He took his private jet from Seattle to San Francisco, the flight proving uneventful. A car awaited him at his destination and he used the transit time into the city to finalize details on the Atkinson project. Several times he caught himself rubbing his palm, a burning itch centered there, one which had appeared the moment he first touched Kat, and continued to throb ever since. It was downright bizarre. Since it was Saturday, they didn’t experience much traffic and, in record time, pulled in front of the head office for Dantes, the jewelry empire that specialized in the one-of-a-kind Dante fire diamonds. As hoped, the place was deserted, nary a Dante in sight. Bad enough that he needed to speak to the family patriarch—his grandfather, Primo—without running into any of the legitimate side of the family. Most of them didn’t even know he existed, which was precisely how Gabe preferred to keep it. He signed in at the front reception desk, accepted the guest pass and crossed to the bank of elevators that led to the executive offices.
