by Pamela Yaye
“Immanuel, what are you doing here?”
“I came to see you. We need to talk.”
Dionne glanced around the cabin, then at the side window. “Where is everyone?”
“En route to Venice in Emilio’s private plane.”
“I thought this was his plane.”
“No, this is my plane,” he said with pride. It was his guilty pleasure, a gift to himself when Mastermind Operations was named business of the year in Italia Business magazine. “Once you fell asleep everyone left and boarded Emilio’s jet, Lucca2009, on runway three.”
“You tricked me again! Why?”
“Because I wanted us to be alone.”
“There is no us. You ruined us when you betrayed me.”
His tongue froze inside his mouth. Immanuel didn’t know where to start, but he spoke from the heart. Coming clean was therapeutic, the most freeing thing he’d ever done. He told her about his business relationship with Jules, what he’d written in his final report and who was responsible for her attack. Dionne didn’t show any emotion when he told her Adeline had hired a man from Detroit to rough her up. “Ask me anything,” he implored. “I want to make things right, and I want you to trust me again.”
“I appreciate everything you and Malcolm have done for me.”
“Adeline won’t be bothering you anymore, and if she does she’ll be arrested.”
“Thank you for telling me the truth, but it doesn’t change anything between us,” she said, her voice a solemn whisper. “I was married to someone who lied and kept secrets from me for years, and I won’t be a fool for love again.”
“I was a jerk. Is that what you want to hear?” His palms itched and were damp with sweat. If he could just touch her, kiss her, she’d see what was in his heart and forgive him. He got up, crouched in front of her seat and placed his hands on top of hers. “I was scared of losing you, so I held back. I’m sorry that I hurt you, and I’ll never do it again. Going forward, I’ll be honest and up-front about everything.”
“You should have been honest and up-front from the beginning.”
Silence fell across the cabin.
Dionne was staring off into space, acting as if he weren’t there, but Immanuel wasn’t discouraged. They had plenty of time to work out their problems, and he was confident they’d be a couple again by the time the plane landed in Venice. “Baby, talk to me. What’s on your mind?”
“I’m not your baby.”
“Yes, you are. You were made for me, and no one else will do.” Immanuel studied her, sensing that he was finally making progress, and moved closer to her. “Dionne, I can’t live without you. I won’t. You’re my everything, and I’m nothing without you.”
To his relief, her eyes brightened, and a small smile curled her lips.
“No one else compares to you.” He took her hands in his and held them to his chest.
“You’re a strong, self-made woman who carries herself with poise and grace—”
“That’s a lie. I’m not.”
Immanuel furrowed his eyebrows. “You’re not what? I don’t understand.”
“I’m not a self-made woman.” Hanging her head, she fiddled with the gold ring on her left hand. “I didn’t build my business through blood, sweat and tears. My publisher put that in my bio to sell more books, but it isn’t true. I used the alimony settlement from my first divorce to buy my office at Peachtree Plaza.”
He cupped her chin in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Why are you ashamed? You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“I feel like a fraud. I’m not a rags-to-riches success story, and I feel guilty for profiting off a lie. ”
“You’re not, so stop thinking that way. You used your alimony settlement to better yourself and help others, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He paused. “In my opinion you are a self-made woman at the top of her game. And you’re hot, too!”
Dionne burst out laughing, and his chest inflated with pride.
“Do you still need a tour guide in Italy?” he asked.
“Yes, Mr. Morretti, as a matter of fact I do. When are you available?”
Chuckling, he cupped her cheeks in his hands and showered her lips with kisses. They were sweeter and more addictive than red wine, and he couldn’t get enough. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive!”
Dionne tossed her head back and shrieked with laughter. “You’re so dramatic!”
“I’m not dramatic. I’m just a man desperately in love.”
Surprise splashed across her face.
“How do you say ‘I love you’ in Somali?”
“Waan ku ieclahav.”
“Wow, that’s a mouthful,” he said good-naturedly. “Waan ku ieclahav, Dionne. I love you with all my heart, and I always will, even when I’m old, gray and senile!”
Laughing through her tears, she asked, “How do you say ‘I love you’ in Italian?”
“Ti amo.”
“Ti amo, baby. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and all the man I need.”
They held each other tight, kissed with an intoxicating blend of tenderness, passion and hunger. Immanuel knew in his heart they’d be together forever. He had everything he’d ever wanted in life—a rewarding career, his family and most important the love of a good woman—and he’d never take his blessings for granted again.
Chapter 21
Palazzo Grassi, the seventeenth-century palace along the Grand Canal in Venice, Italy, was a striking piece of architecture. It was filled with glass chandeliers, contemporary art and paintings, gleaming marble, and wide, Gothic-style windows that offered breathtaking views of the canal. There was something romantic and mysterious about the palace, and the moment she’d entered it she’d fallen under its seductive spell.
Seated inside the ballroom, at the table to the left of the swan ice sculpture, Dionne sipped her red wine. The weekend had been one nonstop party, filled with one surprise after another, and she was having the time of her life with Immanuel and his loud, irreverent family.
Dionne swept her gaze around the room, admiring the striking gold-and-red decor. Soaring floral arrangements were packed with roses and wisteria, and the heady scent inundated the air. Candelabras bathed the room in a soft light, and satin-draped tables were covered with fine china, designer linens and menu cards adorned with Swarovski crystals.
A server in a black couture gown refilled her glass and quickly departed. There was no end to the glamour and grandeur of Sharleen and Emilio’s wedding, and as Dionne ate her strawberry soufflé, she reflected on the events of the day. The wedding had been held in the main hall of the palace. The forty-five-minute ceremony was so touching Dionne—and every other female guest—had wept tears of joy. The bride wowed in a tulle mermaid gown with quarter sleeves, and the groom looked dapper in his crisp white tuxedo. Watching the happy couple feeding each other cake at the head table warmed Dionne’s heart. Emilio had given Sharleen the wedding of her dreams, and she was thrilled her favorite couple were now husband and wife.
Laughter rang out, and Dionne glanced up from her plate. All across the room, guests decked out in jewels and couture fashion danced, mingled and sipped champagne. Peering around the chocolate fondue tower, she searched the room for Immanuel. Dionne couldn’t find him anywhere. Ten minutes earlier, his cousins, Demetri, Nicco and Rafael, had pulled him aside, and she hadn’t seen him since. Dionne didn’t mind, though. She was having fun visiting with his grandmother, and wondered if all the stories the little old lady had told her about Immanuel’s wild teenage years were true.
“Tell us the story again. I just love hearing it, especially the part when Immanuel took you in his arms, whisked you away to safety and saved the day...”
Dionne turned to Angela. The TV reporter wasn’t the only o
ne with stars in her eyes. Sisters-in-law Jariah and Paris Morretti were sitting on the edge of their seats, too. Since arriving in Venice three days earlier, she’d told the story numerous times, and every time she did Immanuel’s grandmother broke down and cried. Being around Gianna made Dionne miss her own grandparents. Who knows? she thought, eating the last bite of her dessert. Maybe Immanuel will come with me to visit them next year.
Dionne caught herself. She had to introduce Immanuel to her parents before she took him halfway around the world to Somalia. In many ways, he reminded her of her father, and she was confident her two favorite men would hit it off. “I was walking to my car, talking to my cousin on my cell, when I felt someone grab me from behind...”
Eyes wide, her expression filled with terror, Gianna clutched Dionne’s hand in a fierce grip.
Dionne finished the story and laughed when the women clapped and cheered.
“Immanuel’s such a great guy,” Jariah gushed.
“I agree,” Dionne said, her heart overcome with love. “Thank God he uncovered the truth, or my ex-sister-in-law would probably still be terrorizing me.”
“I think you’re great for my grandson, and it’s wonderful that you and I are a lot alike.”
“We are, Gianna? Really? In what ways?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” She winked and fluffed her curls. “We’re both smart and sexy!”
Laughing, the women clinked glasses.
Spotting Immanuel at the bar, she put down her fork and dabbed at her lips with her napkin. She wanted to explore the palace, and hoped her handsome boyfriend would take her for a tour of the grounds. Excusing herself from the table, she walked confidently across the room. Dionne felt like a goddess in her beaded floor-length gown and sultry, exotic makeup. Her hair was in a braided bun, adorned with crystals, and Immanuel had been praising her look all night.
“I don’t think we’ve met.”
An attractive man with striking eyes and chiseled features appeared at her side. “I’m Dante, the young, wickedly handsome brother of the groom,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying the hint of a West Coast accent. “And you are?”
These Morretti men sure have a way with words, she thought, giving him the once-over. And they’re all hot, hot, hot! She took the hand he offered and smiled when he kissed her on each cheek. “I’m Dionne. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dante.”
“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” Wearing a pensive expression on his face, he stroked his square, chiseled jaw. “Dante and Dionne has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? We could be the hot new ‘it’ couple!”
“You’re going to have a ring around your eye if you don’t get away from my girl.”
Giggling, Dionne watched as the brothers embraced. All weekend, Immanuel had been introducing her to his relatives, and her head throbbed just thinking about all the people she’d met. Dante was a gregarious, life-of-the-party type, and Dionne liked him immediately.
“Holy crap! You’re Dionne?”
Taken aback by his reaction, she said, “Yes, I am. Is that a problem?”
“No, it’s fine. You’re fine. In fact, too beautiful for him.” Dante gave Immanuel a shot in the ribs with his elbow. “You know she’s way out of your league, right?”
“Hater!” Immanuel winked at Dionne, then offered his arm. “May I have this dance?”
Nodding, she clasped his forearm and followed him to the dance floor. It was crowded with hundreds of guests, but they found a spot and wrapped their arms around each other. The song playing was in Italian. Dionne didn’t know what it was about, but she loved the way it made her feel. Excited, aroused, in the mood for passionate, sensuous lovemaking.
“I’m going to ravish you from head to toe when we get back to my hotel suite.”
Dionne fluttered her eyelashes and wore an innocent smile. “Why wait?”
“You’re such a naughty girl,” he said with a grin. “Whatever shall I do with you?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something. You always do.”
“What’s next?”
Glancing at the head table, Dionne remembered the conversation she’d had with Sharleen earlier in the powder room, and said, “The garter toss, the bouquet toss and...”
“No, not tonight. What’s next for us?”
“Isn’t this conversation a little premature? We’ve only been dating a few weeks.”
“No, not to me. I’m turning forty in June, and all I want for my birthday is you,” Immanuel said. “How does a summer wedding in Venice sound?”
Dionne took a moment to sort her thoughts and consider her words. They were having a great time together, and she didn’t want to do anything to hurt his feelings, but they were moving too fast. “I’ve had two failed marriages, and if I get married again I want it to be forever.”
“Not if you get married again, when.” His gaze met hers, held her in its strong, seductive grip. “You know what they say. Third time’s the charm.”
“I have a history of plunging headfirst into relationships, and I think that’s why I’ve never had success with the opposite sex. This time around, I want to take things slow.”
“How slow are we talking? As my grandmother so kindly pointed out this morning at breakfast, I’m not getting any younger,” he joked, stroking her shoulders. “If I proposed to you on Valentine’s Day, what would you say?”
“That’s less than two months away.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
Dionne was conflicted, unsure of what to say, and struggled to put her feelings into words. “Baby, I love you, but I’m scared of being a three-time loser in the game of love. What if we get married and things don’t work out? What if we fall out of love, and—”
“That’s impossible. We’re destined to be together, and I’ll never, ever leave you.”
“I want us to date for a year before we get engaged.”
“A year? That’s a long time.”
Dionne laughed and shook her head at him. “Paris told me Morretti men waste no time putting a ring on it, and she was right!”
They laughed together, then shared a soft, sweet kiss on the lips.
“I’m glad you turned down that TV deal,” he confessed, openly sharing his feelings. “Now I don’t have to compete with celebrities for your time.”
Dionne nodded her head in understanding. Yesterday, while reclining by the hotel pool, the TV producer had called and offered her a job on his reality show, and she’d surprised herself and Immanuel by turning him down. Dionne wanted to grow her business, but she didn’t want to work twelve-hour days or travel four days a week; she wanted to spend her free time with Immanuel and no one else. “To be honest, it was an easy decision to make.”
“If you want to take things slow, then that’s what we’ll do.” Immanuel held her close to his chest. “Baby, you’re my everything, and I’ll do anything to make you happy.”
Love shone in his eyes, warmed his face with happiness. Peace filled her, silencing her fears and doubts. Dionne knew then, as Immanuel kissed her, she’d finally found her soul mate, a strong, sensitive hero who’d love and protect her until the end of time.
* * * * *
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ISBN-13: 9781460387443
Seduced by the Hero
Copyright © 2015 by Pamela Sadadi
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