Dante's Fire Read online

  Selina dragged in a breath, picking up the contract on her desk. Focus. She was dealing with one of the biggest deals of her career and shouldn't let a man shake her up. Selina read the first few paragraphs, but the words began to blur. Instead, she remembered the intensity of Daniel Stark's eyes. Inky black with smoldering depths and ancient secrets. Pain. He rarely let her glimpse the emotion; content to share only distant warmth he kept in check. But sometimes during one of their chats, he let the real stuff escape.

  God, she remembered the first day he strolled into her office. After exchanging a few polite words, she figured he'd be a bit of eye candy and they'd never move beyond a polite greeting. Instead, their relationship grew, until she looked forward to his appearance, and their casual chats. Her gut screamed there was something so much deeper hidden within his piercing eyes. Daniel didn't talk like a mail carrier without any natural ambition. Yet, two years had passed and he still held the same routine, not seeming to want to do anything else with his life.

  And then there was that scar.

  A chill skittered down her spine. She'd never asked what had happened to him, and he'd never offered. Most people averted their gaze pointedly - the jagged, deadly gash marked so deeply into his olive skin you could almost imagine the slice of the blade. Still, she believed it only added to his good looks. With his long dark hair that brushed his shoulders, sensual dark eyes and carved mouth, he was a rebel dream. His wardrobe consisted of various rock-n-roll t-shirts, worn jeans and sneakers. This made for a visual delight in such a conservative, stuffy office. Personally, she loved hearing about his world of heavy metal bands, ice-cold beer and letting the moment flow. It was such a balance from the life she'd chosen for herself. Probably another reason she enjoyed his company so much.

  That and the fact he was so damned delicious to look at.

  She adjusted her chair and tried to shake off the inner taunt. Ridiculous. She had no idea why the occasional burst of lightning caught her breath in his presence, or the tingly knowledge that warned her to look harder. She had no time, and no inkling to get involved with anyone. Especially a man from the mailroom with no clear future. Selina had made a decision years ago to make sacrifices for her dream of a successful career, and she was very near the finish line.

  Once she had Forrester on board.

  She tapped one peach-colored nail against the edge of her chair in a steady rhythm. Working with millionaires was a rough job, especially chauvinistic male millionaires. Since William Forrester had conquered Vegas in securing major land deals and competing with the best casinos for profit, his name rose to the Fortune list. Now the city of New York lay at his feet, and Selina sat on the deal of a lifetime.

  As part of the lead team in acquisitions for Inferno Enterprises, she was the one who needed to reel the big mackerel in, and right now, he squiggled on the line dangerously. With the best property at her fingertips, she'd concentrated on the pickings of a land lot to rival Trump's wet dreams. They'd gotten a line on Forrester immediately, but the man liked to play the game hard, so he already had three other companies begging to do his bidding. Selina personally detested the man, with his leering eyes and crude humor, but she smiled and bit her lip. Hard. Until it bled.

  She was lucky, and she knew it. A life spent in foster care never boded well for future successful, satisfied individuals. Selina couldn't help the backbone of pride and ambition built within her that helped her make the most out of every situation. She hadn't been abused by her foster parents, but merely tolerated. She may not have experienced fierce love, but the temporary security helped her grow strong. She learned to read people, find their wants and needs, and focus on her drive to escape a lackluster life and create something extraordinary. Instead of lapsing into a life of drugs, sex, or alcohol, she used education to further herself. Got a scholarship. Graduated college. And became an expert in her field by twenty-five-years-old.

  She always knew she wanted to work in property. When she was little, she'd been fascinated by the mansions shown on television, and the huge, towering buildings in Manhattan. She'd spin fantasies of living in that type of world, and decided early on she'd be the one to match people with their dream houses. After obtaining her real estate license, she rose easily to the top of the small local real estate office, and dove right into business real estate, where the payoffs were bigger and the risks higher.

  She loved the adrenalin rush, and piecing the puzzles together to make a fit. Inferno Enterprises had always been the goal. The up and coming company boasted a soaring profit margin, opportunity for growth, and a solid portfolio for stability. They hired her and she'd spent the next few years proving her worth.

  She may not have had anyone waiting in the wings to praise her, but knowing she baked the damn cake on her own without help made eating it all by herself that much sweeter.

  Selina knew she always related better to men than women did. Female friendship puzzled her, with their catty ways, and their consistent talk about babies, marriage, or houses. She adored her apartment, her freedom, and her money. Yes, she was lonely at times, but never enough to want to sacrifice herself for an angst-ridden relationship, or a casual one night stand that may make her feel worse in the morning.

  She did things on her terms and enjoyed every moment.

  Her earpiece pinged. She clicked the button. "Hello?"

  "Rogers! Down at the bar at six. Last one here buys first round."

  She chuckled at the sound of her colleague Tom's voice. "Let me guess. Everyone's down at McAleers already?"

  "You got it."

  "Have a beer on me. I have hours of work ahead."

  His groan rumbled in her ear. "You gonna make everyone feel like shit for leaving at five on a Friday? How's that for fucking morale?"

  "You should feel like shit. But if you get your ass in here by six am tomorrow and help me out, I'll forgive you."

  She held back a laugh as her teammate cursed with a few colorful verses. "Fine. If I get everyone to agree, will you get your ass here in an hour?"

  She calculated how much she could get done, what she'd accomplish with her team in the early hours of the morning, and took a leap. "Give me two. And you better be still standing when I get there."

  "No promises, but we'll take it. You're gonna be behind on beers though, so you may need to do shots."

  Ugh. She hated shots, but she knew the drill well. "Fine, but if I'm still conscious, you're buying dinner. And you better reach deep, Tommy, because I hold out for steak - no burger."

  He gave an answering laugh. "Not worried. Gary is always the pussy. He'll get stuck with the bill."

  "You're right. See you later."

  She clicked off, shook her head, and concentrated on the contract. No more moony dreaming over Daniel Stark. Yes, he was sexy in a rebel type way, but he'd never fit into her life. Since she was never comfortable with casual sex, there was no ending imaginable except a disastrous one. Lord knows she'd come too far to take a wrong path now.

  Selina got back to work.

  Chapter Two

  FRIDAY nights at the Irish pub McAleers became a tradition with the team at Inferno. The normal routine consisted of long hours, scrambling, and wining and dining. Fridays were set aside for some serious drinking, gossiping, bitching, and a mean game of darts. It was usually the highlight of Selina's week.

  She'd already changed into her jeans and casual sweater, and after pounding back two Jameson's to her team's delight, she now nursed a wimpy Coors Lite, watching Tom and Gary wage war on the dartboard. The music blared, and the after work crowd clustered in battered tables, booths and around the bar. She relaxed with her feet up on the opposite chair and let the familiar surroundings settle around her.

  When she first got on the all-male acquisitions team at Inferno, she assumed it would be an uphill battle for survival. Pleasantly surprised, the group of three men gave her a fair opportunity to carve out her own niche in the pack, or crash and burn. So, Selina had grit her tee
th and made sure she dazzled them. She worked harder, stayed later, and closed the first deal on her own. After that, respect came with the opportunity and she never looked back.

  Selina also learned early in the game how to succeed in the executive boys' club. The two main requirements consisted of a sharp sense of humor and a thick skin. She'd never once had to worry about harassment, but she doubted she would have been as close to the team if she hated bars, beer, and occasional crudeness.

  Her conversation with Daniel flashed in her mind. Yes, she loved opera, and fine dining and art museums. Money brought that type of culture and opportunity. Selina never apologized for it, and enjoyed the finer points of life, but growing up in a foster home with a bunch of step-siblings, with no one to depend on but herself, taught her the proper ways to curse, tell bawdy jokes, defend herself, and drink like a fish without collapsing.

  Ways to survive on the streets.

  But Daniel had never seen that part of her. Never would.

  Edward slid into the booth clutching a Guinness and a slip of paper. Selina laughed out loud at his look. "Was it the blonde rooting for the Mets?" she asked, gesturing to the phone number written in black ink.

  He winked. "Hell, yeah. She wanted me from the first look."

  "Hmm, you know she went initially for the dude with the fat wallet over there?" Selina pointed to the guy dressed in the designer suit, sporting a three hundred dollar haircut, and hefty Rolex. He sat across the bar talking to another hottie. "So, I'd say you're sloppy seconds."

  Ed waved his hand in the air in dismissal. "Who the hell cares? I got her number."

  "Nothing like high standards, Ed."

  "I need to get laid."

  "I'd say so. You going on thirty days now?"

  Ed glared. "Twenty. You going on six months, Rogers?"

  She grinned, swigged more beer, and stuck out her tongue. "I go for quality, not quantity. You should give it a try."

  "No, thanks. I like quantity just fine." He ordered another Guinness. "So, are we set on our meeting with Forrester?"

  Selina nodded. "Yep, Thursday at six. Waldorf Astoria, baby--only the best. A little dazzle, a bit of kiss ass, and maybe we can get him to commit."

  "I'm tired of kissing ass. Why doesn't somebody kiss my ass?"

  She drained the rest of her beer and stood up. "Maybe you'll get lucky with that move from Blondie." They both laughed. "I'm exhausted - doing a Batman."

  "Tom will call you a wuss. He wanted to play you in darts."

  "Tell him I went to the restroom and I'll take the heat later. I need a good night's sleep. See you at six tomorrow?"

  He shot her a disgusted glare. "Can't believe I agreed to that on a Saturday. Yeah, fine. Need me to get you a cab?"

  "Nah, it's still early and I'm only a few blocks. I'll walk."

  "I'll walk with you," he said.

  She shook her head and grabbed her purse. "No reason, plenty of people out tonight. I'll be fine."

  "All righty then. See you in the morning."

  "Later."

  Selina slipped out through the crowds and breathed in the first rush of frosty air. She stuck her hands in the pockets of her mocha trench coat and headed towards home. The image of soft comfy PJ's and a Lifetime movie beckoned. With the ease of an expert, she shifted her body around other pedestrians, leapt around a speeding cab, and tuned out the chaotic sounds of one of the largest cities in America. She took a right and headed uptown to her Central Park West apartment. Close to the famous Dakota Hotel where John Lennon died, the area contained gorgeous art deco architecture, proximity to Central Park, and the perfect mix of business and play. Her mind shut down as she walked the familiar path. Passing endless brownstones impeccably maintained, she tucked her head down and thought over any loophole she may have missed in the Forrester contract. She caught the scent of coffee from an open cafe, veered around a handsome man walking his dog, and crossed the street, not caring that it flashed red with warning. Her heel hit a crack in the pavement as she kept walking, looking forward to seeing the familiar golden ears of corn, as she liked to term the carvings on her apartment building. Shadows deepened, but the residential neighborhood tended to cater to career yuppies with a hip edge. She'd walked this sidewalk dozens of times and at all hours. Bred a city girl at heart she still understood the dangers and laced her fingers around her apartment keys - edge kept out in case of any surprise, as she closed the distance to home. Her low-heeled boots slapped against the pavement and echoed in the night.

  It was in the echo of her heels she heard voices coming up fast behind her.

  On instinct, she gripped the keys in defense position; positive she was overreacting, as this had happened before, walking the dark streets alone. One would be a fool not to be prepared. She ran her thumb over the dense key tips, ready to swing if necessary. She picked up the pace; sure she'd increased the gap between her and those on the sidewalk behind her.

  Seconds later, she was grabbed from behind. She hadn't the time to react as the palm of her assailant stifled her scream, and her keys fell to the ground. She tried to bite, kicked back hard, but they dragged her down the stairs of a brownstone into the small, black space where barred windows told of a vacant, closed apartment. Her back hit the brick wall so hard her teeth knocked together.

  The breath whooshed out of her lungs and the world tilted. Adrenalin cut through her body in a rush of cold, sharp fear, and she moved fast, seeing a gap in the space between them and diving as fast as possible for freedom.

  She never made it.

  The first punch connected with her cheek. A sickening crack rose to her eardrums as she fell hard on her ass. The pain rolled in waves and she choked on the nausea, fighting for consciousness. When she tried to rise, the kick to her stomach made sure she stayed down. She retched, but then there were hands pushing her onto the rough, cold pavement. Her mind screamed, but her voice sounded weak as she cried the mantra over and over, the only word she could think of, the only word holding her to sanity.

  "No, no, no, no, no..."

  "Shut up, bitch."

  The slap stung, then burned. They ripped off the trendy coat, tore the delicate cardigan sweater she'd once been so proud of. It had been her favorite. Her power cardigan. They cursed, their voices low and mean, blending in a never-ending nightmare. She pushed, she kicked, but they hit her, held her, and suddenly her breasts were naked and bare to their filthy gazes. The air rushed over her skin and she almost retched, feeling the torn fabric hanging in tatters around her, while hard hands groped and touched and mauled and marked.

  She slipped when they tore her jeans. She knew she wouldn't be saved, knew she had to go somewhere else. There was too much horror, the shadows hiding their faces, her vision blurred with the pain and the blood dripping into her eyes as they tore her hair. She took a step into the distance, away from the woman on the ground who was rich, confident, and working on a killer deal. Back, back, back... away from this moment. This terrible and horrible moment. She closed her eyes, focusing on everything...anything, but this moment... and then... then...

  They were gone.

  Her mind flew from where it had wandered and she suddenly found herself gasping for air, her sanity stolen from the monsters that ran into the night. Sobs escaped her lips as she pushed herself up from the ground; knowing she had to run, get help. The rusty taste of blood lingered on her tongue, and she got on her hands and knees and began crawling. Up the stairs and to the light. Help, help, she needed help...

  She pushed up to her feet. Fell. Grasped at the torn fabric beside her, needing to cover her naked breasts, and tried again. Selina wobbled, maintained her balance, and began to stumble forward to safety.

  Then she looked up.

  The two men who had been on her seconds before lay on the ground in a broken tangle. One flat on his back, the other draped over him in obvious pain, apparent by the low groans coming from the ground. A man stood over them dressed completely in black, his eyes glowing
in the darkness.

  Selina froze in sheer terror. Her mind groped desperately for reality but fear pulsed through every blood vessel, pumping furiously as her entire body shook in reaction to the scene before her. The rage shimmering around the man reached out in a tangible ripple, whirling around the sprawled attackers like a tornado. As this tornado grew denser and picked up in speed, the sound of a crashing wave roared in her ears. The darkness turned to a dim red, glowing and illuminating the two men on the pavement, and then the glow turned hot.

  Flames burst from the circle.

  Selina moaned and stumbled back. A dim corner of her mind screamed for her to run, but her body wouldn't obey. She stood and watched the mysterious stranger hold out his hands and murmur a chant, his voice deep and hypnotic, and the flames turned into two, swirling around each victim as if ready to mark them.

  That's when the screams began.

  Masculine voices rose in horror and agony as the flames burst forward and scorched each of their arms. Rooted to the floor, she stared as the flame turned sharp like a sword, and carved a symbol onto each of their arms, slashing from wrist to upper arm. The stench of burning flesh rose to her nostrils, the cries rang in her ears, and Selina stared at the man who had saved her, like a superhero turned demon in the dead of night.

  Suddenly, the flames extinguished and the night quieted. Sobs came from the men as they writhed on the ground. Police sirens rang in the distance.

  The stranger spoke. His voice rose like smoke, burned like fire, tempted like sin. Rich, dark, and silky smooth with a touch of violence. Selina knew this voice would haunt her for eternity.

  "You are now marked for your crime. If you ever touch another woman, these marks will turn to fire, to always remind you of what you did." His eyes dimmed until they were twin pools of inky blackness. "To remind you of who you are."

  Her ears rung and her heart thundered. A ragged moan escaped her lips. This wasn't real. What if the stranger wanted her for himself? Dear God, he'd burned those men, the scent of scorched flesh still lingering in the air. Would he burn her, too?

  She had to leave. Had to save herself. Holding back choked sobs, she flung herself up the steps, but her shaking knees gave out and she crashed back down to the sidewalk. Frantic for safety, she scrambled forward, her skin scraping against the rough concrete as she focused on getting away from the nightmare around her.