by Pamela Yaye
To pass the time, Markos entertained the group with stories about his law firm. Jordana liked him, thought he had a winning personality, but she didn’t want to hear about his celebrity clients or his meteoric rise to judicial fame. She wanted to know what was up with Dante.
Sipping her mineral water, Jordana found herself analyzing their last kiss. Where was the heat? The passion? She couldn’t make sense of it. Three days ago, he’d wanted to make love to her inside his Bel Air kitchen, and now he was distant. One minute he was hot, the next lukewarm, leaving her feeling lost and confused.
Not to mention sexually frustrated, quipped her inner voice. You want Dante so bad you can’t think straight, and if you don’t pull yourself together everyone’s going to know the truth.
Two servers arrived, carrying trays topped with appetizers and entrées, and placed them on the table. “Enjoy. If you need anything just let us know,” the waitress said.
Jordana plucked a risotto ball off the plate, and popped it into her mouth. It was flavorful and moist, and she savored every bite. Too nervous to eat, she’d skipped breakfast that morning, and now she was so hungry she wanted to devour everything in sight.
“I’d like to make a toast,” Markos announced, reaching for the bottle of champagne.
To prevent him from filling her flute, Jordana covered it with her hands. “None for me.”
Dante said, “I know you don’t usually drink, but it’s a special occasion.”
“Tell that to my ass, because that’s exactly where those extra calories will go!”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re perfect, and you know it.”
“You’re right,” she quipped, fervently nodding her head. “I am!”
Markos cleared his voice, and raised his glass high in the air. “To Dante and Jordana. May your marriage be filled with laughter, happiness and hot summer nights!”
Dante cracked up, and Jordana wondered why he was laughing so hard. Their marriage was a sham, sure, but their connection was real, and every time they kissed she melted into his arms. She felt fortunate to be his wife—even if it was just for a few months. Jordana was looking forward to spending the summer with her two favorite boys.
Over lunch, the group chatted about movies, pop culture and their plans for the weekend. Jordana was surprised to hear Dante tell Markos he had to work on Saturday, and made a mental note to remind him about the terms of their prenuptial agreement. He’d made a promise to her, and she was going to ensure he kept his word. Consumed with thoughts of their “marriage,” she missed the question posed by Markos, and laughed out loud when he repeated it.
“It’s your turn, Jordana. Tell us the worst date you’ve ever been on.”
Groaning, she hung her head at the memory of her first and last blind date. “That’s easy. Several years ago my former boss set me up with her younger brother, and midway through dinner he told me he was wearing an ankle bracelet and had to be home by nine.”
“No way,” Waverly said, cupping a hand to her mouth. “You’re lying!”
“That’s not all. He stiffed me with the check, and had the nerve to complain to his sister because I refused to go out with him again.”
Everyone laughed, except Dante. Wearing a sympathetic smile, he took her hand, raised it to his mouth and kissed it. His touch left her wanting more, and his piercing gaze left her weak. Charismatic, and charming, he knew just what to say to make her feel special.
“Don’t give that jerk another thought...”
You don’t have to tell me twice! He’s so irrelevant I don’t even remember his name.
“That’s all behind you,” he continued. “You have me now, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Their eyes lined up, and Jordana swallowed a moan. Her emotions spun out of control, stealing her ability to think, and leaving her speechless. His words played in her ear, like a love song, tingling and teasing her sex. If Markos and Waverly weren’t sitting at the table, there was no doubt in her mind that she would have kissed him—a few times.
“Well, it’s been fun folks, but I’m out. I’m due in court at four o’clock. If I don’t meet with my client beforehand all hell could break loose in the judge’s chambers.”
“Markos, can you give me a lift to the train station? I’d walk, but I’m beat.”
“I’ll do you one better. I’ll drive you home.”
Cheering, Waverly grabbed her purse, and jumped to her feet. “Now, that’s what I’m talking about. I love exotic sports cars!”
“Then today is your lucky day, because I drove the Lambo.” Chuckling, Markos opened his wallet, took out several hundred-dollar bills and shoved them under the empty bread basket. “Lunch is on me. Make sure you guys order dessert. It’s your wedding day. Live a little.”
After a round of hugs and kisses, Markos and Waverly left the dining area. Alone now, Jordana decided it was the perfect time to talk to Dante about his plans for the weekend. “I’d love to go camping, and so would Matteo. He wants to learn how to fish, and Reflection Lake is filled with salmon, trout, bass, you name it.”
“I can’t. I’m working at Morretti Realty on Saturday, and on Sunday we’re hosting a dinner party at the estate for Chinese billionaire Lu Quan.”
“We are?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow. “When were you planning to tell me about your little soiree? The morning of the party?”
“My bad. You’re right. I should have told you sooner, but with everything going on with work, Lourdes and filing for emergency custody, it slipped my mind.”
“Fine, we’ll go camping on Memorial Day.”
“I’ll get back to you,” he said, with a shrug. “I have to check my schedule first.”
“No, we agreed you wouldn’t work weekends. That’s family time, remember?”
“I’m the face of Morretti Realty, and it’s important I connect with clients—”
Jordana cut him off midsentence, refusing to listen to another lame-ass excuse. “Then we’re going to have a problem because we signed a contract and I expect you to honor it.”
“I have a lot on my plate, but once I close this deal with Lu Quan, I’m all yours.”
“I don’t understand why you have two jobs,” she said, speaking her thoughts aloud. “It’s not like you need the money. You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, and your family owns everything from restaurants to strip malls and commercial and residential properties.”
“Because I love what I do and I’d be bored out of my mind if I wasn’t crazy busy.”
“Bored out of your mind? That’s impossible. You have a four-year-old son who adores you, and he’d be over the moon if you spent more time with him.”
“I’ll scale back my hours next month so we can take advantage of the nice weather.”
“Good idea.” Jordana added, “Better yet, quit one of your jobs.”
Dante pointed a finger at his chest. “And you say I’m bossy? Ha!”
The waitress arrived, collected the empty plates and thanked them for the generous tip.
“We should go. We have a full day ahead of us.”
“We do?” Jordana made her eyes wide. “I thought you were going to the office.”
“On my wedding day? No way. I’m playing hooky with my stunning bride, and no one’s going to stop me.” Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he leaned into her, took her hand in his and intertwined their fingers. “Is that okay with you, Mrs. Morretti?”
Are you serious? Of course it is! she thought, I can’t think of anything I’d like more—except maybe another kiss. Her pulse throbbed in her ears, making it impossible to think, but she composed herself and spoke in an easy-breezy voice. “Sounds good, Dante. What’s on the agenda?”
“To start, a fashionable new wardrobe for you.”
“Why? I love
my style. It’s eclectic, unique and totally me.”
His gaze slid down her curves, warming her body all over, from her ears to her toes.
“You’re right,” he said, with an appreciative nod. “You look great in everything—”
“Then why are you trying to change me?”
“I have an image to uphold, and now that we’re married so do you.”
Jordana dropped his hand, and folded her arms. “What does that mean?”
“That means no more shopping at thrift stores and garage sales,” he explained, speaking in a stern voice. “And no more hanging out in the inner city after dark, either. If Waverly wants to see you she can come to Bel Air.”
“Anything else, oh Controlling One?”
“You’re getting a new car, as well.”
“Why? There’s nothing wrong with my Mini Cooper.”
A scowl darkened his face. “There’s duct tape on the bumper. That’s unacceptable.”
“It gets me from point A to point B and that’s all that matters.”
“Not when you’re a Morretti. Only the best will do.”
Jordana was frustrated that Dante was bossing her around again, but she didn’t argue. In her family, she was seen as a troublemaker because she didn’t do as she was told. Although she prided herself on being a strong, independent woman who didn’t need a man, she didn’t want to butt heads with Dante every time he did something nice for her. Determined to keep the peace, she rose from her seat, and grabbed her purse. “I’m ready when you are.”
Dante stood, slipped a hand possessively around her waist and hugged her to his side. Jordana liked when he did that, loved how he made her feel safe and secure in his arms. Patting her affectionately on the hips, he lowered his mouth to her face, and she got a faint whiff of his aftershave. Jordana feared—and secretly hoped—he was going to kiss her. His voice was a gentle caress against her skin, arousing her flesh.
“The next few months will be nothing if not interesting.” Dante dropped his mouth to her ear, and kissed her softly and tenderly on the cheek. “I can’t wait.”
Chapter 12
“We have to hurry, Mrs. Morretti, or the appetizers won’t be ready by six o’clock.”
Jordana hid the goofy, lopsided smile that overwhelmed her mouth. Every time someone inside the kitchen called her “Mrs. Morretti,” her heart filled with pride. She’d been living at the estate for only three days, but she’d already learned the names of everyone on staff, cleaned and organized Matteo’s bedroom and revised the weekly food plan. Dante ate like a frat boy, and since his poor eating habits were rubbing off on Matteo, she’d tossed out all the junk food in the pantry, then made a trip to the organic grocery store and stocked the fridge with fresh produce.
Opening the oven with one hand, Jordana slid the tray of stuffed potatoes inside, and set the timer. Blowing out a deep breath, she mentally reviewed her to-do list. Jordana felt as if she was living out an episode of a housewives series—minus the cat fights, four-hour lunch dates and endless glasses of booze. As she flitted around the kitchen, folding napkins and shining silverware, she fought the urge to pinch herself.
While Jordana chopped up the bell peppers, her mind wandered. In less than seventy-two hours her life had changed drastically. She’d married Dante, then after a scrumptious meal she’d moved into his mansion. It was the most exciting thing to ever happen to her. He was living the American dream, selling it, too. Everything about her new “husband” was flashy, ostentatious and over-the-top. Case in point: his ten-bedroom estate. It had everything she’d expect from a man as spoiled and as wealthy as Dante. Mosaic floors, vaulted ceilings dripping in gold, contemporary furnishings imported from his native Italy, a wine cellar and a man cave filled with more video games than an arcade.
Her gaze drifted to the window. The outdoor living room was decorated with vibrant pillows and comfy chairs. Tropical plants and flowers beautified the garden, and the heated pool looked so tempting she’d treated herself to a long, relaxing swim that morning. The estate had all the amenities of a five-star hotel, and was by far the most lavish place she’d ever seen.
Her thoughts returned to Friday afternoon, and a dreamy sigh fell from her lips. After lunch, Dante had driven to Rodeo Drive, pulled up in front of Versace and handed over his platinum card. It was like a scene out of a Hollywood movie, and walking into the store on his arm gave Jordana a rush. Everyone—from the Barbie-thin clerks to the bejeweled shoppers—stared at them in amazement. To appease him, she’d tried on gowns fresh off the runway, glitzy high-heel shoes, eye-catching scarves and sunglasses, and even though it took supreme effort, she didn’t argue when he insisted on buying everything in her dressing room.
Jordana smiled at the memory. Shopping didn’t excite her; touching him did. Walking down the sunny, tree-lined street, arm in arm, had given her a dizzying rush. His caress was thrilling, warmed her all over, and made her crave him more. Arriving at his estate hours later, Jordana was shocked to see a hot pink Bentley, wrapped in a ribbon, sitting in the driveway. He got a kick out of showing her the features inside the car. Test-driving the Bentley, she noticed how animated and excited he actually was. And when he suggested they park on Bel Air Road, and christen the backseat, she’d laughed out loud. Thinking about it now, she giggled.
“Jordana, is dinner ready? Something smells delicious, and I’m starving.”
Facing him, her heart skipped a beat. God, I hate when that happens. What’s the matter with me? Why do I break into a cold sweat every time he flashes that thousand-watt grin?
Because you’re attracted to him, and you want him in your bed!
His stare was bold, sliding down her curves with erotic intent. Smartly dressed in a powder blue shirt and white pants, reclining comfortably on the couch, he looked like a Giorgio Armani model ready for his close-up. “You just ate.”
He made his eyes wide, and patted his flat stomach. “I’m a growing boy.”
“Growing boy, my ass,” she quipped. “You’re greedy and you know it.”
“You’re an actress, right? So, why don’t you act like my wife, and fix me a plate?”
Feigning anger, Jordana narrowed her gaze, and shook her fist in the air. “Keep it up, buster, and the only thing you’ll be eating is a knuckle sandwich.”
His laughter echoed throughout the house, and Jordana heard the kitchen staff snicker.
“When is Mom coming back?” Matteo asked. “I miss her.”
Jordana’s ears perked up. For days, Matteo had been sad and withdrawn, but when she spoke to Dante about her concerns he’d shrugged them off. He said his son was tired from karate class and his other after-school activities, but Jordana wasn’t convinced. That morning at Matteo’s request, they’d called Lourdes and left a message on her voice mail. His mom was in rehab, but the least she could do was call and check in with her son.
Exiting the kitchen, with a plate of appetizers in each hand, Jordana marched into the living room determined to brighten Matteo’s mood.
“Can I call my mom? I want to tell her about sports day and my graduation.”
“Mom went away for a while, remember, li’l man?” Dante ruffled his curls, and kissed the top of his head. “She’ll be back soon, but in the meantime you can hang out with me and Jordana. How does that sound?”
Matteo shrugged his bent shoulders. “Okay, I guess.”
“Just ‘okay’?” Dante tossed aside the remote control, and surged to his feet. His face was a dark mask, his hands were suspended in midair and he spoke in a creepy voice. “You’re in big trouble, mister. The Claws of Doom are out, and I’m going to make you pay!”
Matteo’s eyes widened with fear. “Not the Claws of Doom!”
“You’re going down. You hear that, little boy? Your butt is mine.”
“Someone
save me!”
Dante grabbed Matteo, and tickled him until he begged for mercy. Shrieks of laughter filled the air, drowning out the classical music playing on the stereo system. And the louder Matteo screamed, the happier Jordana felt. Sure, he still missed his mother, but now he looked ecstatic, not dejected, and his dad was the reason why.
Jordana stood beside the bronze floor lamp, watching the adorable brown-eyed twosome, thinking there was nothing cuter than a father playing with his child. Seeing them together tugged at her heartstrings. Dante never ceased to amaze her. He had a keen mind for business, and had achieved incredible success in the real estate world. He had commercial and residential properties all across the state, not to mention vacation homes in Manhattan, Aspen and Palm Springs. But Jordana wasn’t impressed with his vast real estate portfolio or his staggering net worth. She was impressed by how much he loved and adored his son. Matteo was his priority, not an afterthought, and she admired him for putting his child first. He could teach my dad a thing or two about being a father, that’s for sure.
The doorbell chimed, and Jordana froze. Mr. Quan was early, but the main course was still in the oven. Glancing at the security camera mounted to the living room wall, she sighed in relief. It was Markos, and he looked dashing in an all-white ensemble.
“Yahoo! Uncle Markos is here, and he’s taking me to the circus!” He leaped off the couch, and sprinted down the hall. “This is the moment I’ve been waiting for my entire life!”
Everyone in the room laughed—even the steely-eyed housekeeper dusting the shelves—but Dante wore a troubled expression on his face. His fingers were intertwined, clasped behind his head, and tension radiated from his body. She sensed his inner turmoil, and feared he was thinking about his ex-wife. Does he miss Lourdes, too? Does he regret the divorce, and want to reunite with her for the sake of his son? Is he strategizing how to win her back?
To pull him out of his thoughts, Jordana touched his shoulder and gestured to the gold-rimmed plate in her hands topped with delicious appetizers. “Eat up,” she said, hiding a self-incriminating smile. “You’re a growing boy who needs his strength, remember?”
