Seduced by the Mogul

by Pamela Yaye

  His thoughts returned to Valentine’s Day. He remembered how much fun they’d had at Epic Bar and Lounge talking and laughing, and how good it had felt holding her in his arms slow dancing to the live band. Jordana would make a fantastic wife, and an even better mother. He could see them now. Goofing around in the kitchen. Swimming in the backyard. Going on day trips to her favorite hangouts. She’d look great on his arm at charity events and business functions. “I can’t believe I’m actually considering this harebrained scheme,” Dante confessed, speaking his thoughts aloud. “It’s crazy.”

  “Do you want custody or not?”

  His gaze zeroed in on his son. Matteo looked happy, and hearing him giggle made Dante smile. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Have I ever steered you wrong before?”

  Now it was Dante’s turn to laugh out loud. “Yeah, for the record, you have!”

  “I know several celebrities who’ve used this strategy, and more often than not it worked,” Markos explained, his expression serious, and his tone matter-of-fact. “If I were you I’d...”

  His cell phone rang, but Dante didn’t answer. It could wait. All ears, he leaned forward in his chair, listening intently to what his brother had to say. An idea he’d been toying with for weeks came to mind. “Do you still have friends in the LAPD?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Find out if any of your buddies on the force want to make some extra cash.”

  “I’ll do it now.” Markos put down his beer, and picked up his cell phone.

  Mulling over everything they’d discussed, Dante realized the answer to his problems was staring him in the face. No more Mr. Nice Guy. It was time he fight fire with fire. He didn’t want Matteo moving thousands of miles away. The thought of being apart from his son filled him with anguish. Matteo was his heart, his most prized possession, and he’d do anything to win custody. If that meant playing dirty, so be it.

  Chapter 6

  Jordana entered her kitchen on Sunday morning, saw Waverly and her boyfriend, Rory Sutherland, playing tonsil hockey against the fridge, and lost her appetite. Their moans and groans bounced off the ceiling and ricocheted off the paper-thin walls, piercing her eardrum. It was too early for an X-rated make-out session, but they tore at each other’s pajamas as if they were consumed with lust. Jordana couldn’t relate. She’d never been in love, and didn’t put much faith in men or romantic relationships.

  To make her presence known, Jordana opened a cupboard, grabbed a mug and slammed the door shut. They didn’t budge. Didn’t acknowledge her. Continued fondling each other. Annoyed she couldn’t get inside the fridge, she grabbed a banana from the basket on the counter and left the kitchen. Jordana thought of returning to her bedroom, but she was tired of being cooped up inside staring at the ceiling, and needed a change of scenery.

  Standing against the window, she surveyed the busy street. Kids played soccer on the weed-infested lawn, dog lovers walked their canine friends up the block, and cyclists sped through the apartment complex.

  “Rory, stop... I need to eat something before round two.”

  Jordana wrinkled her nose. Enough already, she thought, casting a glance over her shoulder at the horny lovebirds. I live here, too! The apartment wasn’t big enough for two people, let alone three. Although Jordana liked Rory, she didn’t want him around 24/7. Just yesterday, she’d talked to Waverly about his daily visits, but with no success. Her roommate wasn’t receptive to what she had to say, had shrugged off her concerns. To keep the peace, Jordana didn’t argue, but she was tired of Rory eating her food, monopolizing the TV and leaving the toilet seat up. Then there were the outrageous noises he made in bed. In the heat of the moment, he cooed, grunted and, at times, squawked so loud Jordana thought there were pigeons in the apartment. She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in days, not since he’d showed up unannounced on Wednesday evening, and Jordana was starting to feel like a third wheel in her own apartment.

  “Hey, roomie. I didn’t notice you standing there.”

  Of course you didn’t, she thought sourly. You’re too busy groping your boyfriend!

  “How did you sleep?”

  “Fine,” Jordana answered, trying not to let her frustration show. “You?”

  Waverly wrapped her arms around Rory’s waist, and spoke in a girlie, high-pitched voice. “Isn’t it obvious? I always sleep great when my Pooh bear spends the night.”

  It took everything in Jordana not to gag. In recent weeks, Waverly had discussed moving in with Rory, but Jordana knew it was all talk. Her roommate would soon get bored with the construction worker and move on to the next guy. She changed boyfriends as often as she changed her hairstyle—at least once a month—and she loved playing the field. “Are we still on for brunch, and the Cinco de Mayo festivities at Griffith Park?”

  Gazing longingly at Rory, Waverly shrugged and gave an absent wave of her hand. “Yeah, sure, we’ll be ready to go by noon.”

  We? Jordana thought, raising an eyebrow. When did you start speaking French?

  “Make that one o’clock.” Rory flashed a dirty smile, and slapped Waverly’s butt. “We have some unfinished business to take care of in the bedroom, if you know what I mean.”

  Disappointed, she felt heaviness in her chest. All week, she’d been looking forward to having some girl time with Waverly. Outside of work, they rarely saw each other, and she missed hanging out with her friend. What now? Should I stay home or go to the Cinco de Mayo celebration alone? It was her day off, and she didn’t want to spend it watching Waverly and Rory play kissy face all over the apartment. Not if she could help it. Jordana wondered what Dante was doing, and made up her mind to call him after she had breakfast.

  Hearing her iPhone ring, she rushed down the hall and into her bedroom. Framed paintings covered the walls, keepsakes beautified the dresser and glass vases, overflowing with tulips, filled the air with their fragrant scent. Jordana swiped her cell off the desk, checked the number on the screen and put it to her ear. “Great timing,” she said, flopping down on her canopy bed. “I was just thinking about you.”

  “That’s good to hear, because I was thinking about you too. Hence, why I called.”

  “What’s up? What are your plans for...”

  Trailing off, her gaze strayed to the door. It was times like this, when Waverly and Rory were all over each other in the living room, that Jordana wished she had a special man in her life. Someone she could talk to and laugh with and cook for. She wasn’t jealous of Waverly, but she envied her relationship, and secretly longed to have a loving, caring boyfriend of her own.

  Jordana thought about her ex and their bitter breakup. If things had gone differently she’d be a wife now, maybe even a mother. But her ex had chosen his career over her, and months later Jordana still wondered what could have been. Sure, Tavares had never given her butterflies, but he’d treated her well and she loved his small, close-knit family. She still talked to his mother, and once a month they met for lunch in Beverly Hills. “What are you and Matteo up to today?”

  “We’re going to Zuma Beach to fly kites,” he said. “I know you’re busy with Waverly today, doing fun girls’ stuff, but Matteo wants to see you, and so do I.”

  “My plans fell through, so we can definitely meet up later.”

  “Or we could pick you up, and you could spend the day with us.”

  Footsteps pounded on the tile floor, fast and loud, and Jordana knew Rory was chasing Waverly around the apartment again. She wondered what had gotten into them, and why they were acting like five-year-olds. They were a young, fun couple who had a great time together, but they were also annoying as hell, and Jordana needed a break from their shenanigans. “Count me in!” she said, jumping to her feet. “How soon can you get here?”

  * * *

  “Are we there yet?” Dante heard the quest
ion leave his mouth, saw Jordana snicker, and scolded himself for sounding like a whiny, snot-nosed kid. They’d spent the morning at Zuma Beach, and he was drained. He was so damn tired all he could think about was going home, dropping into his leather arm chair and guzzling down an ice-cold beer. For hours, they’d built sand castles, flown kites and played soccer. As they were leaving the beach, Jordana had mentioned the Cinco de Mayo celebration at Griffith Park, and to his dismay Matteo had asked if they could attend the event. He’d had no choice but to swallow his protests and drive to his son’s favorite park.

  They’d been walking for the past fifteen minutes, searching for the “perfect” spot, and Dante feared if he didn’t sit down soon he’d collapse from exhaustion. Sweat dripped from his brow, coursed down his face, drenching his blue Nike T-shirt. The sun was blinding, but he didn’t complain. Jordana and Matteo were having the time of their lives, cheering and dancing, and he didn’t want to ruin the festive mood. He had work to do, piles of it sitting on the desk in his home office, but it would have to wait. As Jordana so aptly pointed out minutes earlier, nothing was more important than spending quality time with his son. Dante agreed. “All the picnic tables are taken,” he pointed out.

  Jordana nodded. “You’re right. Let’s sit under the trees, so we’ll have some shade.”

  Relieved, Dante sat down on the grass, and popped open the cooler. He grabbed a soda and guzzled it down. Sweet and cold, it was the perfect antidote for the sweltering heat. He quickly finished it and helped himself to another drink.

  His gaze then zeroed in on Jordana’s pretty face. She looked like a movie star in her black floppy hat, sunglasses and yellow dress. His eyes slid down her body, admiring her delicious curves. Watching her dance made his mouth wet and his temperature rise.

  “LA, are you ready to party?” the female emcee shouted, gripping the microphone with one hand and cupping her ear with the other. “I can’t hear you!”

  The crowd screamed, whistled and cheered.

  “Coming to the stage is an electrifying group who got their start right here in East LA. Give it up for the pride of El Sereno, the Mexican Folklore Dancers...”

  Dante glanced up from his drink. Women in vibrant traditional dresses twirled wildly around the stage, clapping their hands and stomping their feet. In all the years he’d lived in LA he’d never attended a Cinco de Mayo celebration, and to his surprise the festival wasn’t just an excuse for college students to get drunk. There were food carts and music, flamboyant costumes and activities for people of all ages. The mood was festive, the audience loud and excited, and the air held a tantalizing aroma.

  “I love Mexican music,” Jordana said, swiveling her hips to the music.

  And I love watching you, he thought. You’re sexy as hell and you don’t even realize it.

  “You’re not going to make me dance alone, are you?” Sashaying toward him, she smiled and beckoned him over with a wave of her hands. “Come on. Just one dance.”

  “I’ll pass. Dancing isn’t my thing, but you go right ahead.”

  “Dante, don’t be silly. Now get up.”

  Matteo giggled. “Come on, Dad. Don’t be a party pooper!”

  “Live in the moment,” she advised, her smile bright and brilliant. “Go with the flow...”

  Dante shook his head, and argued that he was too tired to move, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. Jordana and Matteo dragged him up to his feet, and forced him to join the slow-moving conga line. Following Jordana’s lead, he moved in time to the beat of the music. If my brothers could see me now they’d die laughing, he thought, scouring the crowd to ensure no one was recording him with a cell phone. The last thing he needed was for a video to surface online.

  “This is so much fun!” Matteo was in seventh heaven. The joyful expression on his face made Dante feel proud, as if he’d finally done something right. He couldn’t remember ever seeing his son this happy. As Matteo danced with Jordana, he realized he had to do everything in his power to keep him safe and protected.

  “Viva Mexico!” the emcee shouted, waving the national flag wildly in the air.

  Matteo wore an inquisitive expression on his face. “What is Cinco de Mayo?” he asked, clasping Dante’s hand. “Is it like Christmas? Do kids get toys and presents?”

  Before Dante could answer, Jordana spoke up. Animated and excited, she told Matteo about the victory of Mexican forces over the French army at the Battle of Puebla. As she spoke, Matteo’s eyes widened and brightened with interest. “Cinco de Mayo is a day of great importance not just in the Mexican community, but all over the world. With hard work and unity, anything is possible. Never forget that, Matteo. You can do anything you set your mind to...”

  Her enthusiasm was contagious, and Dante found himself hanging on her every word. His gaze zeroed in on her mouth. Sucking in a deep breath, he felt the overwhelming urge to touch her, to kiss her, to play in her lush, tight curls. His imagination ran wild, stealing his focus. Dante prided himself on being a good listener, but for the life of him he couldn’t focus on what Jordana was talking about. Her silky voice aroused him, tickling the tips of his ears.

  “Dad, can I play on the jungle gym?”

  Feeling someone yank his arm, Dante snapped to attention. “Sure, champ, let’s go.”

  “Yahoo!” Matteo cheered. “This is the best day ever!”

  Like a rocket, he shot across the field and jumped feet-first into the sandbox.

  “Boys will be boys,” Dante said, with a chuckle.

  “You can say that again. Your son’s a daredevil just like you.”

  “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  Jordana stared up at him, her expression pensive. She leaned into him, and the feel of her warm skin against his made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. For a moment, Dante thought Jordana was going to kiss him, stood there wishing, hoping, willing it to happen, but she patted his cheek instead, and flashed a knowing smile. “You’re a good dad, Dante.”

  “That means a lot coming from you.”

  “Just calling it like I see it. It’s obvious you adore your son, and I admire...”

  Mariachi musicians walked by, strumming their instruments, and a group of silver-haired women trailed behind them, cheering and clapping. Jordana broke off speaking, and Dante suspected she was thinking about her mother. “How’s your mom? Have you spoken to her?”

  “I spoke to her last night, but only for a few minutes. She’s still pretty emotional.”

  “Jordana, my offer still stands.”

  “I appreciate it, Dante, really, I do, but I don’t accept handouts. That’s just not me.”

  “You need to change your way of thinking. It’s not a handout. It’s one friend helping another.” To get through to her, he opened up about a painful chapter in his life. “After college, I couldn’t buy a job and if not for the financial support of my family I would have been homeless.”

  She slowly nodded, as if she was mulling over his words, and toyed with the silver chain around her neck. Dante glanced at the playground, spotted Matteo swinging wildly on the monkey bars and decided this was the perfect time to talk to Jordana about his problems. Lying went against everything he believed—except when he was protecting his son. Then all bets were off. To win custody of Matteo, he was willing to break the rules, and he needed Jordana’s help to carry out his plan.

  “Thanks for picking me up this morning.”

  The sound of her voice yanked Dante out of his reverie. He looked deep into her eyes, and felt a burning sensation in his chest. His mouth was wet, and desire shot through his veins. Her floral perfume mingled with the scents in the air, tickling his nostrils. He gave his head a shake, and rested a hand on her forearm. “I have a proposition for you.”

  “A proposition?” Jordana turned to face him. “Sounds serious.”<
br />
  “You’re right. Proposition is the wrong word. Think of it as a favor.”

  “Of course, another favor,” she quipped, with a cheeky smile. “What is it this time? Do you need me to take Matteo to karate class tomorrow, or pick up your dry cleaning again?”

  “None of the above.”

  “What is it?”

  “I need you to be my lawfully wedded wife.”

  Her nose twitched, followed by the corners of her mouth. Then she burst out laughing. “Sure, buddy, anything for you. Is tomorrow soon enough? No. Why wait? Let’s elope, and get hitched at a drive-through wedding chapel tonight!”

  Dante swallowed the lump in his throat, the one threatening to cut off his air supply, and tasted his soda. Watching her over the rim of his can, he determined his next move. He didn’t expect her to laugh in his face, and was taken aback by her response. He waited until her giggles subsided to speak. “Jordana, I’m serious. I need your help.”

  Her smile vanished. Sobering, she adamantly shook her head, her lush, chocolate-brown locks tumbling wildly around her face.

  Dante wanted to play in her hair, imagined himself burying his hands in it and twirling her curls around his index finger. To keep from acting on his impulse, he stepped back and shoved his hands into the pocket of his shorts.

  “We’re friends, not lovers, so why would we do something crazy like tie the knot?”

  “Because Lourdes is an unfit mother, and I want sole custody of Matteo.”

  “Are you out of your mind?

  “You don’t understand what it’s like living in fear for your child.”

  “You’re right. I don’t, so tell me what’s going on.”

  He opened up to Jordana about his tumultuous relationship with his ex. He told her about his argument with Lourdes on Friday afternoon, her blackmail attempt and his conversation with Markos last night. He saw the concern in her eyes, the sympathy, but he sensed she still wasn’t on board with his plan.