Daisy’s idea. How clever of Anabella. Set Daisy up so Daisy would feel too awkward, too guilty, to tell Dante about Anabella’s escapade.
But Daisy knew what Anabella had done. She knew the girl had left the restaurant, gone somewhere with who knew whom, and—
Daisy couldn’t even finish the thought, wondering how she could have possibly been so foolish as to think she could trust Anabella. She should have listened to Dante. He’d warned her. But Daisy thought she knew everything.
Her stomach burned. She felt like she’d swallowed acid. “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”
“But we had fun,” Anabella insisted, shooting Daisy a worried side glance. “Didn’t we, Daisy? It was a great time, and I owe all my thanks to you.”
“Anabella, you go to your room, I want a word with Daisy.”
“Don’t be mad at Daisy, we had such a good time—”
“Go,” he interrupted harshly, pointing to the house. “And stay there until I come for you.”
Anabella cast Daisy a pleading last glance before fleeing into the house.
Dante jammed his hands into his olive-green slacks, white shirt open at the collar, exposing his tan throat and the hard, taut planes of his chest. He looked too raw, too virile, and Daisy felt an inarticulate craving to touch him, unbutton his shirt and slide her hand across the tanned skin.
“You had no business taking her off the property.” His voice was curt. “You should have called me, you should have asked permission.”
“If you can’t trust me, then fire me, or send me home or take some kind of action, because I’m sick and tired of words.”
“This isn’t about you and me.”
“That’s where you’ve got it wrong, Dante. This is totally about you and me. It’s about you not trusting me and you not respecting me—”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Call it what you want, but I’m not going to stand here and take another lecture from you. I’m doing my best. I’m sorry it’s not enough. But maybe you expect too much out of people. You certainly want the impossible from me.”
She walked away from him. She had to. Or she’d say something she’d regret ….
CHAPTER EIGHT
DANTE followed her, chasing her to her bedroom. “I’m not finished.”
“I am,” she retorted, reaching for the door. Her wounded pride had had it. “Move. Before I slam the door on your head.”
He stuck his foot in the door. “You’re strong, Daisy, but you’re not that strong.”
“I don’t need this. You left me in charge—”
“Correction, Daisy, I didn’t leave you in charge. I left you here to watch over my sister, but watching over her is different from driving her about the country providing her with opportunities for disaster.”
“Nothing happened.” No? she silently mocked herself. Something did happen, only you’re too much a coward to tell him.
“You’re lucky then. Because Anabella has an amazing ability to sneak off and create utter chaos, and trust me, Ana doesn’t need more chaos. She needs structure, order, discipline.”
“I was with her—”
“That’s not the point. You weren’t supposed to be out. You weren’t supposed to take the car.”
“Stop talking to me like I’m fifteen.”
“Then start acting like a grown-up!”
Her hands clenched, and she lifted one fist.
“Are you going to hit me again? Is this your way of dealing with problems?”
He was right. She was acting like a child.
Daisy dropped her hand, retreated into her room, her heart racing. She couldn’t handle this, couldn’t articulate how much his words hurt her. She wished she didn’t care what he thought, wished she didn’t care at all about him or his wretched arrogant opinion, but she did care. Cared deeply.
He’d destroyed her independence ages ago, but she didn’t want to admit it. From their very first kiss she’d wanted more from him than she’d ever wanted from anyone. With one kiss she’d taken more chances, opened herself to more hurt, than she’d ever felt comfortable doing before.
And look where it had gotten her.
“I don’t want to fight.”
“Good, because you’d lose, and frankly, I don’t have the time or energy to get into another arm-wrestling match. As smart as you are, and as independent as you like to think you are, you don’t always know what’s best.”
Even as he spoke, he continued walking toward her, a slow, deliberate march that made the fine hair on her neck rise and her muscles tense.
Daisy backed up a step and then silently criticized herself for being a coward, but it was all she could do to hold her position when he stopped in front of her, less than a foot away. She could feel the heat of his body, and the width of his shoulders reduced her to something small and fragile.
“Tell me just one thing, and be honest.”
She stiffened. “What?”
He reached out, lifted a long gold strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear. “Were you with Anabella every minute this afternoon? Did she leave you at any point? Disappear for awhile? Fifteen minutes? Twenty?”
Daisy held her breath. She felt his gaze search hers. She couldn’t lie to him and she couldn’t tear her gaze from his intensely erotic eyes. He looked so beautiful and he kissed like the devil and everything she felt had to be wrong. “I did lose her,” she whispered. “In the market square this afternoon.”
“How long was she gone?”
“Two hours. Give or take twenty minutes.”
“You didn’t suspect she’d sneak away?”
Daisy colored. “No.” He was making her feel very stupid. “I generally don’t mistrust people.”
“But you continue to mistrust me.” He reached out again, slipped a hand through her hair, letting the long, silvery strands drape across his fingers.
Her lips parted, but she couldn’t really argue that point. He was right. She didn’t trust him. Or maybe she didn’t trust herself.
He tugged her hair and lifted her face to his. His smoldering gaze traveled her face, focusing first on her eyes and then her mouth. “You weren’t going to tell me that you lost Anabella in town, were you?”
Her throat constricted. She couldn’t speak and just shook her head.
“Why not? You didn’t think I ought to know she’s up to her old tricks? That she’s sneaking behind my back, meeting her boyfriend again?” There was an edge to his voice.
“It’s not as if you can change what’s happened at this point.”
“I can’t change what happened this afternoon, but I can ensure it doesn’t happen again. Her boyfriend is bad news. Very bad news, and Ana doesn’t need to be exposed to more pain.”
“Your intentions are good, Dante, but you can’t possibly control her. You can give her guidance and support. You can offer encouragement, but in the end Anabella is responsible for Anabella.”
“No. You don’t understand—”
“I