by Pamela Yaye
“Jules is a good man, and if I were you I’d reconcile with him before it’s too late.”
Is she high? Dionne didn’t want to argue. Her sisters didn’t know what it was like to be in a loveless marriage, and she resented their telling her what to do, especially Lorna. The Atlanta housewife was married to a celebrity manager, the mother of three teenagers and bossy as hell. But Dionne wasn’t having it. Not today. She had a mind of her own, a strong sense of self, and she wasn’t taking Lorna’s stupid advice. “I appreciate your concern, but my marriage is none of your business. You don’t know what it was like living with Jules—”
“Dionne, spare me,” Mel snapped. “I’ve been married twice as long as you have, and I’ve never once left my husband. We make it work, no matter what.”
“That’s easy for you to say. Francisco is a great husband and father. He’d never dream of stepping out on you. He’s loyal and trustworthy. It’s obvious he loves you very much.”
Lorna reached across the table and patted Dionne’s hand. “I’ll ask Randle to speak to Jules on your behalf. They get along great, and I’m sure my husband can talk some sense into him. You’ll see. You guys will be back together in no time.”
“Please don’t,” Dionne said, shaking her head. “It’ll only make things worse, and Jules will be pissed that I told you about his affairs.”
Sharleen gasped. “Affairs? As in more than one? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“So, Jules is sowing his wild oats.” Lorna twirled an index finger in the air and gave a dismissive shrug of her shoulders. “Big deal. Cheating is not a deal breaker.”
“It’s not?” Dionne and Sharleen shouted in unison.
“Not to me. As long as my husband pays the bills, respects my role as his wife and gives me a healthy weekly allowance, I don’t give a damn what he does in his free time.”
Stunned, Dionne couldn’t speak. What is this, the Dark Ages? Doesn’t she realize how insecure she sounds? She studied Lorna’s face, searching her eyes for clues. She’s just trying to get a rise out of me, right? Their mother had raised them to be strong, independent women, and Lorna’s views about love and relationships went against everything they’d been taught.
“You know what your problem is, Dionne? You let success go to your head.”
Her body tensed and anger pounded furiously through her veins. “Are you saying it’s my fault that Jules cheated on me?” she roared. “Are you blaming me for his mistakes?”
“I’m not condoning what Jules did, but he’s not entirely to blame for the problems in your marriage. You modern, career-driven types don’t know the first thing about the opposite sex, and you’ve deluded yourself into thinking you don’t need a man, but you do.”
Sharleen dropped her fork on her plate and hitched a hand to her hip. “I disagree.”
Mel snickered. “Of course you do. You’re as misguided as Dionne is.”
“I can have it all. A career I love, the man of my dreams and children if I choose,” she said, her tone filled with pride. “Emilio added to my life, but he’s not my whole life. I adore him but I had goals and ambitions long before I ever met him, and I plan to fulfill each and every one.”
“You’re deceiving yourself if you think you can have it all, because you can’t.”
“How would you know?” Dionne shot back. It was her life, and she wasn’t going to let her sisters bully her into reconciling with Jules. He’d broken her spirit every time he lied to her, and Dionne was tired of pretending they were living the American dream. Their marriage couldn’t be saved, and if Lorna didn’t like that, it was too damn bad. “You got married straight out of high school, and you’ve never worked outside of the home.”
Her gaze was dark with venom. “This isn’t about me. This is about your failed marriages.”
“Marriage is hard work, and you can’t quit at the first sign of trouble.”
“The first sign of trouble?” Dionne repeated, raising her voice. “Mel, don’t you dare call me a quitter. You don’t know what it’s like to go to bed every night and not know where your husband is. Jules doesn’t want a wife, he wants a puppet, and I can’t take it anymore.”
“And you shouldn’t have to. No one should.” Sharleen wore a sympathetic smile, but her eyes glimmered with mischief. “Cheating is a deal breaker to me, so I commend you for taking the high road. I would’ve doused car with gasoline and lit a match.”
For the first time in days, Dionne laughed. Laughed so hard water filled her eyes. Her sisters stared at her as if she were out of her mind, but Dionne didn’t care. Joking around with Sharleen made her feel good, less scared and stressed out. Her friend was a positive, optimistic soul, and her words of encouragement bolstered her spirits.
“You have to do what’s right for you and only you.”
“Thanks, girl. I really needed to hear that.”
“All great changes are preceded by chaos, and I suspect this is going to be a banner year for you,” Sharleen said with a wink. “Hang in there, boss. Things will get better. I know it.”
“If you divorce Jules you’ll live to regret it.”
No one asked you, so mind your own business.
“Adeline called me last night, and we spoke at length about your marital problems,” Lorna said in a somber tone, as if she were delivering a eulogy at a funeral. “She’s very upset about the separation, and so are her parents.”
Of course they are. They act like they’re perfect, but they’re not. They have flaws, insecurities and fears just like the rest of us.
“Go back home,” Mel urged. “It’s the right thing to do for everyone involved—”
Hearing her cell phone ring, Dionne excused herself from the table and grabbed her iPhone off the breakfast bar. The conversation was getting too heavy for her, giving her an excruciating headache, and she feared she’d soon say something she’d regret.
As Dionne exited the kitchen, she overheard Sharleen ask Mel about her wedding day. Her vice president was charming, and when Dionne heard her sisters giggle she knew they were eating out of her friend’s palm.
The screen said “unknown number,” but since it could be a prospective client calling to book a free consultation, Dionne took the call and spoke in a bright, confident voice. “Hello, Dionne Fontaine speaking.”
Click. Dionne hung up the phone, and it rang almost immediately again. Same result. Annoyed, she wondered if there was something she could do about it. She made a mental note to ask Detective Sluggs the next time they spoke. All morning, she’d received prank calls, and it was getting on her nerves. It was probably Jules, trying to scare her. Dionne wasn’t going to let him intimidate her or pressure her into returning to their marital home. She had everything going for her, and she wasn’t going to let her ex call the shots anymore. It was time to stand on her own two feet, and—
Her cell phone rang yet again. Dionne froze, but when she saw the name on the screen, her spirits soared. She cleared her throat and answered on the second ring. “Hello.”
“Good morning, Dionne. It’s Immanuel Morretti.”
A smile bloomed in her heart and spread to her lips. That voice. That dreamy, husky voice excited her every time. Her thoughts returned to Thursday afternoon, to the exact moment Immanuel had taken her into his arms and held her close. It was seared into her memory, and for as long as she lived she’d never forget how safe he made her feel. “It’s good to hear from you,” she said quietly, meaning every word.
“How are you feeling?”
“Terrific. As long as I have wine and chocolate nothing can ever get me down.”
Immanuel chuckled. “That’s valuable information. I’ll have to remember that.”
For a moment, Dionne forgot about her troubles—the attack, her impending court date, the argument with her sisters minutes earlie
r—and enjoyed her conversation with Immanuel. He was easy to talk to, a calm, quiet soul, and she appreciated his calling to check on her.
“Have you had breakfast?” he asked. “I’m at the Waffle House near the Brookhaven shopping center, and I thought you might want something to eat.”
“That’s very sweet of you, Immanuel, but I already ate.”
Laughter exploded inside the kitchen, floating down the hall and into the living room. Dionne wondered what her sisters and Sharleen were cackling about, then moved toward the bay window so Immanuel wouldn’t hear their boisterous laughter.
“You have company.”
“Yes, Sharleen and my sisters came by with breakfast, but they’re leaving shortly...” So if you want to come by for a visit, that would be great. Dionne wanted to see Immanuel again, but couldn’t bring herself to invite him over for lunch. She wasn’t used to making the first move, and didn’t want him to think she was desperate.
“My apologies for interrupting. I’ll let you return to your guests.”
Disappointment filled her, but she pushed back her emotions. Immanuel had called to check up on her, which meant he cared about her, right? Feeling hopeful, she expelled a nervous breath and spoke with confidence. “Do you have plans next Sunday? I’d love to have you over for brunch. Or we can meet somewhere in town if you’d like. My treat.”
Silence infected the line, and seconds ticked by on the clock hanging above her couch.
“I’m sorry, I can’t. I have to work.”
“I understand. Maybe next time.”
“Take care of yourself, Dionne. Get plenty of rest and drink a lot of fluids,” he advised. “It takes several days to recover from a concussion, so don’t push yourself too hard.”
“You sound like Dr. Pelayo,” she joked, hoping to make him laugh.
He did, and her heart swelled with pride. Dionne felt like a teenager again—giddy, self-conscious and nervous—and Immanuel Morretti was the reason. His old-fashioned ways were endearing, and so was his Italian accent. He was the polar opposite of her ex, but that was a plus. Dionne was curious about him, wanted to get to know him better. What does he do for fun? What are his hobbies and interests? Is he dating anyone?
“Dr. Pelayo knows her stuff. You should listen to her.”
Her spirits sank, and her shoulders drooped. Is that why he didn’t want to come over? Because he was interested in the pretty doctor?
“Bye, Dionne.”
She nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Bye, Immanuel. Thanks for calling.”
The line went dead, and she slumped against the bay window with a heavy heart. It was times like this Dionne wished her brother, Kwame, were around. They had a strong bond, always had, and every time he called from Melbourne they talked and laughed for hours. He was a forty-year-old web designer, working abroad in Australia, and Dionne missed him dearly. Unlike her sisters, he was supportive and sympathetic and gave great advice.
“Dionne, I have to run.”
“Me, too,” Mel said. “The boys have a soccer game at noon, and I promised I’d be there.”
Breaking free of her thoughts, Dionne followed her sisters to the front door. She could tell by their tight smiles that they were mad at her, but Dionne didn’t care. She’d done nothing wrong and wasn’t going to apologize for having a mind of her own.
“Kiss the kids for me and tell them Auntie loves them very much.”
As her sisters got in Lorna’s shiny white convertible, Dionne waved. They drove her nuts sometimes, but they were her family, and she couldn’t imagine life without them. Hopefully, Mel and Lorna would be in a better mood the next time they spoke, because the last thing Dionne wanted was for her sisters to be mad at her. I have enough on my plate as it is.
Standing on the porch, she felt the sun on her face, the light autumn breeze. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, nothing but clear blue skies for as far as her eyes could see.
Glancing up and down the block, Dionne searched for anything suspicious. Is the mugger nearby? Is he watching me right now? Plotting his next move? At the terrifying thought, perspiration drenched her skin in a cold sweat. Dionne focused her gaze, giving her property a thorough search. Finding nothing, she sighed in relief. Later, after her nap, she’d call the police and get an update on the case. Not knowing what was going on was nerve-racking.
Dionne returned to the kitchen and found Sharleen standing outside on the patio deck, talking on her cell phone in Italian. She’d been taking Italian language classes for months and enjoyed practicing with Emilio. Dionne guessed Sharleen was making plans with him, something wonderfully romantic. They were always calling and texting each other, and when her vice president wasn’t at the office, she was out and about with Emilio. Dionne was thrilled for Sharleen, glad her friend had found a loving, supportive man who treated her like a queen.
I didn’t, but I have no one to blame but myself.
“You should go in the living room and rest.” Sharleen closed the patio door, joined Dionne at the kitchen sink and took the soap sponge from her hands. “I can finish up in here.”
“Let’s do it together. We can brainstorm new ad campaigns while we clean.”
Sharleen beamed. “Or, we can talk about my Venice wedding.”
Sharleen talked, and Dionne listened. She had questions about Immanuel—lots and lots of questions—but since she didn’t want to give her friend the wrong impression, she wisely kept her thoughts to herself. “How did you find out about the attack?” Dionne asked, curious.
“Annabelle saw the story on the evening news and called me right away.”
Why am I not surprised? “Juicy gossip” should be her middle name.
“You’re the heart and soul of Pathways Center, so I’m glad that you’re okay.”
“Thanks, Sharleen. Me, too.”
“Will you be in tomorrow?” Sharleen asked, returning the cleaning supplies to the closet.
“I’m going to work from home this week, but I’ll definitely be in Friday.”
Sharleen cheered. “Good, so we can head straight to the spa after work. I could use a hot stone massage, and I bet you could, too.”
“You can say that again. It’s been a hell of a week, and I can use a bit of pampering.”
“I hear you. Planning a wedding in a foreign country for 250 guests is stressful. If Emilio invites one more person I quit, and we’re eloping to Vegas.”
Dionne cracked up, laughed out loud when her friend made a silly face.
“Do you like baseball?” Sharleen asked, sliding her cell phone into her back pocket. “Emilio’s cousin Demetri plays for the Chicago Royals, and he invited us to watch his World Series game from his private luxury box. It’s on the twenty-ninth. What do you say?”
Dionne opened the fridge and grabbed the bottle of juice. “I better not,” she said, filling two glasses. “I know nothing about baseball, and I don’t want to embarrass myself.”
“You have to come. There’ll be terrific food, an open bar, and plenty of opportunities to network with influential people and wealthy baseball executives.”
“Why didn’t you say that sooner? Networking is my specialty,” Dionne said with a laugh. “Count me in. I’d love to go.”
The women clinked glasses and shared a smile.
“Will Immanuel be there?”
Sharleen raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Why? Do you like him?”
“Of course not. I’m just curious, that’s all.”
“I still can’t believe he rescued you from that deranged mugger on Thursday. Crazy, huh?”
You can say that again, Dionne thought, exiting the kitchen. Even crazier? I can’t stop thinking about him, and last night I dreamed he kissed me.
Dionne entered the living room and flopped down on the c
ouch.
“I can’t wait to meet Immanuel. What’s he like?”
He’s wordly, sophisticated and hot, Dionne thought. Taking a deep breath to calm her raging heartbeat, she opened up to Sharleen about the attack, her hospital stay, and all the kind and thoughtful things Immanuel had done for her. “I offered to write him a check when he brought me home on Friday, but he refused.”
“I’m not surprised. He’s a multimillionaire. He doesn’t need your money.”
Dionne felt her eyes widen and her jaw drop. “A multimillionaire? Wow, who knew the security business was so profitable? Girl, we should buy shares in Mastermind Operations.”
Sharleen cracked up. “I know, huh? Emilio and Immanuel’s brother, Dante, is a real estate developer, and he had encouraged them to invest in the real estate market. Emilio says it’s the smartest decision he’s ever made.” She added, “Besides proposing to me, of course.”
“Okay, I get it, Immanuel doesn’t need my money, but I’d still like to do something special for him,” she said. “Every time I invite him over he turns me down, and it’s frustrating.”
“Then kidnap him. Once he’s your hostage you can have your way with him.”
Dionne laughed, but an idea sparked in her mind. Excitement warmed her skin, and goose bumps exploded across her chest. Dionne knew just what to do to thank Immanuel—her tall, dark and handsome hero—and couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when she surprised him. She’d need a few days to arrange everything, but she was confident her plan would work. “Sharleen, you’re amazing,” she praised, leaning over and giving her friend a one-arm hug. “You just helped solve my problem.”
“I did?” she asked, surprise coloring her cheeks. “What are you going to do?”
Dionne smirked. “Girl, if I tell you, I’d have to kill you!”
Chapter 7
Immanuel was supposed to be working. He had emails to answer, cases to review and memos to write, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Dionne. He wondered if going to the gym would help take his mind off the fearless lady with the effervescent personality—