by Pamela Yaye
“Dionne, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“S-s-someone’s outside,” she stammered, unable to believe what she was seeing. She rubbed her eyes, but the figure on her deck still remained. “He’s on the patio.”
“I’m on my way. Go upstairs and lock yourself in the bathroom,” Immanuel instructed.
Her heart was racing erratically, but she spoke with confidence in a voice that masked her fears. “Hell no. This is my house, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m on my way. Call the police, and don’t open the door unless you see a badge.”
Dionne rejected his suggestion, didn’t give it a second thought. “I can’t call the police. I’m new to Brookhaven, and I don’t want my neighbors to think I’m trouble.”
“Forget about your public image and call for help.”
“Immanuel, I have to go.” Dionne hung up the phone and dropped it on the breakfast bar. Keeping her gaze on the back door, she moved over to the end table and rummaged around inside her purse. Bingo! Finding the can of Mace, she tiptoed to the back door and flipped on the patio lights. The stranger scrambled to his feet, jumped over the railing, and took off through the back yard. Was he the only one? Was there someone else lying in wait?
Deciding to investigate, she peered outside. She didn’t see anyone. Spotting an aerosol can on the ground, Dionne unlocked the back door and stepped onto the patio. Her stomach muscles clenched, and dread flooded her body.
Dionne turned around and gasped. Cupping a hand over her mouth, she stared at the horrific image before her eyes. Expletives were sprayed on her house. Cruel, horrible words that pierced her soul like an arrow. Who would do this? Why? What had she ever done to deserve being called a gold digger and a filthy whore?
Hearing footsteps behind her, she whipped around, prepared to fight. She saw Immanuel running down the street and dropped her hands at her sides. Dionne felt a rush of emotion—gratitude, relief and an overwhelming sense of peace. Taking a deep breath steadied her nerves and stopped her legs from shaking. She had to be strong, had to keep it together, and willed herself not to cry.
“Dionne, what happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she lied, biting the inside of her cheek to ward off fresh tears. “He’s gone. I scared him off when I turned on the outdoor lights.”
Immanuel gave her a hug, held her tight, close to his chest. “Good thinking. I’m not surprised, though. You’re as smart as they come.”
His touch was warm and felt soft against her skin. Though it did nothing to soothe her troubled mind. Someone was after her, and she didn’t know why. Was it Jules? A former employee with an ax to grind? Someone from her past she’d wronged?
“Go inside,” he said, squeezing her shoulders. “I’m going to secure the property.”
Dionne returned to the kitchen, saw the broken jar on the hardwood floor and grabbed her cleaning supplies from the broom closet. Her mind raced, jumping from one thought to the next as she swept and mopped. Is Jules trying to hurt me? Is this retaliation for the divorce?
Anger coursed through her veins. Dionne gripped the broom handle, imagined it was the perpetrator’s neck, and decided she wasn’t going down without a fight.
“Do you need any help?” Immanuel asked, quietly entering the room.
Dionne shook her head, emptied the dustpan in the garbage, and returned her supplies to the closet.
“Did you get a good look at the perpetrator?”
“No, it was too dark, and he was gone in the blink of an eye.”
“It’s not safe for you to stay here. That creep could come back.”
She scoffed. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I’m not leaving my house.”
“Yes, you are. Go upstairs and pack an overnight bag. You’re staying with me.”
“I won’t let some sick bastard drive me away from my property.”
“What if I book you the penthouse suite at the Hyatt?”
“I want to sleep in my own bed, in my own house, not at a downtown hotel.”
His eyes narrowed, darkened a shade. “Are you always this stubborn?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I am. I’m a Taurus, and Somali, and since you don’t have a chance in hell of winning this argument you might as well quit while you’re ahead!”
“Copycat.” A grin claimed his mouth. “Can I at least take you out for dinner?”
“Not tonight. I’m tired, and I don’t have the energy to make myself beautiful.”
“You don’t have to make yourself beautiful. You already are.”
“Not in jeggings and an old T-shirt,” Dionne said, gesturing at her casual clothes. “I feel my best when I’m all dolled up, and I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing this in public.”
“That’s too bad. I like your look, especially your cute ponytail and bunny slippers.”
And I love your smile.
Sniffing the air, he glanced around the kitchen. “What is that amazing smell?”
“Mushroom Bolognese. Do you want some?”
Flashing a devilish grin, he hungrily licked his lips and rubbed his flat stomach. “Heck yeah! You know I can’t say no to food, especially homemade pasta. I’m Italian, and there’s nothing I love more!”
* * *
Dirty dishes, empty wine bottles and bowls of junk food covered the wooden coffee table. Dionne and Immanuel were sitting in the living room, stretched out on the couch, watching the game on TV. The table was a mess, the kitchen, too, but Dionne was so full she couldn’t move. She’d clean up later after Immanuel left, though she wouldn’t mind if he spent the night. The thought excited her. Hours had passed since she’d scared off the vandal, but Dionne couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened.
Her gaze fell across his face, sliding down his broad, muscled physique. He looked dreamy in his white ribbed shirt and loose-fitting pants, but it was the good-humored expression on his face that turned her on. He was telling her a story about the time he got lost with his brothers in Prague, and the sound of his hearty chuckles warmed her heart. “I’m glad you and Emilio are back on speaking terms. That’s awesome.”
“Yeah, it’s cool. My grandmother’s happy about it.”
“Who knows? Maybe Emilio will ask you to be one of his groomsmen.”
“I can’t go to the wedding. I have to work.”
“Work?” she repeated, incredulous. “But he’s your brother. You should be there.”
“I can’t. Things are still tense between us, and I don’t want to ruin Sharleen’s big day.”
“But...I was hoping you could show me around your hometown. There’s so much to see and do in Venice, and I want you to be my tour guide.”
“Don’t worry. I have a big family. Someone will definitely step up to the plate.”
Nodding, she masked her disappointment with a smile. “You’re right. Emilio said Dante loves a good time, and he’s already volunteered to show me around while I’m in town.”
“Stay away from Dante,” he warned. “Trouble follows him wherever he goes. I don’t want you in harm’s way.”
Then come to Italy so we can be together, Dionne thought, wishing he weren’t being so stubborn. Every time she thought about her trip to Venice she pictured herself with Immanuel—sightseeing, kissing and making love. Feeling her temperature rise, she pushed the thought away and dismissed his words with a flick of her hand. “You worry too much. I’ll be fine.”
“I have to. You’re important to me.”
“Then come to Venice,” she said. “I want to see Italy through your eyes, not your brother’s. And I don’t want Dante’s girlfriend to hate me for monopolizing his time.”
“What girlfriend? My brother hasn’t been serious about a girl since the third grade!”
Dionne laughed. “So, you’ll attend Emilio and Sharleen’s wedding?”
“I’ll think about it.”
His words gave her hope. “That’s all I’m asking.”
Chapter 13
It was midnight, and Dionne had to be at the office first thing tomorrow morning to meet with an eighties pop star struggling with depression. But instead of asking Immanuel to leave, she filled his empty wineglass with more Chardonnay, and turned up the volume on the stereo. They’d been talking for two hours, and the Sam Smith song playing in the background put her in a relaxed mood. Dionne couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this content, and although she was angry about the graffiti on her house, she refused to let it bring her down.
“Are you ready for your trip to Seattle?” he asked.
“I’m excited about the Leadership Conference, but I’m dreading the flight,” she said, tucking her legs under her bottom. “Thank God for sleeping pills or I’d never travel.”
“Have you finished your speech?”
“Yes, of course, and it’s really good.”
“I’m sure it is. You’re an intelligent, articulate woman with a lot to offer. ”
“You should come to the conference. It’s a great networking opportunity, and I think you’ll learn a lot.”
“I’ll get back to you. Let me check my schedule first, and see if I can free up some time.”
Tasting her water, she watched Immanuel over the rim of her glass. A frown covered his face. He looked troubled, as if something was bothering him, and when he spoke, his voice was strained.
“Friday’s the big day. How do you feel?”
Dionne raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you remembered.”
“I remember everything that concerns you. You’re my number one girl, remember?”
His words touched her heart, and a smile tickled the corners of her mouth. “I’m nervous about the meeting, but I’m trying to stay positive. Jules’s attorney contacted us, so I’m hoping he’s finally come to his senses and is ready to settle.”
His expression was sympathetic, full of warmth and compassion.
“We’ve been arguing for months, and I’m sick of it. I just want it to be over so I can move on and start the next chapter of my life.”
Immanuel picked up the remote control, pointed it at the stereo system and lowered the volume. “If you don’t mind me asking, why has it taken almost a year to reach a settlement?”
“Because Jules wants to hurt me. That’s all he cares about. I can’t let him win.”
Dionne surprised herself by opening up to Immanuel about her marriage, told him things she’d never told anyone, not even her sisters. He was easy to talk to, a sympathetic ear, and she was grateful he didn’t judge her or minimize her feelings.
“Life doesn’t get better by chance, it gets better by change, so don’t be afraid to speak up for yourself,” he advised. “Don’t let Jules and his high-powered attorney dictate what’s right for you, either. Your life is yours to create, and yours alone.”
“I know, but Jules is fighting me at every turn. So is my family.”
Immanuel squeezed her hand. “It’s been a stressful year for everyone, hasn’t it?”
Dionne swallowed hard, slowly nodded her head in agreement.
“Dante got divorced last year, and it took a toll on everyone, especially my nephew, but it was definitely for the best. There are some things you can’t put a price on, like contentment and peace of mind. Dante’s a lot happier now that it’s just him and Matteo.”
His words gave her pause, made her reflect on everything that had happened since she’d filed for divorce last year. Immanuel was right on. The divorce was stressing her out, always weighing heavily on her mind. Dionne couldn’t go anywhere in her old neighborhood without people staring and whispering behind her back. She felt alone, as if no one were in her corner. She wanted to move on with her life, but how could she when Jules was being petty and vindictive?
“You have to outsmart him. Give Jules something he wants—” Immanuel answered the question she’d posed in her thoughts.
“You mean besides strippers?”
“What does he value more than anything? What does he hold dear?”
“His money, his privacy, his secrets...” An idea came to mind, and Dionne broke off speaking. She’d have to lie, and would need the help of one of her female employees to beat Jules at his own game, but it was worth a shot. Dionne was anxious for a fresh start, desperate to be free of Jules and his meddling, controlling family. If everything went according to plan, come Friday she’d be a free woman. “Immanuel, you’re brilliant! I know what to do to win!”
He chuckled, then wore a lopsided smile. “I’m glad I could help.”
“You’re always helping me. It’s like you’re my good-luck charm or something.”
Their eyes met, and the temperature in the room rose a hundred degrees. Sexual tension scented the air, filling the room with its sweet, intoxicating fragrance.
Dionne examined him thoroughly—his creamy olive skin, his piercing blue eyes, the intense expression on his face—and knew what he wanted, because she wanted the exact same thing. She craved him, desired him, had been dreaming of kissing him for weeks. Suddenly breathless, she waited impatiently for Immanuel to make the first move.
Seconds passed, then what felt like minutes.
Deciding to take matters into her own hands, she moved closer to him on the couch and gently caressed his soft, smooth skin with her fingertips. His scent overwhelmed her, increased her hunger. Dionne was shocked by the intensity of her feelings, how touching him made her body throb. He didn’t speak. Didn’t have to. The expression on his face said it all: he wanted her, too. No doubt about it.
Her heartbeat sped up; her pulse, too. Anxious to taste his lips, Dionne closed her eyes and slanted her head to the right. He’s going to kiss me! Finally! I thought this day would never come! When nothing happened, she stared at him, baffled by his behavior. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re still legally married.”
“I’ve been separated for months,” she countered, her mind reeling from his words.
“In the eyes of the court you’re still his wife, and I won’t do something that’s ethically and morally wrong.”
Dionne felt her eyes widen and her lips part in surprise. Why couldn’t he be like other guys? Why did he have to do the right thing?
“I’ve been cheated on, and I’d never inflict that kind of pain on another human being.”
Her skin burned with shame, and her body tensed. His rejection stung. It was so painful Dionne couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Now she wanted to run and hide. Wanting to be alone, she stood and moved away from the couch. “You should go. It’s late.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” He sounded concerned, and wrinkles lined his smooth brow. “I don’t mind, and I’ll sleep better knowing you’re safe.”
“Immanuel, I don’t need a babysitter. I can take care of myself.”
“I know,” he said with a knowing smile. “I’ve seen you in action.”
Dionne opened the front door and stepped aside. “Get home safe.”
“Thanks for dinner. Everything was delicious, especially the homemade bruschetta.”
With a heavy heart, Dionne watched Immanuel put on his jacket and walk outside.
“Don’t forget to put on the alarm before you go to bed.”
“Don’t worry, Dad. I won’t.”
He grinned, but Dionne didn’t have the energy to return his smile.
“Workers from the Paint Doctor will be here first thing tomorrow to repaint the deck.”
“Thanks for everything,” she said. “I can always count on you to come to my rescue.”
“That’s what friends are for, right?”
Her shoulders sagged. Friends? Is that all we are?
“If you need anything just call. It doesn’t matter how late.”
Dionne couldn’t get her lips to move, and nodded her head in understanding. Her heart faltered when he kissed her on the cheek. Feeling light on her feet, she gripped the door handle to steady her balance. Her body was weak, desperate for him, but she exercised self-control, chose to stare at the hardwood floor instead of his juicy, sexy lips.
“Sleep well,” he whispered, his soft, seductive voice arousing her needs. “And good luck on Friday. Remember what I said. Nothing is more important than your happiness.”
He then jogged down the steps and disappeared into the darkness.
Chapter 14
The ninth-floor conference room in the Simmons & Sons Law Firm had vibrant oil paintings on the walls, eye-catching sculptures that beautified the glass shelves, and floor-to-ceiling windows that offered striking views of downtown Atlanta, but Dionne was bored out of her mind. Anxious to return to her office, she glanced at her watch for the second time in minutes. She was leaving for Seattle that evening, and she had a million things to do before her nine o’clock flight to Emerald City.
Folding her arms across her chest, she tapped her high-heeled shoes impatiently on the floor. Sunshine splashed through the windows, but it didn’t improve her foul mood. Jules and his attorney were fifteen minutes late, and she had no choice but to wait. Dionne was sitting at the table with her attorney, a no-nonsense New Yorker by the name of Zakkiyah Givens. As she watched the seconds tick by on the wall clock, her anxiety increased.
Hearing footsteps outside the door, Dionne straightened in her chair and adjusted her tweed suit jacket. She could hear male voices, someone speaking in a hushed whisper, and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Jules and his attorney, no doubt. They were standing in the hallway, plotting her demise, but Dionne wasn’t fazed. She had a plan A, B and C in her arsenal, and she wasn’t leaving the prestigious law firm without a divorce.