Dante's Dilemma (a Dante Legacy Novella) by Day Leclaire

searched his expression, though he suspected the night concealed it from her—
grazie a Dio
—since it would have given away far too much. “I think she’d call off the engagement.”
    “I can’t let that happen.” His hands dropped briefly to her shoulders, his touch communicating an underlying urgency. “I asked for your hand first, did your father tell you?”
    Serena shook her head and tears glittered in her eyes. “They’ve promised me to the church,” she confessed in a low voice. “Though it is not the path I would take if given the choice.”
    “That’s what I was told. Nor does it change the bottom line for me.” He forced himself to say the hurtful words, even though they wounded him every bit as much as Serena. “I want your family’s vineyard. And marrying your sister is the only way I’ll get it.”
    She didn’t debate the issue. She simply nodded, accepting the truth of his statement. But he noticed she surreptitiously wiped away a tear. That, more than anything, threatened to gut him. “I should return before anyone misses me.”
    They waited until the man passed by, heading for the main road. The instant silence blanketed the garden, Serena crossed to the gate. She paused there, perhaps to gather in a final breath of what might have been. Tito followed. Unable to resist, he slid his hand along the supple length of her spine and whispered, “It should have been you.”

    Rom frowned in concern. Where the hell was Julietta? Tito had returned twenty minutes ago without her, looking thoroughly pissed, before disappearing again. But she hadn’t rejoined the party. Maybe he should track her down, just to be on the safe side.
    Calling himself every sort of idiot for involving himself in business that was none of his concern—even if his heart told him something far different—he headed into the orange grove. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, the moonlight lending some assistance. About a hundred meters into the grove the glitter of glass caught his eye, and he found the broken shards of the wineglass she’d been carrying.
    “Julietta?” he called, concern giving a sharp edge to his voice.
    He heard a movement a little deeper into the grove and followed the sound. He found her a short distance away, curled up at the base of an orange tree, crying.
    “Julietta? “ He sprinted to her side and crouched beside her. Her head jerked up at the sound of his voice, and moonlight struck her face. Tears tracked a silvery path along her cheeks, and the wreath she wore in her hair had slipped to one side. “What happened? What did that bastard do to you?” he demanded.
    “Nothing.” She drew away from him, sitting a little straighter, and the bodice of her dress slipped from one shoulder. Her breath hitched in her lungs, and she fumbled with the torn material, attempting to cover her breast. “It was nothing.”
    He saw red, fury scorching him with white-hot flames. “That isn’t nothing.” He helped her adjust her dress, keeping his touch cautious and soothing. “I swear, I’ll kill that
figlio di puttana
.”
    She shook her head. “No. No,” she repeated, more forcefully. “He didn’t do anything wrong. He just kissed me. I overreacted.”
    Rom clenched his teeth, fighting to control the seething fury that gripped him. She was engaged to Tito, he reminded himself. His friend had every right to kiss her. Hell, in another week, he’d have the right to do far more than demand a kiss. He shoved the image aside, focusing instead on Julietta and her needs.
    “You can’t go back to the party like that.”
    “Maybe you could find Serena.” Julietta made a helpless, fluttery gesture. “She can explain to the guests. Make my excuses. Tell them I’m not well or something.”
    Rom shook his head. “I don’t want to leave you alone in the orchard. I’ll get you home, first, then let Serena know you’re not well.”
    She gripped his arm. “Promise me you won’t say