by Pamela Yaye
Tavares was shouting so loud Dante had to move his cell phone away from his ear.
“Man, calm down, I’m not trying to go deaf.”
“Marry my sister. She’ll say yes in a heartbeat.”
Dante choked on his tongue. As if! I wouldn’t marry her if you put a gun to my head!
“Nadine’s single.”
Of course she was, she was a drama queen who only dates bad boys. The mother of three had a criminal record and zero ambition. Sure, she was easy on the eyes—tall, stacked and voluptuous—but she wasn’t his type and they had nothing in common. “Good looking out man, but I need someone with a flexible schedule to help out with Matteo, and your sister already has her hands full with your nephews.”
“Fine,” he snapped. “Then find someone else, just don’t marry my ex.”
Taken aback by his anger, Dante didn’t realize Tavares had hung up the phone until it went dead. Second thoughts weighed heavily on his mind. Was he making a mistake? Should he marry someone else? Someone he wasn’t ridiculously attracted to? The problem was he didn’t want anyone else. Only Jordana would do. He knew a lot about her—she loved chai tea and French films, had a wicked sense of humor and was addicted to hot yoga. Dante liked the idea of them living under the same roof. He had to stick to the plan. He’d marry Jordana on Friday, prove to family court why he should have full custody and move on with his life. It was as simple as that, and he wouldn’t let anyone—not even his friend—stop him from achieving his goal.
Chapter 11
“Are you nervous?”
Are diamonds a girl’s best friend? Of course I’m nervous. Scared out of my mind, actually. I’m deceiving the people I love, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m making the biggest mistake of my life. Unable to control her quivering hands and legs, Jordana paused on the courthouse steps, and took a moment to gather herself. It was barely 9:00 a.m. on Friday morning, but the LA County Courthouse on Ocean Avenue was a hub of noise and activity. Taxicabs were parked at the curb, loading and unloading passengers, businessmen clutched cell phones and coffee cups while trading jokes and laughs, and steely-eyed security guards patrolled the area on foot. “Me? Nervous? No way...” Her throat went dry, and her voice cracked. “Okay, I’m lying. Maybe a little.”
“Don’t be.” Waverly lobbed an arm around Jordana’s shoulder and gave her a hug. “You look adorable, and you’re having a killer hair day, too. Enjoy it!”
Jordana wrinkled her nose, feeling a bitter taste fill her mouth. Adorable? I wasn’t going for adorable. I was going for sophisticated and sexy!
“That’s her,” said a male voice. “I’d recognize that hair and that ass anywhere...”
Turning, she noticed two suits gawking at her, and shot them a dirty look. Video footage of Dante’s surprise proposal had gone viral. These days Jordana couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized. Men flirted with her, showered her with compliments and begged for her cell number. Worse, her friends and former coworkers were blowing up her phone. They called to congratulate her, and were desperate for the inside scoop on her new millionaire fiancé. Each lie that fell from her mouth intensified Jordana’s guilt.
Jordana glanced at her dainty silver watch. In less than an hour she’d be a married woman. Dante’s wife. At the thought, goose bumps pricked her skin. Jordana considered calling her mom to give her the heads-up. It was the right thing to do, but she banished the thought. She knew if she did, Helene would be on the first flight to LA, and that was last thing Jordana wanted. Besides, news of their courthouse wedding would never reach Des Moines. Helene didn’t own a computer, and rarely watched TV or read the newspaper. But to be on the safe side she’d give her a ring after the ceremony to make sure her secret was still safe. Jordana was looking forward to talking to her mom. Using the money Dante had given her, she’d paid off Helene’s debts,. Her mother had questioned her about where the money came from but she’d swiftly changed the subject. She’d also registered for acting classes at Theatre of Arts, and come Monday she’d be a student at the premier acting studio. Thanks to Dante, things were looking up and she was feeling more hopeful about her future.
Her gaze fell across her left hand, and zeroed in on her engagement ring. It shimmered in the sunlight. Dante didn’t just know how to close million-dollar deals, he also knew how to select beautiful jewelry. Jordana couldn’t stop staring at it. It was stunning, and having it on her left hand made her feel special, like a somebody.
Whoa, Nelly! yelled her inner voice. Slow. Your. Roll. You’re playing Dante’s wife, not actually his wife. Don’t get caught up in the moment.
Sunshine splashed through the lobby windows, conversation and laughter filled the space, and the earthy, refreshing scent in the air made Jordana think of the ocean. Last week, she’d gone to Zuma Beach with Dante and Matteo, and remembering how much fun they’d had flying kites and building sand castles made her fears dissipate. I can do this. I will do this. Marrying Dante could turn out to be the biggest break of my career, and I won’t mess this up.
Boarding the elevator, Jordana checked her reflection in the wall mirror. Her diamond headband made her eyes twinkle, the lace belt on her vintage gown drew attention to her slim waist, and the frilly bow on her sandals made Jordana feel feminine. Busy fussing with her curls, she didn’t notice the elevator had stopped until Waverly grabbed her forearm, and dragged her onto the second floor.
“Let’s go,” she trilled. “We don’t want to keep the groom waiting.”
Linking arms, the women followed the signs until they arrived at the office of the justice of the peace. Entering the waiting area, Jordana was shocked to see dozens of couples kissing, cuddling and holding hands. Love was in the air, and she smiled as she watched the starry-eyed lovers dote on each other.
“Lookie, lookie, your man’s already here. He must be really anxious to marry you...”
Jordana rested a hand on her chest, to steady her raging pulse, but it didn’t help. Her pulse drummed so loud she couldn’t hear what Waverly was saying. Dante was standing beside the water cooler, talking and laughing with his brother. Markos was lean, built like a quarterback, and fine as sin. Everything about him, from his dimpled chin to his full lips and staggering six-foot-six height, was enticing, but Dante was the one who made her heart swoon. Well-groomed, he looked debonair in a crisp white suit. Jordana couldn’t take her eyes off him.
What else is new? said her inner voice. You’ve had the hots for him ever since you met.
Watching him aroused her. Delicious sensations flooded her body. Jordana could tell by Dante’s jovial disposition that he was in a good mood. Was he excited about the ceremony, or his newest development deal? Jordana told herself it was the latter, had to be. After all, this was a publicity stunt, not a whirlwind love affair. She’d be a fool to think otherwise. “Waverly, knock it off. Dante’s not my man and you know it.”
“Not yet,” she said in an airy voice. “But it’s just a matter of time before you’re madly in love. You guys are destined to be together.”
“You need to stop watching reality TV,” Jordana joked. She was nervous enough, battling a serious case of doubts, and the more Waverly teased her about Dante, the queasier her stomach felt. “This is a business deal, and nothing more.”
“You’ll be lovers by the end of the week.”
“Right, and those are your real boobs.”
Waverly stuck out her tongue, and patted her chest. “Damn right they are! I paid top dollar for these babies. My only regret is not going bigger!”
The women dissolved into girlish laughter.
“We’re friends,” Jordana said, composing herself. “Why don’t you believe me?”
“Because I see the way he looks at you, and more important, the way you look at him,” Waverly shot back, poking her hard in the shoulder. “You want him bad. J
ust admit it.”
“Dante’s like a brother to me.”
“Girl, stop, you’re not fooling anyone with that platonic-friends crap, so drop the act. Dante’s hot and successful and über-rich. If I were you I’d turn this fake marriage into the real thing because that Italian stallion is every woman’s dream.”
Dante glanced at his watch, then at the door, and spotted them. His eyes lit up, and he broke into a broad smile. Walking toward her, his face bathed in excitement, he spoke in a strong voice. “Baby, you made it!”
“Of course I did. We have a deal, and I’d never bail on you.”
“You’re a true friend.” Looking her over from head to toe, he added, “And a gorgeous one, as well. This dress was made for you. You have the word star written all over you.”
His words gave her a rush. While in Des Moines last month running errands for her mom, she’d spotted the silk fit-and-flare gown in a store window and instantly fell in love. Her pearl accessories gave the dress a touch of pizzazz. When Dante took her in his arms and hugged her tight, Jordana knew she’d chosen wisely.
His hands slid across her shoulders, down her hips, lingering on the small of her back. Jordana’s mouth dried, and heat crept over her cheeks. His touch was warm, as welcome as an ice-cold drink on a summer day. She felt sexy, desirable and hot. Jordana moaned inwardly, felt another one rising up her throat and bit down hard on her bottom lip to stop it from escaping her mouth. His cologne overwhelmed her senses, stirring strong feelings inside her. Desire. Lust. Need. The urge to kiss him was powerful, all she could think about, but Jordana remembered they had an audience and pulled away.
“It’s great to see you again, Jordana. It’s been too long.” Markos lowered his head, kissed her on each cheek, then whispered in her ear. “I hope you’re being adequately compensated for this trip to the courthouse because you’re the most beautiful bride in the room.”
Flustered by his words, she couldn’t speak. “Ah, thanks, Markos. You, too.”
He chuckled. The sound of his loud, booming voice made Jordana laugh, too. It was hard to think around Dante and Markos, impossible to keep it together in the presence of such hot, drop-dead sexy men, but she was determined to maintain her composure. “So much for being in and out. Look at all of these people. At this rate, we’ll still be here until lunch.” Jordana gestured to the ticket dispenser in front of the door. “Did you already grab a number?”
“There’s no need. We’re next.”
“No way. We just got here.”
Dante clasped her hand, and gave it a soft squeeze. His touch instantly calmed her nerves. “Judge Abdallah was Markos’s law school mentor, and when Markos told him we were madly in love and anxious to get married, he agreed to perform the ceremony first thing this morning.”
Waverly looked impressed, and gazed longingly at Markos. “I have a few speeding tickets,” she confessed, a sheepish expression on her oval face. “Can you work your magic in traffic court, and make them disappear?”
The men laughed, and Jordana decided then they were the sexiest brothers alive.
“Dante Morretti, Jordana Sharpe and witnesses!” The clerk, a petite redhead in an ill-fitted gray pantsuit, waved them over to her desk. She asked to see two pieces of ID, and helped them fill out the marriage-license application. Ten minutes later, she led them down the corridor and into the office at the end of the hall. It had canary walls, oversize windows that offered Instagram-worthy views of the city. The glass shelves were filled with antiques and collectibles. It was nicely decorated and smelled like a florist shop. But the office was so cramped, Jordana felt as if she was standing inside a broom closet.
“Dante, this is it? This is where we’re getting married?”
“What were you expecting?” a male voice asked. “The Four Seasons grand ballroom?”
A short black man, dressed in traditional African clothes, breezed into the room, clutching a Holy Bible in one hand and rosary beads in the other. “It’s a great day to get married, so let’s do this,” he said, pumping his fist in the air. “Any questions? No? Good, because time is money and I’m saving up for a private jet!”
Tossing his head back, he laughed heartily at his own joke.
“He’s a judge?” Jordana whispered, dumbfounded. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. Judge Abdallah married my aunt and uncle eleven years ago in Orange County, and to this day we still crack up about the ceremony. He’s great. You’ll see.”
If you say so, she thought, watching the eccentric judge with growing interest.
He took his place in front of the desk, beckoned them over and flipped open the Bible. He didn’t read from it, but he sounded official, as if he knew what he was doing. “We are gathered here today to join Dante and Jordana in holy matrimony. You are here of your own free will, and your intention is to marry each other, right?”
Bewildered by the question, Jordana slowly nodded.
“Whew, what a relief,” he said, mopping imaginary sweat from his wrinkled brow. “Because I paid an arm and a leg for parking and it’s too late to get a refund!”
Jordana noticed the amused expression on Markos’s face, saw the corner of his lips twitch, and knew the attorney was trying not to laugh. Judge Abdallah cracked jokes, doled out marriage advice and spoke candidly about his thirty-year marriage. “Dante, don’t let anyone come between you and Jordana. She comes first, you hear me, son? Treat her like a queen and she’ll reward you with respect, compassion and good lovin’!”
Waverly erupted in laughter, Markos cheered and Jordana choked on her tongue. Dante, to her surprise, seemed to be listening to every outrageous word. He looked relaxed, as if he was enjoying the ceremony. He nodded as Judge Abdallah admonished him to be a loyal, supportive husband. “Son, turn to your bride, and share your vows...”
Facing her, a reassuring smile on his lips, he took her hands in his, and held them tight. “I, Dante, take you, Jordana, to be my lawfully wedded wife. I promise to love you, and protect you, from this day forward, for the rest of my life, as long as we both shall live.”
Eyes wide, Jordana heard a gasp escape her lips. Her legs wobbled, banging violently together. Afraid they wouldn’t support her weight and she’d fall flat on her ass, she clutched Dante’s hands, and dug her heels into the carpet. The L-word scared the hell out of her, dredged up painful memories she wished she could forget, but Jordana loved hearing the word come out of Dante’s mouth. Sounding earnest and sincere, he spoke about his hopes for their future. He was one hell of an actor, so damn convincing she almost believed him.
“Well done.” Patting Dante on the shoulder, Judge Abdallah nodded in approval. “Your turn, pretty lady. Don’t be shy. Tell Dante how you truly feel.”
It was hard enough to breathe, let alone think, so Jordana repeated his short, heartfelt speech. Her voice sounded foreign to her ears, as if it belonged to someone else. But she conquered her nerves and spoke with confidence. “I love you, Dante. This is my solemn vow.”
“Good job, baby. I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Everyone laughed.
As the ceremony went on, her legs quit shaking and her fears disappeared. Judge Abdallah’s larger-than-life personality put Jordana at ease and soon she was laughing at his jokes, too. They exchanged rings, then signed the marriage license they’d obtained that morning.
“I now pronounce you man and wife! Now, for the moment we’ve all been waiting for!” Judge Abdallah reached into his pocket, pulled out a handful of red rose petals and tossed them in the air. “You may now kiss your bride. Put it to her good, son. You’re a Morretti!”
Jordana closed her eyes, and waited anxiously for his kiss. His kisses were thrilling, second to none, and just the thought of it made her panties wet. Instinctively, her lips parted, and she moved toward him. Dante pressed his mou
th to her lips, for all of two seconds, then abruptly pulled away. What the hell? He called that a kiss? Though disappointed and confused, she faked a smile, and took the hand he offered.
They took pictures with Judge Abdallah, and left the courthouse with Markos and Waverly in tow. Outside, Jordana felt the sun on her face, the breeze in her hair, and a delectable aroma wafting out of the bakery on West Olympic Boulevard. Strolling down the street, she chatted with her friends about the ceremony, the eccentric judge and where to have lunch.
Fifteen minutes after leaving the courthouse, they entered the JW Marriott, scored a window table inside Ford’s Filling Station, and ordered a bottle of Cristal. Taking in her surroundings, Jordana noticed every woman in the room—even married ones sporting massive diamond rings—make eyes at Dante and Markos. Of course they were. What else was new? The brothers couldn’t go anywhere without females ogling them like pieces of meat, but they either didn’t care or didn’t notice because they paid their admirers no mind.
Openly watching Dante, a smile brightened her heart, and claimed her mouth. Mercy! Feeling her cheeks warm, she tore her gaze away from his lips, and chose to admire his broad shoulders and trim physique instead. Damn, he sure knows how to rock a suit! Yum, yum!
Jordana broke free of her thoughts, but her mind continued to race, spinning faster than the decorative ceiling fan hanging above their booth. An hour after the ceremony, she still couldn’t believe she was Mrs. Dante Morretti. If her eyes weren’t open, and her mouth wasn’t filled with garlic-flavored biscotti, Jordana would swear she was dreaming.
“I love it here. The service is outstanding, and the food is always on point.” Picking up a menu, Markos hungrily licked his lips. “I can almost taste the baby back ribs now!”
Jordana admired the chic, contemporary decor. Praised for its California flair, the restaurant was known for its creative menu, five-star service and relaxing ambience. Within seconds of being seated, the waitress arrived with the champagne, and took their orders. “I’ll be back shortly with your appetizers.”