by Pamela Yaye
No, argued his inner voice. You’ll just obsess about her while you’re at Sampson’s Gym.
His gaze landed on the wall clock hanging above his office door, and his eyes narrowed. Every day at six o’clock, he called Dionne to check in with her. Their conversations were brief, only a few minutes, but he looked forward to hearing her voice at the end of the day. It had been a week since the attack, and every day she sounded stronger and more upbeat. He’d called her cell phone twice, but with no luck. The suspense was killing him, driving him insane. Dionne wasn’t his girlfriend and he had no claims on her, but he hated not being able to reach her. He felt in his gut that something was wrong and considered going to her home to check on her. After all, we’re neighbors, he reasoned. That’s what neighbors do. They look out for each other.
Immanuel picked up his desk phone, but he didn’t hit Redial. Something held him back, preventing him from dialing. It was his attraction to Dionne, the white-hot chemistry they shared. He was playing with fire, and feared if he wasn’t careful he’d end up doing something he regretted—like kissing her passionately the next time he saw her.
Dropping the phone in the cradle, he picked up the manila envelope beside the pendant lamp. The package had arrived that morning via UPS, but Immanuel still hadn’t decided whether or not he was going to Demetri’s game. He loved baseball and didn’t have any plans that particular night, but he didn’t want to go to the stadium alone. If his sister were in town she’d go to the game with him, but Francesca was in Italy visiting relatives and wouldn’t be back in Atlanta until after Emilio’s wedding. Immanuel thought of inviting Malcolm, but the last time they attended a sporting event together, his friend had ditched him for a voluptuous redhead and hadn’t resurfaced until the end of the game.
His thoughts wandered, returning to the woman who’d starred in his dreams last night. Does Dionne like baseball? Should I invite her to the game? Demetri’s luxury suite would be filled with friends, family and associates, and Immanuel wanted to have someone to enjoy the game with—someone witty and fun. He knew only one woman who fit the bill.
Staring out the window, Immanuel leaned back in his leather executive chair. His mind returned to last Friday, and images of Dionne filled his mind. On the drive from the Atlanta Medical Center to Brookhaven they’d talked with ease, as if they’d known each other for years, rather than a few hours. He appreciated Dionne’s candor, found her honesty refreshing. Immanuel didn’t have any female friends and liked hearing Dionne’s take on relationships, business and pop culture.
“Man, you’re a pitiful sight...”
Immanuel blinked, spotting his business partner, Malcolm Black, standing in the doorway, and straightened in his chair. He scooped up his pen and made notes on the document sitting on the middle of his desk, pretending to be hard at work. “I’m just taking a short break,” he said, feeling the need to defend himself. “It’s been crazy busy around here, but I’ve made a ton of progress on the online marketing campaign—”
“Busy my ass. You haven’t done jack shit all day, and you know it.”
Malcolm closed the door, marched into the office and plopped down on the edge of Immanuel’s L-shaped mahogany desk.
“Man, is everything okay? You’ve been acting strange.”
“I’m good. Couldn’t be better.”
“Liar! Either you’re in love or you’re having a nervous breakdown. Which one is it?”
Immanuel gave a hearty laugh. “None of the above.”
“Good. Just checking.” Malcolm turned serious, wore a pensive expression on his face. He spoke openly about staff concerns, his goals for the agency and security practices he wanted to implement for high-profile clients.
Immanuel lost his focus. He glanced discreetly at his watch, saw that it was six thirty, and decided to call it a day. No use staying at the office. His thoughts were on Dionne, and he wouldn’t be able to get anything done until he heard from her.
“Mr. Fontaine made a second payment today,” Malcolm said. “And it was five figures.”
Immanuel groaned. Damn. That’s the last thing he wanted to hear.
“I called his office to alert him of the error, but his secretary said you’d know what the additional payment was for. Fill me in.”
The case was confidential, deeply personal, and Immanuel didn’t feel comfortable discussing it with Malcolm. His partner sucked at paperwork and couldn’t write a memo to save his life, but he was the heart and soul of the agency. Efficiency improved once the former navy SEAL took over the HR department. Everyone on staff loved Malcolm’s gregarious personality. If he told his friend about his feelings for Dionne—that he was romantically interested in her—the whole office would know by the end of the week.
“Does the additional payment have something to do with Mrs. Fontaine’s brutal attack?”
Needing a moment to think, Immanuel nodded absently. Annoyed at himself for not standing his ground last Friday at Fontaine Enterprises, he plotted his next move. Jules had him backed into a corner and had effectively bought his silence by issuing a second payment. Even though Immanuel suspected Jules had something to do with Dionne’s attack, he couldn’t prove it, and if he pissed off the CFO it could cost him his career. I’m too old to start over again. Mastermind Operations Atlanta has to work. This is my last chance.
“Mr. Fontaine is worried about his estranged wife and wants additional security for her.”
“That’s odd. Most divorcés pay to kill their spouses, not keep them alive.” Malcolm exploded in laughter as if his joke were the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “I heard Mrs. Fontaine is a battle-ax, so I’m not surprised she has enemies.”
“Who told you that?”
“One of her female life coaches. I met Annabelle a few weeks ago at Sampson’s Gym, and she had nothing nice to say about her boss.”
Was Annabelle the disgruntled employee out to get Dionne?
“That’s not my perception of her at all. To be honest, she’s one of the most fascinating, interesting women I’ve ever met and I’ve worked with some of the biggest stars in the world.”
“It sounds like someone has a crush on Mr. Fontaine’s wife.”
“I’m just calling it as I see it,” Immanuel said with a shrug. “Sometimes being the boss sucks. I know firsthand how stressful it is to man a successful company. You don’t know who to trust, and your employees will stab you in the back without a second thought.”
“This isn’t Venice, Immanuel. What happened in Italy isn’t going to happen here.”
I sure hope not.
“I look forward to meeting Mrs. Fontaine. I heard she has a lot of celebrity clients. Befriending her could be great for Mastermind Operations.”
“I think you’re going to like her. She’s strong, fearless and successful in her own right.”
And did I mention she’s ridiculously beautiful, too?
“Then assign me to her case, because I could use a sugar mama.”
An idea suddenly came to Immanuel. It was the answer to all of his problems. He’d give Jules exactly what he wanted. He’d assign his best employee to Dionne’s case to follow her until her attacker was caught. He felt a dull ache in his chest, a familiar pain. Immanuel hadn’t done anything wrong; he was just doing his job, but his guilt was tremendous. Should I tell Dionne the truth? Will she understand, or lash out at me in anger?
“Let’s split the money in half, right down the middle.” Wearing an intense face, Malcolm hopped to his feet and pleaded his case with conviction. “I could use a new set of wheels.”
“Another one? But you just bought a classic Mustang last week.”
“A man can never have too many toys.” He added with a sly grin, “Or women.”
Immanuel turned off his computer. He had to get going. Anxious to see Dionne, he picked up his
car keys off the desk and stood. As he grabbed his suit jacket off the back of his chair, he caught sight of his reflection in the wall mirror. He hated the scar along his jaw, hated the man who’d put it there even more. Every time he thought about that fateful night, anger consumed him. Casting aside the bitter memory, he swallowed hard. “I’m heading out now. Do you mind locking up?”
Malcolm whistled, made a show of looking at his diamond wristwatch. “This is a first. You must have somewhere important to be because you never leave the office before sunset.”
His partner was fishing for information, but since telling him about his plans would inevitably come back to haunt him, Immanuel changed the subject. He loved Malcolm like a brother and couldn’t have asked for a better business partner, but he didn’t want anyone to know his feelings for Dionne, especially not the office gossip. “What are you getting into tonight?”
“You mean besides the Brunson twins?” Malcolm popped the collar on his navy blue dress shirt. “They practically begged me to come over tonight...”
Immanuel stood there listening to his business partner brag about his sexual conquest and felt a mixture of pity and disgust. Will I turn out to be just like Malcolm one day? Is this what I want? To be a forty-five-year-old bachelor with no wife, no kids and no future? Immanuel would never admit it to anyone, but he was jealous of his cousins. By all accounts, Demetri, Nicco and Rafael were living the American dream. Hell, so was Emilio. They had fantastic careers, success and most important, the love of good women. What do I have?
A big house and no one to share it with, that’s what, answered his inner voice.
As Immanuel exited his office with Malcolm in tow, he thought about the last conversation he’d had with his grandmother, Gianna. He heard her soft, soothing voice playing in his mind as he stalked down the dimly lit corridor.
I’m not getting any younger, mio figlio, and neither are you. I want to see you get married before I die. Is that too much to ask?
Moved by her heartfelt plea, he’d promised to do as she asked, to look for a suitable bride, but he was no closer to settling down than Malcolm was. The past three years had been plagued with highs and lows—more lows than he cared to admit—but Immanuel was through feeling sorry for himself. His fiancée was long gone, and she wasn’t coming back. It was time to move on, to find his soul mate and bring her home to his beloved grandmother. I wish I could meet someone like Dionne, he thought.
No, you don’t, argued his inner voice. You wish you could have her for yourself.
The reception area was deserted, and the air held the faint scent of coffee. His stomach groaned, releasing a torrent of rumbles, but food was the last thing on Immanuel’s mind. He was worried about Dionne, afraid that she’d met ill will, and—
A blinding light flashed in the reception area, drawing Immanuel’s gaze across the room. A white limousine with tinted windows stopped at the curb, and the driver jumped out. He marched briskly around the car, opened the passenger door and stepped aside.
Immanuel hung his head. Damn. What is Mr. Fontaine doing here? The CFO had arrived at Mastermind Operations in a limo weeks earlier. What does he want now? Hasn’t he done enough? Why won’t he back off, and let me do my job?
“Looks like you have a visitor.” Malcolm clapped a hand on Immanuel’s shoulder and gestured to the corridor with a flick of his head. “Go out the back. I’ll get rid of him.”
Shaking his head, he masked his frustration with a smile. Mastermind Operations was his life, his brainchild, and he wasn’t going to shirk his responsibilities because he disliked his newest client. But once he got rid of the cocky CFO, he was going to find Dionne. “Don’t worry. I got this. I can handle Jules Fontaine.”
Immanuel stuffed his keys into his pocket and buttoned up his suit jacket. He was quickly glancing around the reception area, ensuring everything was in order, when he heard Malcolm gasp. “Lord have mercy. Feet don’t fail me now.”
Immanuel looked up just in time to see Dionne emerge from the backseat of the limousine. She straightened to her full height, ran her hands along the side of her black couture gown, and glided—not walked—down the sidewalk. It was a dress intended to turn heads, and it did. Everyone on the street stopped and stared.
Time slowed, crawled to a stop. For the first time in Immanuel’s life he was speechless, couldn’t do anything but stare. He felt a mixture of apprehension and relief. He was glad that Dionne was okay, but the sight of her dressed to kill in a figure-hugging lace dress and knee-high leather boots took his breath away.
His eyes appraised her look, admiring every aspect of her appearance—the side ponytail, the dramatic makeup, the gold teardrop earrings that grazed her shoulders. Immanuel liked the cut of her dress, liked how it skimmed her curves and hips.
“Who is that?” Malcolm asked, licking his lips. “And where has she been all my life?”
“That’s Dionne Fontaine.”
His jaw dropped, and his eyes widened. Seconds passed before Malcolm spoke, and when he did, his voice was filled with awe. “How did Jules score a honey like that?”
Your guess is as good as mine. He doesn’t deserve her. Never has, never will.
“It’s an open secret that Jules cheats on her, but why? If that were my wife I’d burn my little black book, quit my job and work from home.”
That makes two of us. I’d probably never leave the house again.
“Damn, she’s coming this way.” Malcolm raked a hand through his hair and straightened his burgundy dress shirt. “How do I look? Are my clothes okay? Do you think she’ll like me?”
Immanuel chuckled, couldn’t help it. His partner was losing it. Unfortunately, he knew how Malcolm felt. Dionne had that effect on him, too, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to crush his lips against her mouth every single time she smiled at him.
Dionne entered the office, moved toward him with deliberate intent. She had a lovely face and sexy lips, and her walk was mesmerizing. She always looked like a star, as if she were at a red carpet event. Tonight was no exception. Everything about Dionne’s appearance excited him, made him want to kiss and stroke her.
Immanuel wiped his brow with the back of his hand. He was sweating, burning up in his tailored suit, and his throat was bone-dry. Her fruity perfume filled the air, tickled and teased his nostrils. The scent made him hanker for a cold glass of strawberry lemonade.
Her eyes were on him, watching him, appraising him, and Immanuel wondered what she was thinking. Dionne waved, blessed him with a smile, and his brain turned to mush. He couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, felt his pulse beating erratically.
Taking a deep breath helped Immanuel gather himself. He was a grown-ass man, a Morretti no less, and nothing could rattle him—not even a seductive woman with curves like a winding road—so he nodded politely at Dionne and slid his hands into his pocket.
Feeling confident and back in control, Immanuel stepped forward and offered his right hand in greeting. Dionne pretended it wasn’t there and touched his forearm. His heart lurched, froze inside the walls of his chest, and his flesh quivered with uncontrollable need. Dionne leaned in, pressed herself flat against him, and kissed him on each cheek.
Desire singed Immanuel’s skin, set his body ablaze. Her smile was dazzling, so bright it could light up the city center, and if they were alone he would’ve returned the gesture, kissed her hard, passionately, with fire and desire. He craved her, longed to have her in his arms and in his bed. His feelings for her were insatiable, out of control. But since Immanuel would never do anything to compromise his reputation, he tore his gaze away from her mouth and stepped back.
“Wow, Immanuel, you look amazing,” she gushed. “Very dashing and debonair.”
Malcolm cleared his throat and stepped forward. “I’m Malcolm Black, co-owner of Mastermind Operations,” he said with a
wide, toothy grin. “Welcome to the agency, Mrs. Fontaine. To what do we owe this pleasure?”
“I’m taking your partner out for dinner tonight.”
Malcolm cocked an eyebrow. “Is that right? Funny, he never mentioned it.”
“That’s because it’s a surprise.”
“Sounds intriguing,” Malcolm said, stroking his jaw. “Tell me more.”
But she didn’t. Dionne turned to Immanuel and gave him her undivided attention. Her gaze was on him, glued to his face, and she spoke in a reverent tone of voice. “This is my way of saying thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”
“You’ve expressed your gratitude several times—”
“I know, but I want to do something extra special for you.” Her eyes shimmered with excitement, and a smile warmed her moist red lips. “You have to eat, and I have to eat, so we might as well do it together. Shall we?”
“It doesn’t look like I have much of a choice.”
“That’s because you don’t.”
Immanuel wanted to protest, but when Dionne winked at him he forgot what he was going to say. She was trying to impress him, to prove she had deep pockets, but it wasn’t necessary. There was nothing sexier than confidence, and she was swimming in it. That’s what intrigued him about her.
“Let’s go. We have a fabulous night ahead of us, one you won’t soon forget.” The matter decided, she stepped forward and looped an arm through his. Dionne led him through the building, out the front door and to the waiting car.
The limousine driver bowed chivalrously at the waist, then opened the passenger door.
“Do you always drive around town in a limo?” Immanuel asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“I wish. My car’s still MIA, so I decided to rent something fancy for our date...”
Our date? Her words echoed in his mind. Is that what this is? A date? A grin claimed his mouth. Immanuel hadn’t been out in months. Not since his disastrous double date with Malcolm and the Brunson twins, and he liked the idea of spending some time alone with Dionne. “Do the police have any suspects in custody?”
