better of it, and released a breath. “Fine,” she muttered, clearly displeased.

He loosened the tight grip on her soft fingers. “You should also try putting a smile on your face and acting as if you’re happy to see me.”

A fake, tight smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

“You can do better than that. Remember what is at stake,” Dante admonished.

“Believe me, I haven’t forgotten.” She took a deep breath, and then a genuine smile appeared on her lips. “Better?”

“Mucho mejor. Much better.”

Hand in hand, they walked to the back of the house and entered the great room, where a two-story ceiling made the already large space appear larger. Windows along the back wall showed the lit grounds at the rear of the property.

“Daddy, look who has arrived,” Annabelle said with believably manufactured excitement.

She was a better actress than Dante expected. Had he not seen her real reaction seconds ago, he would actually believe she was happy to see him.

Clifton Buchanan sat in a recliner with glasses perched on his nose as he read his iPad. In his mid-sixties, gray in his hair, and a fully white beard, Clifton was the epitome of culture and money in chinos, a dress shirt and tie, and a sweater thrown over the ensemble. The minute he saw them, his face broke into a smile.

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