“Knock yourself out.”
Exiting the kitchen, he admired the pictures hanging on the walls. The two-bedroom apartment was filled with knickknacks and secondhand furniture. But since his mother had taught him not to look down on people, he took a seat on the battered beige couch and swiped the remote control off the coffee table. Pointing it at the flat-screen TV, he searched for the baseball game on one of the local stations. His favorite sport was boxing, but since his cousin Demetri Morretti was the biggest baseball star on the planet, and also one of his wealthiest clients, Dante made a point to watch his games.
A sly grin warmed his mouth. They used to party like rock stars, but now that his cousin was happily married to his newscaster wife, Dante rarely saw him. He was looking forward to seeing his brothers and cousins at the end of July at the RaShawn Bishop Celebrity Golf tournament in Tampa. He was planning an impromptu bachelor party for Immanuel as well, and he couldn’t wait to see the look on his brother’s face when the exotic dancers he’d secretly booked stormed his hotel suite. Immanuel was tying the knot at the end of the year, and Dante wanted him to live it up one last time before his walk down the aisle.
“I swear, if I wasn’t madly in love with my boyfriend, I’d dump him and marry you!”
Dante cranked his head to the right, and spotted Jordana’s roommate standing in the hallway. He nodded his head in greeting. Waverly Burke was a heavy-set brunette in her midtwenties who looked decades older. She liked to flirt, and seemed to get a kick out of shocking him.
“I bought LA Business magazine yesterday and almost passed out when I saw the pictures of your new Bel Air estate. I knew you were rich, but I had no idea you were that rich.” Her eyes were wide with wonder, and she spoke in a reverent tone. “I still don’t understand what you do, though. Is a real estate developer like an architect?”
“No. My job is to purchase existing and undeveloped real estate properties and sell or lease the building for a profit.”
“Sounds risky. What if something goes wrong, or the property doesn’t sell?”
“That’s all part of the job. But with great risk comes great reward,” Dante said, repeating his personal mantra. “I work my ass off to ensure that doesn’t happen, and my persistence and determination has served me well in this cutthroat business.”
“I’d say. You’re rich and famous and your mansion is bigger than the White House!”
Jordana poked her head into the room. “Money isn’t everything, Waverly. Celebrities have fears and insecurities just like the rest of us, if not more.”
That’s right, Jordana. Tell her! The more money I make, the more problems I have.
“As if. Deciding what to wear to a movie premiere is hardly a serious dilemma.”
“I was a nanny for several high-profile couples, and trust me, being an A-lister is not as glamorous as it seems. They have zero privacy, and everything they say and do is scrutinized.”
Waverly snorted. “Wah, wah, wah. Cry me a river. That’s what they signed up for!”
“You’re not being fair.”
“Spare me. Celebrities have the best of everything, but they’re always bitching and complaining about how hard life is. Ugh. Rich people make me sick.” Her cheeks turned beet red, and a sheepish expression appeared on her face. “Present company excluded of course.”
Jordana caught Dante’s eye and mouthed, “Be nice. She’s my best friend.”
Nodding, he smiled to assure her everything was okay. And it was. Dante was used to women talking crazy and asking him personal questions, especially about Emilio—one of the best race-car drivers of all time—so he didn’t take offense to her roommate’s comments. Waverly was hilarious, outspoken and brash, and Dante wanted to get to know her better.
Yeah, agreed his inner voice. So she can help you win over Jordana!
“Is it true you have five brothers?” Waverly asked.
“Yes, and three are single.”
Waverly licked her lips. “Do tell.”
“Romeo is an investment banker based in Milan, Enrique is an entrepreneur with a slew of successful exotic-car dealerships in Europe and Markos is a celebrity divorce lawyer here in LA.”
“I’ll take the divorce attorney,” she said quickly, with a girlish laugh. “Mrs. Waverly Morretti sounds classy and sophisticated, don’t you think?”
“One tall, dark and handsome attorney coming right up!”
The women cracked up, and the sound made his chest puff up with pride. Dante loved making Jordana laugh, and would poke fun at himself just to see her smile. Always positive and upbeat, she was a light who glowed from within, and he enjoyed spending time with her—even though her heart belonged to another man.
“Dinner’s served,” Jordana announced, gesturing to the table. “Let’s eat. I’m famished.”
“You guys go ahead.” Dante found the Chicago Royals game on TV, used the remote control to increase the volume, and scanned the dugout for his cousin. “I’m not hungry.”
Her eyes narrowed, darkened. “You’re still expected to sit at the table.”
By whom? he thought, confused by her words. “I’m watching the game.”
Planting her hands on her hips, she flashed him an are-you-out-of-your-mind expression and Dante knew he was in trouble. He’d seen her angry only once—when he’d “accidentally” deposited money into her bank account—and he shuddered at the memory of their explosive argument on Christmas Eve. She’d returned the money, after cursing him out in English and Spanish. To this day he still didn’t understand why she’d gone ballistic on him.
“My house, my rules,” she quipped, pointing at an empty chair. “Now, sit.”
Her bossy, take-charge attitude made his erection rise and his mouth wet. Jordana was a freethinker who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, and Dante enjoyed her fiery, spirited personality. They couldn’t be more different, and had nothing in common. Logical and decisive, Dante knew what he wanted out of life, where he was going and how to get there. Jordana, on the other hand, was still finding herself. She was as carefree as a butterfly in the wind. “You’re too pretty to be so mean,” he joked, hoping to make her laugh. “Be nice, Jordana, or I’ll call your mom and tell her you’re bullying me!”
Jordana’s scowl deepened, wrinkling her smooth skin, but Waverly cracked up.
“Good one,” she said. “And if you need her mom’s number just let me know.”
Hearing his cell phone beep, he took it out of his pocket. The text was from Lourdes, and she wasn’t happy. Reading her message annoyed him. For the second time that evening Dante wondered what he’d ever seen in the celebrity hairstylist.
Where are you? Bring Matteo home now or else...
A scowl curled his lips. Lourdes had some nerve telling him what to do. But since he wanted to keep the peace, he stood, took his car keys out of his back pocket and switched off the television. “I better take Matteo home. It’s a school night.”
“I understand.” Jordana nodded, dropping her hands at her sides. “Maybe next time.”
“But I don’t want to go. I want to stay for dessert.”
Crouching beside Matteo’s chair, she smiled and touched his cheek. “You can take some brownies with you. How does that sound?”
“Great!” Beaming,