by Pamela Yaye
“Good point.” Markos grabbed a flute off the tray and raised it in the air. “To Tampa.”
They clinked wineglasses. Time stopped, and everything around them ceased to exist. They stared at each other, as if they were long-lost lovers reuniting after years apart, and instinctively Markos took her hand in his. She was a vibrant, young woman with a wicked sense of humor and a terrific pair of legs—and Markos couldn’t wait to feel them around his waist. And he would, once they arrived at the Oasis Spa and Resort.
Chapter 3
Oasis Spa and Resort, a luxurious hotel known for its world-class amenities and picturesque views, was located in a sprawling, gated community thirty minutes from downtown Tampa. Strolling from his executive suite to Prime Steak House Markos took in his surroundings, noting the vibrant flowers and towering palm trees shielding the grounds. The resort had it all—an 18-hole championship golf course, swimming pools, tennis courts, acclaimed restaurants known for their delicious menus and a renowned spa. Popular among A-listers with time on their hands, and money to burn, the resort was filled with sports legends, actresses, reality stars and social media darlings snapping selfies at every turn.
Prime Steak House was packed, filled with laughter, conversation and casually dressed diners. The moment Markos stepped into the restaurant, he spotted the Morretti clan seated in a secluded corner, away from the other patrons. His body tensed, and the smile slid off his face. His cousins, Demetri, Nicco and Rafael, and his brothers, Emilio and Immanuel, weren’t alone; they’d traveled to Tampa with their wives. It was obvious the couples were madly in love; they were whispering, cuddling, even feeding each other.
He cocked an eyebrow. Markos was shocked by his brothers’ behavior, was blown away by their public displays of affection. They looked proud, too, as if they had the perfect lives, but Markos knew better than anyone how fast things could change. One minute it was candlelight dinners and weekend getaways, and the next it was screaming matches, separate bedrooms and divorce court. For their sakes, he hoped it wasn’t the latter, but Markos didn’t put much faith in relationships. They didn’t last, and he had the broken heart to prove it.
Absent from the group were his youngest brothers, Enrique and Romeo. Based in Italy, they both worked nonstop, preferring to make money than spend it. Days earlier, he’d called Enrique to find out his travel information, but his brother said he was too busy with his media company, Icon Productions, to attend the charity golf tournament. He’d tried to persuade him, but there was nothing Markos could say to change his mind. Romeo had given him the same spiel yesterday. A brilliant investment banker, with foresight and ingenuity, he owned everything from real-estate properties to upscale restaurants, spas and fitness centers. In spite of his recent health scare, Romeo was still the hardest working person in his family. At thirty-one, he’d accomplished incredible success in his career, and Markos was proud of him.
Cheers and laughter filled the air. He heard his sister-in-law Sharleen giggle, and watched as Emilio kissed her passionately on the lips. So much for our guys-only trip, he thought, contemplating whether or not to return to his suite. He had a meeting with a Hollywood actor on Tuesday morning, and Markos didn’t want to be ill-prepared. The Oscar winner wasn’t just another client; he was also a friend, and Markos didn’t want to let him down. Being a partner at LA Family Law was an honor, a goal he’d had since he started at the firm ten years earlier, but it wasn’t enough. Markos had political aspirations, dreamed of being the next mayor of LA, and hoped to make it a reality during the next election.
His stomach groaned. The décor in the steakhouse was simple, nothing to write home about, but according to his siblings, the food was outstanding. Markos was starving, hadn’t eaten anything since arriving at the resort two hours earlier, but he’d rather eat alone in his suite than watch his brothers and cousins fawn all over their wives. He didn’t want to be the third wheel, and feared he’d die of boredom sitting with the love-struck group playing kissy face—
Ducking out of the restaurant, before his family could see him, he strode down the walkway, noting the pop star seated on the patio signing autographs.
Hearing a voice full of warmth and life, Markos glanced over his shoulder, searching for the owner with the exuberant laugh. His gaze fell across the woman in the bold, colorful outfit, and his feet stopped. Tatiyana. She looked hot, good enough to eat, and Markos was starving. Hungry for her lips, desperate to taste every inch of her body. He liked everything about her appearance—the sleek ponytail, her crimson lips, her flirtatious, come-hither smile, how her dress skimmed her thighs—and couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.
An idea came to him, the answer to his problem. He’d ask Tatiyana to be his dinner date. The executive secretary had “It,” the wow factor, and arriving at the steak house with the leggy beauty on his arm was sure to not only turn heads, but also impress his family.
Markos tried to catch her eye, but Tatiyana was too busy chatting to notice him. Holding center court, surrounded by men in golf attire, it was obvious she was in her element. Which guy was her traveling buddy? Were they really just friends and nothing more?
In a stroke of good luck, Tatiyana waved at her admirers and sashayed off, switching her hips, her ponytail swishing back and forth. As she stepped past him, Markos reached out and caught her arm. Surprise, then anger darkened her features. Tatiyana gave him a blank stare, as if he was a stranger, and Markos released her hand. Four hours ago she was talking his ear off, and now she didn’t know him? What gives? Markos didn’t know what game Tatiyana was playing, but he didn’t like it. Still, he didn’t leave. He wanted the pleasure of her company tonight, and he wasn’t returning to the restaurant without her. Markos wore a disarming smile, but Tatiyana seemed immune to his charms, regarding him with a narrowed gaze. “We meet again.”
Tatiyana fluttered her eyelashes, her expression coy. “Markos, right?”
“It’s wonderful to see you again. Great dress.”
“Thanks,” she said, doing a twirl.
“Where are you rushing off to?”
“To see you, of course.”
Her innocent, wide-eyed expression made Markos laugh. She smelled of roses and tropical fruit, and her sweet, heady fragrance tickled his nostrils. The blood drained from his head, shot to his groin, and his erection stabbed the zipper of his white slacks. Sex was his favorite pastime, the only activity ever worth skipping dinner for, and Markos craved Tatiyana, had to have her. She oozed sexuality, reeked of confidence, and Markos suspected she’d be a passionate lover.
“What are you up to tonight?” she asked, cocking her head to the right.
“I’m about to have dinner with my family. Care to join me?”
“Only if you agree to be my date for the R&B Summer Jam. My friends canceled on me at the last minute, so I’m on my own this weekend, and I don’t want to go to Applause Nightclub alone.”
“I have paperwork to do, and besides I’m too old for rap concerts.”
Her eyes dimmed, but she spoke in a cheery tone. “No worries. I’ll find someone else to take me. Have fun with your family, Markos.”
Tatiyana stepped past him, and Markos captured her forearm, drawing her to his side. “Deal,” he said. “Have dinner with me, and I’ll take you to the concert tonight.”
“I thought you’d come around.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Washington.”
All smiles, her eyes beguiling and bright, she coiled an arm through his. “Sono contento che ci siamo incontrati, e sarei onorato di avere la cena con la famiglia.”
I’m glad we met, and I’d be honored to have dinner with your family. Pleased by her words, he stared into her eyes, gauging whether or not she was telling the truth. Enraptured by the sound of her voice, he moved closer to her, brushing his lips against the curve of her ear. “You speak Italian. I�
�m impressed. What other secrets are you hiding?”
“There are a lot of things I can do. I’m a woman of extraordinaire talents—”
“I look forward to discovering them all.”
“Patience,” she replied with a wink. “Dinner first, then dessert.”
* * *
“How long have you two been dating?”
Markos choked on the cocktail shrimp in his mouth. It hurt to breathe, and a burning sensation flowed through his chest. Glancing up from his plate, he shot Emilio a questioning look, hoping his expression conveyed his annoyance. Arriving at the table ten minutes earlier, he’d introduced Tatiyana to his family as a “friend” and jokingly asked them not to scare her off, so why were Emilio and Immanuel giving her the third degree? Why couldn’t they be kind and welcoming like his cousins and their wives? Before Markos could respond, Tatiyana spoke up, shocking him and everyone else at their corner table.
“Not long, but the first time I saw Markos I knew he was the one...”
Tatiyana covered his hands with her own, sending heat surging through his body.
“I love sensitive, romantic men, and your brother’s quite the charmer. And hot, too, right ladies?”
The women cheered, the men chuckled and Markos smiled so wide his jaw ached. He couldn’t have asked for a better dinner companion. None of the women he knew could hold a candle to Tatiyana, and he was glad to have her at his side.
“Where’s Dante?” Rafael asked, popping an oyster into his mouth. “I spoke to him on Sunday, and he said you guys were traveling together, so I expected to see him tonight.”
Finishing his appetizer, Markos took a swig of his soda and set aside his empty plate. “He changed his mind. Jordana’s parents are in town, and he wants to spend time with them.”
“I’m confused. I thought Dante was single.” Sharleen Nicholas, Emilio’s wife, wore a puzzled expression on her face. “Who’s Jordana?”
“His temporary wife,” Emilio explained. “He married her in a courthouse ceremony back in June, in the hopes of winning full custody of Matteo, and it worked.”
Markos shook his head. “Jordana’s not his temporary wife. She’s his soul mate.”
A hush fell over the table as Markos spoke. He assured his family members the aspiring actress was a thoughtful, compassionate woman, not a gold digger with dollar signs in her eyes. “I had dinner with them last week, and it’s obvious they’re in love. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other, finished each other’s sentences and Jordana laughed at all of Dante’s jokes, even the corny ones.” Markos chuckled, recalling how much fun he’d had with the couple. “Dante quit his job at the Brokerage Group so he could be a better father and husband, and I think that’s commendable.”
Nicco whistled. “You’re right. It is.”
“I’m happy for him,” Immanuel said, reaching for his water glass. “He’s been interested in Jordana for months, and Matteo adores her, too.”
Markos agreed. “You’re right, he does, and Matteo’s not the only one. Lourdes likes her a lot, and credits Jordana with helping her finally get clean. If Jordana gets her way, and I’m confident she will, they’ll be one, big, happy family in no time.”
“That’s great,” Rafael replied. “I’ll call Dante later to congratulate him.”
The waitstaff arrived, carrying silver trays topped with entrées, drinks and cocktails. Over dinner, they discussed the charity golf tournament that had brought them to town, and the celebrities the women were excited to meet. He wasn’t interested in the conversation; he was interested in Tatiyana. She fit in well with his family, and every time she cracked up, he did, too.
“I can’t believe I’m having dinner with a baseball star, a celebrated news anchor, a race car legend and the owner of my favorite Italian restaurant. What a treat! Someone pinch me!”
Everyone laughed, and Markos knew inviting her to dinner had been a wise move.
“Tatiyana, what do you do for a living?” Jariah Morretti, Nicco’s wife, dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “You must be in the entertainment industry because you’re a firecracker.”
“I wish! I’m not a star, but I love reality TV.”
“Me, too!” Sharleen eagerly nodded. “Did you see the season finale of Dating in the City last night? I almost died when Nelson Hamilton dumped Penelope at her sister’s wedding. Twenty-four hours later, and I’m still pissed...”
The men groaned, objecting loudly to the topic, but Paris silenced them with a menacing look. “Don’t make fun. Dating’s changed drastically in the last ten years, and if not for smart, thought-provoking reality shows like, The Love Test, and Relationships 101, my friends and I would still be in the dark about men.”
Everyone spoke at once, but Rafael’s voice cut through the noise.
“Baby, that’s ridiculous,” he argued, draping an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “You don’t need a television show to learn about men. Just ask me. I’m the only man you need.”
Giggling, Paris cupped her husband’s face in her hands and gave him a peck on the lips.
The waitstaff returned, carrying several bottles of champagne, and Tatiyana dropped her utensils on her gold plate. “Champagne? You’re my kind of people!”
“What are we celebrating?” Markos asked, settling back into his arm chair.
Sharleen beamed. “Emilio’s ESPN Athlete of the Year award.”
“Another one? That’s the third award of your career.” Markos gave his brother a one-arm hug, then ruffled his hair. “I’m proud of you, little bro. Good job.”
Clasping Sharleen’s hand, Emilio raised it to his mouth and kissed it. “Baby, you deserve this award as much as I do, if not more,” he said quietly. “If not for you, I’d still be sitting in my living room, watching home videos of Lucca, drowning in grief and despair.”
“As usual, you’re giving me way too much credit. You’re the talent, baby, not me.”
“Sharleen, could you be a little less supportive?” Angela wore a sheepish expression on her face. “I want my man to win that coveted award, too, but Emilio’s impossible to beat.”
“Keep hope alive, sister-in-law! There’s always next year.”
Laughing, Dionne Fontaine-Morretti, Immanuel’s wife, filled each flute to the brim. The couple had eloped to Hawaii two weeks earlier, shocking their friends and family, and Tatiyana had enjoyed hearing about their wild, romantic weekend in Maui.
“To Emilio!” Nicco raised his glass in the air. “May this award catapult you to greater heights, and cement your place in Formula One history. Saluti!”
Cheering, everyone around the table clinked glasses.
“What do you guys want to do now?” Angela asked. “I’ve had a rough week at the news station, and if anyone deserves to party tonight it’s me.”
“Let’s go to the sports bar,” Immanuel proposed, checking the time on his gold wristwatch. “The World Rugby Championship is on, and I don’t want to miss it.”
“Bor-ing,” the women sang in unison.
“Markos, are you ready to go?” Tatiyana asked, tucking her purse under her forearm.
Dionne frowned. “Why are you whispering, and where are you guys sneaking off to?”
“Applause Nightclub,” she explained. “It’s old-school night, and all of my favorite acts are performing, including Divas.”
Angela whooped for joy. “Count me in!”
“Me, too.” Jariah slipped on her Pashmina shawl and hopped to her feet. “I’m game.”
“I’m going!” Dionne said. “I love R&B music, and I’m the biggest Divas fan ever.”
Immanuel kissed her forehead. “Then it’s settled. We’re going to the concert.”
Markos was convinced his ears were deceiving him. His brother, a security specialist with a ste
llar résumé, who they jokingly called Sharpshooter, wouldn’t be caught dead in a noisy, smoky club. Immanuel didn’t dance, preferred classical music to hip-hop and often joked he’d been born in the wrong decade. Leaning toward his brother, he kept his voice low, asking, “What happened to the rugby match? I thought you wanted to cheer on the Italian team.”
“It’s no biggie. I’ll catch the highlights when we get back tonight.”
“But you hate nightclubs,” Markos pointed out, confused by his brother’s behavior.
“I know,” Immanuel conceded with a shrug, his gaze glued to his wife, love shining in his eyes. “But what my baby wants, my baby gets, so let’s bounce.”
Chapter 4
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but the club’s full,” the bouncer said, folding his arms rigidly across his flabby chest. “Better luck next time.”
Tatiyana cringed. It was a dig, an insult meant to embarrass her in front of the chic, crowd waiting outside Applause Nightclub, located in the Ybor entertainment district. Behind her, she heard people snicker. Ma’am? The word annoyed her, and the sneer on the bouncer’s face confirmed her suspicions. He was trying to humiliate her.
“I’m calling Rafael to tell him what’s going on,” Paris said, putting her iPhone to her ear.
Jariah protested. “No, don’t. We can handle this. We’re Morrettis now, remember?”
“Exactly!” Angela agreed, fervently nodding. “We’ve got this. We don’t need the guys to rescue us. We can take care of ourselves.”
At her request, the guys had dropped them off in front of the club so they could reserve a VIP room, but if Tatiyana knew the bouncer was going to give them a hard time, she would have stuck with the guys. No way he’d insult Markos and his famous family members.
Tatiyana could hear reggae music playing inside the club, a loud, infectious beat that made her want to dance, and wanted inside the hottest party in Tampa. She knew Divas were going to put on one hell of a show for their fans, and, since Tatiyana was determined to see the group perform live, she stepped forward and glared at the heavyset bouncer. “I flew thousands of miles to see—”
