A Perfect Caress

by Nana Prah

  Dante rested his elbows on the table. “Lemon shrimp scampi over angel-hair pasta.”

  Lanelle crinkled her nose. “I hate shrimp. But the pasta sounds good. Make it a lasagna and you would’ve been right on point.”

  “You’re an enigma.”

  “So I’ve been told.” She might as well find out what she wanted to know about him and his business. “How was work today?”

  His congenial expression transformed into a frown as he picked up a roll and buttered it. “It didn’t go as well as I’d expected.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  His hesitation had her on the cusp of retracting the question. “Remember I told you I was doing the flooring for the new NICU wing at the hospital?”

  Lanelle nodded.

  “My crew and I performed a walk-through today.” He shook his head. “Whoever did the construction did some shoddy work.”

  “What?” she screeched, then relaxed her clasped hands from their grip on the table.

  “Yeah. The place looks good from a nonprofessional view, but you put anyone in there who knows even a little about building, and you’ll end up with questions.”

  Lanelle’s stomach plummeted. “Is the place safe?”

  The waiter settled the drinks in front of them before Dante answered, “It’s not going to collapse, but it’s not the kind of quality you’d expect in a public building.”

  “What exactly is wrong with it?”

  He angled his head. “Why are you so concerned?”

  Lanelle forced herself not to reach for her drink. Nothing screamed guilt like gulping down alcohol. “It doesn’t seem right that someone would build a wing for babies and have it fall on their heads. Plus, you seem to like talking about your work. If you want to change the subject, we can.” Please don’t. I need to know what’s wrong with my project and what to do about it.

  She picked up her drink and took a genteel sip of the slushy concoction through the straw. A little more sour than she liked it, but it could be the feeling of being in some kind of hot seat changed her taste buds. Espionage was not her forte.

  “The drywall they used isn’t as thick as it should’ve been. And the cabinetry was made of inferior core wood instead of solid wood. It’s not too big a deal, considering they’ve laminated it.”

  “Will you report the issues?”

  Dante downed his shot of tequila. “To whom? I’m there to do the flooring and countertops. I’m not a building inspector.”

  “Couldn’t you mention this to the hospital administrators?” The tightness in her stomach would prevent her from eating if the conversation didn’t change direction soon.

  “What good would it do? They knew who they hired when they accepted the bids.”

  Would an uninvolved person know what he was talking about? Why take the chance? “Bids?”

  “Yes. It’s like a proposal, or a request to do a job.” He relaxed into his seat as if settling in for a lecture. “They’re supposed to be sealed, and a team from the hospital chooses which company offered the best bid. It’s usually based on price. But for the hospital to choose cost and overlook the long-term quality of a product doesn’t seem practical.”

  “Maybe they were on a tight budget.”

  “I doubt it. I heard Eliana Astacio contributed a lot of money to the project. I doubt she’d want her name associated with garbage.”

  Lanelle’s ears twitched when he mentioned her name. Before she could think of anything to say, Dante scoffed, “But you never know with people like that.” He picked up another roll and broke it open.

  Her back went stiff. “What do you mean?”

  “You know those people. The wealthy—at least those who were born into money they didn’t earn—think they’re above...well, everything.”

  “Those people?” Should she even get into this discussion?

  “I’ve dealt with people who fund projects such as the NICU, and believe me, up front they may seem like philanthropists tossing their money about, only to retrieve it through tax benefits. But in actuality, they’re out for themselves.”

  Her deep breaths weren’t enough to calm her. She couldn’t back away from the conversation, so she slugged down half of her drink. Dredging up the most neutral voice she could muster, she said, “I take it you’ve met Eliana Astacio?”

  “Who’s ever actually met her? She keeps out of the media better than a chameleon.” He shook his head. “I know her type.”

  More interested than annoyed in how he viewed a woman he knew very little about, she leaned forward. “Type?”

  “Rich, spoiled, a debutante. She’d do anything to keep up appearances and sit in the good graces of her parents. Including break a person’s heart.”

  Lanelle tilted her head as she studied his now sullen face, and without warning her heart melted. “Sounds like someone broke your heart.”

  His voice came out gruff. “Life happens.”

  Recalling all she’d been through, she nodded. “You can say that again. Who was the woman?”

  He finished off his roll. “Aren’t you going to try the bread? It’s delicious.”

  Lanelle preferred to find out more about his past, but she could take a hint. Staying as far from evil carbohydrates as possible, she considered her options. As much as she hated it, she needed help with the project. Brad came to mind. He could do an inspection and let her know if the building was safe.

  “Other than the shoddy workmanship—” on my project site “—how was your day?”

  His eye contact never wavered when his voice got low and husky. “It didn’t go by as quickly as I would’ve liked. I’ve been anticipating seeing you.”

  Her only response came as a long sip of her drink to hide the silly grin she couldn’t prevent. She’d have to watch out for his charm.

  Then a moment of sorrow plowed into her gut as she recalled this would be the last time they’d go out. She’d gotten the information she needed from him. Besides, why would she even think about dating someone who hated her true persona without ever having met her? Trusting a man would lead to a heartbreak she never desired to experience again.

  Chapter 10

  Did a blush linger under her flawless skin? He wasn’t quite sure: Lanelle had seemed to be glowing from the first moment he’d met her.

  Why had she been so interested in the NICU project? Even worse, she’d gotten all huffy when he’d given his opinion on Eliana Astacio. Was Lanelle involved with Eliana’s brother, Miguel? He pushed away the thought as he recalled the man being a player who didn’t do commitment.

  Maybe he’d been a little hard on the woman. After all, he didn’t know her personally, and her parents were great people. He’d learned a few things about the business world when he’d worked with her father on three of his projects. Dante had initially been awestruck after he’d read the article about the powerful Astacios in Time magazine.

  Even if he put aside the fact that she came from money she didn’t have to work for, it still remained that Eliana had built a hospital wing using cheap materials. Did she even care about the project? “I’ve talked enough for the night. What about you? How do you make your living?”

  “I deal with investments,” Lanelle said.

  “What kind?”

  Lanelle squirmed the slightest bit. “I like helping people start businesses with great potential, but who’d have a hard time getting financing from the bank. I loan them the money. Kind of like a micro-financier, but the interest I charge isn’t anywhere as steep.”

  “Sounds like it takes a lot of capital on your part.” Not having asked a question, he wasn’t surprised by her silence. “How do you find these people?”

  “Mostly word of mouth. Every once in a while, I’ll discover someone by accident.”

 
“I can’t imagine all your ventures are successful.”

  “Like any other business, there are risks.” She slid her finger down her glass, clearing a line of condensation. “I don’t go in blind. I make sure the idea is good and the individual has a solid business plan and proposal.”

  “Do you like it?”

  Her gaze remained steady. “I enjoy helping.”

  “You could do that any number of other ways. Putting your money in jeopardy doesn’t have to be part of the plan.”

  She shrugged. “It’s what I’ve been doing since after college. Seeing someone’s dreams come true is one of the biggest highs I’ve ever experienced.”

  “Sounds like a great job for you.”

  “What about you? Do you enjoy your work?”

  His head jerked back. “If Vanessa heard you ask the question, she’d laugh her ass off. I love what I do. I couldn’t see myself doing anything else.”

  “How did you get into it?”

  The waiter delivered their steaming savory plates of food. They dropped the conversation as they ate. The slight tang of the mushroom sauce set off the flavor of the beef perfectly. “Good choice,” he praised.

  She paused in slicing into the tender meat to look up at him. “Thanks.”

  Halfway through the meal, she set her cutlery down. “Tell me about your flooring business. How did you get into it?”

  “It’s a long story, and not all of it is interesting.”

  She waved her hands about. “Add some flair to the telling and I’m sure I’ll be astounded.”

  The spurts of humor Lanelle exhibited every so often drew out a laugh from him. What would she be like if she were comfortable enough to be herself? “I don’t do dramatic. But for you, I’ll try. My freshman year of high school ended up being tough. Imagine me as a lanky, uncoordinated, uncool young man with a chip on his shoulder.”

  She perused him. “I can’t.”

  “I’ll have to show you a picture one day. Urkel from Family Matters had it all over me. My being dark skinned didn’t help. It’s amazing how cruel black kids can be to their own kind just because of skin color.” He shook his head. “Anyway, I digress. My father worked as a pilot.”

  He waited for her reaction to that. Other than eating a forkful of mashed potatoes and looking at him with an expectation to speak, she exhibited none. Most people asked a million questions about the life of an airline pilot, even though he’d never flown a plane himself.

  “He tended to bring people to the house for dinner. One day he brought this Italian man, Mr. Victor Calvano. His accent was so thick everyone in the family stopped asking him to repeat what he’d said after the fourth time. We adapted, nodding and smiling when he spoke. Not the best strategy, especially when he asked a question. It turned out he’d invited me to Italy for the summer. My dad had nodded me away.”

  “Was he serious?”

  “Yep. When we figured out what he’d said, my dad refused the invitation.”

  “Understandable. Why would a stranger invite a boy to another country with him?” Lanelle scrunched her adorable nose. “Sounds suspicious and pedophile-y.”

  “That’s not a word.”

  She pointed to her chest with her free hand. “In my book it is.”

  Dante lowered his voice. “I think I’ll have to read this book one day. I’d like to see what other things you’re creative about.”

  She didn’t seem like the type of woman to roll her eyes, and yet she did it. “The story, please.”

  “My father thought the same thing as you until Mr. Calvano explained that he saw some kind of potential in me he’d never seen in anyone else. He thought I’d be good with his precious marble.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “What made him come to this conclusion?”

  How come she’d had to pick up on that point? He’d hoped not to humiliate himself until at least the tenth date. “I left a minuscule detail out of the story.”

  Lanelle chuckled. “Must be something good. Spill it.”

  “I’ve always been into rocks. It didn’t matter where I was—if I saw one that interested me, I’d take it home.”

  “So you had a rock collection. That’s not so bad.”

  He shook his head. “It went beyond that. I’d spend hours in the library looking up the kind of rock. This was way before the internet got popular. I even made my parents buy me a rock-cleaning set.”

  Lanelle laughed. “Soap and water didn’t cut it?”

  “Not for me. When Mr. Calvano mentioned that he quarried marble and granite, I ran to my room and brought out two things.” He shouldn’t be embarrassed about the past, but being a hard-core nerd was never something he’d brag about. “My favorite rocks, all encased and labeled in a glass display I requested for Christmas one year.”

  “What was the second?” Her voice held a tinge of humor.

  “A book I’d saved all of my allowance over six months to buy because it was so cool.” He pointed to his chest with shrug. “At least I thought so. A book about quarries of the world.”

  Lanelle’s eyes went wide. “That’s a huge coincidence.”

  “Mr. Calvano didn’t seem to think so.”

  “What did you think?”

  “That he had to be out of his mind to invite me to Italy, but I sat there, intrigued. My father told Mr. Calvano he’d only let me take the journey if my parents went with us.”

  “He said yes?”

  Dante nodded. “It turns out my potential was greater than three fully purchased trips to Italy. Until the day he died, Mr. Calvano claimed I ended up being the best investment he’d ever made. He willed the business over to me when he passed.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “This complete stranger gave you his company? Didn’t he have any family? A child? Nieces or nephews?”

  Dante struggled to stave off a wave of grief as he recalled the man he’d learned to love. “He and his wife never had children before she died about six years ago. Mr. Calvano was an only child and would speak of some distant cousins occasionally, but they weren’t close. He’d mentioned the last time he saw them had been over twenty years ago.”

  Food seemingly forgotten, Lanelle leaned in. “And now?”

  Smart woman. He’d have to keep that in mind. “When Mr. Calvano died, he willed his house in Italy and some of his money to the children of his deceased distant cousins. The business came to me with two stipulations. The first being that I maintain the name of the company.”

  “Which you have. What was the second?”

  “I name all of my children Calvano.”

  Her mouth dropped open, then she reached out for her water glass and drank until it was half-empty.

  “I thought it was crazy at the time, too. Now that he’s gone, I’d like to immortalize him by passing his name on through my offspring. Most likely a middle name.”

  “What if you don’t have children?”

  Dante would’ve laughed if Lanelle wasn’t staring at him as if her life depended on the answer with her fingers gripping the table. “I don’t see why I wouldn’t. One day I’ll get married and then we’ll have kids. It’s the natural progression.”

  He could hear her swallow from where he sat. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” she croaked out before clearing her throat. “I’ve never heard of such a stipulation. What if your—” she paused “—wife doesn’t agree to the Calvano name for her children? Especially if it’s a girl.”

  “Of course, I’d tell her before we got married.” Dante shrugged. “If she doesn’t accept, then she’s not the one for me.”

  “And if she can’t have children for you?” The mumbled words had barely left her mouth before she cleared the air with a wave of her hand. “Tell me what happened with the Calvanos.”

 
He wanted to discuss her question, but why distress her further? And yet he couldn’t help wondering what had upset her. “His relatives weren’t happy about the business going to an American.” Dante sniffed. “A black one at that. So they sent the matter to court.”

  “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

  “Neither was I, but I was disappointed. They never once came to visit this amazing man while he was alive.” His voice cracked on the last word.

  Lanelle reached out and clasped his hand. He let the comfort of her touch soothe him from the pain he still felt at having lost a man he’d greatly respected and loved. “Ever since the first trip to Italy, I’ve been his family. I know this may sound corny, but he treated me like a son.”

  “It’s not corny at all. Life is about finding love where and when you can.”

  Their gazes locked as the words lingered between them. Is she the one I never knew I wanted?

  Lanelle broke the spell encasing them by pulling her hand out of his. “So what happened with the lawsuit?”

  “Mr. Calvano was a shrewd businessman. He understood the Italian system and had his lawyer write his will in a way that ensured that no one could take the company from me. He didn’t count on the courts wanting to keep it in Italian hands. Even if the transition of ownership would destroy it and the legacy of the Calvano family.”

  Lanelle prompted, “Well?”

  “The court ruled in my favor. Mostly.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was ordered to pay taxes on profits for three years.”

  “Before or after the US deducts its taxes?” Lanelle asked.

  Interesting woman. No one had ever asked him. “Before.”

  Her indignant anger pleased him. “How can they get away with it?”

  He winced at the memory of the wrath he’d unleashed when he received the news. Tsunamis had left less destruction in their wake. It took some time, but he’d made his peace with the decision. “They also ordered five percent of the company’s profits to go to the extended family.” Now for the part that had perturbed Dante the most. “And to top it all off, I had to prove I could make the business expand within three years or I’d have to relinquish twenty-five percent of the company to the family.”