Gladly Beyond by Nichole van Read Free Book Online Page A

it. He had to be at least six four and linebacker-wide. Did he play football in high school?
    His dark, wavy hair had been smoothly slicked back when he arrived earlier. But I had watched it creep forward as the morning went along until a section of it came loose, swinging down to kiss his jaw. My fingers itched to brush it back.
    Dante was the type of man I had always had a sweet tooth for. Until I learned, oh-so-painfully, how bad for my health they could be.
    I could hear Grammy. Four out of five psychologists recommend avoiding luscious man-candy to maintain proper mental health . . .
    I was the collateral damage of a lifetime of men like him. Pierce was supposed to have been my compromise. The man who didn’t make my pulse race but also wouldn’t destroy my heart. My savior from all the Dante D’Angelos of the world.
    The. Irony.
    Dante was staring at me again. A squinty, focused look, just as he had all through the meeting.
    What was his problem? Trying to subtly intimidate me without technically violating the Colonel’s Sandbox Rule?
    “How may I help you?” I asked.
    “Just making sure you’re okay. I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with the Colonel and Pierce. Things seemed a little tense back there.”
    “My issues with Mr. Whitman are hardly your concern—”
    “Look, I’m just trying to be polite and considerate here.”
    I sighed. Right. “Thank you. Good day, Mr. D’Angelo—”
    “It’s Dante, and I was hoping I could talk you into joining me for lunch.” His face morphed into a friendly smile. “I have a favorite restaurant off Piazza Santa Croce. Quiet. Delicious traditional Tuscan dishes.”
    Sheesh. Three meal invitations in less than fifteen minutes had to be some kind of record.
    Dante probably thought to sweet talk me into . . . what? Giving him pointers? Not exposing him and Branwell as frauds?
    I hesitated too long.
    “C’mon. I promise the food will be amazing.” His grin widened. Moving from merely charming into heartbreaking territory.
    Granted, I understood stunning smiles were a specialty of men like him. But even knowing this, my heart still sped up.
    Gah! Why did I always have to be attracted to flashy exteriors? I hated myself for finding him sexy. I needed to pack every last ounce of that away—
    Exactly! Become dis man tled, I could hear Grammy chuckle.
    Besides, the thought of eating in a public place where anyone could recognize me, take a photo of us together, paste it all over the internet . . .
    “Thank you for the invitation. But I don’t think the Colonel wants us fraternizing—”
    “I don’t recall ol’ KFC forbidding us from talking to each other. Just no throwing sand or stealing toys. I promise to be on my best behavior.”
    Uh-huh. And the day I believed that . . .
    “The less contact we have with each other, the better—”
    “There’s a lot we could do to help each other.”
    Ah. There it was.
    Did he really want my help? Or did he intend to undermine me? Both?
    “Again, the Colonel made it clear we aren’t supposed to help each other.”
    “No, he just said no plagiarizing . Talking about the project is hardly plagiarism—”
    “You’re hair-splitting here.”
    “If I must.”
    “I prefer to keep my professional integrity unimpeachable, Mr. D’Angelo—”
    “Dante.”
    “—and I feel that we should work separately. Buon giorno. ”
    I turned to leave. And then paused in front of the wooden doors leading out to the piazza.
    They were enormous. Like I’m-here-to-see-the-wizard huge. When open, you could probably drive an Escalade through them. Or at least a carriage and some munchkins. And, like front doors everywhere, they opened inward.
    There was no door knob.
    I looked to each side of the door, searching for a release button. Something. Anything. Someone had buzzed me in earlier.
    It figured that I would be stuck staring at the doors. I swear I could feel Dante’s amusement tickling my shoulder blades.
    “Would