by Pamela Yaye
Emilio gave his sister a hug and a kiss on each cheek. “I don’t have practice today. I’m flying to Miami tonight for the Exotic Car Show.”
“I love South Beach. Do you want some company?”
Yes, that’s why I invited Sharleen to join me. This is my chance to prove myself to her, to show her how much she means to me, and I’m going to pull out all the stops to make her mine.
“No, not this time.” Emilio picked up his suitcase, activated the alarm and led his sister outside. The sky was overcast, threatening rain, but it didn’t dampen his good mood “I have to go, but I’ll call you when I get back to town. We can have dinner.”
“Are you staying at Nicco’s estate?”
“He offered, but I turned him down. He’s a newlywed, and I don’t want to intrude.”
“Are you traveling alone?”
Pretending he didn’t hear the question, Emilio stalked into his ten-car garage and flipped the lights on. He unlocked the doors of his Escalade and tossed his suitcase into the trunk. His SUV was gleaming, buffed to a shine, and remembering the last time he’d had Sharleen in his car made a devilish grin fill his lips.
Images of Tuesday night teased his mind. Stealing kisses during dinner, walking hand in hand through Centennial Olympic Park, making out like teenagers in the backseat of his SUV. They’d spent hours talking about their trip to Miami, their hopes and dreams for the future, and when they kissed good-night, he’d felt closer to her than ever before.
“Ginger said she spotted you and that life-coach girl downtown a couple days ago,” Francesca said coolly, her tone filled with accusation. “She said you guys looked like a couple.”
That’s because we are. And Sharleen’s not a girl; she’s a vibrant, passionate woman who means the world to me.
“I have a flight to catch. We’ll talk when I get back.”
“Can I get a small loan?” Francesca touched his arm and gazed up at him adoringly, as if her heart was bursting with love. “I promise to pay you back as soon as I get my first paycheck.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You got a job? Where?”
“At Elite Management. Antwan’s assistant quit last week, so he asked me to fill in for the rest of the month. Answering phones and fetching coffee isn’t really my thing, but I love meeting his celebrity clients, especially the sexy athletes worth millions!”
Emilio chuckled and shook his head at his sister.
“All I need is five thousand dollars. I’m throwing a birthday party for Ginger, and I need to give the caterer the deposit in the morning.”
“Francesca, we discussed this.”
“We did?” she asked. “I don’t remember.”
“If you decide to go to college, or enroll in beauty school, I’ll pay your tuition, but I won’t fund your extravagant lifestyle anymore.” Emilio paused and took a moment to regroup so he didn’t lose his temper. Over the years, he’d spoken to his sister several times about her outrageous spending, but it wasn’t until a recent coaching session with Sharleen that he’d had a lightbulb moment. If he didn’t stop indulging Francesca, she’d never grow up. He felt responsible for Lucca’s death, and buying her expensive gifts used to make him feel better, but not anymore. Those days were behind him. He was sick of being a human ATM machine and had to put his foot down.
“Francesca, enough is enough. You can’t keep living like this. You’ll be twenty-six in a few months, but you’re still acting like a teenager.”
“All I’ve ever wanted was to be a mom, but now that Lucca’s gone...” Her voice broke, cracked with emotion. “He was my world, and life seems meaningless without him.”
I used to feel that way, too, but then I met Sharleen, and my life changed for the better.
At the thought of her, he felt a sudden rush of adrenaline. Introducing her to his pit crew last Friday had been a huge step for him, but she’d easily won them over with her easygoing nature and infectious laugh. Until meeting her, he’d never considered getting married or having children, but these days it was all he could think about. But before he could pop the question, and move Sharleen into his estate, he had to win her heart.
“Sometimes I think about moving back to Italy,” Francesca continued, “but I think I’d miss living in the States too much. I honestly don’t know what I want. I’m so confused...”
Emilio kissed her on the forehead and rubbed her shoulders. “I’m going to arrange for you to have a private coaching session with Sharleen here at the house. She’s the best in the business, and I’m confident she can help you discover your purpose in life.”
“And I think she’s after your money.”
Oh, brother, not this again.
“That life-coach girl told you to cut me off financially, didn’t she?”
“Sharleen had nothing to do with my decision. I love you, and I’m here to support you—”
“You have a funny way of showing it.” Francesca poked out her bottom lip. “Why are you being unreasonable? It’s just five thousand dollars. That’s chump change to you.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Whatever. Forget I asked.”
Emilio felt his heart soften and his resolve crumble. He put his hand in his back pocket to retrieve his wallet. He’d give Francesca the money, but insist she pay him back.
Yeah, right! You have a better chance of meeting the president!
“You used to have my back, and now I don’t know who you are anymore,” Francesca said.
Nose in the air, she stepped past him and stomped off. He watched with a heavy heart as she stormed down the cobblestone walkway. He called out to her, told her to come back, but she ignored him. Francesca jumped into her Mercedes-Benz convertible—the one he’d bought her for Christmas—and tore through the gates of his estate like a bat out of hell.
Chapter 13
South Beach, the infamous Miami district Sharleen had seen on TV and read about in magazines, lived up to its hype. Latin music blared from bars, and the air smelled of tantalizing aromas. Street performers entertained tourists, and fabulously gorgeous people cruised down the block in luxury vehicles with personalized license plates. Excited to be in such a vibrant city, she shielded her eyes from the hot, blistering sun and soaked in the world around her.
“Are you having a good time?” Emilio asked, resting a hand on her back.
“I shouldn’t have let you talk me into going in-line skating.” Sharleen lowered her shoulders and swung her arms to increase her speed. “I haven’t done this in years.”
“Don’t sweat it. You’re doing great.”
Yeah, until I trip and fall flat on my face!
They’d arrived at the Fisher Island Club last night, and after checking out their cozy, two-bedroom cottage, they’d set out on foot to explore the secluded island getaway. Unbeknownst to her, Emilio had arranged for them to have a private cooking lesson with reality star chef Chaz Romero and a candlelit dinner on the beach. His thoughtfulness made her desire him even more, and they’d laughed the night away over filet mignon and Italian wine. They’d laughed and kissed and danced in the moonlight to the distant sound of Latin music. Emilio made her feel cherished and adored, as if she mattered to him more than anything. It was a heady feeling, one she’d never experienced before.
“I’m not used to skating ten miles in ninety-degree temperatures.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You could have fooled me. You’re a natural.”
Sharleen skated over to one of the picnic tables at South Pointe Park, sat down and fanned a hand to her face. “I need a break and a cold drink.”
“Coming right up,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a few.”
Her eyes followed him, moved over his chiseled physique with deliberate slowness. Emilio skated over to t
he food truck parked on the sidewalk and joined the slow-moving line. Like vultures, a group of bikini-clad women crowded around him, batting their eyelashes.
Sharleen shot evil daggers at the young, perky quartet. Emilio couldn’t go anywhere in Miami without females asking him for his autograph or slipping him a phone number when they thought Sharleen wasn’t looking. They’d spent the morning exploring art galleries and museums, and everywhere she turned women were undressing him with their eyes. It was annoying, and although he never gave her reason to feel insecure, she was. His admirers had perfect skin and great bodies, and Sharleen couldn’t help envying their gorgeous looks.
“You look handsome on TV, but you’re even sexier in person,” she overheard the redhead say. “I’ve seen all of your races, and I’ve always dreamed of meeting you...”
Sharleen scoffed, rolled her eyes. She wanted to take off her skates and fling them at the redhead, but she didn’t want to get arrested for assault with a deadly weapon.
“Since we’re in South Beach, I figured we could try some of the local cuisine...”
Sharleen blinked and stared up at Emilio. He looked smokin’ hot in his aviator sunglasses, navy polo shirt and cargo shorts, but it was his strong, masculine cologne that aroused her. It overpowered her senses, made her thoughts take an erotic detour. X-rated images consumed her mind, but she kept her hands in her lap and off of his chest. “Something smells delicious,” she said. “What did you buy?”
“The works. Ceviche, Cuban sandwiches, fruit salad and sangria iced tea.”
“I said I wanted a cold drink, not a buffet lunch!”
“Eat up. You’ll need your strength for what I have planned for you later.”
She hid her nervous excitement and sipped her sangria. As they ate lunch, they discussed how to spend the rest of the afternoon, the Exotic Car Show and their evening dinner plans.
“I’m a bit nervous about meeting your cousin and his wife,” Sharleen confessed.
“Don’t be. Nicco’s a great guy.” Emilio finished his sandwich and then cleaned his mouth with a napkin. “I haven’t met Jariah yet, or her six-year-old daughter, but I’ve heard nothing but good things. Nicco adores Ava and treats her like his own flesh and blood.”
“Where do they live?”
“In Coral Gables, but they’ll meet us at the Exotic Car Show and we’ll drive to their estate together...” His gaze left her face, and he broke off speaking.
Sharleen glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see a pretty blonde behind her, but she was surprised to see dozens of elementary schoolchildren playing soccer. They ran down the field, shrieking and laughing, and their high-pitched voices filled the air.
“Lucca would have turned seven on August first.”
Sharleen stood, came around the picnic table and sat down beside him. She clasped his hand and stroked his forearms. “Are you still having nightmares about the accident?”
“Not every night.” Emilio wore a sad smile. “You were right. Meditation does work.”
They sat in silence, sipping their drinks and watching the kids play soccer.
“I replay the accident in my mind every day, but I still don’t understand why Lucca died. He was only five years old. He had his entire life ahead of him.”
His eyes were downcast, his shoulders bent, and when he spoke, his voice was filled with sorrow. “I want to tell you what happened. Maybe it will help me heal and bring us even closer together.”
Sharleen nodded to encourage him.
“I was in my office, reviewing film tapes with my crew, when Lucca burst in and jumped into my arms. He was running around, getting into everything, so I sent him to his room so he wouldn’t disturb us. But instead of going upstairs, he went outside.”
Dread flooded her body, and her throat closed up.
“We found him an hour later, facedown in the pool. He wasn’t breathing, so I did CPR until the paramedics arrived... I prayed that he’d pull through, but he didn’t.”
Words didn’t come. Her thoughts were clouded with sadness, and it took everything in her not to break down. Her heart broke for Emilio, and finally after weeks of intense coaching sessions, she understood why he blamed himself for his nephew’s death.
“I should have been watching him instead of film tape, but I was so stressed-out about my upcoming race in Barcelona that I wasn’t thinking straight.” He turned his head away and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I was so obsessed with fame and fortune and my stupid legacy that I let it consume me, and it cost me Lucca.”
Emilio stared out onto the field, as if he were lost in another world. Minutes passed, and the longer the silence dragged on, the more helpless Sharleen felt.
“I am so sorry for your loss.” Sharleen paused to gather her thoughts. She racked her mind for something insightful to say, for the perfect quote to comfort him, but came up empty. “I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better.”
“You already have.” He faced her and stared deep in her eyes.
“I didn’t think I deserved to be happy, but then I met you and I realized I’d been given a second chance. And this time around I’m going to help others, not obsess over money and fame.”
Entranced by the sound of his voice, she moved closer to him, eager to hear more. In her peripheral vision, she saw something orange flapping in the sky and glanced at it. An airplane, towing a wide banner, flew overhead, drawing everyone’s attention. Sharleen Nichols Is the Most Beautiful Woman in South Beach.
Sharleen gasped and cupped a hand over her mouth. Her heartbeat roared in her ears, pounded so fast she couldn’t catch her breath. Emilio had surprised her again, when she least expected it. She was blown away by the romantic, unexpected gesture. Yesterday, he’d filled her room at the Fisher Island Club with dozens of roses and treated her to a dream date on the beach. He was a modern-day Prince Charming, and there was never a dull moment when he was around.
“Oh, my gosh, this is insane!” she said, her eyes glued to the banner. “I can’t believe you did this!”
“I’ve fallen hard for you, Sharleen, and I want the world to know.”
His caress along the small of her back flooded her body with heat. Leaning forward until their heads were touching, he stroked her cheeks with his fingertips. The baby-fine hairs on her neck shot up, and a delicious tingle zipped down her spine.
“How do you feel about moving our coaching sessions from the office to the bedroom?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper. “I know what I want, and it’s you.”
Sharleen didn’t trust herself to speak. There was so much she wanted to say, but she didn’t know where to begin. Her tongue felt numb, but she forced the truth out of her mouth. “Emilio, there are things about me you don’t know.”
“You’re not an ax murderer, are you?”
Despite herself, she laughed at his joke.
“There is nothing you could say that will change the way I feel about you.”
That’s what they all say until they find out the truth.
“And no one has to know that we’re dating. It’ll be our little secret.”
“Then I can’t renew your contract. It would be wrong and unethical, and it could cost me my job.” An idea sparked in her mind, one Sharleen wished she’d thought of sooner.
“My former colleague, Jocelyn Calhoun, taught me everything I know about life coaching, and she’s one of the smartest, most insightful people I know. Would you be willing to meet her?”
“Sure, why not? She sounds like good people.”
“No funny business, Emilio.”
He wore an innocent face and held up his palms as if he were surrendering to the cops. “What are you talking about? I’m as good as they come.”
“No flirting, no long lunches at Dolce Vita, and I don�
��t care how hot it is outside—keep your shirt on at all times. Got it?”
“You have nothing to worry about. I don’t want anyone but you.” He cupped her chin in his hands and lowered his mouth to hers. “Now shut up and kiss me.”
Chapter 14
The Fisher Island Club, a world-class resort accessible only by ferry, was the hotel to the stars and the most breathtaking place Sharleen had ever seen. Exiting the luxury yacht, hand in hand with Emilio, she marveled at the beauty of her surroundings. She took in the lush grounds, the exotic birds perched high in the coconut palms and the stunning view of the Atlantic Ocean. Celebrities were everywhere—tanning on the beach, sipping cocktails at the bar, snapping selfies in the turquoise blue water, but Sharleen only had eyes for Emilio. He’d been doting on her ever since they’d arrived in Miami, and every time he called her his Island Beauty she wanted to do cartwheels up and down the beach.
Emilio hugged her close to his side, and joy swelled inside her chest. They’d had the perfect day, one she’d never forget. They’d had a buffet-style breakfast in their private courtyard, played three rounds of golf with the newest Hollywood “It” couple and toured the island aboard an eighty-foot yacht. It amazed Sharleen how much they had in common, how much they’d laughed and how he’d opened up to her about his family. No topic was off-limits, no question too personal, and hearing about how his relatives had cashed in on his grief after his nephew’s death made Sharleen want to strangle his estranged relatives.
“Did you have fun? I know the tour guide was a bit eccentric, but I learned a lot from him.”
“I did, too, and now I understand why locals call Fisher Island the playground of the rich and famous.” Sharleen snapped pictures of the tropical garden with her camera phone and uploaded the images to her Instagram page. “The resort has everything a girl could want. Watch out, Emilio—I may never leave!”
