by Mona Risk
She frowned and mentally cursed her ex-husband’s lousy timing. “I’m getting dressed to go to the beach,” she said, determined not to let him step in. His gaze lingered on her breasts generously displayed by her green bikini bra and flowered sheer top, prompting her to cross her arms and conceal her décolletage.
Struggling to control her rising temper, she stabbed him with a stern look. “Why are you here?”
“I came to see if you were okay.” His voice oozed with saccharine sweetness. “And tell you—”
“I’m fine.” Damn it, she was fine a few minutes ago, but he’d spoiled her mood at the worst possible moment. She plastered on a perfunctory smile and held herself rooted to block the entrance, her hands gripping the door and its frame. “Get to the point.”
“I just came to tell you a detective will meet us at eight in the conference room.”
“I’ll be there.”
“He’ll interview the condo owners who saw the deceased recently.” Greg leaned forward and grabbed her shoulders. “Was Steve Bairey here last night or today?” His breath blasted with alcohol fumes.
Alexa almost gagged. She tilted her chin, refusing to lie but hating Greg’s distrust. “Yes. Why?”
“What did Steve want?” They may have been divorced for three years now, but her domineering ex-husband granted himself the right to keep tabs on her personal life.
“Last night I didn’t let him in. Steve talked to me at the door and asked me to reconsider my refusal to marry him.”
“Marry you?” Greg’s lips thinned to an angry line. “Without even finalizing his divorce?”
She scoffed and shrugged free from his grip. “I’ve already mentioned to you he’s been harassing me.”
“And as President of the Association I warned him to stay away from you.” A muscle twitched at the base of his neck, but he recovered his arrogant stance soon enough. “What about today? When did he come over?”
“I’ve had it with your inquisition. Do we need to discuss this now?”
Dante was in her bedroom getting impatient.
Could she push Greg out? Physically push him out with her fists and all her strength? How had she been able to withstand five long years married to the autocratic sleaze ball? She hissed and tried to bang the door shut, but he blocked it with his foot.
“Alexa, answer me, damn it.” His bellow made her jump. “Did Steve come today?”
“Yes. Yes, he came two hours ago.” Who cares when Dante is here?
“Around two?” he specified after glancing at his watch. “And?”
“I threatened to report him for harassment. But he said he came to say goodbye.” She exhaled her exasperation. Greg focused a stern look on her.
“Did he stay long?” Disapproval underlined his tone.
“For heaven’s sake, why all these questions?” She tapped her foot, ready to kick it into Greg’s leg. Was he dense or what? He arched a suspicious eyebrow. Understanding dawned on her. “Oh my God, you thought I could have done something to ki... kill him? Is that why you’re bombarding me with questions?” Alexa rubbed her neck to soothe the lump in her throat.
“Well, I remembered you saying once you wanted to kill him for stalking you.”
“Are you crazy?” She glared at him with the temptation to throw a punch at his face. “There is a difference between saying something in anger and killing someone.”
Greg shrugged. “I just wanted to know if anything unusual happened here. I mean before the detective questions you.”
“Thanks for your concern.” She snorted. “But it’s not fair for Dianna that you keep coming here.” And for Dante who must be seething, locked in her bedroom. She gritted her teeth and avoided glancing at the corridor that led to her bedroom.
“Don’t worry about her. Dianna wants to become the third Mrs. Partson. She knows that when I make a promise I keep it. I also promised your father I’ll take care of you.”
As if she could care less about Dianna, or any prospective wife of her ex. Her Sicilian friend was back in town after two long months and she couldn’t wait to be back in his arms.
“And I’ll do it, whether we’re married or divorced,” Greg continued with his usual authoritative voice.
“Now, leave. I have things to do. Bye.”
Giving her a sarcastic smile, he extended a hand toward her cheek. She pulled back before he connected. “You poor thing, you’re going through so much. We don’t know what went wrong with Bairey. If it was a heart attack, he could have died in your apartment.”
She swallowed. “Well, he didn’t, so—”
“We don’t know exactly what happened. If…”
“Get out!” She pushed Greg and closed the door in his face.
If she’d let him babble any longer, he’d soon convince her she was responsible for Steve’s death, and then he’d try to cheer her up.
Chapter Two
Dante had it with passively waiting while Alexa made small talk with Greg Partson. It was astonishing how her fifty-something ex had managed to convince her that she couldn’t function without his advice when he continuously zoomed in his bifocals on her breasts. Why couldn’t she just shove the two-faced lecher out of her place?
Dante wished he hadn’t stayed so long in Sicily. But he’d had no choice. He needed to fix the mess his grandfather’s death had unraveled and his connection to the Mafia. The old man had been a highly regarded chairman of the board at several banks but surreptitiously continued the questionable activities of his youth. Dante had trouble convincing the Sicilian police that he had never been involved in his nonno’s secret business.
Now that he was back in the U.S., he needed to avoid any activity that would attract the paparazzi’s curiosity, and later the attention of the local and Sicilian police, or worse the Mafia’s retribution. His grandmother was entitled to peace and security in her American home after the turmoil they’d faced in the old country, and Dante would rather stay away from any scandal that could hurt his career as a lawyer.
Determined to make it up to Alexa, he armed himself with patience, admired her light and dark, pink striped walls, and stylish furniture. Every piece boasted good taste, refined elegance, and the exorbitant price—a reflection of Alexa’s world.
He glanced at his watch, sat on the side of the bed and fished through the magazines stacked in a golden basket next to the bed post. He selected one and flipped the pages. Why did it take her so long to throw Greg out and come back?
After another peek at his watch, he strolled to the balcony and contemplated the picture-perfect view of the Fort Lauderdale Intracoastal and the intricate pattern of canals crossing the main waterway. At the moment, his mind couldn’t assimilate artistic scenes, unless the art work related to Alexa’s perfect curves, the rich golden highlights in her hair or the green mystery of her eyes that hid yearning and vulnerability.
Dante checked his watch for the hundredth time. He stopped pacing when the doorknob turned.
“Dante? Dante where are you?” Anxiety underlined her questions.
He raised his wrist and tapped his watch. “Five minutes?”
“Huh… It takes time to persuade Greg he’s not welcome.”
“I noticed.” Guilt poked him like a stick. Poor Alexa, he couldn’t blame her for his being stuck here in her bedroom seething while her ex sniffed around her place like a dog after a bitch in heat.
“Dante, come back inside. Listen—”
“I’m sorry. I was frustrated, but so were you.” More than ready to ignore the interruption, Dante pulled her against him and stroked the long tresses cascading over her shoulders and down her back.
“I want to explain—”
“Let’s go back to where we were.” Patience was not his forte when Alexa’s delectable form pressed against him, and her heady perfume enticed him. Capturing her mouth, he scooped her up and walked inside the room, his body throbbing with sexual need as her sweet floral scent enveloped him. Sitting on the bed, he
settled her on his lap while he continued to devour her lips.
“Dante, please. Not now. We can’t...” She frantically shook her head.
“Why not, darling?” He trailed kisses on her cheeks, her temple, and jaw and nipped the sensitive skin of her throat. “We have all the time in the world, now that your ex is gone. Forget everything but you and me.”
“I’ve been trying to.” She sighed and slid off his lap to stand in front of him. Her head dropped in dejection. “I can’t anymore.”
“Why?” Stunned, Dante exhaled loudly. “What’s going on with the selfish bastard?” He tipped her face up and peered into green eyes that had lost their sparkle.
“There’s something you should know. Greg told me…” She hesitated, folding her hands and entwining her fingers.
“Why all this nervousness? Damn it. He upset you again. Maybe I should have a talk with him.”
Her breathing labored, she clasped his shoulder. “It’s not about Greg this time. It’s Steve.”
Merda. Dante straightened and loomed above her, gritting his teeth. “Steve Bairey? Is he bugging you?”
“Yes. I mean no. I mean...”
She looked so fragile in her shorts, her generous breasts exposed to his admiring gaze. Golden brown hair mussed around a face stricken with angst and tumbled in waves upon her shoulders.
A need to protect her replaced his initial lust. “That womanizer has a sick mind. I’ll kill the bastard.”
“Oh God, too many wishes are coming true today,” she mumbled.
“Pardon?”
“Steve is dead.”
“Oh.” Silence fell between them as he digested her words. “When? How?”
Her huge eyes simmered with apprehension. “He drowned in the Jacuzzi this afternoon.”
“It must have been a shock to you.” His professional mind of criminal lawyer on alert, Dante mentally listed a dozen questions to ask. But now was the wrong time.
“He planned to leave the next day to settle in Atlanta. Permanently. He came to say goodbye. An hour before he died,” she added with a shiver.
“He was here? In your apartment?”
She nodded. “Greg just informed me that a detective will interview us at 8:00 pm.”
“I see.” No wonder Steve’s death had affected her so much. “Listen, let’s take a walk. The beach is gorgeous at sunset.” Leaving her apartment and breathing fresh air would help her unwind. “We’ll talk while we walk.”
He didn’t like it that Steve had been in her apartment. It would probably attract a lot of negative attention to her, and to him, if he remained at her side. But he wouldn’t abandon her now, when he’d just returned to her after his long absence. Maybe he should avoid his grandmother’s house until things settled here.
“Sure. I’ll wear something more presentable, just in case I don’t have time to change before the detective arrives.” She opened her dressing closet.
He scowled at two large suitcases. “Going somewhere?”
Stopping in her tracks, she stared at the luggage and slowly turned toward him, a lock of curly hair falling over her face. “I was planning to leave tomorrow.”
“Leave as in vacation?” He arched his eyebrows, waiting for more.
Tossing her hair back, she exhaled and yanked a printed blouse from the rack of clothes. “No, as in going away. Alone. Far from Greg, Steve, and this building. To ponder my life. And start on my own.”
“Is it that bad?” He focused on her tired expression and noticed the mauve shadows under her eyes, hardly concealed by her makeup.
A bitter grimace twitched her mouth as she averted her gaze. “Worse than you can imagine. I’m suffocating in this apartment.”
“The epitome of luxury and good taste.” He studied the sad crinkling of her lips.
“A golden prison.”
“You’ve been divorced for three years. Why do you let Greg manipulate you like that?”
“I’ve learned to respect Uncle Greg, my dad’s partner, since I was five years old. After my dad’s death, Greg immediately took care of me and handled their financial company on his own, but he took the trouble to explain things to me.” She grabbed matching brown capris and said. “Hold on a moment, Dante. Let me get dressed.”
In less than three minutes, she dressed more decently than he’d ever seen her, as if covering herself would shield her from further grief. Where was her sexy bikini bra or see-through shirt? But Dante truly wanted her and would wait for her.
“When did you marry him?”
“Four months after my father’s death. When Dad suffered a massive heart attack, I wasn’t even eighteen. It was Dad’s deathbed wish—his order—that I should marry his trusted friend, a widower at the time.”
Dante frowned. “Your mother didn’t protest this unfair order?”
Her smile faded, and she averted her eyes. “I don’t have a mother.”
“Oh I’m sorry.” A framed photo of her father adorned the desk in her office, but he hadn’t seen any pictures of her mother around the apartment. Strange, Alexa was a sweet girl, the type who’d show reverence to her parents. Heck, she’d been loyal enough to her old egocentric ex-husband. Considering her closed expression, he didn’t quiz her about her mother.
“Still, he’s so much older than you.” It sounded like her father had been a selfish bastard, more concerned with the interests of his company than his daughter’s happiness.
“Greg was handsome, powerful, respected. He pampered me, insisted we keep living in my Dad’s condo, and asked me to redecorate it on my own. He showered me with gifts and jewelry. We traveled and cruised. I bought designer clothes.”
“He bought himself a gorgeous trophy bride.” One with a lovely face, a figure to damn a saint, and generous breasts to wake up a dead body, especially when they bounced enticingly as they did when she suddenly spun to face him.
“Call it what you want.” She snorted. “But Greg insisted I finish my college and graduate studies.” She lifted her chin proudly and gave him a one-sided smile. “I have a Master’s Degree in Interior Design. Of course, I never used it, except to decorate my own place.” Her gaze scanned the off-white furniture, hand painted bedstead, and gilded mirror adorning the wall. “I lived well. Carefree. Happy in a selfish way. Until I realized the emptiness of my life. I wanted a real family. A husband and children to love. And not only material things.” She played with the ring on her right hand, a priceless ruby embedded in a large gold setting sparkling with baguette diamonds.
Greg had good taste. How did he let go of his expensive babe? “He gave you a divorce without any problem?”
“Are you kidding? He protested a lot at the beginning.” She raised her eyebrows, and he almost laughed at her wily grin. “But I threatened to expose the affairs he thought he’d hidden carefully. Anyway, he was as generous in the divorce as he’d been during our marriage. He insisted I should live in this apartment and keep everything he gave me. He’d continue to protect me, as he said.” She shrugged with a scoff. “To own me is more correct.” A shiver shook her. “I have to go away. Start a new life on my own.”
Maybe Dante could show her she didn’t have to leave town in order to get rid of her tyrannical former husband. Maybe he could help her be independent here in Fort Lauderdale. With him at her side.
Except that right now, he had more pressing commitments. He had to make sure his nonna and sister were safe. But to lose Alexa, as soon as he’d returned...
He exhaled his frustration. “I don’t think you can go away tomorrow.”
****
Avoiding the pool area, they strolled through the garage and the terrace overlooking the beach. Alexa toed off her sandals, rolled her pants up to her knees, and plowed through the moist sand.
Holding her hand, Dante smiled at her, his touch and gaze warming her chilled heart. “Did you hear anything about the cause of Steve’s death?”
She was glad he asked. Maybe if she talked to him—got her
doubts off her chest—she’d be able to sleep tonight. Dante was a successful criminal lawyer and the only man she trusted.
“Greg said the Medical Examiner would have an autopsy as soon as possible.”
Dante nodded. “Obviously. Because Steve Bairey died suddenly, and in a public area.”
“Do you think his coming to my apartment had anything to do with his death?” She chewed on her bottom lip, cursing herself for letting Steve in. The last thing she needed was to see her name trashed by gossip and the events preceding the tragedy detailed in the newspapers. Julia would skin her alive. She’d already spat accusations so many times. As if Alexa was responsible for Steve’s philandering. “Do you think planning to leave town caused him undue stress?”
“Relax. You had nothing to do with his death. Don’t feel guilty, just because he visited for…” He paused and frowned. “How long did he stay in your place?”
“Less than half an hour.”
“A healthy man doesn’t develop heart attack symptoms in half an hour.” His breathtaking smile reassured her more than words. “But you are going to give yourself an ulcer if you keep torturing yourself.”
“Thanks. I’ll try not to think about it until the detective shows up.”
“The police will probably run an investigation. It’s customary procedure. If you want, I’ll be at your side as your lawyer.”
“I hope I don’t need a lawyer. But just in case, I’d love you to stay when the detective questions me.” Trying to smile, she tilted her head and ended up sighing. “I trust you.”
Propelling her against his chest, he held her tightly. Her tumultuous heartbeat echoed against his. Gliding her hands over his pecs, she raked her fingers through the dark curls. Corded muscles pulled the bronze tanned skin of his chest, and lower, hardness pressed against her belly, triggering an insatiable hunger in her stomach. She cushioned her head against the hollow of his neck. Oh Dante, if only you could hold me forever.
A wistful dream. It was the wrong time to indulge in self-pity when she’d striven to be a strong person ever since she’d stunned Greg with her request for divorce. The only right decision she’d ever made.
