Seduced by the Mogul

by Pamela Yaye

  Dante wrinkled his nose. Lourdes wasn’t stumbling around, or slurring her words, but he could smell vodka on her breath. He wondered how many drinks she’d had that morning, but he didn’t ask. Fighting with her would only make things worse, so he stuck to the matter at hand.

  “I’m getting sick and tired of you telling me what to do.”

  “Then act like a responsible adult and I won’t have to.”

  “You can be such a jerk sometimes. I don’t know what I ever saw in you—”

  “Secondhand smoke can lead to serious health problems in children, like asthma, depression and even behavioral and cognitive issues,” he said, calling to mind an article he’d once read on the subject. “I don’t want Matteo to suffer because of your poor choices.”

  “You smoke cigars,” she shot back, her eyes bright with triumph.

  “Socially, yes, but I’ve never lit up in front of Matteo, and I never will.”

  “Same here. I’d never do anything to put Matteo in harm’s way.”

  Dante wanted to grab Lourdes and shake some sense into her, but he exercised restraint. They both knew she was lying, so why waste his time fighting with her? It wouldn’t solve anything, and would only make him more upset. “I don’t want Matteo playing outside alone... It...” Thoughts of Lucca bombarded his mind, and Dante faltered over his words. “It isn’t safe. Anything could happen.”

  “You’re being paranoid,” she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “He’s fine.”

  Angry, Dante tapped the side of his head with his index finger. “Don’t you ever think? Someone could grab Matteo, in the blink of an eye, and you wouldn’t know because you’re in the house yapping on your stupid cell phone.”

  “That’s not going to happen. We live in one of the best communities in LA, and everyone looks out for each other. Besides, nothing bad ever happens in West Hollywood.”

  “How would you know? You don’t watch the news.”

  “Just because I don’t watch CNN 24/7 doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on in the world. I do. I’m very informed—”

  “Social media isn’t a credible news source.”

  “I’m sick of this,” she spat, stomping her feet.

  That makes two of us, Dante thought. If not for Matteo I’d have nothing to do with you.

  “I can’t wait to move to Boston, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

  Stop you? Are you kidding me? I’ll help you pack! He’d need help with Matteo, and wondered if his mom would be willing to come to LA for a few months. If not, he’d hire Jordana to be a live-in nanny. She’d babysat Matteo countless times before, and treated him like her own.

  “When are you leaving?” he asked, struggling to control his excitement.

  “By the end of the summer.”

  Dante wanted to jump in the air, and click his heels together, but wisely kept his feet on the ground. It was the best news he’d heard all week, hell, all month, and he couldn’t wait to move Matteo—and Jordana—into his estate. The thought of her living under his roof made him sweat under the collar. He imagined them kissing, ripping off each other’s clothes, and envisioned them making love in every inch of his Bel Air mansion.

  An erection stabbed the zipper of his pants. Dante blinked, striking the explicit image from his mind. Hooking up with Jordana was out of the question, and if he wanted to keep their friendship intact, he had to stop fantasizing about her.

  “I can’t believe you’re okay with this. My attorney said you’d haul me back to court.”

  “Why would I do that? You’re free to do as you please.”

  “As if! You flipped out when I took Matteo with me to Sacramento for my family reunion, so I thought you’d have a stroke when I told you we’re moving to Boston...”

  We? His eyes flew open and his jaw dropped. Her words echoed in his mind. It hurt to breathe, to think. Matteo couldn’t move! His life was in LA, and he wasn’t letting Lourdes take him away. “What’s in Boston?”

  “I’m dating someone and things are getting serious.”

  His lips thinned, and he spoke through clenched teeth. “I won’t let you take my son.”

  “You can’t stop me.”

  “You can’t move to the East Coast. I’ll never see Matteo.”

  “You’re so dramatic,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You can see Matteo as often as you like. You have access to a private plane. Hell, buy your own jet. You’re filthy rich!”

  Her response annoyed him, only made him angrier. Then it hit him. What Lourdes was doing. She was playing him—again. His ex-wife wasn’t moving to the East Coast. She loved LA, would tell anyone who’d listen how great her hometown was and hated cold weather with a passion. This was about money. Plain and simple. Had to be. Convinced he was right, he decided to play his hunch. “What will it take to change your mind?”

  Her face lit up. “I’m a reasonable person. I’m sure we can work something out.”

  “How much?” he pressed. Dante wished he had his cell phone, so he could record their conversation. Lourdes was blackmailing him, essentially holding his son hostage. But without proof, it would be his word against hers, and his accusations would never hold up in court.

  “I could cool my heels for five hundred thousand.”

  Dante felt weak, as if he’d been sucker punched in the gut. For years, he’d suspected that Lourdes had never loved him—just his bank account—and realized how stupid he’d been. He never should have married her, never should have given her his heart, or his last name.

  “Do we have a deal?”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “What’s there to think about? Do you want to see your son or not?”

  Matteo burst into the room, and Dante stared at his pride and joy. He’d never known true love until Matteo was born, and counted his birth as the happiest day of his life. He’d spent hours beside his tiny bassinet, watching over him, and the morning he’d brought Matteo home from the hospital he’d promised to be a good father. He wasn’t perfect, and he still had a lot to learn, but Matteo was his number one priority, and that would never change.

  “Daddy, let’s go! I’m hungry.”

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Lourdes frowned, and propped her hands on her hips. “Are you leaving with my hugs and kisses? Come here!”

  Lourdes picked up Matteo, and smothered his face in kisses. He shrieked, giggled until tears streamed down his cheeks. Dante was ready to go, he couldn’t stand to spend another second in his ex-wife’s presence, but he didn’t interrupt. His ex-wife was the most conniving person he’d ever met, but Matteo loved her, and he’d never do anything to disrespect her. He wasn’t moved by her outpouring of love and affection. It was an act. If she loved Matteo, as she said she did, she’d never do anything to hurt him. And, more often than not, she had.

  “Dad, I’m ready.”

  Matteo clasped his hand, squeezed it, and his heart melted. Walking back through the foyer, holding his son in his arms, he felt his anger subside and his mood improve. Deciding his paperwork could wait, he opened the car, buckled Matteo into his booster seat and said, “Let’s go to the zoo. I want to see the elephants and hippos. Do you?”

  Matteo cheered, said he was the best dad ever, and Dante felt ten feet high.

  “Dad, hurry up. The animals are waiting, and I don’t want to be late.”

  Dante chuckled, but as he drove down the street, the heaviness in his chest returned. I’m moving to Boston... I’m taking Matteo... You can’t stop me... Lourdes’s words played in his mind, taunting him like a schoolyard bully. He glanced in the rearview mirror, saw Matteo playing with his WWE action figures, and wore a sad smile. Dante didn’t know what his legal rights were, but he knew one thing for sure: he wasn’t losing his son.

 
* * *

  Dante rolled the dough into a ball, and then dropped it on the granite countertop. He wiped his hands along his apron, turned on the oven and set the timer for fifteen minutes. Rapping the lyrics to the song playing on the satellite radio, he grabbed his supplies from the cupboard and set them on the breakfast bar. “Matteo, get in here. I need your help.”

  “But I’m playing on my iPad!”

  “Do you want pizza for dinner or not?”

  Matteo raced into the kitchen, hopped on the stepping stool in front of the sink and washed his hands. Together, they cut the Italian sausage, pineapple chunks and pepperoni into thin slices. Using a rolling pin, they flattened the dough until it was smooth and round. To make Matteo laugh, Dante tossed the dough in the air, and caught it behind his back.

  “Wow, Dad, that was cool!” he gushed, his eyes wide and bright. “Do it again!”

  Dante dropped the dough on the pan, and sprinkled Italian herbs on it. “Your turn.”

  “I can’t remember what comes next.” Matteo scratched his head. “Is it the sauce?”

  “Yes, then the toppings,” he instructed, gesturing to the ceramic bowls. “And don’t scrimp on the cheese. I just love mozzarella.”

  Matteo giggled, punched him in the shoulder, and Dante laughed, too.

  Ten minutes later, they put the pizza in the oven, cleaned the counter and swept the floor.

  “Dad, can I call Mom again?”

  “Be patient, li’l man. She’ll call you back when she’s free.”

  “Okay,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “Can I ride my bike?”

  “We’ve been outside in the hot sun all day. Aren’t you tired?”

  Matteo shook his head. “No. I want to ride my bike to the ice-cream store.”

  “Cool your heels, son. Your dad’s old, and he needs a break!”

  They’d spent the afternoon at the Los Angeles Zoo and Botanical Gardens, and as expected, the crowd was thick, the lines long and the noise deafening. For hours, they’d wandered from one exhibit to the next, feeding animals, taking pictures and snacking on junk food. He’d texted Jordana to join them, but she had an audition on Monday for a TV movie, and was busy practicing her lines with a friend. They’d been texting all day, trading messages back and forth, but Dante wanted to see her. Talking to Jordana always made him feel better, and he needed someone to vent to about his argument with Lourdes. Maybe tomorrow on their way to Zuma Beach, they’d swing by for a short visit, he thought.

  His cell phone buzzed. Glancing at it, he realized he had eight new emails, and groaned in frustration. On the drive home from the zoo, Matteo had dozed off, and Dante had called his assistant to touch base. There were several matters that required his immediate attention, and just thinking about everything he had to do made his head pound.

  The timer went off, and Dante broke free of his thoughts. Opening the oven, he took the metal pan from the rack and then closed the door with the back of his foot. The air was inundated with the scent of oregano, and the mouthwatering aroma made him salivate.

  “Uncle Markos!”

  Matteo shot across the kitchen, and threw himself into his uncle’s arms. Watching his son goofing around with his eldest brother made Dante reflect on his childhood. He grew up knowing his parents loved him, and he wanted the same for his son. To him, family mattered more than anything, but his ex-wife obviously didn’t feel the same way. It angered him that she put others before their son. Matteo had been calling her all day, and she had yet to call him back. Dante was frustrated, and made up his mind to discuss his legal options with Markos about it. He needed to be there for his son, now more than ever, and he was ready to step up to the plate.

  “Did you bring me something?”

  “You know it!” Like a magician, with a flair for the dramatic, Markos reached behind Matteo’s ear and pulled out a five-dollar bill. “Looking for this?”

  Matteo cheered. “Do it again, Uncle, but this time make a hundred-dollar bill appear!”

  Chuckling, Dante greeted his brother with a nod. Though casually dressed in a button-down shirt, khaki shorts and leather sandals, Markos carried himself with the air of a king, and exuded power and masculinity. At six foot six, he was the tallest person in the Morretti family, and according to his ex-wife, the most intimidating. “What’s up, man?”

  “Nothing,” he answered, putting Matteo down on the floor. “Is dinner ready?”

  “I just took it out of the oven.”

  “Good, because I’m starving and I’m sick of eating Chinese takeout.”

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.” Dante opened the utensil drawer, and grabbed the pizza cutter. “I thought you were going to the symphony.”

  “And miss out on spending time with my favorite nephew? Hell no!”

  “Kara canceled on you again, huh?”

  “It’s all good. I didn’t want to go to the symphony anyway, so I gave the tickets to a client.” Speaking with bravado, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, he opened the fridge and grabbed a beer. “Besides, I’d much rather hang out here with you and Matteo than listen to Kara wax poetic about her amazing new boss and his impressive yacht collection.”

  “Don’t sweat it, bro. It’s her loss.”

  “Damn right it is. I’m one hell of a catch.”

  To make him laugh, Dante clapped him good-naturedly on the shoulder, and winked. “Keep telling yourself that and maybe one day she’ll believe you, too!”

  Markos chuckled, but it sounded forced. Dante could tell by his dark gaze and the solemn expression on his face that he was upset his date had canceled at the last minute. Of all his brothers, Markos was the most sensitive, and although Dante teased him for wearing his heart on his sleeve, he admired him greatly. Markos was smart, perceptive and well-read, and he could always count on him to listen to his problems, and give him sound advice. These days, he felt as if Markos was all he had. Now that Emilio and Immanuel had found love, Dante rarely saw them, and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d talked to Romeo or Enrique. They rarely traveled to the States, and teased him endlessly for having a “day job.” Their guys-only trip to Tampa was fast approaching and he was looking forward to hanging out with his brothers and cousins. The vacation was long overdue, and he couldn’t wait to see his family.

  “Dad, can I eat in the living room? I want to watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.”

  He thought of Jordana and the showdown they’d had in her apartment days earlier, and smiled to himself. If she was there she’d give him an earful for even considering Matteo’s request, but since it was his house, and he wanted to talk privately with Markos, he said, “Sure, li’l man, but be careful. Don’t spill anything.”

  “I won’t.” Matteo picked up his plate, and raced out of the room. “Thanks, Dad!”

  “Can I eat in the living room, too? I promise not to spill my beer on the carpet.”

  Dante picked up the pizza pan, and set it down on the kitchen table. “Sit your ass down. We need to talk and I don’t want Matteo to hear us.”

  Markos grabbed a slice of Hawaiian pizza, sprinkled Parmesan cheese on it and folded it in half like a club sandwich. “Sounds serious, bro. What’s going on?”

  Thinking about his argument with Lourdes that afternoon made his blood boil again, but Dante spoke calmly. He told Markos about Ms. Papadopoulos’s frantic phone call on Wednesday, and his subsequent conversations with his ex-wife. “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Lourdes is more interested in finding Mr. Right than taking care of Matteo, and I’m worried about his well-being.”

  “Then file for shared custody.”

  “I don’t want shared custody. I want full custody.”

  Markos raised an eyebrow. “That
’s going to be a tough sell, bro. The only way the court will give you full custody is if you prove Lourdes is an unfit mother.”

  “I don’t have to prove anything. She is!”

  “There’s something else you can do, but I know you’ll never go for it.”

  “What?” he asked, intrigued. “Tell me. I’ll do anything to win custody.”

  “Get married.”

  Dante barked a laugh. “Are you insane? Why would I do something crazy like that?”

  “Because it works. The courts want to see children in a stable environment, and since a two-parent home is still the ideal, tying the knot will work in your favor.”

  “Hell no! I hated being married, and I won’t do it again.”

  “You’ll be married only on paper, and once you win custody you can have it annulled and no one will ever be the wiser.” Markos stood, walked over to the stove and helped himself to three more slices of pizza. “There are no guarantees in life, but it’s worth a try.”

  “It will never work.”

  “It can and it will. Trust me. I’ve seen it all, and then some, during my ten years of practicing law. The marriage-for-custody scheme works more often than not.”

  Dante still wasn’t convinced. “I think it’s a stupid idea. And how do you propose I go about finding a bride? On TemporaryWife.com?”

  “No, for the ruse to work you’ll have to marry someone you already know, or the court will doubt your love story.” Markos took a bite of his pizza. “Why don’t you marry Elizabeth? She’s had a thing for you ever since you hired her, and she’d probably love playing your wife.”

  Dante shook his head, refusing to entertain the suggestion. “No way. She’s the best assistant I’ve ever had, and I’d like to keep it that way. Besides, her on-again, off-again boyfriend is a mixed martial arts champion, and I don’t want to get my ass kicked if things go south.”

  Markos stroked the length of his jaw for several seconds, then snapped his fingers. “Marry Jordana. She’s single, hot as hell, and she adores Matteo.”

  Dante stared at his brother as if he’d taken leave of his senses. Jordana’s heart belonged to another man—his college buddy—and he didn’t want to upset Tavares, or lose his friendship.