by Pamela Yaye
Realizing she was ogling him, Dionne snapped to attention and glanced down at her notebook. Taking a moment to review her notes reminded her what was at stake. Dionne didn’t have time to make eyes at Immanuel. She had forty-five minutes to deliver her message. She couldn’t afford to squander a second of her time.
To capture the attention of everyone in the room, she raised her voice and spoke directly into the microphone. “As a woman of color, born to an immigrant couple from Somalia, I’ve experienced racism, sexism and discrimination, but I made a conscious decision to grab hold of my dreams. Through hard work and determination, I built a life that I’m proud of.” Dionne waited until she had everyone’s attention before she continued speaking. “I’m living the American dream, and it has nothing to do with where I live, how big my house is, or how much money I have in the bank...”
Dionne felt on top of the world, in complete control. She spoke openly, didn’t hold back, and her transparency paid off. Everyone was staring at her, and the room was so quiet she could hear her pulse pounding in her ears.
“As employers and entrepreneurs, it’s up to us to make things better for the next generation following in our footsteps. We—” Dionne emphasized the word as her gaze swept over the crowd “—we have to fight for fair treatment for all. I’m calling on each and every one of you to join the good fight, because equality doesn’t just benefit women and visible minorities. It benefits everyone...”
Participants straightened in their seats, furiously taking notes, emphatically nodding their heads. Dionne spotted Immanuel snapping pictures of her with his iPhone and frowned. His baby blues were bright, filled with excitement, and he looked proud.
“Live your passion,” she advised. “Do what brings you joy, whether that’s teaching, photography or microbiology. Do it to the best of your ability.”
Dionne didn’t want to stop, wished she could spend the rest of the day imparting the words of wisdom her parents had shared with her over the years, but when she glimpsed her watch, she knew she had to wrap up her speech. “I hope your dreams are fully realized, and that you leave your mark on the world. Thank you for your time. It’s been a pleasure speaking to you.”
The crowd broke into applause, whistled and cheered with more zeal than baseball fans. Participants jumped to their feet, clapped so long and so loud, her heart swelled with happiness. Feeling like a rock star, Dionne took a seat on one of the padded chairs behind the lectern and expelled a deep breath. She spotted Immanuel watching her and returned his smile. Then she remembered his cozy lunch date with Dr. Pelayo yesterday and looked away.
The rest of the afternoon flew by. Each speaker was witty and entertaining, and by the time the conference wrapped up at three o’clock, Dionne was bursting with new ideas to build her brand and improve staff relations at Pathways Center.
Dionne stepped off the stage and shook hands with conference organizers. She was tired and her feet ached, but she signed copies of her latest life-coaching book, 90 Days to a Better You, handed out business cards and posed for dozens of pictures.
Eager to speak to Immanuel, Dionne searched the room for him. She found him standing beside one of the food tables, and as usual he wasn’t alone. Women were approaching him left, right and center, but when their eyes met he shouldered his way through the crowd and headed straight toward her.
Her heart jumped in her throat. To mask her inner turmoil, Dionne wore a blank expression on her face and arched her shoulders. His cologne fell over her, making it hard to think, but she forced her lips to move and greeted him warmly. “Hi. How are you?”
Immanuel wrapped his arms around her. “Baby, I’m so proud of you!”
Baby? The word reverberated around her mind, and when he kissed her cheeks and lovingly stroked her shoulders, Dionne thought her heart would burst with love. Love? The word scared her, conjured up painful memories, but she couldn’t deny her feelings for Immanuel. He was every woman’s dream, and she loved spending time with him. But that didn’t mean she was willing to be his side chick. Pulling out of his arms, she swallowed hard and adjusted her cropped blazer and checkered dress.
“Dionne, your speech was outstanding! You killed it up there!”
“I did?” she asked, stunned by his praise. “You really think so?”
“Isn’t it obvious? You got a standing ovation, and your fans mobbed you when you left the stage.” He wore a broad smile. “I didn’t think I’d ever get my turn with you.”
“Immanuel, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Atlanta.”
“You invited me, remember?”
Dionne frowned. “I did?”
“Yeah, when we were watching the game.”
“I was joking. I didn’t think you’d actually come.”
“Do you want me to leave?” he asked in a solemn tone.
“Does your girlfriend know you’re here with me?”
Wrinkles creased his forehead, and a scowl crimped his lips. “What girlfriend?”
“I saw you at Mario’s with Dr. Pelayo yesterday, and it was obvious you guys were having a good time.” Dionne searched his face for signs of deception, noting every move he made, but he seemed genuinely confused. Still, she asked the question weighing on her mind. “How long have you been a couple?”
“We’re not.”
“But she likes you.”
Immanuel took Dionne’s arm and led her to a quiet corner, away from the crowd. “Elena and I are not dating. I met with her yesterday to discuss a business matter, not to make a love connection. And besides, I’m interested in someone else.”
Dionne arched an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look. She didn’t know what to think. Was he feeding her a line or telling the truth? How could she know for sure?
“How did things go at the law firm yesterday?”
“We signed the divorce decree,” she answered with a sad smile.
Immanuel rested a hand on her shoulders. “How do you feel?”
“Relieved, tired and anxious to get on with my life.”
“If you don’t have plans tonight I’d love to take you out for dinner.”
“Can I take a rain check? I’m beat, and I want to turn in early tonight.”
“Let’s meet in the lobby at seven o’clock. That will give you plenty of time to rest.”
“Are you sure you’re not dating Dr. Pelayo?” she asked, unable to shake her doubts. In her experience, men like Immanuel didn’t have one girlfriend, they had several, and Dionne didn’t want to be his flavor of the week. “You guys have great chemistry and it’s obvious she likes you—”
“Dammit, Dionne, I’m not attracted to her. I’m attracted to you.”
Immanuel lowered his head and crushed his lips to her mouth. The kiss stole her breath and every lucid thought in her mind. She was stunned by his brazen behavior, but she didn’t pull away. His kiss was exhilarating, and Dionne was hungry for more. She wanted him, craved him, and wasn’t letting go of him until she had her fill. Is this actually happening? Are we kissing or am I daydreaming?
The kiss was definitely worth the wait. His lips were warm and tasted sweeter than chocolate. Dionne was under Immanuel’s spell, caught in a sensuous, erotic trance she couldn’t break free from. It was heaven. A perfect, incredible first kiss, and she didn’t want it to ever end. Blocking out the noises around them, she linked her arms around his neck and caressed the back of his head with her hands.
“That was one hell of a kiss.”
Dionne opened her eyes and met his piercing blue gaze. The ballroom was quiet, filled with only a handful of people, but to her surprise everyone was staring at them.
“Are we on for dinner tonight?”
“After that kiss?” she asked, making her eyes big and wide. “Absolutely!”
Releasing a hearty chuckle,
he pulled her even closer to his chest. Immanuel nibbled on her bottom lip, then kissed her hard on the mouth with urgency. His behavior was reckless, nothing short of criminal, and she loved every minute of it. His passionate kiss, his caress, the naughty X-rated words he whispered in her ear. Immanuel was dreamy in every sense of the word, and feeling his hands on her body made her wish they were alone in her suite instead of in the grand ballroom. “You’re gorgeous,” he praised, nuzzling his chin against her neck. “And you smell delicious.”
“I know, and I taste good, too.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
He gave her another slow, sensuous kiss and she groaned into his mouth.
“I’ll walk you back to your room,” he said smoothly, caressing her hips.
Immanuel escorted Dionne out of the ballroom and through the hotel lobby.
I can’t wait for dinner, she thought as they boarded the crowded elevator, hand in hand. He drew his hands down her arms, stroked her hips, and Dionne felt the urge to jump into his arms and kiss him all over. Seven o’clock can’t come soon enough!
Chapter 16
Immanuel knocked on suite 1014 and waited patiently for Dionne to answer the door. Seconds passed with no sight of her. Where was she? Had she changed her mind about having dinner with him? Was she out with another man? One of the businessmen she’d met at the conference that afternoon? Immanuel rejected the thought. Dionne wouldn’t stand him up. Not after that scorching, red-hot, goodbye-for-now kiss they’d shared outside her suite earlier. It was even better than their first, more passionate and intense. He’d never experienced anything like it before and was hungry for more. If not for a housekeeper interrupting them, they’d still be in the hallway making out.
Immanuel’s cell phone rang, and he fished it out of his jacket pocket. His shoulders tensed, and his blood ran cold. He had nothing to say to Jules and wished the CFO would lose his phone number. Doesn’t he have a company to run? Tired of Jules’s incessant phone calls, he let the call go to voice mail.
Immanuel remembered their last conversation vividly. Last week, he’d had his report delivered to Jules via UPS, and the CFO had called him screaming bloody murder. Instead of taking responsibility for the mistakes he’d made in his marriage, he’d blamed Immanuel for “losing” his divorce, and threatened to ruin his security business. Jules was a sore loser, a bully who threw a fit whenever he didn’t get his way, and Immanuel had no respect for him.
Immanuel wasn’t fazed, didn’t give a damn what Jules thought. He’d written a thorough report, and he was proud of the work he’d done. There was no proof of Dionne’s infidelity, no evidence that she’d ever cheated, and he wasn’t going to frame her to win favor with Jules. His grandmother had raised him to be honest and trustworthy, and he wasn’t changing for anyone—not even one of the wealthiest men in the state. Now that his business relationship with Jules was over, he could pursue Dionne with a clear conscience. She was a beautiful soul with a big heart, and he’d do anything for her. To keep her safe, he’d commissioned his best employee to follow her 24/7, and although nothing else had happened since the graffiti incident, he’d implored his staff to stay on high alert.
His thoughts returned to their last time together. As Immanuel was running to Dionne’s house, he’d spotted a black Cadillac idling at the end of the street and paused to read the license plate number. He’d asked Malcolm to help him track down the car and driver, and was confident the trail would lead straight to Jules Fontaine.
Immanuel didn’t care what it took; he was going to keep Dionne safe. He worked long hours and looked forward to spending his downtime with her. They had a lot in common, and they never ran out of things to discuss. Immanuel wanted a life partner, someone he connected with on every level, and Dionne appealed to him in every way. She was the kind of woman he could bring home to his family, someone he’d be proud to have on his arm. Immanuel was scared of being hurt again, but he was ready to take a chance on love once more.
Immanuel knocked on the door again, longer and louder this time. A terrifying thought stabbed his heart with fear. Was Dionne in trouble? Was that why she wasn’t answering the door? Because she was in danger? Taking a deep breath, he told himself to remain calm. He was overreacting. He’d only been waiting a couple of minutes. There was no need to panic.
He sent Dionne a text message, then knocked again. Hearing a noise behind him, he glanced over his shoulder and watched a group of housekeepers exit the elevator. Immanuel recognized one of the women from that afternoon and greeted her in Italian. He told her he’d locked himself out of his room, and asked if she’d be kind enough to open the door for him.
A frown darkened her face. “I’m sorry, sir, but that’s against hotel policy.”
To persuade her, Immanuel opened his wallet, took out a hundred-dollar bill, and put the money in her hands. “Please?” he asked, glancing at his watch. “I’m going to an important business dinner, and I don’t want to be late.”
Seconds later, Immanuel entered suite 1014 and flicked on the lights. “Dionne?” Sliding his cell phone into his pocket, he noticed everything was in its rightful place. Colorful cushions decorated ivory chairs, potted plants filled the air with a refreshing scent, pendant lights gave the suite a touch of class, and oversize windows revealed picture-perfect views of Seattle.
“Hello? Dionne? Are you here?” he called, walking into the master bedroom. Relief flooded his body, and released a deep sigh that fell from his lips. Dionne was sleeping. His eyes widened, as did his mouth. Her purple satin robe kissed her thighs, and her hair fell in curls around her shoulders. He stood in the doorway staring at her, thankful that she was safe and sound.
His gaze slipped down her curves, and his heart galloped. Immanuel recognized he was losing it and took a moment to regroup. Taking a deep breath didn’t help. His heart continued to race, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her juicy, sensuous mouth. God help him. Coming inside her suite was a bad idea, but his legs wouldn’t move.
It amazed Immanuel how small she looked on the king-size bed. He was used to seeing her all dolled up, but preferred her simple, natural style. She didn’t have any makeup on, and she smelled like tropical fruit, not a cosmetics counter.
His temperature soared. His inner voice told him to turn around and head for the door, but the urge to caress and stroke her smooth brown skin was overwhelming. Moved by the needs of his flesh, he took off his jacket, chucked it on the end of the bed, and kicked off his shoes. Immanuel knew he was tripping big-time, but his desires were all-consuming.
Stretching out on the bed beside her, he slid an arm around her waist. Their bodies were a perfect fit. Dionne didn’t stir, but Immanuel was in heaven. He was holding Dionne, and it was a great feeling.
“This is a pleasant surprise.” Dionne rolled onto her side and faced him. Opening her eyes, she fluttered her long, thick lashes. “I heard your voice, but I thought I was dreaming.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I got worried when you didn’t answer the door, so I asked one of the housekeepers to let me inside your room. I hope that was okay.”
“Sorry about that. I called my mom, and after we got off the phone I dozed off.”
“How is your mother doing?”
Sadness flickered across her face and seeped into her voice. “Miserable. I told her about the divorce, and she scolded me for being a disobedient daughter. Aside from that she’s great,” Dionne said, with false enthusiasm. “Thanksgiving is her favorite holiday, so she’s busy getting ready for next week.”
“Why are your parents so upset about the divorce? Couples split up every day,” he pointed out. “Hell, my father’s been divorced so many times I’ve lost count!”
“Divorce is shameful in the Somali culture, and the fact that I’ve been divorced twice is a huge embarrassment for my family. My failu
res cast a negative light on my parents, and I feel guilty for not living up to their expectations.”
“Join the club. I was supposed to follow in my father’s footsteps and become a championship race car driver, but I couldn’t cut it.”
“Was your dad disappointed in you?”
“That’s the understatement of the year. He cut ties with me when I joined the Italian military, and said I tarnished the Morretti name and image by becoming a soldier.”
“But the military is such an honorable and worthy profession.”
“Tell that to my old man.”
“What’s your relationship like with your father today?”
“Strained. We rarely talk, but I make a point of seeing him whenever I’m in Italy. Even if I just stop by his villa to see my siblings for a short period of time. My stepsisters and stepbrothers are teenagers, and it’s important to me to be a part of their lives.”
Immanuel heard his cell ring, knew it was Malcolm calling from the distinctive ringtone, but he didn’t move. His friends wanted him to meet up with them in Las Vegas to watch a boxing match at the MGM Grand tomorrow night, but he wasn’t leaving Dionne.
“Your cell phone’s ringing,” she said, peering over his shoulder. “It’s on the end table.”
“What cell phone? I don’t hear anything.”
He reached out and touched her hair, curling a lock around his index finger.
“Do you still miss your fiancée?”
The question caught him off guard, but he answered truthfully, telling Dionne everything that was in his heart. “No, not anymore. I met a smart, captivating beauty with one hell of a right hook, and she’s the total package,” he said, his eyes glued to her face. “Seeing her is the best part of my day, and I hate when we’re apart.”
Her eyes smiled. “She sounds like an amazing woman. You should keep her.”
“I plan to.”
“This is nice. Lying in bed talking with you. We should do this more often.”
