BEAU SAT quietly in his seat while Dante did the same, glancing at Beau every few seconds. Dang, he was a real spitfire. The energy and courage it took to stand up to Harper had been unexpected. What bothered Dante was how quiet Beau had gotten. He wasn’t sure what to do to make him more comfortable. Maybe he needed a few minutes to get his thoughts together? Dante was at a loss, to say the least.
“We should be in St. Giles soon.” It was lame, but he needed to break the silence.
Beau turned to face him, and the heat that had simmered and spiked all evening took a leap of epic proportions. “If I overstepped—”
“You have got to be kidding.” The words tumbled out of Dante’s mouth. “You were magnificent, eyes blazing. You reminded me of one of those Scottish warriors charging into the guns, come hell or high water. It was pretty amazing.”
Dante leaned forward to speak briefly with Juan and then sat back once again, unable to keep from watching Beau and the way he worried his lower lip with his teeth. God, he was adorable, and knowing there was a tiger inside made Beau even hotter. The things Dante wanted at that very moment he knew he shouldn’t contemplate, but the pull was too great. He leaned in, and when Beau met his gaze, Dante guided him closer, erasing the distance between them.
As soon as Beau’s lips touched his again, something inside Dante’s brain snapped. Years of denial and the realization that Beau was exactly what he’d been missing all that time sent a wave of desire running through him with the force of a racehorse. The car bumped over the road, but instead of breaking them apart, Dante held Beau tighter. He felt perfect in his arms, fitting him as though Beau were made to settle against his chest. Dante deepened the kiss, his tongue dueling with Beau’s, sending more and faster spikes of heat surging through him.
“Dante, I want—” Beau said, and Dante kissed him again, Beau returning it with everything he had. Nothing mattered as long as Beau was in his arms, and Dante didn’t even realize the limousine had stopped until Beau pulled away and his mind began working once again.
“I guess we’re here,” Beau whispered and opened the door. He climbed out, stumbling once and using the side of the limo to steady himself. Dante loved that he was able to affect Beau that way, and when he was out of the car, Dante wrapped an arm around Beau’s shoulder to guide him toward the front door, where Roberts waited silently. Dante didn’t pause as they passed, taking Beau to the living room.
Beau didn’t sit down, instead gently rocking from foot to foot. “What did you have planned?”
“I hadn’t given it much thought. I—” Dante didn’t get a chance to finish. In seconds he had his arms full of Beau. Then they were kissing, and Beau damn near tried to climb him. Dante held him tightly and did his best not to fall over and bring both of them to the floor.
Dante’s mind had pretty much shut down by the time he started moving them out of the room and toward the stairs. Beau stumbled on the first step, and Dante caught him, their gazes meeting, filled with heat. “Are you sure about this?” Dante asked.
“That’s my question.” Beau placed his hand on Dante’s chest, the warmth searing right through his shirt. “It’s going to hurt if….”
“I understand.” Dante guided Beau up the stairs, holding his hand. He was on fire and his hand shook with energy. He paused outside his bedroom door, letting Beau make the final decision about what he wanted. Dante wasn’t going to push him and had to know Beau was okay with what was going to happen. What surprised him was the way Beau opened the door, stepped into his bedroom, then tugged Dante inside and kicked the door closed.
Beau turned around, gazing so deeply into Dante’s eyes, he could almost swear that Beau could see to his soul and was able to read all his secrets. It chilled him, until Beau wrapped his arms around his neck. If Beau did know what he held in so tightly, what he was afraid to let out, it didn’t seem to bother him. Of course he didn’t know, but Beau gave him the impression that no matter what he kept hidden, it was okay for now. That was enough for Dante.
He closed the distance between them, and when their lips touched, Dante slid his hands up Beau’s side and under his shirt, feeling slightly bumpy but hot skin under his palms. Beau shivered. Dante slid his hands upward, bringing the shirt along. He pulled his lips away and tugged Beau’s shirt over his head, then dropped it to the floor.
Beau worked the buttons of Dante’s shirt and slid it off his shoulder. He stepped back and raked over him, licking his lips. “Jesus….”
“What?”
“The night I first met you, I tried to imagine what you looked like under that tuxedo, but my imagination was sorely lacking.” Beau closed the distance between them, pressing against Dante, probably in a bid to hide his own chest from view. Dante knew Beau was reticent about being seen and let him remain obscured, especially with the way he ran his hands over Dante’s shoulders and down his arms, then over his chest, sending heat searing through him and deep into his heart.
Dante quivered from the energy, kissing Beau again in order to give the building passion an outlet. He slowly guided Beau back toward the bed, lowered him, and followed him onto the thick duvet, working open his pants and sliding them down his quivering legs.
Beau stilled, and Dante knew what was behind it. “You need to let go and trust me,” Dante whispered. He’d already felt the scars, at least some of them. He knew they were there, and the roughness had tickled his fingers.
Beau inhaled sharply. “Do you know how hard it is to expose yourself to someone, let them see all of you, good or bad? It’s scary as hell, and once I do, you can’t unsee it, no matter how much I might want that.”
“It’s the same for everyone.”
Beau hesitated a second. “No, it isn’t.” He turned away, covering himself.
“All right.” Dante kicked off his shoes, then glanced over his shoulders. Beau sat hidden under the duvet, holding it up over himself. Dante stood and slipped off his pants and then his boxers, standing naked in front of Beau. “This is me.”
Beau’s eyes boggled and he gasped. “Wow.” The adoration was sexy as hell, and Dante groaned as his cock, already pointing toward the ceiling, throbbed as he moved closer to Beau.
“What do you want?” Dante asked quietly, breathily, as he climbed on the bed and crawled closer to Beau, who hadn’t moved a muscle except to pant slightly. “Go ahead and lie down.”
Once Beau lay back, Dante kissed him hard, taking possession of his mouth, showing him as best he could just how much he wanted him.
“Dante,” Beau groaned, and Dante took the opportunity to suck lightly at the base of his neck before slowly sliding his lips down Beau’s shoulder. All the while he kept Beau occupied, Dante tugged the duvet lower and lower, following it with his lips.
Beau gasped, and Dante sat back. Scars crisscrossed Beau’s chest and down his belly. They were white now from age, but still visible. Dante hadn’t honestly known how he’d feel once he saw them, but all that came to mind was the pain and agony that Beau must have endured.
“See… I told you they weren’t pretty.”
Dante lightly traced one of the most pronounced scars near the center of Beau’s chest down to just above his navel. “These are part of you. If you got these in battle, would they bother you as much? They’re war wounds, and it must have taken all the strength in the world to endure what you did.” He leaned forward to lightly kiss one of the scars.
Beau quivered under him, panting for breath, so Dante did it again, then gently licked the white line as Beau nearly went to pieces. “God, that’s…. Why are you doing that?”
“These are part of you,” Dante answered. He wasn’t going to let Beau think he was ugly. These scars were strength, courage, and a test of endurance. All of those qualities were unbelievably sexy on their own, but together, they were mind-blowing.
Dante shifted back, tugging the duvet off Beau completely. He saw the worry in Beau’s eyes, like a swirling mass of blackness, but he ignored it, hoping he could replace that with light. Instead, Dante shifted his gaze to Beau’s long legs and then up to his thighs and hips. He leaned closer once again to suck a mark at the dip just inside his pelvis.
“Dante,” Beau groaned with a combination of laughter and pleasure that sent a zing straight to Dante’s cock. He continued upward, ignoring Beau’s long, thick cock for the moment. He had more important organs to attend to, and the one that was important right now was the one beating inside Beau’s chest. The scars became more numerous, and he stroked along them, the roughness sliding under the pads of his fingers. Beau squirmed a little.
“Does this hurt?”
“It’s tickly, but not painful.” Beau shivered and closed his eyes.
“Don’t try to hide or escape, please.” Dante wanted all of Beau present in this moment. Once his deep blue eyes opened again, the worry he’d seen earlier had been replaced with what Dante could only describe as hope. He paused, seeing that gleaming at him, and closed his own eyes, wondering if he could dare let that hope inside him. He’d closed it off for so long—was it possible to allow it inside him once again? Dante darted forward, slamming their lips together, taking what he needed in that moment.
When he pulled back because he needed to breathe, Beau wrapped his arms over his chest protectively.
Dante shook his head, gently took hold of Beau’s wrists, and brought them over his head. “Hold them there.”
Beau quivered under him. “What are you doing?”
“Proving you’re wrong.” Dante kissed Beau once again, then trailed his tongue down his neck to the longest scar, licking a line down it to just above Beau’s belly button, the rich, manly taste of Beau building on his tongue. He swirled his tongue in the shallow divot, earning a gentle chuckle that shifted to a groan as Dante slowly licked and sucked his way back up.
“Why are you doing this?” Beau breathed.
“Because you need to understand that the guy, whoever he was, was a damn fool.” Dante flicked his tongue around one of Beau’s nipples, and he whined softly, so Dante did it again, sucking the tiny bud to a peak and worrying it with his tongue. “They’re only scars.”
He closed his eyes once again and held his breath. “I told you…,” Beau began. “It’s too much.”
It took Dante a second to realize what Beau was talking about. “No. It’s not you. They’re not you.” Dante pushed the impending realization aside. He could deal with that later. Right now, it was all about Beau, and Dante sucked at his nipple once again while he traced the scar that ran just alongside it.
“How can you do that?” Beau groaned.
Dante lifted his gaze, meeting Beau’s. “Because these are part of you. These scars, these marks aren’t just yours any longer. They’re mine. I’m tracing them, putting my mark on top of them.”
“You’re what…? Claiming me somehow?”
“Yes!” Dante hissed. “I’m claiming you. I’m the Beast of St. Giles, and I’m claiming you and taking what I want. You’ve driven me to distraction for weeks, and I want you. All of you. Can you understand that?” He held still, waiting for Beau’s reaction. All he received was a nod, and then Beau swallowed. Dante had the answer he needed, and he kissed his way down the lightly furred trail beneath Beau’s belly button to the treasure he found there, then sucked Beau’s girth between his lips.
“Oh God!” Beau cried, and Dante took more of him, sliding his lips down the shaft as Beau’s heady richness burst across his tongue. It took control Dante hadn’t needed since he was a teenager for him not to come right at that moment.
He sucked Beau hard, letting his hands roam up and down Beau’s chest and belly, needing Beau to know Dante accepted him for who he was.
Beau flexed his hips, sliding his cock across Dante’s lips and tongue. It was glorious, and he closed his lips tighter, loving that Beau quivered under him. Beau carded his fingers through Dante’s hair, tugging on it lightly as Dante used his mouth to drive Beau nearly out of his mind. Dante felt Beau’s control beginning to slip, so he revved up his pace, bringing Beau just to the edge before backing off.
“Dante….” Beau moaned, his entire body going rigid as his cock throbbed and bounced against his belly. “You’re fucking mean.”
Dante yanked open the drawer of the bedside table, his own control perilously close to the edge. He nearly dropped the drawer to the floor before locating a silver packet and ripping it with his teeth. “No… not mean.” He leaned forward. “But unless you tell me to stop now, I intend to go ahead and fuck you. I need to feel you around me.” He could barely hold still long enough for Beau to whisper a yes into his ear. Every instinct he had urged him forward, his last shreds of control fraying by the second.
Somehow he had to not lose it now. Beau deserved care. Dante took deep breaths to calm the rages of passion while sliding his knees under Beau’s legs, lifting them upward. Fucking hell, Beau was limber, and Dante gasped as Beau tugged his knees to his chest, exposing his most private opening to Dante’s heated gaze. He leaned forward, tracing his finger along Beau’s crack, teasing the puckered skin of his opening before sucking his way down Beau’s inner thigh, bringing his lips closer and closer to Beau’s opening as he shook harder and harder in near-breathless anticipation.
“What are you doing to me?” Beau pleaded as Dante licked over Beau’s opening.
“Getting you ready,” Dante answered, then buried his face between Beau’s cheeks, supporting his hips with his hands until Beau quivered uncontrollably. There were few things in life—that Dante had seen, anyway—that compared to Beau in the throes of anticipatory joy. Dante pulled away, taking in the sight presented to him. Beau’s eyes were huge and his mouth hung open, chest heaving with each breath. He moved his lips but didn’t manage to say anything for a few seconds.
“I’m ready…,” Beau gasped and pressed his hips forward.
Dante swore this man would test the patience of a saint. His instincts told him to go for what he wanted, and he was seconds away from it, but he had to be safe for both of them. Dante searched the bedding and found the stupid packet among the folds of the blanket. He rolled the lubed condom down his length, then pressed into position, his gaze locking onto Beau’s. He pressed forward, slowly, Beau’s body opening to him.
“Is this too fast?” Dante asked, stopping as he breached Beau’s body.
“Hell no.” Beau reached for his leg to pull him closer, and Dante let go, sinking deeper into Beau’s searing heat.
Dante caught his breath, waiting for Beau’s body to accept him, then slowly began to move. He didn’t want to hurt Beau, and every move sent waves of heat and energy through him. He held himself back, remaining in control.
“What are you waiting for?” Beau demanded, pulling Dante down until their lips were just an inch apart. “I’m not going to break. So show me how you’re feeling right now.”
“I won’t hurt you.”
“I’m not made of glass. So fuck me like you mean it!” Beau crashed his lips to Dante’s, and his control slipped away.
Dante closed his eyes as his desire took over his entire being. Dante understood lust—he’d felt it many times over his life—but the glimmer of love and the deep connection he seemed to have with Beau was completely new and added to the experience. More than anything, he wanted Beau to be happy. He snapped his hips, the entire bed rocking slightly under his force.
“Yes!” Beau encouraged, and the last of Dante’s self-restraint shattered. He saw red for a second, then rocked back and forth, driving deep into Beau’s heat, withdrawing, and then shaking as Beau took him over and over again. Everything around him—hell, his entire world—narrowed to Beau and only Beau. The entire house could have fallen down around him and he wouldn’t have known it or cared. All he wanted was right here with him at that moment.
“Fuck me!” Beau cried, pulling Dante out of his head and back to Beau, who yanked him down into a kiss that sent a shudder running through him.
“Damn, you look….” Words failed him completely. Beau stretched out under him, long and lean, gasping softly as Dante slid deep, holding still. He had always heard that there was a difference between sex and making love, and he’d never understood that. But he did now.
When he was married, he’d loved Allison, but in a completely different way from how Beau seemed to touch his soul. He could barely think now, and let go of everything running through his head. Dante gathered Beau to him, holding him tightly as they rocked together until the last of Dante’s control snapped.
Beau came unglued around him, crying out softly, and Dante followed right behind him, emptying himself, his vision narrowing to the passion on Beau’s face.
Slowly Dante came back to himself, withdrew from Beau and took care of both of them before joining him on the bed once again. He pulled Beau to him, settling with his chest pressed to Beau’s back. “Are you all right? I can barely move.” He was sated, worn out, and as happy as he could remember being.
A knock sounded on the door, and Dante groaned, pulling up the covers to make sure Beau was hidden from anyone’s gaze. Then he got out of bed, slipped on a robe, and cracked the door open. “What is it, Roberts?” he asked though the small opening.
“I wasn’t sure if I should disturb you and Mr. Beau, but Mr. Yates is downstairs, pacing the hallway like a cat. We told him that you were occupied and had gone up to bed for the night, but he’s most insistent.”
Dante yawned and wanted to tell Simon to go and come back at a decent hour, but his lawyer wasn’t the type of person to panic or overreact, so he pulled the robe closed around himself. “Tell him I’ll be down in a few minutes.” He shut the door and turned back to the bed.
Beau sat on the edge and already had his pants in his hands. “I should go and let you take care of whatever you need to.”
Dante strode over to sit next to him. “I don’t know what he wants, but I’ll take care of everything as quickly as I can and come back.” He leaned close. “I don’t want you to leave.” Hell, his possessiveness had kicked in, and if he could help it, he’d never let Beau out of his sight. But it was way too soon to say things like that and not sound demented.
“Are you sure?” Beau asked.
“Definitely,” Dante told him and pressed Beau back down onto the bed. “I’ll be looking forward to the best sight I’ve ever seen—you here in my bed.” He kissed Beau and then, reluctantly, got up and made sure the robe was secure before leaving the bedroom and descending the stairs.
“Simon, what couldn’t wait until morning?” He wasn’t happy being pulled away from Beau.
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for hours. You probably need to check your cell phone and make sure it’s charged.” Yates opened his bag and pulled out some papers. “You’re being sued for wrongful termination by the union.”
“You interrupted me for that?” Dante snatched the papers. “This ass was stealing from us and we can prove it. There was no wrongful termination. I didn’t use that reason to spare his family, but if he can’t be man enough to tell them the truth, then I certainly will.” He paced the front hall, stomping hard enough on the floor to rattle the nearby table. “Some people have all the nerve in the world.”
“What do you want me to do?” Yates asked. “I knew you’d want to know as soon as possible.”
Dante cleared his head. This wasn’t Yates’s fault. He was just the messenger, and Dante did want to know as soon as possible. “Come on.” He padded to his office and opened the lower desk drawer on the left to pull out one of the files. “Here is the documentation you need. Contact them and present the facts to their attorney. If Greg wishes to pursue this, we’ll press charges, and Greg will go to jail. I’m not going to play around with this any longer. I’ve had picketers at my house, and all for someone who embezzled from us.”
Yates seemed pleased. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes. If he decides to pursue this, I want a judge to order him a psych evaluation. I’m willing to bet there’s something wrong with him. No sane person would act the way he has.”
“I don’t know if we can do that.”
Dante lowered his gaze. “Just bring it up. Use whatever you have to in order to get Greg to let this drop. I don’t want to spend more money defending myself when we’ve already lost enough because of this asshole. Hell, he’s using my own money to try to sue me.” Dante had already spent enough time and effort on him. Now he was trying to make up the losses they’d suffered.
“All right. I’ll get on this first thing in the morning.”
“Is there anything else?” Dante stood. “If not, I’m going up to bed.”
“Dante,” Beau said softly, and he turned toward the door. His first instinct was to hurry over to stand between Beau and Yates. Beau had on a pair of shorts and one of his T-shirts, and he looked totally edible.
“I’m on my way.” Dante turned to Yates, who was already closing his bag and getting ready to leave.
“I’ll take care of everything.” Yates’s face was beet red. “I didn’t realize that you had company.” He hurried out of the office, and Dante heard Roberts tell him good night, and then the front door opened and thunked closed. Roberts had the good sense not to return, and Dante met Beau at the office doorway, turned out the light, and took Beau’s hand.
“Is everything okay?” Beau stroked the back of his hand, easing away some of the tension.
“Just a continuation of the protestors the other night. Hopefully we’ve put an end to this now.” As they climbed the stairs, Dante sighed. “I want to go over to Greg’s house and rip his head right off his shoulders. That asshole steals from me and then tries to sue me when I fire him. I should have called the police and let them deal with it.” He gripped the banister, stopping just before the top of the stairs. “I was trying to be a good guy and…. Shit. I should have just stepped back and let things take their course.”
“It’s over, isn’t it?” Beau asked.
“God, I hope so. I told Yates to throw everything we have at him. Scare the shit out of him and he’ll go away, and hopefully take his family along with him.” Dante started up the stairs again. “I know they think they’re standing up for him, but Greg hasn’t had the guts to tell them what he did, and now they blame me for what happened. Everyone blames me for everything.”
Beau tugged on his arm, and Dante stopped. “Self-pity isn’t becoming,” Beau told him. Dante half expected him to smile as though he’d been teasing, but he didn’t. “You say everyone blames you for everything, and yet you do nothing about it. You carry all this guilt and expect everyone to look past it. They can’t until you do.” Beau tugged him forward. “Come on. It’s getting late and you have a bunch of things you need to do in the morning, I’m sure. I have to be to the Center early so I can catch up on the paperwork that makes the world go around.”
Dante wanted to argue with him, but as he thought about it, there was nothing to argue about. Beau was right. He had been grousing over self-pity, and danged if Beau hadn’t refused to put up with it, but called him on it. That should have made him angry, but instead he drew Beau to him and hugged him close. Here was one person who wasn’t afraid, intimidated, or willing to tell him what he wanted to hear. His father had always said that he’d fallen in love with Dante’s mother because she didn’t take his bullshit and saw him for who he was.
“Are you angry at me?” Beau asked as they reached the bedroom door.
“How can I be angry when you’re right? Sometimes I may growl about it, but you have a way of cutting to the heart of things. It may piss me off, but it’s refreshing too.”
“Good.” Beau rose on his tiptoes and gave him a kiss. “Because I have a feeling that I’m going to be right quite often and you should probably get used to it.”
“You do, huh?” Dante said, trying to be playful.
Beau paused and then seemed to make up his mind. “Yeah. I know you’re used to being right and having people come to you for decisions, and once you make up your mind, that’s pretty much it… and you get pissed as hell when your wishes aren’t carried out.”
Dante narrowed his gaze. “How do you know that?” There was a definite growl in his voice that he tried to suppress.
“It’s not rocket science,” Beau said with a shake of his head. “You generally get what you want and you’re used to it.”
“Yeah, but no one listens to me.” After all, who wanted to spend time listening to the Beast? They simply dealt with him when they had to and stayed away at other times.
Beau went into the bedroom, began taking off what little he was wearing, and then slipped into bed. “I think you have things messed up. Everyone listens to you. How can they not? You have control over half the town, including the biggest employer. The problem is that no one likes you—there’s a difference. It’s hard to like someone you’re scared half to death of. People in town stay out of your way, talk about you behind your back. You know they’ve made up stories about you because you hear them.”
This wasn’t the kind of conversation he expected to have after he and Beau had just made love. “I see.”
Beau lifted the covers, and Dante hesitated before dropping his robe and getting in bed with him. “But they don’t see the real you. It’s too deeply hidden. The people around you here do and they stay, and you let me see some of what’s under that steel exterior of yours and I like you. The kids do too.” He ran a hand over Dante’s belly, and flutters of renewed desire beat in his chest. Beau reached over to turn out the light on his side of the bed.
“Aren’t you going to tell me what I should do?” Dante asked as he turned off his light, plunging the room into darkness.
“Nope. That’s up to you to decide.” Beau settled next to him and gently rubbed his cheek until Dante turned his head. Then Beau kissed him hard, demanding, and just like that, the desire that had been building burst to renewed flame once again. Before Dante could move, Beau had shifted, climbing on top of him, kissing him deeply enough that he felt it in his soul. “For now it’s time to stop thinking about beasts and what everyone else thinks.” Beau sucked at the base of his neck, and Dante groaned, stretching to give Beau better access. “Because what really matters right now is what I think.” He licked down Dante’s chest to his nipple, then teased it before pausing. “And I think that we’re both going to be tired in the morning.”
And Dante had no argument for that.
THREE DAYS later Dante woke from a dozing sleep, high above the Atlantic. He looked around and stifled the groan that rose to his lips. He knew he had no right to, but he missed Beau. They’d spent an entire night together, just one night, and Dante had never been so tired in the morning, or so thrillingly happy. Now once again he was alone.
The flight attendant made her way up the aisle and inquired if he needed anything. Dante quietly asked for some water and closed his eyes once again, trying to sleep and return to that dream he’d been having where Beau had just walked into his office, closed the door, and somehow all his clothes had vanished by the time he’d reached Dante’s desk. In the dream, Beau was unblemished, no scars, with perfect… well, everything, and eyes that radiated heat and desire.
Dante opened his eyes again, the hum of the jet engines intruding on his thoughts. Was that what he wanted? Beau to be perfect? He thought about it and realized he didn’t see Beau as anything but beautiful, scars or not. And that scared the hell out of him. Beau was perfect. He was generous, caring, understanding, and seemed to be willing to put up with him.
And that was the problem. Dante knew he didn’t deserve anyone like Beau.
“Sir, your water,” the flight attendant said, and Dante took the cold bottle, thanked her, and tried to get comfortable in his business-class seat once more. He pulled the blanket up over himself, closed his eyes, and hoped to hell he’d be able to go to sleep.
Allison was there in the house, standing at the top of the stairs, smiling as brightly as she always had, no hint of the sadness that had been building inside her, adding to the lines around her eyes for the last year and a half. She was the Allison he knew, his best friend, the person he’d loved for years. The one person he’d always been able to confide in.
Dante rushed over to her, and before his eyes, she aged and her eyes grew hollow and cold. With each step, she turned into the person she’d been at the end.
Allison fell toward the stairs. Dante leaped to reach her, his hands grabbing, but she remained just out of reach. “This is your fault. You did this to me.” Her words rang in his head as she disappeared from sight. Dante didn’t need to come closer and look to know what he’d find. He’d already seen that image in his head, burned into his memory forever.
Dante jerked upright once again, nearly toppling the bottle of water on the little armrest tray. The other passengers were all shifting, waking up, and having breakfast before the flight crew prepared the cabin for their landing in Paris. Dante hoped the dream would fade, but it didn’t seem to, and even after they’d landed and Dante was getting off the plane, the image of Allison, aged and drawn, lingered in his mind.
FOR THE next week, Dante struggled to keep his thoughts on the business at hand. He made a number of deals in Paris that would benefit the business greatly, and some of their art pieces even won an award at a salon. But none of that managed to banish the constant thoughts of Beau during the day and then the dreams and nightmares of Allison at night. Over and over, Allison went to her death, and each and every time, she blamed him. Not that Dante had any illusions—her death was all his fault. It just hurt like hell to have it play over and over again in his head.
He made it to the station just in time for his train, boarded, and took his first-class seat, then ignored the scenery outside the window as the train barreled through the French countryside on its way toward the Channel that it would travel under.
His phone vibrated in his pocket and he answered it, checking the time. He had a little bit before he lost the signal. “Bonjour.”
“Dante?” Beau said tentatively.
“Yes, it’s me.” He smiled because he couldn’t stop himself. “I’m on the train from Paris to London, so we’ll get cut off once it enters the Channel.”
“Are you having a good trip?” Beau asked. “Did you get done what you hoped?”
“Yes. We won a gold medal at the Porcelain Salon. I can’t wait to present it to Florian Cindersen when I get back. He’s the head designer for our decorative line. Maybe I’ll have him to the house so you can meet him.”
“Is this a big deal?”
“Huge.” Dante worked up some enthusiasm. He knew he should be over the moon. That award would mean that they’d get orders from all over the world for years to come.
“Then have a reception for him. I can help you plan it if you like.” Just like that, Beau was there to try to help.
“That would be nice. I’ll think about what we want to do. Maybe a celebration for the entire division.” Dante yawned. He was getting very tired of traveling, though he still had a week or more to go. “What’s going on there? Are you doing okay?”
“The Center is busy. Bobby asked when you were coming back. I think he’s thinking of ice cream. Even Kendra grudgingly admitted that you weren’t mean—it’s a long story—and asked if you were coming back.” Beau sighed. “I want you to come back. I know we haven’t been… whatever we are for long, but I miss you. I almost called you my boyfriend, but I wasn’t sure if that’s what you wanted to be, and….”
“Of course, I’d be honored to be your boyfriend.” Dante wasn’t so sure if Beau would want that once he found out about his past. His phone beeped to indicate that he’d lost the signal, and Dante stared at the screen, wondering what Beau had heard or not heard. He shut down his phone and shoved it back into his pocket. More than anything he needed to get his head screwed on straight and make some decisions before he could allow things between them to get any more serious.
Dante’s heart was already engaged, and that was part of what concerned him the most. Beau deserved to know the truth about his past. That much he’d decided. The fallout to his heart was a completely different matter.
He returned Beau’s call once the train emerged from the Channel, but it went to voicemail. Dante left a quick message and ended the call, then rode in silence for the rest of the trip. He took a taxi to his hotel from Victoria Station and settled in for the night. With his mind made up on a course of action moving forward, his dreams were quiet and he was able to sleep for the first time in weeks.