by Pamela Yaye
A giggle escaped her mouth. Jordana was mad at herself for laughing, but she couldn’t help it. His sensuous voice, coupled with the scent of his spicy cologne, made it hard for her to think, let alone talk. Dante’s charm had the power to transform any situation, and when she remembered their conversation at Griffith Park, her heart softened and her anger abated. This wasn’t for show, or a ruse to drum up more business for The Brokerage Group or Morretti Realty. This was a desperate father trying to protect his son. Moved by compassion, she slowly nodded. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
Dante jumped to his feet, swooped her up in his arms and swung her around the room. The bouquet fell from her hands and tumbled to the ground, sending flowers everywhere.
“She said yes!” he shouted, pumping his fist in the air. “She actually said yes!”
His reaction was endearing and sweet.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispered, seizing her in his arms. “Just act natural.”
No! Jordana screamed, but the word got trapped inside her throat.
In a blink, she was in his arms, flat against his chest, experiencing the pleasure of his kiss for the first time. He didn’t disappoint. He kissed her deeply, thoroughly, with remarkable tenderness. Jordana didn’t know what to do, but in typical Morretti fashion, Dante took the reins.
In that moment, nothing else mattered. The world, and everything in it, ceased to exist. Forgetting they had an audience, Jordana gave herself permission to live in the moment, to enjoy being in his arms, and his kiss. She hadn’t had sex in nine months, longer if she counted the last time she’d actually had an orgasm. Her body needed this, wanted it.
Dante moved his lips against hers, took his time pleasing her with his tongue. Goose bumps flooded her arms, and zipped along her spine. His caress made her feel alive, and caused her body to throb with desire. He cupped her face in his hands, urging her to come closer. At his touch, her heart jumped for joy. He tasted sweet, like chocolate, and she was hungry for more. I can’t believe it. This is really happening. Dante’s kissing me and it’s perfect. The best kiss I’ve ever had.
Desperate to be closer to him, she linked her arms around his neck, swallowing the space between them. Her breathing sped up, and her nipples hardened under her dress, aching to be kissed, caressed and licked. Jordana couldn’t stop herself from stroking his face, his shoulders, and burying her hands into his hair. He wanted a show, wanted the world to think they were madly and desperately in love, and Jordana played her role to the T.
Dante pulled away, ending the kiss, and Jordana was overwhelmed with disappointment. It was a surreal moment, one she couldn’t wrap her mind around. Her head was spinning so fast she couldn’t catch her breath. Did that just really happen?
“To Jordana!” Dante shouted, hugging her to his side. “Champagne for everyone!”
Chapter 8
An hour after escorting Jordana out of LA Marketing Enterprises and into his Mercedes-Benz SL500, Dante pulled up to his estate on the most prestigious street in Bel Air. Leaning out the window, he punched in his password on the security panel, and waited for the gates to open.
Seconds later, he drove up the cobblestone driveway and past the bronze water fountain. He chanced a look at Jordana. She was staring aimlessly out the window, had been since they entered the car, seemingly lost in her own world. He’d tried talking to her, but every time he asked her a question she had given him a curt, one-word answer.
Troubled by her silence, he tried to read her thoughts by studying her facial expression. Her forehead was creased with wrinkles, and her lips were a hard line. Dante suspected she was angry, felt it rolling off of her in waves. Is she pissed because I kissed her? He hoped not, because it was the best kiss he’d ever had, and he needed more. He couldn’t stop thinking about her lips, how delicious they tasted, and imagined himself stealing another kiss.
Seeing her frown, he wondered what was on her mind. Did she enjoy the kiss? Did I come on too strong? Is she going to call off our engagement? Expelling a deep breath, Dante told himself to relax, to maintain his cool. They had plenty of time to talk, to get everything out in the open, and he was confident by the time he left for his six o’clock business meeting they’d be on the same page. We better be, because I don’t have a plan C.
“That was some stunt you pulled this afternoon.”
Her voice was quiet, lacking its usual warmth and excitement. Maybe things weren’t as bad as he thought. Relieved she was finally talking to him, Dante wore an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I know the proposal was a bit over-the-top—”
“Ya think?” she quipped, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
“Don’t be mad. It was all in good fun.”
“I’m not mad, just disappointed. I told you I needed some time.”
“I had no choice. I have to act now, before it’s too late.”
“Is Lourdes still threatening to move to Boston with Matteo?”
Dante gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. Chocked up with emotion and unable to speak, he nodded in response.
“Are you scared of losing him? Is that why you’re doing this?”
“Yeah, and I’ll do anything to win sole custody, even propose to my sexy actress friend.”
He’d hoped his words would earn him a laugh, or at the very least a smile, but Jordana turned away. Instead of talking to him, she fiddled with the bangles on her wrist.
Silence engulfed the car. Dante hated it, but he didn’t know what to say to lighten the mood. His fears of losing Matteo were real, so terrifying he couldn’t sleep at night. But since he couldn’t articulate his thoughts without sounding like a wuss, he kept his mouth shut. Morretti men were strong, not vulnerable and afraid, and he didn’t want Jordana to think less of him. He couldn’t open up to her, not about this. After all, their engagement was a sham, not the real deal.
“I didn’t know you had a house in Bel Air.”
“That’s because I just bought it.” Dante parked in front of the ten-car garage. “We’ve only been here a couple of weeks, but it already feels like home, and Matteo loves it.”
“I bet. This place is gorgeous.”
Dante didn’t want to sound conceited, but he had to agree. “You’re right, it is.”
The Italian-style mansion had more amenities than a five-star hotel. It sat on ten acres of manicured grounds, with towering palm trees providing security and protection, and Dante felt it was the perfect place to raise his son. Over the years he’d sold million-dollar homes to kings, dignitaries and Oscar winners, and knew the moment he saw the estate that it was “the one.” And the awestruck expression on Jordana’s face proved he’d chosen wisely. The custom-made home, designed by famed architect Warrick Carver, had four master bedrooms, a screening room, heated pool and Jacuzzi, and a basketball court that would make any basketball player jealous.
Dante hopped out of the car, strode around the hood and opened the passenger side door. “I hope you’re hungry, because I asked Thierry to prepare a special vegan meal for you. It’s waiting in the main-floor dining room.”
Her eyes brightened, and her frown morphed into a smile. “You don’t even have to ask. You know how I feel about Chef Thierry! He’s a culinary genius.”
Helping Jordana to her feet, he activated the car alarm and led her up the walkway.
Dante took off his sunglasses, and dropped his keys inside the glass bowl on the side table. The tantalizing aroma wafting out of the kitchen made his mouth wet, and his stomach roar. “We’ll eat, then discuss the prenup.”
“Prenup?” Jordana shook her head, as if disgusted, and folded her arms across her chest. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you, oh Controlling One?”
“Don’t get upset. It’s nothing—”
“Good, then let’s discuss it now.
Lunch can wait.”
“It can? But I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast, and it’s almost two o’clock.”
“I’m not going anywhere until we talk.” Her mind made up, she marched into the kitchen, pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. Clasping her hands together, she narrowed her eyes. She wore a don’t-mess-with-me expression on her face. “I’m waiting.”
What’s with the attitude? Dante wanted to ask Jordana what her problem was, but something told him not to. It was a miracle that she’d said yes to his proposal, and since he didn’t want her to change her mind, he marched into his office, grabbed the contracts off his desk and returned to the kitchen seconds later. “Like I said, it’s nothing. I want to be honest and up-front about everything so there are no surprises later.”
“As if.” Snorting, she swiped the contract from his hand, and flipped to page one. “I don’t understand why you even think this is necessary. We’re just pretending to be married.”
It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt, he thought sadly, blocking out the pain of his past. I learned my lesson three years ago, and I won’t be fooled again.
“I’d never do anything to hurt you. You know that, right?”
Dante raised an eyebrow. Was Jordana being truthful? Could he trust her? Or would she end up betraying him like his ex-wife? He felt like a fraud for lying, but said, “I know.” He didn’t. Only time would tell. But to win custody of his son, Dante was willing to roll the dice.
As he watched Jordana review the five-page contract, he considered what she’d said. The divorce had changed him, and not for the better. He used to be a life-of-the-party type who made friends easily. But after his marriage crumbled and Lourdes vilified him in the press, he’d made a conscious decision to keep everyone at arm’s length. As much as he respected her, he worried she’d end up using him to advance her acting career, or worse, sell him out to the tabloids. Hence, the need for an iron-clad prenuptial agreement. He’d started Morretti Realty with his own capital, after years of sacrifice and hard work, and he was determined to protect his interests. And his heart. “Once you finish reading the contract you’ll see that I’ve been more than fair.”
“When would you like to get married?”
“On Friday.”
Her lips parted in surprise, and a gasp fell out. “In three days?
“Yes. We’ll get our marriage license at the courthouse, then marry in the judge’s chambers.”
“A quickie marriage? People will think I’m pregnant.”
“Works for me!” Dante chuckled. “The more people talking about us the better.”
“How long do we have to stay married for?”
“You make it sound like a prison sentence.”
Her eyes darted away from his. To put her at ease, he spoke with confidence, as if he had all the answers. Though, he didn’t, and that scared the hell out of him. “I could get custody in a few weeks, or in several months. But I’m hoping the family court judge makes a decision at our August hearing.”
“Dante, are you sure about this? Have you really thought this thing through?”
“Absolutely. I wouldn’t be a successful businessman if I didn’t. I’ve weighed all the pros and cons, and determined a marriage of convenience is the smartest course of action.”
Hearing his cell phone buzz, he broke off speaking, and retrieved it from his pocket. Dante checked the number on the screen. A scowl curled his lips. This woman is going to be the death of me! Lourdes wanted to meet, to discuss their “deal,” but Dante wasn’t interested, feared he’d lose his temper if they did.
Disgusted, he dropped his cell on the counter, and faced Jordana. Just looking at her made him hard. Astonishingly beautiful, with doe-shaped eyes, high cheekbones and dewy brown skin, it was impossible not to stare at her. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you? Because I think you’re willfully trying to hurt your ex-wife.”
Her words didn’t surprise him. As expected, she was having doubts. Dante wondered if Jordana was thinking about Tavares. He’d called his buddy last night, to give him a heads-up about the proposal before the media got wind of the story. He ended up leaving a message on his voice mail. “You’re wrong. This isn’t about her. This is about doing what’s best for Matteo.” He tried to appear cool, even though his heart was beating at an erratic pace. “Are you worried our fake marriage will ruin your chances of getting back together with Tavares?”
A dark shadow crossed her face. “No, of course not. I’ve moved on with my life.”
“Good, because I don’t want you to resent me, or hate me in the future.”
Her expression softened, and she spoke in a matter-of-fact voice, as if she was an expert on affairs of the heart. “I know you love Lourdes, and you’re still upset about the divorce, but—”
To silence her, he cut her off midsentence. “I don’t love her, and I’m not upset about the divorce. It was for the best, and to be honest I prefer being single. Always have.”
“Then why are you so mad at her? Why do you hate her with a passion?”
Because she humiliated me, and betrayed my trust. His thoughts returned to the exact moment Ms. Papadopoulos had called. Not being able to help Matteo was the most helpless feeling in the world, one he didn’t want to ever experience again. Swallowing hard, he loosened the knot of his Burberry tie to alleviate the pain in his throat. “I won’t lose my son.”
“Have you tried talking to Lourdes? Surely you guys can work something out.”
Hearing his stomach growl, Dante opened the fridge and searched around for a snack. Lunch was waiting in the dining room, but he couldn’t eat until Jordana signed the prenuptial agreement. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, but you can answer my question.”
“You don’t know Lourdes. She’s a sorry excuse for a mother, and I have zero respect for her. If it were up to me she’d only have supervised visits with Matteo. She doesn’t know anything about raising a child.”
“What a horrible thing to say!”
No, it’s the truth. Dante strode back across the room, and sat down at the table. Setting the water bottle down in front of her, he noted the hostile expression on Jordana’s face. He felt her eyes on him, watching him, judging him. Jordana looked pissed, and she stared at him with such contempt he felt ashamed for bad-mouthing his ex.
Guilt troubled his conscience, making him feel lower than a snake. He couldn’t think about his marriage without feeling bitter, but he had to do a better job of controlling his emotions. He didn’t want Jordana to think he was a sore loser. Her opinion mattered to him, and he wanted to impress her, not turn her off.
Why? questioned his inner voice. You’re friends, not lovers, and that will never change.
“Lourdes is the mother of your child, and she deserves your respect.” Jordana wasn’t shouting, didn’t raise her voice, but her anger was evident. “She isn’t perfect, but no one is. That’s what life’s about. Making mistakes, learning from them and doing better.”
Dante opened his water bottle. “I don’t want to argue about this.”
“Me neither, but your comments about Lourdes are offensive.”
They are? To whom? His ex was calculating and vindictive. If not for Matteo, he’d have nothing to do with her. Tired of talking about Lourdes, and anxious to seal the deal, he reached into his pocket, retrieved his Mont Blanc pen and placed it on the table. “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss before we sign the contracts?”
Dante tasted his drink, watched as fine lines wrinkled her smooth brow.
“What about sex?”
Water spewed out of his mouth, and trickled down his chin. He took the silk handkerchief out of his jacket pocket, and cleaned his face. He could tell Jordana was trying not to laugh—h
er nose was twitching, and her lips held a smirk. Although he was embarrassed for making a fool of himself, he was glad she’d finally stopped glaring at him. “What about it?”
“Do you expect me to sleep with you?”
Yes, baby, please do! At the thought of sexing Jordana—on his desk, against the pool table, in his Porsche—his temperature soared, and a grin claimed his lips. “Do you want to?”
“Dante, be serious.”
I am. Do you have any idea how much I want you? He remembered their kiss, how she’d eagerly responded to his touch, and felt an erection rise inside his boxer briefs. His hands itched to caress her, longed to squeeze and stroke her curves, and images of them rolling around his bed—naked—bombarded his mind.
Afraid of coming on too strong, and scaring her off, Dante broke free of his thoughts and tore his gaze away from her mouth. To keep himself from crossing the line, he pushed his chair away from the table, and buried his wayward hands in his pockets. “I’ll expect you to be faithful. You can’t date or take lovers if that’s what you’re asking.”
“And you can?”
“No, the same rules apply to me.”
Jordana didn’t speak, but he sensed she was pleased by the look in her eyes.
“Nothing’s going to change, Jordana, except your home address.” To reassure her, he smiled good-naturedly. “We’ll still be the best of friends, only now we’ll be living together.”
Jordana pointed at the contract with an index finger, drew his attention to the paragraph on the bottom of page three. “About my weekly allowance...”
“It’s not enough? No problem. I’ll double it.”
“No, don’t, it’s too much.”
“Too much?” Dante repeated. “Come again?”
“I don’t need ten thousand dollars a week. To be honest, I don’t need anything. Living here, rent free in this breathtaking estate, is payment enough.”
