by Kira Ward
“Why not? She’s our mother.”
Emma nodded slowly as she walked beside her sister, trying hard not to say any of the bitter things that jumped to the tip of her tongue.
“People change while they’re in jail, Sophie.”
“People change everywhere. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I just don’t want you to expect things to be like they were before.”
“That would kind of suck. Mom was a drug addict and an alcoholic. But she’s sobered up in jail.”
“How do you know that?”
Sophie didn’t answer. They walked two more blocks before Sophie finally said, “She’s been texting me.”
Emma moved around Sophie and stopped, forcing her to stop in the middle of the sidewalk.
“What do you mean, she’s been texting you?”
Sophie stared down at the ground. “She said she got a phone from her lawyer. She said they let her have it since she’s getting out soon.”
“Sophie…”
“She’s our mom. Why can’t I talk to her?”
“Because…she did something wrong and she went to jail.”
“But she never hurt me. She never did anything that put me in danger. She was a good mom.”
Those words made Emma sick to her stomach. She wanted to scream that Sophie had no idea what she was talking about, but she knew the moment she said anything to the contrary, it would make her mother more of an angel in Sophie’s eyes. So she said nothing. She simply turned around and began walking again.
***
Dante arrived an hour before the tenant meeting the next evening, dressed in another of his well-tailored suits. Watching him walk past her into the apartment reminded Emma of the night after she sabotaged his announcement, the night he arrived in a rage and left a little more satisfied than either of them had expected him to be.
He made the apartment feel smaller when he was standing in it. And the fact that the deadbolt no longer turned didn’t escape his notice. In fact, she saw him wrinkle his nose more than once as he moved around the place and noted little things that he likely had never noticed before. Such as the hole in the living room wall, the drip in the kitchen sink, or the broken pane of glass that had been plugged up with a piece of cardboard in the small window at the back of the living room.
“We were going to bring tables, but I guess that would have been a bad idea.”
Emma looked around the room. “It’s going to be snug, but I think it’ll be okay.”
“I hate that we’re putting you out. It wouldn’t have been that bad to have them come to the office.”
“It would have been for them.”
Dante inclined his head slightly.
“Where’s Rainy? I would have thought she’d be here with you.”
Dante turned away, still surveying the room. “She took a sick day.”
Emma found herself wondering if that had anything to do with the fact that she ran into Rainy at Drake’s hotel. She dismissed the idea as Sophie came in with Jill close on her heels, the two of them more than thrilled to have Dante in their midst again. They surrounded him and began peppering him with questions that he’d probably answered a million times already. But he was patient with them, hearing them out and responding respectfully. Once again, Emma watched him and wished that this Dante—this kind, gentle man—was the real Dante.
Caterers arrived with trays of food, enough food to feed an army. Emma watched it fill every counter space in her kitchen and then some, wondering who Dante had invited to this meeting.
Mrs. Remy was the first to arrive, with that soft smile that was always on her face. Emma directed her to the couch, bringing her a plate of tiny sandwiches and receiving a big, happy smile in response. Then the couple who lived across the hall arrived, followed closely by Mr. Martinez from upstairs. Emma greeted everyone as they came through the door, encouraging them to eat their fill.
“Ladies and Gentleman,” Dante eventually said, calling the meeting to order. “I’m Dante Caito, CEO and founder of DJC, Inc.”
Grumbles filled the room as a few people got up and started to walk out.
“Wait,” Emma said, moving up beside Dante. “You’ll want to hear him out.”
“He’s evicting us,” someone from the back of the room said.
“Only from this building,” Emma corrected. “This building isn’t up to code, hasn’t been for a long time. But Dante has something better for us.”
“It’s true,” Dante said, “my company did buy this building and it has been scheduled to be torn down.”
More grumbles.
“But,” Dante called over the noise, “I have another building where I’d like to offer each and every one of you an apartment at the same rent you pay here.”
“I don’t believe you,” that same dissenting voice called out. “Trying to tear us out of the area we know.”
“There is a building a few blocks from here that’s newly refurbished,” Dante said. “I was going to sell it, but I’ve decided to offer tenancy to all of you instead.”
“Why?” someone else asked.
Dante looked at Emma and Emma shrugged. “It’s the right thing to do.”
They began to mumble, but no one said anything else. Not to Dante, and not to Emma. But when Carl—another of Dante’s staff members—handed out the new leases, no one refused to accept one.
Chapter 7
“It’s all too good to be true,” Mrs. Remy said to Emma a few days later. “They showed me that apartment, and I nearly fell over. It’s three times the size of the one I have now. And they assured me that the lease is ironclad. They can’t evict me for six whole years. Can you believe it, Emma?”
“Not hardly,” Emma said with a soft smile.
She grabbed her mail and headed upstairs, thinking of all the studying she had to do tonight. It was finally beginning to turn cold. She’d dragged out their winter jackets, but she saw when she walked into the apartment that Sophie had left hers at home that morning.
Emma shed her coat and fell onto the couch, sorting through the mail as she did. Her phone rang, breaking the enjoyable silence of the apartment.
“It’s Drake Foster.”
Emma bit her lip, trying to keep herself from blurting out her acceptance of the job he’d offered. She was already spending the money in her daydreams, buying things she could only afford to fold up and slide into bags at the department store. But before she could say a word, he began to speak.
“So, it turns out I offered that job to you a little prematurely. There was another candidate that I didn’t think was an option, but it turns out she is. I’m really sorry if I got your hopes up, Emma.”
Cold fingers danced in Emma’s belly as she began to understand exactly what he was saying.
“You hired someone else?”
“I’m sorry. It really was a miscommunication.”
“No, that’s fine, Drake. I probably wasn’t qualified, anyway.”
“I wouldn’t say that. I am sorry.”
Emma hung up without responding. She sat back again, wondering what else could go wrong. Then the phone rang again.
“This is Doug Watson, your mother’s attorney.”
“I remember,” Emma said, sitting up slowly. “How can I help you, Mr. Watson?”
“Your mother has asked me to contact you regarding the minor child, Sophie Thomas?”
“Allred.”
“Yes, well, she’s listed as Thomas on her birth certificate and that is how the court sees it.”
Emma bit her lip—her lip should have been hamburger for all the times she’d bit it recently—as she tried not to argue with him. Instead, she asked politely, “What about Sophie?”
“Your mother would like to see her upon her release from prison.”
“No.”
“Ms. Allred, my client is the minor child’s biological parent.”
“And the court granted me custody of her.”
“
Only because there were no other blood relatives who could take her.”
Emma climbed off the couch, her stomach roiling as she continued to fight words that wanted to escape her lips. “Sophie is old enough to make certain decisions for herself now,” the lawyer said. “My client is confident that she will choose to see her.”
“It’s not up to Sophie.”
“It should be. And, if we have to go to court to establish a visitation schedule, they will see it that way as well. It would be best for you to not make things more difficult for yourself and just agree to this.”
Emma disconnected the call without responding.
***
Emma stormed into Dante’s office with three people following close behind, trying to stop her with nothing more than loud words.
“What’s going on?” Dante demanded, anger snapping from his eyes. But his focus was on his staffers, not Emma.
“She just barged in, Mr. Caito,” the woman closest to Emma said.
“Out.” Dante waved at his employees, moving around Emma to slam his office door behind them.
“I didn’t realize I needed to call and make an appointment.”
“You don’t,” Dante said as he came back around to take her arms and move her into a chair. “What’s going on?”
Emma stared at him for a long minute, realizing for the first time that she came there without thinking, that he was the one person she wanted on her side in this moment of crisis. She wondered what that meant, but then she heard that man’s voice in her ear again and her vision turned red.
“She wants to visit with Sophie.”
“Who does?”
“My mother.”
Emma leaned forward slightly, her stomach suddenly cramping. She handed him the envelope she’d been crushing between her fingers since she left the house and boarded two separate city buses to reach the place. Dante smoothed between his leg and his hand, sliding out the contents like it was a precious document instead of Emma’s worst nightmare.
“Do you know where she’d going when she’s released?”
Emma shook her head. “She told Sophie something about halfway house.”
“It shouldn’t be hard to find out which one. There’s only a few in this area.”
Emma jumped to her feet and began to pace. “She wants to be a part of Sophie’s life. The DA promised me this wouldn’t happen, that Sophie would be a grown woman before my mother saw the world outside of prison walls, but they’re letting her out early.”
“You have legal custody.”
“Yeah, but the lawyer said they would take me to court, force me to let her see my sister.”
“You spoke to a lawyer?”
Emma nodded as she dragged her fingers through her hair and then realized that her fingers were shaking worse than leaves in a tornado. She clasped them against her belly, biting her lip again as she tried to hold back the tears that threatened.
“I can’t afford to fight this. If she takes us to court—“
“I’ll get you the best lawyer in the country,” Dante said, coming up behind her and sliding his arms around her shoulders, her waist. “I won’t let this happen.”
Emma leaned into him for a minute, so desperate for a little support that it took her breath to find it. She’d known he would understand. Or maybe she’d just hoped he would throw money at her to repay all he owed her. It didn’t matter which inspired his motivation. She just knew this problem was bigger than she was, but not bigger than him.
“But are you sure you don’t want Sophie to see her mother? I mean, if she finds out that you came between them…”
Emma immediately pulled away. “You don’t get it. You don’t get what kind of woman she is.”
“Then tell me.”
Emma shook her head even as she snatched up the letter from the prison system and bolted for the door. But Dante was quicker than she. He stood between her and the door, blocking her exit. “Don’t do this,” she said, wrapping her arms over her chest as she turned from him and his inquisitive eyes. “It’s not important. All that’s important is keeping Sophie safe.”
“Then why come to me? Why didn’t you go to Drake or legal aid or someone else?”
“Because I need someone who can be ruthless, and I know that’s you.”
Silence fell over the room. Emma wanted to regret her words, but there was some truth to them, and that prevented her from taking them back.
“What did your mother do to you, Emma?” Dante asked in a soft, quiet voice.
Emma shook her head. “She never hurt Sophie, so Sophie doesn’t see what a danger she is to her. She doesn’t see what she’s capable of. She thinks she’s just a misunderstood alcoholic who made a few mistakes.”
“But you know better than that.”
“I won’t let her hurt Sophie.”
“You’re a good person.”
Dante walked up behind her and touched her again. He laid his hands on her shoulders, squeezing just enough to let her know he was there, but not enough to turn the touch into anything more than a show of support. But there was something about it that made Emma crumple inside.
She was so tired of being strong. She was tired of fighting for every scrape she had, tired of worrying about what tomorrow would bring, tired of wishing she had more, that she could do more. She was tired of carrying the burden of her fucked up childhood and the secrets that came with it.
She turned and moved into Dante’s arms, not really sure what it was she was after, but finding his lips against hers, his chest under her hand, his body reassuring as he enveloped her and pulled her tight against him.
Just like the first time, their hands seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once. She tugged at the bottom of his shirt, tugging it out of his pants so that she could touch the hard muscles that flexed over his chest. And he pushed her back, his hands looking for the bottom edge of her skirt even though it might as well have been miles away from where he was standing, from the way she stood. He pushed her back, pressing her against the front of his impressive—and massive—oak desk, forcing her into a partial sitting position so that when his hands finally did find the hem of her skirt, his lips were at her throat and his hand was frustrated by the barricade of her panties.
She needed this, needed him, in a way she’d never thought she would allow herself, let alone experience in any form. This man tried to ruin her life, yet, he was the only one capable of making her burdens seem bearable. He made her angry, made her want to hurt him when she knew what it was like to be hurt and spent her days trying her damndest not to hurt anyone else. But he also made her feel like nothing else mattered but being close to him, but touching him and allowing him to touch her.
“I want you,” he whispered roughly against her ear. “I want everything about you. I want your body, your lips, your hands on my skin, your hips writhing under mine. I want to hear you moan, want to know you want me, too.”
Emma moaned softy against his lips. “I want you.”
That made him catch his breath, inspired him to steal another kiss that was less desperate than before, but just as passionate. But instead of taking what she was offering right there and then, he pulled away, snatching her hand and leading her to a door she hadn’t noticed before.
They slipped out of the building through a private elevator that took them directly to the underground parking garage. From there, he helped her into his car and sped out onto the city streets, driving much faster than was probably legal.
He was taking her to his home. She wasn’t sure what she thought of that.
Chapter 8
Emma had seen a great deal of luxury over the last few weeks. The house in Maine that his mother teased him for being too luxurious. The private planes. Drake’s hotel room.
But Dante’s home wasn’t on that list.
It was a simple, middleclass house in the middle of a middleclass neighborhood. There was almost no furniture, but there were quite a few boxes scattered in
each of the small, downstairs rooms. The bedroom had a bed in the center with a lovely pillow top mattress and another of those down comforters, but that was about it.
It confused her that a man with so much money would choose to live in such a simple place.
“I thought you would live in some crazy mansion. What’s with the low profile?”
I have a mansion… a few of them. But this house reminds me of the place I grew up in. It reminds me of simpler times when I had much less responsibility.”
She started to question him further, but then his hands were on her again, his fingers shaking a little as he undid the buttons on the front of her plain white blouse. As the blouse fell open, his hands moved around to her back to undo the clasp of her bra, his mouth exploring the tops of her breasts. And then he was tugging a nipple into his mouth as her bra, her blouse, fell to the floor at her feet.
Emma pushed him backward, forcing him down onto the bed even as he looked up at her with a combination of confusion and excitement. She climbed on top of him and tugged at his tie, pulling it out of the way as she worked at the buttons on his shirt. She kissed her way down, undoing a button, kissing the exposed flesh, then moving to the next button. She tugged at his belt, causing him to moan when it came undone and allowed her to slip her fingers under the top edge of his slacks.
Just as she slid her hands inside his pants, as her fingers brushed the edges of his cock, she looked up at him.
“Are there any other wives I don’t know about?”
“No,” he said, his eyes hooded with need as he studied her. “No other wives. And Faustina—she was never my really wife. I only did it to help someone in need. The divorce papers are already signed.”
Emma brushed her fingers against him again. “What about girlfriends? Other lovers?”
“No one.”
“So you never slept with Faustina?”
“I saw her naked once…”
Emma started to climb off of him, but Dante grabbed her hips. “We were five,” he clarified.
“Five?”
“Our mothers were best friends. We visited her family a few times in Italy when I was a kid.”
