by Pamela Yaye
“You have a funny way of showing it.”
“Markos, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you...”
Studying her, he stroked the length of his jaw. Tatiyana sounded contrite, looked it, too, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was playing him again. Was this another trick? A ploy designed to screw him over? He’d never lost a case, or a client, and wondered what the other senior partners would think when they heard the news. Would they be disappointed? Angry? Would they blame him for losing one of the firm’s richest clients?
“This is messed up. A total nightmare.” Pinching two fingers together, he spoke through clenched teeth. “I was this close to a settlement, and now everything’s ruined. Eighteen months’ worth of hard work just went down the drain!”
“A good attorney does what’s best for his client, not his bank account.”
Markos glared at her, didn’t hide his contempt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s not about you. It’s about your clients,” she said calmly, looking him straight in the eye. “You work for Mrs. Zapata, not the other way around...”
Her tone was quiet, but her words were powerful.
“You need to listen to her, and most importantly take her cares and concerns into consideration. Divorce is a life-altering decision that affects everyone involved, and clients have the right to change their minds without fear of being belittled or bullied.”
His jaw hit his chest with a thud. Markos was frustrated about the Zapata case, wished he’d been there to talk to the temperamental pop star instead of buying lunch, but she’d given him something to think about. Tatiyana had a mind of her own and wasn’t afraid to disagree with him, which made him respect her even more. Markos had feelings for her, and deep down he liked the idea of them being a couple, but he feared Tatiyana would double cross him again, and if she did it would hurt like hell.
“I didn’t persuade Mrs. Zapata to call off the divorce. I didn’t have to. She had her mind made up before she got here. I had nothing to do with it.”
For a moment, they sat in silence, alone with their thoughts.
“I love what I do,” he said, feeling the need to defend himself and the choices he’d made. “I don’t want to do anything else. This is it for me.”
“No one’s disputing that, Markos. It’s obvious you love being an attorney, and from what I’ve read you’re a skilled negotiator with a keen legal mind, but there’s more to being a lawyer than just winning cases and posing for the cameras.”
A skilled negotiator with a keen legal mind? Pride filled his heart. Tatiyana read my interview in GQ magazine! Yeah, baby! Leaning up against his desk, Markos crossed his legs at the ankles. Amused, he watched his new secretary with growing interest. She had an aura about her, a presence that drew her to him. It was more than just her beauty. It was her spirit, her personality, how she carried herself that appealed to him, and Markos was looking forward to getting to know her better outside the bedroom. Though, I wouldn’t mind if she wanted to pick up where we left off in Tampa.
“Do what’s best for your client, regardless of how you feel about their case, and listen to them. Support them. Let them know you’re their biggest supporter.”
“I’m an attorney. Not a therapist.”
“Markos, you’re wrong,” she argued, shaking her head. “A good attorney is a therapist. He’s also a friend, a confidant and a teacher...”
Consumed with guilt, Markos stared down at his black leather dress shoes. Listening to her, he realized he was wrong for yelling at her earlier. It wasn’t Tatiyana’s fault he was having a bad week, and he shouldn’t take his frustrations out on her. She’d done nothing wrong, and deep down he’d always known Mrs. Zapata wouldn’t go through with the divorce.
“If you can’t support your clients wholeheartedly, and put their needs first, you shouldn’t be practicing law,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “Maybe it’s time for a career change.”
His tongue fell limp in his open mouth. Her words hurt, were more painful than a dagger to the heart. Damn. He hated to admit it, wished it wasn’t true, but Tatiyana was right. All he cared about was winning. Crushing the competition. Keeping his winning streak intact. That was all that mattered. It was what he lived for, why he woke up every morning and worked fourteen-hour days. It was the driving force behind every decision he made, but for the first time in his life, Markos questioned his methods. “I’m a Morretti,” he said with shrug and a sheepish smile. “Winning is all that matters.”
“Not in my book. Helping others and making a positive impact in their lives means more to me than anything else.”
Her speech convicted him, challenged him, made him want to do better, be better. For some strange reason, he wanted to impress her, to prove to Tatiyana that he wasn’t a cutthroat attorney driven by the almighty dollar. In Tampa, they’d had great conversations about life, spent hours talking and laughing in bed, and he didn’t want his negative attitude to turn her off. Markos tried to smooth things over with her, but she interrupted him.
“Do you want me to leave?”
Hell no! You just got here! Straightening to his full height, he stepped forward, closing the gap between them. The air was thick, the mood more hostile than a child custody hearing, but Markos wasn’t letting Tatiyana walk out the door. “No. Of course not.”
“Are you sure? It’s your office, your clients, and I don’t want to piss you off again.”
“I’m positive. You’re staying, and that’s final. I’m the boss, remember?”
Tatiyana nodded, but he sensed her inner turmoil, and feared she wouldn’t return tomorrow.
“How did you become so wise?” he asked, considering her earlier comments.
“Like they say, experience is the best teacher.”
“Did you learn a lot about life from your relationship with your ex?” he asked. “Is that why you’re so insightful?”
Pain flickered in her eyes, and Markos knew his question had hit a nerve. Gesturing to the couch, he offered Tatiyana a seat, but she declined. His thoughts ran wild, but instead of grilling her, he waited patiently for her response.
“My ex-boyfriend’s mother was the former district attorney of Santa Clara County, and I was her assistant for years,” she explained, with a sad smile. “That’s how I met Seth. He came into the office one day, invited me out for lunch and the rest is history.”
“Was it love at first sight?”
Tatiyana scoffed. “He said it was, but his actions suggested otherwise.”
Engrossed in her story, Markos moved closer, eager to learn more about her.
“I was good enough to date for three years, but I wasn’t good enough to marry. Doesn’t sound like love to me.”
To comfort her, he gave her arm a light squeeze. “Don’t sweat it. It’s his loss.”
“Then why do I feel like such a loser?”
Hot, sweat clinging to his skin, Markos plucked at his dress shirt. Tatiyana was the one who’d opened up about her past, so why did he feel exposed? As if she could see into his soul?
“Can I take my lunch break now, or should I wait for Izzy to get back from her break?”
“No, please, go ahead.”
“Thank you, Markos.”
He wanted to hug her, to take her into his arms, but stayed put. Didn’t want to upset her. She was smiling, speaking in her usual bright, bubbly voice, but he sensed her sadness, her hurt, and wanted to comfort her. “I brought Thai food. It’s in the staff room,” he explained, hoping to make up for snapping at her earlier. “Let’s eat together.”
“I better not. The last time we had lunch, we ended up having sex on the table, and I don’t want to get fired on my first day. Daphne will kill me.”
Markos stood, frozen like a slab of ice, as images of that fateful day overwhelmed his
mind. His head spun like the overhead ceiling fan, and it felt like his lips were glued together. He had vivid memories of their lovemaking. Could recall every sound, every scent, every delicious moan that fell from her mouth. Spreading her legs wide, he’d entered her, thrusting with all his might, pleasing her body with his tongue, and hands—
“If you need me, I’ll be eating outside in the courtyard.”
Watching every switch of her hips as she sashayed out the door made his mouth dry and his palms wet. Markos wanted to go after her but knew it was a bad idea. She’d think he was desperate, and that would ruin everything. He was a Morretti, and if his brothers and cousins found out he was nipping at Tatiyana’s heels, they’d give him a beat down.
Noting the time on the antique clock above the door, Markos sat in his leather chair and scooped up his gold fountain pen. All wasn’t lost. This wasn’t over. The thought heartened him, giving him an adrenaline rush, and Markos knew it was just a matter of time before he had the upper hand.
* * *
At six o’clock that evening, Markos parked on the cobblestone driveway of Dante’s Bel Air mansion and hopped out of his midnight-blue Ferrari FF. Grand, with stone archways and gigantic windows, the Italian-style estate had more amenities than a five-star hotel. It was set on ten acres of manicured grounds, with a sprawling lawn, towering palm trees and a man-made lake filled with colorful, exotic fish.
Entering the vestibule through the unlocked front door, Markos cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Honey, I’m home!” Hearing the distant sound of voices, music and laughter, he strode through the main floor, expecting to find Dante in the living room watching soccer, Matteo playing video games on his beloved iPad and Jordana reading a movie script in her favorite chair. To his surprise, he found the trio in the kitchen, goofing off. Kids’ music was playing on the sound system, that annoying song about Old MacDonald, and Jordana and Matteo were dancing around the table, imitating farm animals.
“Uncle Markos!” Matteo shouted, launching himself across the room into Markos’s open arms. “Did you bring me something?”
“Of course I did. I always bring something cool for my main man.” Markos snapped his fingers, reached behind Matteo’s ear and produced a miniature chocolate egg. “Want one?”
Matteo plucked the candy from Markos’s outstretched hand, unwrapped it and tossed it into his mouth. “Do it again, Uncle, but this time make a race car appear! I want to be a Formula One driver like Uncle Emilio, so I need a superfast car.”
“A race car driver?” he repeated, faking a frown. “What’s up with that? I thought you wanted to be a big-shot attorney like your Uncle Markos.”
“I did, but the kids at school said race car drivers are way cooler than lawyers.”
Everyone laughed.
“Uncle Markos, stay right there. I want to show you something. Be right back!”
Wiggling out of his arms, Matteo sprinted through the kitchen and down the hallway. Taking off his sunglasses, Markos gave Dante a fist bump and kissed Jordana on each cheek. “Congratulations on the music video,” he said, giving her a one-arm hug. “The song’s a hit, and I can’t go anywhere in the city without hearing, ‘On Fleek.’ Way to go, sister-in-law.”
Her eyes lit up, shimmering with pride, and her lush, deep brown curls tumbled around her face when she laughed. “Thanks, Markos.”
“Everywhere I go I hear people are talking about the striking Bohemian goddess in the video. How does it feel being an overnight sensation?”
“Honestly, the past few weeks have been a blur, what with my parents’ visit, the album release party and countless auditions, but I couldn’t be happier.”
“Hey!” Dante hollered, pointing at his chest. “What about me? What am I? Chopped liver?”
Jordana winked. “No, baby, you’re the icing on the cake.”
“That’s right, wifey, you tell ’em! You’re a happily married woman, with a husband who loves and adores you,” he said, showering her face with kisses.
Markos rolled his eyes to the ceiling. He knew his brother had fallen hard for Jordana since their “fake” marriage, but all the touching, and kissing, was ridiculous. “Enough already!”
“You’re just jealous.” Wrapping his arm around his wife, he wore a broad grin. “You wish you had a woman like Jordana to come home to at the end of the day, but all you have is your prized car collection, your awards and a big ole empty house.”
And that’s just the way I like it. No problems, no stress, no fears of getting hurt again.
Markos opened his mouth to rebuke his brother’s claim, but he broke off speaking when Matteo resurfaced in the kitchen, chatting excitedly about the new Batman-themed bike Jordana had bought him yesterday. Climbing onto the bike, he gripped the handlebars.
“Cool bike, lil’ man. I bet it rides like a dream.”
“Uncle Markos, can you take me for a spin? Please?” he begged. “Dad promised to take me, but I’ve been waiting forever!”
Markos ruffled his short, brown curls. “Sure, lil’ man. I’d love to.”
Dante helped Matteo put on his helmet. “I’ll come, too. I could use some fresh air.”
Reaching into his back pocket, Markos took out his wallet and placed it on the marble counter. He’d left the office early, with the intention of exercising in his home gym, but he didn’t feel like being alone tonight. He could call Catherine, or one of the other women in his Contact list to keep him company, but knew he’d live to regret it. He wasn’t looking for a serious relationship, just someone fun and interesting to hang out with after dark.
An image of Tatiyana flashed into his mind.
Thinking about his new secretary with the quick wit, infectious laugh and bodacious body, made a grin curl his mouth. With Tatiyana, things were easy, effortless. She told great stories, asked smart questions and fascinated him. Like that afternoon. He was in his office, deep in conversation with the other senior partners when she’d slipped in, set a tray of coffee on the table and left. It was only her first day at the firm, but she’d made an indelible impression on him, and Markos was curious what tomorrow would bring. He was so anxious to see Tatiyana again he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink tonight.
“Markos, are you staying for dinner? There’s plenty, and we’d love to have you.”
“That depends. What are you making?” His brothers were always teasing Jordana about her cooking, cracked jokes about vegan food being tasteless, but the air smelled of garlic, and his mouth watered at the scent. “Is that curry I smell?”
“It sure is. I’m making curried, red lentil soup, butternut squash linguine and veggie meatballs.” Opening the oven, Jordana picked up the glass casserole dish and set it down on the stove. “And for dessert, I made cinnamon coffee cake and homemade ice cream.”
Licking his lips, he rubbed his empty stomach. “Count me in. I’m definitely staying.”
Minutes later, they were on their bikes, cruising along Bel Air Road. Inhaling the crisp air, Markos allowed the beauty of the great outdoors to soothe his mind. Landscapers trimmed shrubs and mowed lawns, tween girls played hopscotch on the sidewalk, and trophy wives, decked out in diamonds and sundresses, pushed baby strollers. A full-figured brunette, in a white tube top and Daisy Dukes waved at him, but Markos pretended not to notice her. She reminded him of his ex. They both had silky straight hair, dimples and olive skin. His last serious relationship had ended years ago, shortly after he’d been hired at LA Family Law, and although his scars had healed, he was nervous about getting serious with someone else. It was better to date around, to play the field. He could call the shots and didn’t have to worry about losing his heart to the wrong woman.
What about falling for the right woman? asked his inner voice. Someone strong and independent who challenges you? Someone you share an insatiable chemist
ry with?
Again, his thoughts turned to Tatiyana. He had to admit that he liked having her at the firm, had enjoyed seeing her flittering around the office throughout the day, answering phones, chatting with his clients, watering the plants and flowers. She’d bent over, giving him a perfect view of her taut backside, and watching her on the sly from the comfort of his desk had been the highlight of his day. He couldn’t look at Tatiyana without thinking about the weekend they’d spent together in Tampa, and wondered how long it would take to get her back in his bed. A week? Two? Markos gulped. A month? I hope not. I can’t wait that long. He blew out a deep breath. A man can only take so many cold showers.
“Dad, I’m going to the park!” Matteo took off down the block, pedaling so fast his short, brown curls whipped around his face.
“Bro, are you okay? You look pissed. What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing. I’m straight.” To get Dante off his back, he changed the subject. “You and Jordana seem blissfully in love. How are things going?”
“Great! Marrying her was the smartest decision I’ve ever made.”
“Are you guys thinking about having more kids?”
“I sure hope so, because Matteo needs a playmate. He’s hogging my beautiful new bride, and I’m starting to get a little jealous. He gets more cuddle time than I do.”
The brothers laughed.
“Enough about me and my incredible wife. What’s going on with you and Tatiyana?” Dante asked, giving Markos a sideways glance. “Did you get rid of her?”
“No. I hired her.”
Dante chuckled. “Right, and I actually like vegan food.”
“I’m serious. Tatiyana started at the firm this morning—”
“I’m going to play with my friends.” Matteo stopped at the end of the street, jumped off his bike and raced across the field to the park. Giggling, he tossed his helmet to the ground, and jumped headfirst into the sandbox.
Keeping an eye on Matteo, the brothers talked, as they circled the park on their bikes.
“Bro, I know Tatiyana lied to you about who she was when you first met her, but don’t hold it against her. She made a mistake. We all do.”
