by Pamela Yaye
Indulging in a hearty chuckle, Emilio glanced around the lavish surroundings. Proud of his accomplishments and wealth, Antwan had decorated his office with the best furniture, artwork and electronics money could buy. Electric blue walls and Oriental rugs gave the room a luxurious feel, and a glass shelf held more baseball memorabilia than a sports museum.
“It’s great to see you, man.” Dressed in a three-button suit and burgundy tie, Antwan strode confidently around his desk and clapped Emilio on the back. “I haven’t seen you look this good in years...”
I know, and Sharleen’s the reason why.
“I was planning to come to Greensboro this afternoon to speak to you.”
“You were? Why? What’s up?”
“I’ll share my good news in a minute, but first I want to know what’s up with you,” he said, leaning against the front of his desk. “The last time we spoke you were bummed out and depressed.”
“I miss Lucca, and it hurts like hell that he’s gone, but I’m in a good place right now.” At night, in moments of despair, when he relived his nephew’s accident, he didn’t reach for a bottle of scotch. During those dark, depressing moments he thought about Sharleen. She’d lost both of her parents as a teenager, but she still maintained a positive outlook on life. She inspired him, encouraged him and cheered him up when he was down. He admired her keen mind and the sexy, curvy package it came in. He’d fallen hard for her and often imagined their lives together as a couple. It was a shocking thought, considering he’d never had a successful relationship, but he wanted her to be his girl, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it. Problem was, every time he tried to talk to her about his feelings, she swiftly changed the subject.
“How are things going with Sharleen?” Antwan adjusted his suit jacket and crossed his legs at the ankles. “Are you guys butting heads or getting along swimmingly?”
A proud grin claimed Emilio’s mouth. He felt as if he’d known Sharleen all of his life, and he still couldn’t believe they’d met only three weeks earlier. He was comfortable with her, completely at ease in her presence, and looked forward to seeing her every day. During their coaching sessions, they exercised in his home gym, whipped up healthy meals in his kitchen or hung out in his media room, talking and playing pool. Emilio enjoyed her fun-loving personality, her optimistic nature and their poignant discussions about life. He found it refreshing to be with someone who’d rather discuss social issues than Justin Bieber’s latest run-in with the law.
He thought back to their coaching session last Friday and smiled as their flirtatious exchange played in his mind. Despite being only twenty-seven years old, Sharleen always looked so prim and proper, as if she were going to lunch with the First Lady. When she’d arrived at his estate in one of her trademark outfits, he couldn’t resist teasing her.
“Do you ever wear anything besides cardigans and dress pants?” he’d asked.
“You wouldn’t take me seriously if I dressed like a pinup girl.”
“That’s true,” he’d conceded. “But seeing you in a pair of Daisy Dukes would definitely make for a more interesting session.”
“Keep dreaming!” she’d said, her tone full of attitude and sass. “Now, go get your life plan, or I’ll tell your golf buddies you tear up watching chick flicks!”
Her joke still made him laugh. Emilio couldn’t believe how much his life had changed since meeting Sharleen, how rejuvenated he felt. She asked him tough questions and didn’t let up until he answered them openly and honestly. These days, he wasn’t cooped up in the house watching old home videos; he was busier than ever. He volunteered at The Salvation Army three days a week, played coed soccer at the YMCA and attended support-group meetings at Pathways Center on Wednesday nights. Thankfully, no one at the center recognized him, and to his surprise, at the end of every session he felt less stressed-out and more hopeful about his future. The dark cloud that had been hanging over his head since Lucca’s death had finally lifted, and Sharleen Nichols was the reason why.
“We’re getting along great.” Emilio didn’t want Antwan to know he was interested in Sharleen romantically, so he wiped the lopsided grin off of his face. “I hate to admit it, but you were right. She’s smart, insightful and tough as nails. Sharleen doesn’t let me get away with anything, and when I complain, she gives me an earful!”
Antwan wore a proud smile. “That’s my girl.”
No, she’s my girl. Yesterday, during their afternoon coaching session, he’d spoken openly about his tumultuous childhood, his strained relationship with his father and the pressures of fame. Sharleen told him what he needed to hear—not what he wanted to hear—and encouraged him to focus on the future, not the mistakes of his past. And when he walked her back to her car hours later, Emilio realized he didn’t want her to leave—ever.
“I’m glad you guys hit it off. I was worried you’d give her a hard time and she’d quit.”
“I’d never do that,” Emilio shot back, disappointed that his manager thought so little of him. “I know a good woman when I see one, and Sharleen Nichols is the real deal.”
The desk phone buzzed, but Antwan didn’t move. “Well, I’ll be damned.” Cocking his head to the right, he stroked the length of his jaw. “You’re sweet on her, aren’t you?”
Pretending he didn’t hear the question, Emilio picked up a baseball off the glass shelf and admired his cousin’s signature. He’d given the autographed ball to Antwan for Christmas years earlier and grinned when he remembered how his business manager had jumped for joy when he opened the gift box. His cousin Demetri Morretti was not only a talented baseball player, but also a class act. Emilio respected him, and although they didn’t speak often, he valued his opinion. I need to get in touch with Demetri, Nicco and Rafael. I miss those guys, and I want them to meet Sharleen the next time they’re in town.
“Does Sharleen know how you feel? Have you told her?” Antwan pressed. “Is she interested in you, too?”
Emilio wriggled his eyebrows, as if he were amused, but he knew his business manager could see through his flimsy charade. Antwan had always been able to read him like a book. “There’s nothing going on between us.”
“Not yet, but it’s just a matter of time.”
I sure hope so, because I’m tired of being a gentleman. I want to kiss her, and love her, and—
“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Antwan continued. “This is nothing new. All of Sharleen’s male clients end up falling in love with her.”
Emilio felt his eyes fly out of his head. “They do?”
“Of course. What’s not to love? She’s a strong, intelligent woman with a great head on her shoulders, and men naturally gravitate toward her.” He gave a dismissive shrug. “You’re not the first client to fall for her, and you won’t be the last.”
Oh, yes, I will. You just wait and see!
“Sharleen’s a hot commodity on the Atlanta social scene, and several guys are pursuing her right now.”
His mind reeling, Emilio took a moment to catch his breath. His heart was beating so fast he feared it would conk out. His lips felt like sandpaper, coarse and dry, but he asked the question on the tip of his tongue. “Are you sure?”
“We have a lot of the same friends, and her love life is a popular topic. Apparently, she gets around.”
Emilio dropped down onto the leather chair in front of Antwan’s desk. He couldn’t stomach the thought of Sharleen being with another man, didn’t want to believe she was like all of the other promiscuous women who threw themselves at him. But his gut feeling was that his friend was telling him the truth. The realization that Sharleen wasn’t the woman he thought she was made his heart ache.
Why should her past matter? You haven’t exactly been a Boy Scout.
“Don’t get me wrong.” Antwan picked up his oversize coffee mug and took a swig. “I love Sharleen,
and I think she’s a fantastic woman, but I could never date someone with more lovers than me. Call me sexist, but that’s just how I feel.”
“Then you won’t mind if I ask her out.”
Antwan’s face tensed, hardened into a dark, angry mask, but he spoke in a jovial tone. “Why would I? It’s a free world. You can date whoever you want.”
“I know, but I don’t want there to be any bad blood between us.”
Antwan scoffed. “Bad blood over a piece of ass? Man, please, I’m bigger than that.”
“This isn’t about sex.”
“Yes, it is. With you, it’s always about sex.”
“Not this time,” Emilio insisted. “Sharleen has been incredible the last few weeks, and I think she’s special.”
“Hooking up with her is nothing but a game to you. It’s all about the thrill of the chase, the adrenaline rush, and once you hit it you’ll be on to the next girl.”
Images of making love to Sharleen bombarded his mind. His heartbeat sped up, pounded in his ears, and an erection grew inside his pants. He was attracted to her, sure, but he wanted more than just a sexual relationship. They had a strong connection, a tight bond, and he suspected she was interested in him, too. The thought heartened him, made his chest puff up with pride. It wasn’t anything she’d said; it was the way she looked at him, how her eyes lit up when he “accidentally” touched her. Yesterday, after she’d left his estate, he’d sat down and planned the perfect date for her, and he was anxious to put his plan into action.
Emilio heard his cell phone buzz and knew his latest text message was from Francesca. He pulled out his phone.
We need to talk. I’ll drop by the house once I finish at the beauty salon.
Feeling heaviness in his chest, he wondered how much money his kid sister wanted this time. Every week she needed something—a flashier, more expensive car, spending money for a girls-only trip to Paris, to-die-for diamond earrings from Cartier—and her constant financial demands were weighing him down. The problem was he couldn’t say no to her. Not after what had happened to Lucca.
During one of their recent coaching sessions, Sharleen had said he was setting up Francesca to fail in the real word, and she’d encouraged him to cut the purse strings. But Emilio didn’t know if he could do it. He wanted his sister to be happy and didn’t want to do anything to ruin their relationship. He’d lost Immanuel, and he didn’t want to lose Francesca, too.
“Since you’re here, I might as well bring you up to speed about my video conference with Ferrari this morning.” Straightening to his full height, Antwan slid his hands into the pockets of his dress pants and smiled broadly. “They miss you, and they’re willing to pay seven figures to get you back behind the wheel of one of their race cars...”
Leaning back in his chair, Emilio suppressed a deep sigh. He didn’t want to talk about his career—he wanted to talk about Sharleen. Dozens of questions filled his mind, and the more he considered what Antwan had said the more confused he was. Was she serious about any of her other suitors? Was their “connection” just wishful thinking on his part?
“And that’s not all. Ferrari wants you to be their new spokesperson.”
Emilio surfaced from his thoughts. “I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t bother. They needed an answer right away, so I accepted on your behalf.”
“I didn’t agree to that.”
“It was the smart thing to do,” Antwan said tightly.
“For who? Me or your bank account?”
Antwan’s eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared.
“The next time you pull a stunt like that, you’re fired.” Emilio clenched his teeth. “It’s my career, not yours. I do what I want, not what you tell me to do. Got it?”
The men stared each other down.
“I know you miss Lucca, but it’s time to move on. You’ve mourned him long enough.” Antwan wore a sympathetic face, but there was a bitter edge to his voice. “Ferrari is rolling out the red carpet for you, and if you thumb your nose at them, they’ll never work with you again.”
“You should have talked to me first, before you accepted the offer.”
“You’re right,” he conceded. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. It won’t happen again.”
Despite himself, Emilio chuckled. “Right. Now say that with a straight face!”
Emilio listened as Antwan outlined the specifics of the deal and made a mental note to discuss it with Sharleen. He wanted her input and wondered how she’d feel about him traveling around the world for industry events. “When will the contracts be ready?”
“In a few weeks, but as a show of good faith I think you should attend the Miami Exotic Car Show on Memorial Day weekend. Executives from Ferrari will be at the event, and they’d be stoked to see you signing autographs, posing for pictures and kissing babies.”
“Antwan, I’m a race-car driver, not a politician.”
His manager gave a hearty laugh. “Just make sure you’re in Miami for the event.”
“Maybe I’ll invite Sharleen to come,” he said, thinking out loud.
“Don’t bother. She hates the Magic City. Said the heat gets to her.”
Then I’ll just have to change her mind. Emilio liked the idea of having fun in the sun with Sharleen and decided he’d call his cousin Nicco once he got back to his car. The acclaimed restaurateur was a regular fixture on the Miami night scene, and he knew the best places to party. He’d ask his cousin to use his connections to score concert tickets, movie-premiere passes and reservations at the best restaurants in town. I’m going to go all out to impress her, he decided. And by the end of the weekend Sharleen’s going to be my lady...
“Let’s discuss how to invest your signing bonus.” Antwan sat down behind his desk and grabbed his Montblanc pen. “Do you have any ideas?”
“Pay off the tax bill, donate a million dollars to The Salvation Army and deposit the rest in my savings account.”
The pen fell from Antwan’s hand.
Anticipating his reaction, Emilio waited for the moment to pass. Emilio felt as if he’d been given a second chance, a new lease on life, and this time around he wanted to use his wealth for good.
“You’re punking me, right?” Antwan said, with a nervous laugh.
“It’s my money, and I can spend it any way I see fit.”
“A million-dollar donation is outrageous. Give them a hundred grand. That’s enough.”
“I wasn’t asking your permission.”
Curses fell from Antwan’s mouth, and the muscles in his neck pulsed and twitched. “As your business manager, it’s my job to stop you from blowing your winnings. But if you continue to disregard my advice and keep spending lavishly, there’s nothing I can do.”
“Spending lavishly?” Emilio repeated, baffled by his words. “I’m not buying a private island off the coast of Belize. I’m giving money to a worthy cause, and if you don’t like it, that’s too bad.”
“Fine,” he grumbled. “Do what you want, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
As casual as he could, he asked the question that had been circling his mind for weeks, the one he’d spoken to Sharleen about at length last night.
“When is the qualifying race for the World Series Racing All-Star Race? Is it too late to enter?”
Antwan’s eyebrows rose.
“I think the race will be fun, and I’d love to work with my old pit crew again.”
Antwan pumped his fists in the air. “Yes! Finally! I knew Sharleen could do it!”
Emilio frowned. “You knew she could do what?”
“Help you rediscover your purpose in life, of course.” His eyes were filled with enthusiasm, and he was so excited he was rocking eagerly in his chair. “Being a race-car driver is in your DNA, what you were bo
rn to do, and you’ll never be fulfilled doing anything else.”
To Emilio’s surprise, he agreed with the statement, knew in his heart that it was true.
“I can’t wait to share the good news on Twitter. Your fans are going to go wild.”
“You’re getting way ahead of yourself.” Emilio stood. “I never said I was coming out of retirement, so don’t post anything online. I’ll compete in the All-Star Race, and if I place in the top three, I’ll evaluate my options.”
“You’ll win. You always do. Hell, they should just give you the trophy now!”
The men chuckled, then spent the next few minutes discussing the All-Star Race.
“Get in touch with your old pit crew,” Antwan advised. “You haven’t been to the track in years, and it’s going to take a while for you to get your skills back, so the more practice the better.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Emilio joked, pulling his car keys out of his back pocket.
“Where are you going? I haven’t told you about negotiations with Nike—”
“Another time. I’m meeting Sharleen at three thirty, and I don’t want to be late.”
Antwan’s face fell, but he quickly recovered and nodded his head.
“Let me know when the contracts are in. We can review them together.”
“I will. Give my regards to Sharleen,” he said quietly. “Have fun.”
You can count on it, Emilio thought, slipping on his sunglasses as he exited the office. I’m spending the afternoon with a vibrant, vivacious woman, and one day soon she’ll be my girlfriend.
Chapter 9
The sleek black helicopter climbed high above the trees and headed toward Atlanta. Sharleen wondered which one of Emilio’s obscenely rich neighbors owned the gleaming chopper. Uncomfortable in confined spaces, she couldn’t imagine ever being inside such a small aircraft, but suspected the view from above was breathtaking. Probably, her inner voice conceded. But nothing beats spending the afternoon with Emilio.
Sharleen jogged beside Emilio on the winding trail, awed by the beauty around her. The air was perfumed with the scent of plants, exotic flowers and sweet-smelling herbs.
