[Fontaines 01.0] The Sweet Taste of Sin Page 23

  Jack nods, narrowing his eyes.

  “We should do lunch sometime,” Dante says. “I have a few project ideas I think your boss might find interesting.”

  He doesn’t wait for Jack’s response. He gives me a final wave farewell—with an accompanying smile that nearly makes me melt—before leaving my friend and me alone.

  “Holy shit,” Jack says. “What just happened?”

  “He’s trying to make amends,” I say. “You better be nice to him.” Having Dante Fontaine as a connection could do wonders for Jack’s career.

  “So what does this mean?” Jack says, swinging around to face me. “Are you two engaged? Did you actually accept his proposal?”

  I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. “He told me I don’t have to answer him now. I…. God, I don’t even know what to think right now.”

  “You two looked pretty cozy when I came in here.”

  “I know. I just… I love him so much, Jack. And every time I think things are over he does something that makes me fall in love with him all over again.”

  Jack looks almost amused. “I’ll tell you one thing, if a guy ever proposed to me like that I’d have a very hard time refusing him. That was like something out of a fucking movie.”

  “So you’ve changed your mind about him?”

  “Hey—you’ve changed your mind about him at least five times this month. You don’t get to give me crap.” He leans against the nearest shelf. “But seriously, Ash. Dante Fontaine was literally on his knees confessing his love for you. That’s the sort of thing that only happens once in a lifetime.”

  I feel so happy I could almost float away. “So you don’t think I’m being crazy?” I can’t imagine doing any of this without my best friend by my side.

  “Oh, you’re being crazy. But Dante seems pretty crazy too, so I think this might just work out for the two of you.” His grin widens. “I have to confess, though—I’m a little happy you didn’t accept his proposal.”

  “You are?”

  “Yeah, well…” He rubs the back of his head. “Can you imagine how stressed out we would be if we were trying to plan two weddings at the same time?”

  It takes me a moment to understand what he’s saying, but when the dots connect, I leap forward. “Are you serious?! Did you propose to Evan? Jack! This is amazing!”

  I start to throw my arms around him, but he stops me.

  “Hold your horses, Ash,” he says. “It hasn’t happened yet. I was actually planning to do it tonight. I was going to tell you about it over lunch.”

  “This is so awesome,” I say. My smile is so wide my cheeks hurt. Could this day get any better? “You have to tell me everything. How are you planning to do it?”

  “Let’s go get our chili fries, and I’ll run my ideas by you,” he says, hooking his arm through mine and leading me out of the cooler. “I thought I knew what I was doing, but geez, Ash—after watching that little scene out there, I think I might need to step up my game.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The mansion of Charles and Giovanna Fontaine is insane.

  It’s huge, of course. And gorgeous. And surrounded by grounds that make it look like we’re somewhere in Tuscany. If I thought Dante’s house was intimidating, it’s nothing compared to this.

  Though I’m sure the fact that I’m about to meet his parents isn’t helping my nerves.

  I’m a bundle of anxiety as Dante leads me through the front door. His arm is hooked through mine, his fingers offering a reassuring touch on my inner wrist.

  “You look gorgeous,” he murmurs to me as he leads me across the foyer and into the formal living room. “They’re going to love you.”

  The rest of his family is already here, and my breath stops as I take them in. At least one of the advantages of dating a Fontaine is that I already know the names of many of the people here in this room—there won’t be any awkward lapses of memory later. Still, meeting everyone at once is more than a little intimidating. It’s not just the fact that they’re Dante’s family, or even that they’re famous—every single person here has a presence, that undefinable trait that allows them to capture and keep the focus of all of your senses. Dante has always had that sort of sway over me, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this entire family has ruled Hollywood and the tabloids for so long. If there’s such a thing as star power, everyone in this room has it.

  We’re hardly through the door when we’re approached by the woman I know to be Giovanna Agosti Fontaine, Dante’s mother.

  “Darling,” she says, hugging him. Then she turns to me.

  “This is Ashlyn,” Dante tells her. To me, he says, “Ash, this is my mother, Giovanna.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” I say, thankful I have a voice. Dante’s mother is stunningly beautiful—but how couldn’t she be, to produce a son like Dante? Her long hair flows down over her shoulders, her famous gold locks threaded with streaks of silver. Her eyes are large and brown, set in a face that’s wide and expressive while still capturing a very classic sort of beauty. She’s the sort of woman who will look elegant until the day she dies.

  “Lovely to meet you,” she says, ignoring my outstretched hand and pulling me in for a hug. “We don’t deal with those sorts of formalities in this family, my dear.” She presses a quick kiss to each of my cheeks before releasing me. I’m not sure whether I’m supposed to return the kisses or not, but fortunately, Dante’s father is just behind her.

  “Ashlyn, this is Charles, my father,” Dante says.

  Charles is as intimidating as Giovanna is elegant. He’s tall and broad-shouldered with the same coloring as his oldest son—though like his wife, he’s started to wear the effects of age with pride. He greets me warmly—but thankfully without the cheek kisses. I’m still not sure how to handle those.

  After that, we make a tour of the room. All of Dante’s brothers and a few of his cousins are here, and many of them brought dates. He brings me first to Raphael, his second-youngest brother, who frankly looks a little underdressed compared to the rest of his family. But there’s no denying he looks good in those dark jeans and leather jacket—if you go for that shaved-head, bad boy kind of look. Still, I can see the family resemblance, and with his rich, deep voice—deeper even than Dante’s—I have no doubt he attracts his fair share of women. He’s with a pretty, dark-haired woman I don’t recognize, and he introduces her as a model he met on one of his recent shoots. Still, I don’t miss the way his eyes skim over my body as Dante introduces us, and I know without a doubt that this one is trouble.

  Orlando is next. He’s Dante’s youngest brother, probably no more than twenty-four or twenty-five, and he seems to have inherited his mother’s coloring. His dirty-blond hair is a mop of curls, and though there’s something still a little boyish about his smile, the gleam in his golden-brown eyes leaves me no doubt he’s going to be a heartbreaker in a few years—if he isn’t already. But I also notice a hint of something in his expression—a shadow, perhaps, or a hint of something darker—and I find myself wondering more about this youngest member of the family. Of all of the Fontaines, he seems to find his way into the gossip pages the least often, but whether that’s by luck or intention, I couldn’t say. From what I’ve heard, he’s been following in his father’s footsteps and dabbling a bit in directing, but I couldn’t tell you what’s become of any of those projects. I’ve spent the last few years trying to avoid getting any news about the Fontaines—but if I’m going to stick around, then I guess I need to brush up again.

  Am I going to stick around? I glance around the room. This feels like an alien world. I don’t belong in massive mansions or at celebrity parties.

  But I belong with Dante.

  There’s no question of that, even now. But can I ever feel comfortable around these people? If I choose to be in a relationship with Dante, events like this might become a regular part of my life. Am I ready for that?

  His question—his proposal—has been at the front of my mind all
week. Yesterday, when I was putting the finishing touches on the bachelorette party cake, I actually found myself tearing up.

  “Are you all right?” Mama Pat had asked me.

  For once, the answer had been yes. The love of my life—the man who’d been at the center of my emotions for so long—asked me to marry him. I’m the happiest girl in the world. Now, I just have to find the courage to answer him.

  Dante and I have finally made it around the room to Luca. The birthday boy is currently chatting with a couple of people I recognize as his cousins—though I’m not sure I could name either of them off the top of my head. The Fontaine family is something of a dynasty—Dante’s father is the youngest of four siblings, each with their own kids, and many of the cousins ended up working in Hollywood as well—but some branches of the family tree are more famous than others. It’s easy to lose track of who’s who after a while.

  But the young man and woman speaking with Luca notice Dante and me approaching and take their leave, giving the brothers space to greet each other—which they do, with some enthusiasm. I always guessed that Dante was closer to Luca than his other siblings, but the way he grins and claps his brother on the back confirms it.

  “And this,” Luca says, spinning toward me, “must be Ashlyn.”

  “Yes, I—” My words cut off as Luca grabs my hand and brings it to his lips. I was definitely not expecting this sort of greeting, and my cheeks get hot as Luca’s mouth brushes my knuckles.

  “Luca…” Dante’s tone holds a warning.

  “What? I was just being a gentleman,” Luca says with a grin. But he releases my hand. “A pleasure to meet you at last.”

  “And you,” I say, wondering about the words at last. Has Dante been talking to him about me?

  My question is answered immediately.

  “You have no idea what a twist you put my brother in,” Luca says, still grinning at me. “The poor guy was going crazy looking for you last weekend. Never seen anything like it my whole life.”

  “Luca.” This time Dante sounds even less patient.

  “I mean, he’s never gotten worked up over a girl before. I was beginning to think there was something wrong—” He yelps as Dante catches him in a headlock.

  I leap back as the two brothers start wrangling. Dante has a pretty firm hold on his younger brother, but Luca is agile—he wastes no time in attempting to twist out of Dante’s grip, sending them both slamming back against the side table behind them.

  The contact with the table seems to bring both of them to their senses—and bring the attention of the rest of the room right to us. But Luca and Dante are both grinning as they put everything back in place, even if their father is giving them a rather exasperated roll of his eyes from the other side of the room.

  “Try not to break my brother’s heart,” Luca tells me with a wink as he straightens his suit jacket. “I wouldn’t know what to do with the poor fellow. Now if you’d excuse me, I think our father wants a word.”

  “I—happy birthday!” I call after him. Well, that wasn’t exactly how I expected my first meeting with Luca to go, but I can’t exactly say it went poorly.

  Dante is shaking his head as I turn back around. “I apologize for him. He doesn’t know how to speak with women when he isn’t trying to flirt his way into their pants.”

  I glance back over my shoulder, watching the golden-haired Luca stride toward his father. With that smile of his, he probably doesn’t have to work very hard to charm his way into anyone’s pants.

  “Is he seeing someone?” I find myself asking. When I look back at Dante and see the expression on his face, I quickly add, “Not because I’m interested, of course. I was just curious. You know, because of the whole Emilia thing.”

  Dante is watching his brother. “There’s someone, that’s for sure. But he won’t tell me who.” His mouth curls up into a subtle smile. “It’s funny that he’s the one accusing me of acting strange over a girl. He’s been out of his mind for months, but he refuses to tell me a damned thing about her, whoever she is.” He pulls me closer to him. “And he still flirts with anything in a skirt, at least when he thinks he can get away with it. It doesn’t make sense. I can see why he’d hide a relationship from the press, at least while he and Emilia are putting on their act. But why would he hide it from me?”

  “Maybe because he thinks you’d disapprove of the relationship,” I say.

  Dante looks down at me. “Why?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s married. Or otherwise off limits. There are lots of reasons.”

  “That’s possible,” he says. “But it still doesn’t seem like him.”

  “The truth will come out sooner or later. It always does.”

  “You’re right.” He smiles down at me, his face softening again. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

  “A couple of times.” Still, I can feel myself blushing again.

  “Well, I think it could be said a dozen more times.” He dips his face down toward mine. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  His kiss is light and brief, but I can feel the heat behind it, and I’m all too aware of the fact that we’re standing in a room with the bulk of his extended family.

  “Maybe we should… walk outside?” I suggest.

  His eyes gleam. “Sounds like a wonderful idea. Besides,” he adds, lowering his voice, “I have something I wish to give you, and I’d prefer to do it in private.”

  My stomach explodes with butterflies—but I’m not sure whether I’m excited or anxious as he slides his arm around me and leads me from the room. This whole evening—this whole relationship—is a lot to take in.

  He takes me out behind the house. The sun has gone down, casting the grounds in shadow, but from what I can see, the property is gorgeous. Like Dante, Charles and Giovanna have a large pool, but Dante leads me around the edge of the water to the terrace overlooking the gardens below.

  I grab onto the wrought-iron rail and tilt my head back, looking up at the sky. It’s a clear night, and though the lights of the city cast a green-gold glow on the sky, there are still hundreds of stars winking back at me.

  Dante is quiet—too quiet. After a moment, I glance over at him, and I find him looking up at the sky with an expression I can’t read. But he’s got his lips pressed tightly together.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  One corner of his mouth drifts up. “I was just trying to think of the best way to do this.”

  My heart is in my throat. “Do what?”

  I didn’t notice his hand was in his pocket until now, but he slowly pulls it out, turning his wrist so that I can see what he holds in his fingers. A ring.

  “I should have had one the first time,” he says. “But I didn’t realize until I was in front of you what I was going to do.” He raises his hand. “Before you say anything—yes, I still stand by every single thing I said. And no, you still don’t have to give me your answer yet. But I wanted to do this the right way.”

  I’m frozen as he sinks down onto one knee for the second time in less than a week.

  “Ashlyn, I love you,” he says. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know I come with some baggage—and I don’t just mean all the reporters and paparazzi, but everything—but nothing would make me happier than to have you by my side for the rest of my life.” His hand curls around mine. “And I want to be there for you, through everything. I want to face all of our challenges together, as a team. I want to make you laugh when you’re overwhelmed. I want to wrap my arms around you and pull you close when you’re upset. I want to catch your tears when they fall.” He rises, tugging me toward him. “And if I’m ever the cause of those tears, I want the chance to make it up to you in every way I know how. I want to face this world together, Ashlyn. Whatever happens, I will be by your side. I promise.”

  My heart feels so full I cannot bear it. I’ve been caught up in this man for over three years. Three years of desire a
nd heartache, of passion and hatred, of lust and love. Even when I cut him out of my life and tried to forget him, he was never far from my heart. I have experienced every emotion in human existence at the hands of this man.

  “You’ve always had such power over me,” I whisper. “Even when I tried to fight it, even when I told myself I was better off without you, I was still under your spell.”

  “You have it all wrong,” Dante says. “I’m under your spell, Ashlyn. I have been since the first time we sat on that beach together and you let the waves roll over you. I felt it again the first time we made love. And the second, and the third, and every time after that. But I didn’t know it until you were gone from my life, until I saw what my existence was like without you. You are the brightest thing in my world, Ashlyn. You bring out the truest, deepest parts of me.”

  If I had any doubts about his feelings, any fears that he saw me as some weak, emotional mess, they’re gone by the time he finishes speaking. Which isn’t to say I’m no longer frightened—frankly, I’m terrified out of my wits—but the look in his eyes makes me feel like we could take on anything together. This is only the beginning of our challenges, I know—reporters and paparazzi are going to be part of my life now, and I’m sure there will be some growing pains as I learn to fit in with his intimidating family—but I know my heart. I might be fickle, emotional, and temperamental when it comes to this man, but my heart has always been sure.

  “Yes, I’ll marry you,” I say.

  His eyes widen as if he almost didn’t expect me to say it. “You will?”

  “Yes,” I’m suddenly laughing through my tears. “Yes, I will. I love you, Dante. I love you so much.” I fling myself at him, throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him with everything I have. He holds me against him, but our kiss is soon broken by his laugh.

  “I can’t believe it,” he says against my mouth. “You’re not joking?”

  “You’re the one who insists that I’m a terrible liar. What do you think?”