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CHAPTER ELEVEN
TIMESEEMEDTOmove differently on the island. It went in a haze, long leisurely days, gourmet food and sunshine. And then at night Dante made love to her.
She had the sense that he was angry with her for the deception, but he also hadn’t turned away from her. She half expected him to. After the revelation that she’d been a virgin, she had expected that he might find her... She didn’t know.
But time and time again he showed her that he didn’t find her to be a problem. That he was attracted to her. That he wanted her.
And she wondered why that still didn’t feel like enough.
She had never imagined that a man like him would find her compelling in the first place. And he did. Shouldn’t she be happy with that? Shouldn’t she, the less attractive sister, be happy with the crumbs that she was being handed?
Well, it didn’t really matter. Because what they had was what they had.
And on the island it was only the two of them anyway. And whatever insecurity she felt about taking this into the real world...
She didn’t doubt Dante’s commitment. Not in the least. He was a man who would keep his word, she was certain of that.
But what she was less certain of was his feelings. Those... Those were unknowable. Utterly and completely. Today, she had talked him out of simply working in the office and had badgered him down to the beach. Often, she and Isabella spent their time there alone. Dante was a workaholic, though she was exposed to enough billionaires to know that you didn’t build empires without being married primarily to your job. But still, she felt lonely.
And then she had to wonder if she was being selfish. Because wasn’t she with her dream man? How could she want anything more?
Isabella began to fuss where she was lying on the towel, and she turned to Dante. “Can you pick her up?”
He looked stiff.
“She’s our daughter now,” she said. “Yours as much as mine.”
“Meaning not?” he asked, his tone hard.
She looked at him for a long moment, trying to gauge that statement. What it meant to him.
“No,” she said, slowly. “Meaning she very much is.”
“Blood matters,” he said.
She narrowed her eyes and studied him. “Why do you think that?”
If he noticed her careful appraisal, he didn’t acknowledge it. “Because.”
“You think that blood is more important than caring for a child. That blood trumps love?”
“No. I don’t suppose I thought of it that way.”
“But you think it matters.”
“Of course it does,” he said. “After all, your father didn’t offer the company to me, not until I was engaged to marry you.”
“Did you expect him to?”
“He always says that I’m like a son to him,” Dante said. “But it’s not the same.”
“It very much is,” Minerva said. “He loves you.”
“And I’m a brother to you?”
Her cheeks heated. “Of course you’re not the same as my brother. But that’s the problem. You never have been. Not to me. You too... Well, I hear tell that my brother’s beautiful, and I suppose that I’m proud of him in that way that a sister is. But I don’t see his beauty, not in that way. Yours I could never unsee.”
“Did you really have a crush on me when you were young?”
