by Pamela Yaye
“Judges consider several factors when determining custody, including the child’s age, their needs and the lifestyle of each parent. If I can prove to the family court judge that I can provide a stable, loving environment for Matteo, I’ll win custody.”
“Dante, I can’t marry you. It would be wrong and unethical.”
“Unethical? In what way?”
“We don’t love each other, and I won’t live a lie.”
“Of course I do. You’re an incredible woman, and I’d do anything for you.”
“You know what I mean,” she said with sass, rolling her eyes. “You love me, but you’re not in love with me. There’s a big difference.”
“Then think of it as a mutually beneficial business arrangement. I’ll get full custody of Matteo, and you get all the perks and benefits of being Mrs. Dante Morretti.” Dante touched her forearm. “At least think about it.”
“There’s nothing to think about.”
Taking a page out of his son’s playbook, he poked out his bottom lip, and clasped his hands together. “Please?” he begged. “With a cherry on top?”
“You’re worse than a four-year-old,” Jordana said, with a laugh. “And you wonder where Matteo gets it from.”
Dante gave her a one-arm hug. “Give some thought to what I said, okay?”
“Fine, I will. Quit badgering me.”
“I love you, too,” he said, with a wink. “And if you help me I’ll owe you big—”
“Dad, did you see me?” Matteo hurled himself into Dante’s arms, and pointed at the play structure. “I raced the older kids to the water fountain, and I won!”
“Way to go, li’l man.” Jordana ruffled his curls, then patted him on the back. “That calls for a celebration. How about a fruit smoothie?”
“I don’t want a smoothie. I want a chocolate sundae with sprinkles, and...”
Strolling through the park, hand in hand with his son, Dante couldn’t have imagined a more perfect day. The sky was clear, the sun was shining and the air held a savory aroma. But best of all, he was with his two favorite people.
Dante chanced a look at Jordana, studying her on the sly. As he did, he remembered his conversation with Immanuel weeks earlier. He’d teased him for being “whupped,” and his brother had shocked him by saying, “Damn right, I’m ‘whupped’! I knew Dionne was ‘the one’ the first time I saw her, and I wasn’t letting anything—not even her insecurities—keep us apart.”
Reflecting on his brother’s words, an idea popped in his mind. I know what to do! Dante thought, his gaze narrowed in determination. He was going to take a page out of his brother’s book. Failure wasn’t an option, not for a Morretti. He’d have to pull out all the stops to win her over. And he would. He didn’t take no for an answer—ever—not in his personal or professional life. Deep down he knew it was just a matter of time before she became his wife.
At the ice-cream vendor, Jordana and Matteo placed their orders, and Dante formulated his plan. He’d give her space, forty-eight hours to change her mind, but if he didn’t hear from her by Tuesday he’d implement plan B. The next time he broached the subject, he wasn’t taking no for an answer.
Chapter 7
“Guess what? Rory asked me to move in with him, and I said yes!” Beaming like a bride on her wedding day, Waverly danced into Jordana’s cubicle on Tuesday afternoon, and plopped herself down on the desk. Swaying to an inaudible beat, she hugged her hands to her chest, and spoke in an awestruck voice. “Girl, he’s the one. I just know it. I feel it in my bones!”
You feel it in your bones, or you like jumping his bones? she thought, hiding a smirk.
“You’re moving to Inglewood? But you hate it more than La Brea.”
Stars twinkled in her eyes. “I know, but Rory’s totally worth it. He’s kind and sweet and amazing in bed. What more could a girl want?”
It was a struggle to keep her temper in check, but Jordana refrained from yelling at her best friend. Waverly always had her back, was there whenever she needed her, and Jordana didn’t want to rain on her parade.
“I’m moving in three days, and I can’t wait”
“Three days! But we just renewed our lease.”
“It’s no big deal. I can transfer the lease to your name, or sublet my room,” she explained, her tone bright and cheery. “Let me know what works best for you.”
None of the above, Jordana thought glumly, expelling a deep breath.
“Try not to worry. Everything will work out fine—”
“That’s easy for you to say. I’m not leaving you high and dry.”
Eyes wide with surprise, her face fell, and the smile slid off her lips.
“I’m sorry,” Jordana said quietly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I thought you’d be glad I’m moving out, especially in light of our last conversation.”
“I’m happy for you, but I’m worried I won’t be able to pay next month’s rent.”
Waverly reached out, and patted her leg. “Don’t stress. You’ll have a new roommate in no time.” She spoke in a confident tone, vigorously nodding her head. “I was sharing my good news in the staff room, and several people expressed interest in taking over my room.”
Relief flooded Jordana’s body. Thank God. She wasn’t going to lose her apartment, or end up sleeping in a shelter. Bitter memories assailed her mind, but she pushed them aside, and made a conscious decision not to dwell on the past. “That’s great,” she said, wearing a grateful smile. “I’d rather live with someone I know than a stranger.”
“That’s what I told Archibald.”
“Archibald?” Jordana wrinkled her nose, and pursed her lips. “That creepy, older guy from accounting who smells like Bengay? No way. Keep looking.”
“Lee and Mohammed expressed interest as well, and so did the new security guard...”
Of course they did. They’re all trying to score, but it’s not going to happen! Like a balloon pricked with a pin, her hope deflated. Jordana fought against feelings of despair. Every time she tried to advance her acting career, life knocked her back down. Is the universe trying to tell me something? Should I quit acting and return to Des Moines?
Jordana shook off the thought, refusing to consider it. The fear of falling flat on her face and proving the haters wrong was her strongest motivation, and she wasn’t ready to throw in the towel just yet. Her mom believed in her—Dante, too—and she didn’t want to let them down, or herself. Jordana was going to make a name for herself in LA, and no one was going to stop her.
“You’re too picky.” Waverly wagged a finger in her face. “And you’re too stubborn.”
“No, I’m not. I don’t feel comfortable living with a male colleague, and I don’t have to.”
“Fine, then use your savings to keep you afloat until you find a suitable roommate. But don’t say I didn’t try to help you.”
What savings? Jordana thought, hanging her head. I have to wire that money to my mom today or she’ll lose her house. Last night, after talking at length to Helene about the foreclosure letter, Jordana had swallowed her pride and called Carlito and Raymon. They were both college graduates, living and working in Des Moines, but they had nothing to do with Helene. Her mom had a long history of embarrassing their family—Jordana included—but she’d never turn her back on her. Her mom had made poor choices in the past, but didn’t everyone? Why were they punishing her for being sick? Like her father, her brothers held grudges and refused to forgive. Their three-way conversation was terse, only ten minutes long. When the call ended Jordana felt a mixture of relief and anger. How dare they insult Helene? Didn’t they remember all the sacrifices she’d made for their family? Didn’t they care?
“I’m going to miss you.”
Jordana abandoned her thoughts, and return
ed to the present. Touched by Waverly’s words, she stood, wrapped her arms around her and pecked her rosy cheeks. “Don’t be so dramatic. We’ll still see each other every day at work.”
“I know, but it won’t be the same as living together. You’re a great roommate, and an even better cook!” Exiting the cubicle, she laughed and tossed a wave over her shoulder. “I better get back to work, or Mr. Lundqvist will dock my pay again. See you at home, homie!”
Jordana laughed, but her heart was heavy with sadness. Not because Waverly had found love and was moving out but because her life was a mess, and she didn’t have anyone to talk to.
Yes, you do, encouraged her inner voice. Call Dante. He’ll help you. He always does.
Her gaze fell across her cell phone, sitting beside the box of tissues. She hadn’t spoken to Dante since their outing two days earlier, and just the thought of calling him made her mouth dry and her palms sweat. Sure, they texted each other every day, but it wasn’t the same as hearing his voice, and laughing with him.
Their last conversation came to mind.
I need you to be my lawfully wedded wife... If I can prove to the judge that I can provide a stable, loving environment for Matteo, I’ll win custody... Please, Jordana, I need you.
Jordana reflected on his words, and gave his proposition some serious thought. Who was she kidding? They would never work. He lived a fast, fabulous lifestyle, and she’d never fit in. Furthermore, he was a control freak who had to have the last word, and she sucked at following orders. On the flip side, if she married Dante, she could save money and help her mom. Even better, she could spend quality time with Dante and Matteo. A man who’d do anything for his child was a winner in her book, and although his methods were unorthodox, she couldn’t fault him for wanting to protect his son. His marriage scheme was the craziest thing she’d ever heard, so why was she even considering it? Because I’m tired of living paycheck to paycheck.
Jordana raised her shoulders and straightened in her chair. She didn’t have time to wallow in self-pity; she had things to do. She had to wire money to her mom before her lunch break ended, and it was almost one o’clock. Pressed for time, she turned on her computer, accessed the internet and logged in to her bank account.
The numbers on the screen confused her, boggled her mind. Something wasn’t right. Bewildered, Jordana rubbed her tired eyes. Nothing changed. I haven’t seen that much money in my checking account since... Jordana paused. No, she’d never seen that many zeroes in her account. Scanning the week’s transactions, she found the error. Yesterday, thirty-nine thousand dollars had been deposited into her account. The bank had made a mistake, she decided, drumming her fingers on her desk. I don’t know anyone with that kind of money.
A cold chill flooded her body. Her thoughts returned to the past, to the one and only time she’d ever cursed Dante out, and just thinking about their heated argument in December made her angry all over again. Six months ago, after one too many mojitos, she’d made the mistake of telling Dante about her money troubles. Twenty-four hours later, ten thousand dollars had miraculously appeared in her checking account. Incensed, she’d stormed into his swank bachelor pad, demanding answers. Cocky as ever, he’d laughed off her concerns. He told her to keep the money, said it was her Christmas gift, and she didn’t have to pay it back. Embarrassed by the handout, she’d promptly returned the money, and told him to mind his business. Mad at herself for confiding in him, she’d ignored his texts and calls for days. If not for Matteo’s birthday party a week after their argument, she’d probably still be giving him the silent treatment.
Jordana seethed, felt anger course through her veins, and her hands curled into fists. Dante was doing it again. Taking over. Throwing his money around. Trying to control her. I can’t be bought! When is he going to get that through his thick skull?
The desk phone rang. It was probably her mom, calling to find out why she hadn’t transferred the money yet. If she sounded upset, her mom would worry. Snatching the receiver off the cradle, she masked her emotions by speaking in a warm, friendly tone. “Hello?”
It was the receptionist. She was talking so fast Jordana couldn’t understand her.
“Come again?” she asked, pressing the receiver to her ear. “I missed that.”
“You have an important visitor waiting for you in reception, so hurry down here.”
“I do? Who is it? I’m not expecting anyone.”
“It’s someone who loves you very much, and they’re anxious to see you.”
Dread filled her stomach. Oh, God, I hope it’s not Helene! Her mother had a history of showing up in LA unannounced. Jordana feared what would happen if her mom stormed into her office again, emotional and upset about her latest financial setback. Will I get another warning? Or will I be fired on the spot? Panicked, she dropped the phone on the cradle, sprang to her feet and marched briskly through the office.
Her ears perked up. The office was quiet, too quiet, and soft music was playing. It was a Celine Dion song, her favorite ballad, the only song that made her teary-eyed every time she heard it. And this afternoon was no different. Except, it was. What was going on? Where was everyone? Why were the lights suddenly dim, and the air inundated with the scent of flowers?
Jordana saw Dante standing at the end of the hall, and told herself she was dreaming. Had to be, because visitors weren’t allowed on the second floor. Not even wealthy, distinguished businessmen worth millions. He was wearing a navy blue suit, tailored to perfection, and carrying the largest bouquet of red roses she’d ever seen.
Pressing her eyes shut, she counted to ten. Jordana blinked, and found that Dante was still there, staring at her with that piercing gaze of his. The real estate mogul was a force, a living, breathing wet dream, and as he crossed the room toward Jordana struggled to breathe.
“You’re a dream come true,” he said, in a husky voice, his boyish smile showcasing every sparkling white tooth. “Jordana, you are the only woman for me, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you...”
Stunned, her knees knocking together under her peasant dress, she cupped a hand over her mouth to trap a scream inside. Her body froze, and the room flipped upside down, spinning a hundred miles an hour. What is Dante talking about? Is he drunk? We’ve never kissed. Sure, I’ve thought about it, fantasized about it a time or two or ten, but it’s never happened and it never will. He’s still in love with his ex-wife.
“I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone, and I want you to be my wife.”
Her skin was clammy, drenched in sweat, and she shook uncontrollably.
Dante stopped in front of her, and rested the bouquet in her arms. He had the nerve to wink, as if they shared a deep, dark secret, and kissed her cheek. Jordana told herself to stay calm, not to overreact, but she was fighting mad, and wanted to wring his neck. “What are you doing?” she whispered, her eyes darting nervously around the room. “Why are you here?”
“I’m here to propose, of course.”
Her tongue froze, suddenly felt too big for her mouth. She wouldn’t have been more shocked if an alien had burst into the office, jumped on her desk and did the moon walk. “Propose what? I told you I’d think about it.”
“Time is of the essence, so I came here to seal the deal.”
Jordana refrained from rolling her eyes. To prove she meant business, she propped a hand on her hips. “Did you deposit thirty-nine thousand dollars into my bank account yesterday?”
His grin was answer enough.
“I told you I don’t need your money.”
“It’s an early wedding present. I was going to deposit a hundred grand into your account, but I didn’t want you to go off on me. You know how you get whenever I try to help you—”
“Are you crazy?”
“Yeah, baby, I’m crazy about you, and only you.”
Jordana wanted to smack the cocksure grin off his face, but she exercised self-control. He was talking so loud everyone in the office could hear him, but she recognized it was all part of his plan. Now he had the attention of everyone in the room, her colleagues, her boss, the potbellied security guard vying to be her new roommate. Her friends were giggling and waving, but Jordana didn’t find anything funny about Dante’s impromptu proposal at LA Marketing.
“I promise to love you, cherish you and protect you for as long as I live. Baby, you’ve made my life complete, and I can’t live without you.” Dante took her left hand in his, and dropped to one knee. He was holding a ring between two fingers. The heart-shaped diamond was brighter than a million stars. “Jordana, will you marry me?”
Applause, shrieks of joy and whistles filled the office. Waverly was crying, her boss was cheering, and three male staffers were chanting Dante’s name with zeal. The noise was deafening, so loud Jordana felt as if she was at the Staples Center amid eighteen thousand screaming fans. It was quite the scene, the most shocking experience of her life, a moment she’d never forget. Camera phones flashed in her face, and she hoped his dramatic, over-the-top proposal wouldn’t be posted online for the world to see. “Dante, I can’t do this. It’s wrong.”
“If loving you is wrong I don’t want to be right.”
“Stop quoting Percy Sledge and listen to me.”
“Jordana, baby, I’m all ears. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
His gaze zeroed in on her, and his deadly sexy smile made a moan catch in her throat, and her sex tingle. Damn him! His good humor was contagious, making it impossible for her to stay mad at him. Dante was hard to resist, and if she let her guard down, even for a minute, she’d be putty in his hands. He was a great guy, but marriage was sacred. Not something to joke about. Jordana didn’t want to deceive their friends and family, especially her mom. If she did, Helene would never forgive her.
“Do me a favor, would ya? Say yes.” He spoke quietly, just loud enough for her to hear, tenderly caressing her fingers with his own. “We have an audience, and if you reject me my brothers will never let me live it down. You don’t want me to be the butt of their jokes, do you?”
