[Fontaines 01.0] The Sweet Taste of Sin Read online

  You were right. I’m sorry. Let me buy you some chili fries to make it up to you?

  Then I grab the rest of my things and dash back out to Mama Pat, telling myself I’m not just running away.

  * * *

  My “vacation” doesn’t leave me feeling much better.

  Sure, I get plenty of food and plenty of sleep—and both Mama Pat and her husband are kind, generous hosts—but my heart still feels heavy. I feel lost. Dragged out by a rip tide. And I’m not sure what to do but continue to push on. The moment I heard back from Jack—he agreed to meet for lunch this coming week, thank goodness—I switched off my phone. I’ve avoided television and the internet. I need time to think.

  But thinking is hard when I’m like this. Every time I close my eyes I feel Dante’s arms around me. Feel his lips against mine. Feel his fingers on my skin. Sometimes, I let myself sink into those fantasies. But every time I do, the feelings of love and desire are quickly drowned beneath a rush of pain and fear. I love him. I love him so much I don’t know what to do with myself. He holds my heart in his hands, could break it without any effort at all—and he knows exactly where my weak spots are. I hate that he has this much power over me.

  On Tuesday, I can’t take it anymore. I need something to do. So I call up Jilly and Karen and tell them I’m reopening Ashlyn’s Bakeshop.

  It’s a relief to have a distraction. The minute I’m back in my kitchen again, I feel myself starting to relax. Once I get back into the rhythm of normal life, I’ll feel better. If Mama Pat thinks this is too soon, she doesn’t say anything to me.

  And so I do my best to pretend that everything is fine. To pretend that I don’t see the paparazzi camped outside. And though the bakery phone seems to be ringing more than usual… well, Jilly and Karen have gotten very good at filtering calls.

  Yes, I tell myself. I might make it through this after all.

  Just before lunch, I sit down with Mama Pat to go over the week’s cake orders. Today is the day I’m taking Jack out for his chili fries, but before he gets here, I want to make sure we have our schedule in order.

  We flip through the stack of orders, making notes and divvying up tasks. There’s a kid’s birthday cake going out on Thursday and a bachelorette cake on Friday. We have three cakes to do for Saturday, but two of them are simple vanilla party cakes. The third…

  My hand freezes on the ticket. The third cake is Luca Fontaine’s birthday cake. This is Dante’s order.

  Mama Pat frowns. She doesn’t need me to explain why I’ve suddenly gone mute.

  “Are we still making this one?” she asks. “Or should I toss the order?”

  I’ve thought about tossing it a number of times since Dante first walked into this bakery, and despite the fact that I’m not sure whether or not I’m ready to see him yet—to see him ever again—throwing out his order feels petty. The integrity of my business is more important to me than personal pride. Besides, as much as I hate to admit it, we could always use the money.

  “We’ll do it,” I say. I’m not sure if he’s planning on picking it up or having us deliver it—we never got to the point where we were discussing such details—but either way, I can probably convince Jilly to deal with it. She’ll probably even thank me for the chance to meet Dante Fontaine.

  The rest of the orders are fairly straightforward. I leave Mama Pat to do some prep work while I clean up for my lunch with Jack. He should be here soon. I’m just hanging up my apron when Karen comes to grab me.

  “Ash?” she says. “You, uh, have a visitor.”

  Jack’s a few minutes early—which is unlike him. But I hope that means he’s eager to make up. I owe him a big apology.

  I toss my apron on the hook and grab my bag before heading out into the shop. But I only make it about three steps before I freeze in my tracks.

  It’s not Jack waiting for me. It’s Dante.

  My first thought is, Why didn’t Karen warn me? But it’s not her fault—I haven’t been as open with her as I’ve been with Mama Pat. My second thought is, Run. I’m not ready for this.

  But he’s already crossing the room, and by the time I convince my feet to move he’s right in front of me. I start to back away, but he grabs my hand.

  “Dante, please… I can’t…”

  “I’m not releasing you until you talk to me,” he says. His eyes bore into me. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for days, Ash.” He looks… exhausted. Like he hasn’t been sleeping. His hair is a mess. There are shadows under his eyes. Even his clothes are disheveled.

  “I told you I needed some space to think,” I whisper. In spite of the intensity of his gaze, his grip on my hand is gentle, if firm. I could pull away—should pull away—but I don’t. His presence, as usual, has some sort of power over me. I’m caught under his spell.

  “You have no idea how worried I’ve been.” He rubs his face with his free hand. The entire bakery has gone silent around us, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care. “After all that madness with the press, and those messages you’ve been getting… Fuck, Ash, I was afraid…” He drops his hand and catches me in his gaze. “Ash, you have no idea what these last few days have been like for me.”

  I don’t know what I was expecting when I saw him again, but this desperate, haunted look in his eyes was not it. I’ve seen him upset before. Seen him angry. Seen him worried. But nothing like this. He looks half wild.

  And before I can decide what I should say or do, he drops down onto his knee.

  Someone in the bakery lets out a loud gasp. And a familiar voice by the door says, “Holy fuck.” I look up just in time to see Jack’s jaw drop—he must have just walked in—but then Dante is squeezing my fingers and my attention is drawn back to the man on his knee in front of me.

  “I’ve made a lot of mistakes when it comes to you,” Dante says. “And every time I see that look in your eyes, it kills me a little more. But I’m done making mistakes, Ashlyn. I’m done doing anything that makes you believe, even for a second, that you aren’t the world to me. Because you are, Ashlyn—you are everything. You mean more to me than anything else, and even if it takes me my entire life to prove that to you, I’m not going to rest until I do.”

  I feel like I’m not getting enough air. “Dante… maybe we should go somewhere else…”

  “I don’t care if the whole world hears it,” he says. “I don’t even care if you turn me down in front of all these people. In front of the entire world. I love you, Ashlyn. I love everything about you. Your tenacity and your courage and every single one of your emotions. I love you whether you’re laughing or screaming or crying. I love your impulsiveness and your unpredictability. My entire life I’ve trained to hide my true self from the world. To cultivate this perfect, controlled public persona. But being with you changes me, Ash. Ask anyone I know. You bring out the parts of me I try to hide, and I’ve never felt more alive in my entire life. I never want to go back to how things were before.” He raises my hand to his lips. “Marry me, Ashlyn.”

  This can’t be happening. Not here, not like this. This is too soon. This is too crazy.

  “Dante…” I whisper. I can’t make this decision with all of these people watching.

  “I shredded that script,” he murmurs against the backs of my fingers. “I told them to find someone else to rewrite it.”

  “You didn’t have to—”

  “I did. And I’d do it again.”

  Panic is rising in my chest. “Dante, if we could go somewhere a little more private…”

  He brushes his lips against my knuckles. “I’ll follow you anywhere you wish to go.”

  I pull him to his feet and lead him back through the kitchen, past a wide-eyed Mama Pat and straight into the walk-in cooler. I have no idea what I’m going to say or do. But the moment the door is shut behind us, I find myself sinking against his chest.

  His arms come up around me—one around my waist, the other around my upper back, squeezing me to him as if he never i
ntends to let me go. I press my face against his shirt.

  “I’m scared,” I whisper. “I’m so scared, Dante.”

  “Me too,” he murmurs against my hair.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. “You?”

  “I’m fucking terrified. God, Ashlyn, if you had any idea…” His voice cracks on the last word.

  For a moment, I just let him hold me. My cheek is against his chest, and his heart is thrumming hard and fast beneath my ear.

  I’m not strong enough for these feelings.

  “You shouldn’t have shredded your script,” I tell him softly. “That wasn’t what I wanted. I shouldn’t have gotten that upset, and I never expected you to—”

  “Hush, it’s done.”

  “It wasn’t really about those notes,” I rush on, feeling the need to explain myself. “I was just overwhelmed, and I…”

  “No, you had every right to be upset. It was a shitty thing to do. And God, the look in your eyes… I never want to cause you pain, Ashlyn. Of any kind. I’d shred all of it again in a heartbeat.” He weaves his fingers through my hair and pulls my head back so he can look down at me. “It was just a script, Ash. And there are a hundred screenwriters who could take my place. There will be other films. Damn it, I don’t even like disaster movies.”

  His hand is skimming across my face, and I resist the urge to turn into his touch. There’s too much we need to talk about.

  “You shouldn’t have said those things out there,” I say.

  “There a lot of things in my past I shouldn’t have said. And a lot of things I shouldn’t have written. But those words out there needed to be spoken. I meant every one.” His eyes smolder. “And I needed to show you that I was willing to expose myself, to let the whole world see what you do to me.”

  “You can’t be serious about getting married,” I blurt. “We’re hardly even in a relationship. And we’ve only been reunited for a few weeks, and—”

  “And I’ve never been so sure of anything in my entire life. I’ve never felt like this about a woman, Ashlyn. And I know I’ll never feel like this ever again.” He slides his thumb across my bottom lip. “I meant it when I said you’d changed me. I used to think myself a very level, even-headed sort of man, but around you… Your emotions aren’t a weakness, Ash. They’re the things that make you fascinating and intoxicating and the most authentic woman I’ve ever known. They’re the things that woke up the sleeping parts of me. The things that make us a perfect match for each other.” His head dips lower. “They’re a perfect part of you. And the fact that were willing to share them with me makes me want to be a better man.”

  He tries to kiss me, but I turn my face away. “I don’t deserve this.”

  “God, wherever would you get that idea?”

  “I’m not strong enough for any of this. I ran away from you because I was afraid, because I wasn’t ready to deal with this. And then you come in here and say all these amazing things as if I weren’t this melodramatic—”

  “I say these things because I mean them. And if you’re afraid, then I only have myself to blame for that. I hurt you after inviting you to be vulnerable with me. I’ll never forgive myself for that. And if you’re worried that you’re not strong enough, it’s only because we’ve both seen what we do to each other. There’s no pretending this is ordinary, no pretending that we aren’t connected by the rawest, truest parts of ourselves. We both feel too deeply to be anything less than everything to each other.”

  I promised myself I wouldn’t cry over this man again, but his words hit a chord in my heart that I can’t deny.

  “I’m an idiot,” I say.

  “Not as big an idiot as me.” He’s still holding my face. “Tell me you’ll at least give us one more shot, Ash.”

  There’s no hiding now. No running away. He’s bared himself to me, and I can’t deny him—or myself. My fears be damned. I don’t care how terrified I am—I’m going to be brave.

  I nod. I can’t seem to form words right now, but that gesture seems to be enough. Heat and relief flood Dante’s eyes, and then he’s kissing me.

  God, how is it that his lips taste better every time? My mouth falls open beneath his, and my hands lace behind the back of his neck, holding him close. I never want to let him go.

  When he pulls away, the wild, haunted Dante is gone, and in his place is a man who looks… well, almost goofy. He’s grinning widely, looking happier than I’ve ever seen him, and I find that I’m smiling as well.

  “I’m in this with you, no matter what,” he says. “No matter where we go from here, no matter what challenges we face, I have your back.”

  “And I have yours,” I whisper. “But… marriage? I love you, Dante. Don’t ever doubt it. But this is all happening so fast—”

  “Just promise me you’ll think about it,” he says. “I don’t care how long I have to wait for your answer, as long as you let me wait for it by your side.”

  “And the press—”

  “We’ll face together. We might have to deal with some rumors after word gets out that I’ve dropped Cataclysm: Aftermath. But we’ll manage. Maybe I can arrange for us to take an extended trip to Bali.”

  I laugh and wipe away a tear. “You know I can’t leave my bakery for that long.”

  “Then we’ll figure out something else. But we’ll do it together.” He sobers a little. “I want you to tell me if you get any more harassing messages.”

  “Only if you promise to tell me what’s going on with your work.” I look down at my hands on his chest. “I’m not trying to pry, I just…”

  “I know.” He tilts my face back up toward his. “We have a lot to share. A lot to keep discovering about each other.” He twirls a loose strand of my hair around his finger, still looking far too serious. “You’ll still have reporters and paparazzi poking around for a while, I’m afraid. I’m hoping that if I stay away from any high-profile projects, we might get a little privacy, but you never can guess with these things. Maybe it’ll be better if you come stay with me for the time being.”

  It’s a tempting offer, but I still don’t want to rush into things. “I’ll think about it, I promise.”

  He smiles. “At the very least, I hope you’re still planning on coming to Luca’s party on Saturday. I really want my family to meet you.”

  “I was actually just looking at the order sheet for the cake.”

  “I don’t care about the cake. I just want you.”

  His expression makes me tingle all over—until a sudden thought occurs to me. “Is Emilia going to be there?”

  “No. I believe she’s doing a special photo shoot in Greece.” He’s frowning again, and he hooks a finger beneath my chin. “Ashlyn, I promise you there was no emotion involved in what happened between Emilia and me. There was so much pressure for Cataclysm: Earth to do well, and we were both dealing with a lot of stress. It could have been anyone—for either of us. Emilia and I just happened to find each other at the right time. No doubt Luca went and found some relief of his own.”

  “It still just seems so weird to me that Luca and Emilia’s relationship is a sham.”

  “I can’t imagine maintaining an act like that for so long—but then again, Luca is the actor, not me. And he and Emilia have this down to an art—Luca told me they have a contract in place stating what each of them can and can’t do.”

  “And I thought we were complicated.”

  He laughs—God, that sound. “It isn’t something I would choose. But maybe that’s because I’ve already found the love of my life.” He brushes a kiss against my brow before getting serious again. “But Ashlyn—I’ve told you the truth about Emilia. I’ll tell you about all of the other women if you like—though I’m not sure that would be a particularly pleasant conversation for either of us. But if that’s what it takes to make you trust me, I will.”

  “I trust you,” I say, and to my surprise, I don’t feel even a hint of doubt as the words slip from my lips. I gaze up into his gold-flecked
eyes, and the expression I see there only confirms the truth I know in my heart.

  “So you’ll come on Saturday?” he asks again.

  I nod. “I—”

  A knock sounds at the entrance to the walk-in cooler, and the door starts to slide open.

  “Please, please, please tell me you two are clothed,” comes Jack’s voice.

  I laugh and flick the last of the tears from my cheeks. “We’re dressed, Jack. You can come in.”

  The door swings all the way open, and my best friend stands on the threshold, looking from me to Dante and back again as if he can’t quite decide what he thinks of the scene in front of him.

  “I wanted to give you guys your space, but you’ve been in here for way too long,” he says. “The way I saw it, you two were either screwing or she was murdering you, and there was no way I was leaving Ash to deal with the body alone.”

  I grin. “Everything’s good, Jack. I promise.” I glance back up at Dante. “We were just talking some things out.”

  “Well, you could have picked somewhere a little warmer.” He rubs his arms. “Does this mean you’re canceling our lunch?”

  “Actually,” Dante says, “I was just on my way out. It was never my intention to disrupt your plans.” He pulls me toward him and gives me a kiss that makes my entire body throb with need. “See you on Saturday?”

  I’m too dazed to do anything but nod.

  He releases me and goes to the door—passing Jack in the process. Each of them gives the other a wary once-over, until finally Dante sticks out his hand.

  “I don’t believe we’ve formally introduced ourselves,” he says. “I’m Dante.”

  “I’m Jack,” my friend says, looking suspicious as he takes Dante’s hand.

  “I know we didn’t exactly begin things on the right foot,” Dante says, “but I hope we have the chance to start over. You work for Brockman, don’t you?”