The Business of Love

by Anna James

  Sophia swallowed hard. This face-to-face meeting had been a huge mistake. Clearly he didn’t want her around if the formidable expression on his face was anything to go by.

  “Here you are—” Wyatt stopped and stared from one to the other.

  “We’ll let you two talk,” India said, then grabbed Wyatt by the arm and dragged him away.

  Dante cleared his throat. “Ah… Why don’t we go for a walk and I can show you around? I did promise you a tour of the vineyard.”

  Sophia nodded. Anything was better than standing here and watching those piercing eyes dissect her. She followed him out the door.

  Outside, they headed north through the vineyards and once again Sophia was struck by the majesty of the volcanic mountains spread out before her.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls from the other day,” Dante said as they made their way through the rows of grapevines and up into the lower hills. “Things have been crazy here since I arrived. My father let most of the maintenance slide over the last few months and Wyatt and I have had a lot to do to catch up. It seems his heart condition was far worse than any of us realized.”

  Okay, he hadn’t been avoiding her as she suspected. “Is he better now?”

  “Yes. My mother watches him like a hawk and makes sure he doesn’t do anything that might cause a relapse. Between you and me, I think she’s driving him crazy.”

  Sophia smiled. “She’s worried.” I would be if it were you.

  “Any news from David yet on who tried to sell your painting?”

  She shook her head. “The shipping company picked up the packages from a drop-box so they can’t help us. David contacted the online auction house, but they weren’t any help either. They’re not releasing any information without a court order so David’s working with the police on that now.”

  He nodded. “How are things back in the office?”

  She supposed his idle chatter was better than silence. “Everything’s fine. I—”

  “Is Clair still working?”

  “Yes, but I’m not sure how much longer she’ll last, which brings me to the reason I’m here. Something has come up that I need to tell you about.”

  He stopped and turned to face her. “I already know.”

  Her eyes widened. He knew about her having to relocate to New York? How? She hadn’t told anyone of Sanford’s latest demand.

  “I still believe getting married is the right thing to do. We can hire a Justice of the Peace and have a small ceremony here, at the vineyard, with our family and close friends.”

  No. He needed to stop this now. She couldn’t take much more. “Dante.”

  He held up a hand to stop her protest. “I meant what I said back in San Francisco. Our child deserves a stable home with two parents who love him…or maybe we’ll have a girl. I’ll be happy with either one as long—”

  “That’s not why I’m here.”

  He frowned. “You didn’t come here to tell me you’re pregnant?”

  A heavy weight settled in her chest. “No.”

  “You’re not pregnant?”

  “No. I mean—” She let out a growl of frustration. “I don’t know if I’m pregnant. I’m probably not. Anyway, it’s still too soon to tell and it’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  She sighed. “There’s been a complication with the homeless shelter project.”

  “A complication?”

  “Yes. Sanford is insisting I relocate to New York for the duration of the venture.”

  Dante stiffened. “And you’re going?”

  His eyes glittered with an emotion she couldn’t decipher. “I—”

  “Of course you are.”

  Her belly fluttered. Maybe he didn’t want her to leave? She stared up at him, searching for something, anything indicating he wanted her to stay. Drawing in a slow, deep breath, she asked, “What do you want me to do?”

  He stared down at her, those fabulous lips of his set in a hard, uncompromising line. “The business is what matters most.”

  Her heart sank.

  “Go.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sophia stared out the window of her Los Angeles office. Another smog alert had been posted today, putting the kibosh on her plans for steaks on the grill with Clair and David.

  They’d been staying with her since her return from Leone Estates, while their condo association dealt with the infestation plaguing their complex. Clair and David hadn’t wanted to intrude, but she welcomed the company. The house had seemed cavernous with just her rattling around inside.

  The cell phone buzzed on her desk. She scooped it up and glared at the caller ID. Trey. Again. He probably wanted to ensure she’d made her reservations and would return to New York the day after tomorrow as planned.

  She hadn’t made them yet, but she couldn’t keep dodging him forever. “Hello, Trey.”

  He let out a harsh breath. “Why haven’t you returned any of my calls? Sanford has been hounding me night and day asking when you’ll return. I’m running out of excuses.”

  She sighed. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a bit under the weather.” It wasn’t a lie. She’d felt sick to her stomach for the last three days. Her period was late. Three days to be exact.

  The pregnancy test kit she’d purchased on her way into the office this morning peeked out of her purse, mocking her. She’d know for certain tomorrow morning, which was why she’d been avoiding Trey’s calls. She had to know one way or the other before she could make any plans.

  Lord, what would she do if the results came back positive?

  Marry Dante?

  Maybe she should stop fighting and just say yes. It’s what she wanted more than anything else.

  No! Not when he didn’t love her.

  “Sophia, are you still there?”

  “Yes. Sorry. What were you saying?”

  He let out a heavy sigh. “What am I supposed to tell Sanford?”

  Who—the hell—cared what Sanford thought? She was having a crisis here and couldn’t take any more pressure.

  You better care, her brain scoffed. You know what will happen if you screw this project up.

  “Please, I need more time. I can’t just up and leave. I have responsibilities.”

  “Soph… We talked about this.”

  Yes, they had, but she’d been in denial about the possibility of a pregnancy when they’d spoken. Had refused to believe what her body was telling her. She wanted to scream in frustration. “Don’t push me, Trey. I said I need more time.”

  “How much more?” he fired back.

  Her fingers shook as she raked them through her already mussed hair. “I’ll call you in a few days.” That would give her time to put things in order here.

  “Tomorrow, Sophia. I can’t be responsible for what happens after that.”

  Sophia stared at the phone long after the connection went dead.

  Sophia stood in the bathroom the next morning staring blindly at the pregnancy test kit stick while her blitzed brain tried hard to process what she just learned. Suspecting was one thing, knowing for sure, another.

  Her hand shook as she made her way back into the bedroom and collapsed down onto the bed. A part of her still couldn’t believe the truth, but how could she deny it when the results were right in front of her face?

  She curled into the fetal position and cried. Loud, earth-shattering, body-wracking sobs, and the longer it went on the worse it got. An image of Dante’s unrelenting face formed in her head. What was she going to do now?

  “Sophia, what’s going on? How did this—”

  Sophia glanced up at Clair through tear-stained eyes, but couldn’t answer.

  “Why are you crying? Did you see the… Oh.” Clair sat down beside her on the edge of
the bed and stared, wide-eyed, at the stick Sophia still held clenched in her hand. “I guess that explains the reason for this.” She laid three newspapers out on the bed.

  Sophia jerked up into a sitting position and stared in horrified silence at the three nearly identical images plastered across the front page of each tabloid. The words accompanying the photo practically jumped off the page.

  She said Yes! New York’s notorious bad boy, Sanford Jackson III, is finally settling down. He and childhood sweetheart, Sophia Hamilton, daughter of the late investment guru, Gilford Baker, are engaged to be married. Inside sources who are close to the couple told this reporter a fall wedding is imminent.

  Oh, hell. As if her life weren’t complicated enough at the moment, now she had to deal with this? “Where did you get these?”

  “David found them at a newsstand on his way home from a surveillance run this morning. So it’s true, then. You and Trey are engaged?”

  Her eyes flew to Clair’s. “No!”

  Clair frowned and stared at the pregnancy test stick Sophia still held clutched in her hand.

  She gasped. “You think Trey and I… Good God, no. We’ve never. Never, ever… It’s not like that. I mean, we don’t have that kind of relationship.”

  Clair pointed down at the papers. “You could have fooled me. Trey’s holding you in his arms and that kiss… Holy cow, Soph.”

  Sophia groaned. Clair believed she and Trey were involved? How could she? “He kissed me. It wasn’t the other way around.”

  “Well, you certainly don’t seem to mind.”

  Sophia scrutinized the picture. Somehow, a photographer had captured the moment Trey had kissed her in the restaurant back in New York after he’d given her the lovely jewelry box for her birthday. The shot had been snapped a split second before she jerked away and it did appear as if she’d been enjoying an intimate kiss with him.

  How had this happened? Had the paparazzi been stalking them? Skulking around waiting for an opportunity to capture them on film and turn an innocent kiss between friends into a titillating bit of gossip? “He took me by surprise. Good grief, the damn kiss only lasted a second.”

  “What about the engagement thing?”

  Yes, where had the press come up with that crazy notion? “Oh, come on, Clair. Do you believe everything you read in the papers?” She snatched up one copy and waved it in the air for effect. “Especially when it appears in the weekly tabloid?”

  “What else am I supposed to think when you suddenly announce you’re relocating to New York and I find out you’re pregnant with… Oh God. It’s not Trey’s baby, it’s Dante’s.”

  Heat invaded Sophia’s cheeks. “No. I—”

  “Soph, if he sees this crap the paper printed, what’s he going to think?”

  Her lips tightened. “He’ll be relieved.”

  Clair’s eyes widened.

  “I’m not pregnant.” She held the white test stick up for effect.

  “Not pregnant.”

  “No. As for Dante, he couldn’t care less if I’m engaged to marry Trey.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  He’d sent her away, for goodness’ sake. Of course she was sure. “Yes.”

  “What if you’re wrong, Sophia?”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Dante glanced at the bedside clock and groaned. Two o’clock in the morning. Damn it, he should be asleep. So why the hell wasn’t he?

  The better part of the last seventy-two hours had been spent performing hard, physical labor helping Wyatt get the vineyard back into shape.

  He should have fallen into oblivion the minute his head hit the pillow. Instead, thoughts of Sophia invaded his mind and kept him awake long after his body had called it a day. Why the hell couldn’t he get her out of his head?

  With a grunt of frustration, he threw back the covers and stalked to the chair where he’d tossed his jeans earlier before climbing into bed.

  Snatching them up, he stepped into them and marched downstairs to his father’s study. Might as well try to get a little work done. Anything was better than continuing to toss and turn for the rest of the night.

  Dante threw open the office door. A loud, guttural curse greeted him a moment later.

  “What the hell?” Wyatt barked and blotted up some spilled coffee with the corner of his T-shirt.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t realize anyone else was up at this late hour.”

  Wyatt leaned back in the chair and eyed him curiously. “I thought I was the only insomniac in the family these days.”

  Dante shook his head and took a seat in one of the chairs on his side of the large, hand-carved oak desk. “No, and I figured as long as I’m up, I’d get some Baker Investments work done.” He needed to get caught up with business, especially with Sophia running off to New York. And he needed to hire someone to replace Clair when she went out on maternity leave and another investment strategist to take over. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t been able to sleep. With all the time he’d spent here at the vineyard, there wasn’t much time to dedicate to his other responsibilities.

  An image of Sophia popped into his head. A pensive expression on her beautiful face as she studied file after file, her dedication to the company unwavering. The picture evaporated in a puff of smoke.

  Oh, she’s devoted all right. So much so, she was off to New York for who knew how long.

  You sent her away.

  Because saving the business mattered most and he’d do well to remember that; besides, it wasn’t like Sophia objected. Hell, she’d wanted to go. Hadn’t she?

  It didn’t matter, he told himself fiercely. She didn’t matter.

  Which is why you can’t stop thinking about her. Or worse, why you considered moving back to New York until the damn homeless shelter project was complete.

  No. He’d finally come home after six long years away, and home was where he’d stay. Dante Leone didn’t chase after women. No way. No how.

  It was business only between them. They didn’t do personal. Hadn’t she told him as much a few weeks ago? All right, he’d lost his head for a few hours. Several pleasurable hours.

  Images of their lovemaking flashed through his mind. Sophia’s soft, smooth skin beneath his hands. Her tiny cries of pleasure when he caressed her hips, her arms, her breasts. Those long, lean legs wrapped around his waist as he…

  Keep going down that path and you’ll embarrass yourself. Right here, in front of his brother, and Wyatt would never let him hear the end of it.

  “Then I guess you’ll need this.”

  Dante’s head jerked up as Wyatt leaned over the arm of the chair, then handed him a computer bag a moment later.

  “I moved it out of the way so I could get some of my own work done.”

  He nodded. “Thanks. I’ll let you get back to what you were doing.”

  “Just going over what has to get done tomorrow.”

  “You can count me in. What time do you want to head out in the morning?”

  Wyatt didn’t answer; he only stared, a speculative gleam in his eye.

  “What?”

  “How long are you going to continue to hide up here?”

  Dante drew in a quick breath. He wasn’t hiding. He was helping to get the vineyard back into shape after months of neglect. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Wyatt let out a sharp belt of laughter. “Not that I don’t appreciate your help, I do, and as a matter of fact, I couldn’t have gotten this far without you, but sooner or later you’re going to have to go back to Los Angeles and deal with whatever—or maybe I should say whoever—is causing your sleeplessness.”

  Dante threw him a withering glare. “Says the man who’s been biting off everyone’s head around here since a certain brunette beauty returned to town a few days ago.”

&nbs
p; Wyatt’s eyes widened.

  Dante grinned. “What’s wrong, bro, no pithy reply?”

  Bright red color streaked Wyatt’s cheekbones. He held up a hand to stop any further comment. “Fine. Stay as long as you want, I’m not going to argue.”

  Dante stood and strode toward the door.

  “Wait a minute,” Wyatt said.

  He turned to face him. “What?”

  “You forgot this.” Wyatt held up a small manila envelope.

  Dante frowned, walked back and took the proffered package.

  “It must have fallen out of your computer bag when I handed it to you.”

  He peered inside and nodded.

  “What is it?” Wyatt asked.

  “Security footage from the Baker offices in LA.” He’d forgotten all about it with everything else going on.

  Wyatt’s eyebrow arched up. “You’re having problems?”

  “No, only one incident. Sophia’s car was vandalized a few weeks ago. Actually, there was so much damage the insurance company totaled it.”

  Wyatt let out a low whistle. “You don’t believe it was random?”

  “Not when it happens right before she’s supposed to meet with a major client Myer and Kane had tried to poach.” And not after everything else that had happened since.

  Wyatt inclined his head toward the disk Dante still gripped in his hand. “What are you hoping to find?”

  “Someone who came through the main building and somehow bypassed the front desk without raising suspicion.”

  “Ah, so you know who did it and you’re looking for proof?”

  Dante flashed a tight smile. The mere thought of Malcolm Foster was enough to make his blood boil. When he considered what Mal had almost done to Sophia… His hands clenched into fists. He’d nail the bastard to the wall and savor every moment doing it, and this tape would prove Mal’s guilt despite his so-called airtight alibi. “Yes.” Turning, he strode toward the door.

  Dante took another swallow from his mug of coffee and rubbed his bleary eyes. He’d been watching security footage for the last five hours at the kitchen table with no sign of Mal yet. The timestamp on the video indicated twelve-thirty. An hour more would bring them to one-thirty, which had been when he and Sophia left for their meeting.