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Happy to hear her voice, he sighed in relief. “I need a favor.”
“Hi, Dante! I’m fine. Thanks for asking. How are you?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude,” he said, feeling contrite.
Jordana laughed. “Relax, buddy. I’m just kidding.”
“How was your trip?” Dante asked. He didn’t have time to shoot the breeze, but he was curious to know how her mother was doing. Based on past conversations they’d had, he knew Jordana adored her mom, and he hoped Ms. Sharpe was doing better.
“Good, but it’s great to be back in LA. There’s no place like home.”
“You grew up in Des Moines, remember?”
Jordana groaned. “Ugh, don’t remind me.”
“How’s your mom feeling? All better and on the mend?”
Silence infected the line. Several seconds passed before Jordana spoke.
“She’s coming along,” she said quietly, her tone losing its warmth. “Thanks for sending her flowers. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Helene so excited.”
“It was my pleasure. I’m glad she liked them.”
“You said you needed a favor. What is it?”
“Matteo’s school just called,” he explained, glancing out the window. He couldn’t see anything, but Dante felt the plane moving and knew that was a good sign. “Lourdes was supposed to pick him up at three twenty-five, but she’s missing in action, and I’m stuck at LAX.”
“Oh, no, that’s terrible. I hope she’s okay—”
“Screw her,” he snapped. “Lourdes doesn’t deserve your pity. She’s probably at home screwing the gardener in the house I paid millions for, and forgot all about my son.”
“Dante, Matteo’s her son, too, and I find it hard to believe she’d deliberately hurt him. I know you guys have had your problems in the past, but give Lourdes the benefit of the doubt...”
A bitter taste filled his mouth. Dante was pissed. Mad at himself for marrying Lourdes Faison four years ago. If he could turn back the hands of time, he never would’ve hooked up with the buxom hairstylist on New Year’s Eve. They’d met at an upscale martini bar and had spent a wild, drunken night at his swank bachelor pad. Two months later, Dante learned he was going to be a father. It took weeks for him to come to terms with the news, then he’d done what any stand-up guy would do—he’d popped the question.
Dante scowled. He didn’t have a choice; her father had threatened to kick his ass if he didn’t. His heart wasn’t in it, but since it was the right thing to do, he’d played the role of the devoted fiancé. But just days after their lavish, three-hundred-guest wedding in Palm Springs, Dante had realized he’d made a huge mistake. Lourdes complained incessantly, spent money recklessly and treated his staff like crap. In spite of her diva behavior, he remained committed to their relationship. Coming home from work and seeing his infant son was the highlight of his day. It was what gave him the strength to endure a loveless marriage.
His thoughts wandered, returning to the worst day of his life. One week after their two-year anniversary, Lourdes left their estate with Matteo and filed for divorce. Dante never saw it coming, was blindsided by her deception and betrayal. She went on to publicly humiliate him, telling sensational stories to the newspapers that tarnished his reputation. He’d never forgive her for vilifying him in the press.
“Do you want me to pick up Matteo? I can go get him right now.”
Relief flooded Dante’s body. He could breathe again. “I’ll call Matteo’s school and let them know you’re coming. Thanks, Jordana. You’re the best!”
“I know, and you can tell me how fabulous I am the next time we have lunch at Spago. I’m an aspiring actress who can’t afford to eat at fancy restaurants, so it’s your treat!”
“I’ll take you anywhere you want—”
Hearing the intercom, he broke off speaking and listened intently.
The first officer thanked him for his patience, and Dante jumped to his feet. Putting on his sunglasses, he grabbed his suitcase and marched through the cabin. “I’m leaving LAX now,” he said, jogging down the aisle. “I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
“Don’t rush. I’m going to take Matteo to the park to feed the pigeons.”
“Thanks again, Jordana.”
“No worries, friend. I’ll see you soon.”
Anxious to see his son—and to give his good-for-nothing ex-wife a piece of his mind—Dante jogged down the steps, ducked into the white Lincoln Navigator waiting on the tarmac and told the middle-aged driver to step on it.
Chapter 2 (#ulink_b3599939-3477-5705-870a-f8f9a73757fb)
Dante arrived at the Pacific Palisades apartment complex at six o’clock, annoyed he’d spent the past two hours stuck in traffic. Worse, he still hadn’t heard from Lourdes. As the car drove to the entrance of the building, he spotted three men dressed in basketball jerseys and jeans idling near the glass doors. They were smoking, guffawing so loud Dante could hear them through the car windows. He wondered for the umpteenth time why Jordana wouldn’t move to a better area. One with less crime and graffiti and fewer nefarious characters.
La Brea, a diverse, multicultural neighborhood nestled between downtown and Hollywood, was known for its unique architecture, eclectic boutiques and restaurants, and vibrant nightlife. Dante had rental properties all across the city, in posh, affluent neighborhoods such as Bel Air and South Valley, but whenever he encouraged Jordana to move, she’d say, “I can’t leave La Brea. I love it here! These are my people!” Dante didn’t know what that meant, found it odd that she enjoyed the company of hoods and scoundrels, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Although he owned several office buildings in the area, he rarely visited La Brea, and couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to Jordana’s apartment.
Stepping out of the car, he nodded at the men in greeting. They gave him the once-over and grunted in response. Dante strode through the front doors and into the sunny foyer.
Taking off his sunglasses, he wrinkled his nose. The air held the scent of onions, the reception area looked in need of an extreme makeover, and tenants were standing around waiting for the elevator, complaining about management, the recent string of apartment break-ins and last month’s exorbitant rent increase.
Seconds passed, then minutes, but there was no sign of the elevator.
Growing impatient, Dante stalked through the lobby and ducked into the stairwell. Hearing his iPhone ring, he stopped in his tracks and retrieved it from his pocket. He read the name on the screen, and his eyes thinned and his face hardened like stone. Now she wants to call back. Almost two hours later? Is Lourdes out of her damn mind?
Fuming, he put his cell to his ear and gave voice to his anger. “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded, unable to govern his temper. “Ms. Papadopoulos called me in a panic because you forgot to pick up Matteo. What’s the matter with you? Are you trying to get us in trouble with Child and Family Services?”
Lourdes yawned, then spoke in a drowsy voice. “I’m sorry. I dozed off while watching TV and I just woke up a few minutes ago.”
“Where’s Nayoko?”
“I had to fire her. She was stealing from me.”
“Sure she was,” Dante grumbled, shaking his head in disbelief. This wasn’t the first time Lourdes had fired a nanny, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. His ex-wife loved playing the victim and would do anything for attention, even make up stories about her staff.
“It’s the truth. Why would I lie?”
Because you’re a habitual liar, he thought but didn’t say. “I called you more than a dozen times. You didn’t hear your cell phone ringing off the hook?”
“It hasn’t been working properly.”
Dante didn’t believe her. He was tired of her lies and half-truths. He couldn’t stomach more of her bullshit today. “Did you go to the bar at lunch? Is that why you forgot to pick up Matteo? Because you’re drunk?”
The silence was deafening, and it confirmed his worst fears. Fighting with Lourdes wasn’t the answer; it wouldn’t solve anything. But he had to get through to her. “Tell me the truth.”
“I just did.”
Dante wanted answers, and he wasn’t letting Lourdes off the hook until she came clean. Since the divorce, he’d tried to keep the peace, to be the bigger person, but not this time. He had to speak his mind. “You need to get yourself together. Matteo should be your number one priority, not drinking or your stupid friends.”
“I said I’m sorry.”
“Sorry isn’t good enough.”
“We can’t all be perfect like you,” she shot back, her tone heavy with sarcasm. “So quit giving me a hard time for being human, and let me talk to my son—”
“This isn’t about being perfect. This is about being a good parent.”
“I messed up. There, I said it. Is that what you want to hear? Happy now?”
Dante cocked an eyebrow. Did I hear her right? Lourdes never, ever owned up to her mistakes, even when she was wrong. His ears had to be playing tricks on him.
“None of this would’ve happened if you’d paid for me to have a chauffeured car.”
Cha-ching! Shaking his head, he stared down at his cell phone with disgust. It didn’t matter what the issue was, Lourdes always found a way to make it about money. Up to her neck in debt, she couldn’t afford to maintain her extravagant lifestyle, and she expected him to continue supporting her. Hell, no. Lourdes was spoiled, and he refused to indulge her every whim. Matteo didn’t need a chauffeured car, or three live-in nannies, or any of the other expensive crap she wanted money for. Her monthly alimony check was more than the average person earned in a year, and he wasn’t giving her another dime. “If you want a chauffeured car, then pay for it yourself,” he snapped. “Pick up Matteo on time—”
“Don’t tell me what to do. You’re not the boss of me, and I don’t have to listen to you.”
“This isn’t about me. This is about doing what’s best for our son.”
“You’re not my husband anymore, remember? I dumped you for a real man...”
The insult hit him like a fist to the gut. There were hard feelings on both sides, years of pent-up anger and frustration, but Dante held his tongue. He knew the truth and that was all that mattered. During their marriage, he’d honored his vows, and respected her as his spouse. Unfortunately, Lourdes couldn’t say the same.
“What time are you bringing Matteo home?”
“Why? It’s not like you care about him...” Realizing his mistake, he winced and slammed his mouth shut. It was too late; the damage had been done. The line went dead, and guilt troubled his conscience.
Ending the call, Dante chastised himself for losing his cool. Lourdes brought out the worst in him, always had, but he had no right to disrespect her. He’d apologize later, when he dropped Matteo off, and then he’d have an honest talk with her about his concerns. Lourdes had to do better, had to start putting their son first or... Dante trailed off, couldn’t finish his sentence.
Or what? questioned his inner voice. What are you going to do? Quit your high-paying, jet-setting job and become a stay-at-home dad?
The thought was outrageous, laughable even, but Dante didn’t chuckle. There was nothing funny about his predicament. He was worried about his son’s well-being and needed sound advice. But not from Emilio and Immanuel. His brothers were living the American dream, so happy in love they talked about their significant others nonstop. Dante didn’t want to hear about how wonderful their partners were. Not when Lourdes was making his life a living hell. He had to talk to Markos, and the sooner the better.
On the fourth floor, Dante stopped in front of apartment 4B and rang the buzzer.
The door swung open and Matteo jumped into his arms. “Daddy!”
Chuckling, Dante held him tight and spun him around the hallway.
“Faster, Daddy! Faster!”
Dante obliged, and his son shrieked with laughter. The sound warmed his heart, made him feel like the world’s best dad. Matteo was his number one concern, the only person in his life who truly mattered, and he’d do anything to make him happy. He looked adorable in his navy blue uniform, like the spitting image of his grandfather, but with dark, curly hair.
“Daddy, where’s Mommy? She forgot to pick me up from school today.”
“Mommy’s at home, li’l man. You’ll see her later.”
“Great timing. Dinner’s almost ready.”
Dante put Matteo down and faced Jordana. Her smile blinded him with its light. His pulse sped up. In a city overrun with females addicted to plastic surgery, it was refreshing to see a natural woman. Her beauty boggled his mind, leaving him tongue-tied and weak in the knees. Even in a tie-dye shirt and denim shorts, Jordana was stunning. She looked pretty and youthful in her outfit, and smelled like heaven. She had eyes a man could get lost in, tawny skin dotted with freckles and a shapely physique. Dante loved how lush and thick her hair was, and his hands itched to play in her chocolate-brown curls. She’d been blessed with model features and a banging body, but she wasn’t a snob. Everywhere Jordana went she made friends and men tripped over themselves to meet her. Even A-list celebrities.
“I’m starving,” Dante said, patting his empty stomach. “What’s on the menu?”
“Squash soup, kale-almond salad and chickpea burgers.”
He wrinkled his nose. “I just lost my appetite.”
“Oh, stop. Vegan food is to die for.”
“Yeah, if you’re stranded on a deserted island.”
“You’re not happy unless you’re eating a hundred-dollar steak. But don’t come crying to me the next time we go to a fancy five-star Beverly Hills restaurant and you get chest pains.”
“I didn’t get chest pains because of the food.” Dante winked, flashing her a mischievous grin to make her laugh. “It was that sexy little hostess in the see-through dress. What a hottie!”
Jordana stuck out her tongue, and Dante chuckled. His gaze zeroed in on her mouth, lingering there for a beat. Those are some lips, he thought, wishing they were pressed against his. He liked how plump they were, how moist and juicy they looked.
Catching himself, he tore his eyes away from her face. They were friends and nothing more, and that would never change. Jordana was like a sister to him—
Bullshit! argued his inner voice. Sister, my ass! You want her bad, and the only reason you haven’t made a play for her is because she’s still in love with her ex.
“Dad, can we stay for dinner? Please?” Matteo begged. “I just love cheeseburgers.”
“That depends. Were you a good boy for Jordana?”
“No,” she said sadly, shaking her head. “He was horrible.”
“He was?”
“Yup. The worst.”
Dante spoke in a stern voice. “You have some explaining to do, young man.”
Eyes wide with alarm, Matteo glanced frantically from his dad to Jordana. “I didn’t mean to spill grape juice on the carpet,” he said, shuffling his feet. “It was an accident, but I cleaned it up right away. Tell him, Jordana. Tell my dad I was a good boy.”
“You weren’t good,” she said, ruffling his curly hair. “You were great.”
Matteo cheered. “Dad, did you bring me something back from King Kong?”
“I went to Hong Kong,” Dante said with a laugh. “King Kong is a character in a movie.”
“Oops!” Giggling, he spun around and took off running back inside the apartment.
Jordana waved him inside and closed the door. “Have you heard from Lourdes?” she whispered, her features touched with concern. “Is she okay?”
“Apparently she fell asleep and just woke up a few minutes ago.”
“You don’t believe her?”
“No, she’s a compulsive liar who can’t be trusted.”
