by Shelly Ellis
But it did matter. She knew that in her heart. They couldn’t continue the status quo. So, to protect herself, she had cut off all contact with Evan, much like he had cut off all contact with her to protect himself several years ago. But she still thought about him—a lot. She did it while she wrote down orders at Dean’s Big Burger, while she brushed Isabel’s hair before school, and while she lay awake in bed at night, staring at the ceiling because she couldn’t sleep, because she wanted to be lying next to him.
“Mommy,” Isabel shouted as she rushed into the kitchen, “you coming with us?”
Leila shook her head. “No, baby, Mommy is staying here. I have to clean up this place. But Grandma will take you.” She leaned down and kissed her daughter on the brow. “So you make sure you behave yourself and be a good girl. Maybe if you are, Grandma will take you out for ice cream afterward.”
Isabel’s eyes widened. She jumped up and down on the balls of her feet. “Ice cream! Ice cream! Ice cream!” She instantly turned to her grandmother. “Can we get ice cream, Grandma? I want a strawberry sundae!”
“You heard your mama. We’ll have to wait and see.” Diane wrapped an arm around Isabel’s shoulders and gazed at her daughter. “We better get going if we’re gonna make the two o’clock show. Lee, you sure you don’t—”
“I’ll be fine here,” Leila answered before her mother could finish. She made a shooing motion. “You guys go ahead before you miss the previews.”
Diane gave her one last hesitant look before ushering Isabel out of the kitchen. Leila could hear them gathering their things as she grabbed a broom and started to sweep the linoleum tiled floor. She glanced over her shoulder just as they opened the front door.
“Bye, Lee!” Diane called out with a wave. “We should be home in a few hours.”
“Bye, Mommy!”
“Bye!” Leila called back. Her eyes then zeroed in on an orange wool cardigan hanging on the back of one of the dinette table chairs. “Hey, Izzy, you forgot your . . .”
Her words faded when she heard the door slam shut behind them.
You forgot your sweater, she thought. It was early October and though an Indian summer had kept the temperatures in the mid seventies for the past couple of weeks, it had gotten a lot chillier since Tuesday. Isabel would need her sweater, especially for a cool theater.
Leila sighed. Oh, well. Maybe they’ll realize she needs it and turn around and come back.
Ten minutes later, as Leila was scrubbing down the kitchen counter, she heard a frantic knock at the door. Leila halted mid swipe. She knew her daughter’s knock from anywhere. Diane had probably realized Isabel had left her sweater behind and sent the seven-year-old upstairs to get it. Leila instantly dropped her sponge and ripped off her soapy, wet rubber gloves.
“Coming, honey!” she cried as she walked across the kitchen and grabbed the sweater. She continued to the front door, unlocked it, and tugged it open. “I was wondering if you . . .”
She couldn’t finish. Her heart and stomach plummeted simultaneously when she realized who was waiting for her in the apartment hallway. It wasn’t Isabel.
“Hi, Lee,” Evan said. He wasn’t wearing one of his expensive suits today. Just a T-shirt and jeans, and he couldn’t have looked more handsome.
She didn’t respond to his greeting. She couldn’t. Her tongue felt heavy. Her mouth went dry.
Why was he here? Why was he standing at her front door like it was the most normal thing in the world? Why was he doing this to her?
“Can I come in?” he asked softly.
She slowly nodded then blinked, stopped herself and shook her head. “Evan, y-you can’t just . . . why are you—”
“Because I needed to talk to you. I needed to ask you something and I knew if I tried to call or email first, it would go right to voice mail or to your email trash can. I figured I’d be harder to avoid in person.”
She wavered, feeling an overwhelming rush of emotions—elation at seeing him again, longing to touch him, and frustration at being so goddamn weak.
“Please, Lee,” he said, barely above a whisper and she lost all her defenses. She instantly opened the door further and stepped aside to let him into her home. She wordlessly waved him forward.
He stepped past her into her living room and their shoulders brushed. It was like flicking a tuning fork. Her entire body seemed to vibrate with sexual tension. The longing she felt at seeing him instantly morphed into desire and she wanted to yell at herself, “Snap out of it, Lee!” But she couldn’t snap out of it. She shut the door behind him.
“What did you want to ask?”
Leila watched as he turned in a circle. His gaze surveyed the room. His eyes finally settled on her.
“First, I want to tell you that I’m getting a divorce,” he said and the instant he did, Leila raised her hand to her mouth in shock. “I’ve already contacted a lawyer and he filed the paperwork on Wednesday. I’m going to end my marriage, Lee. Charisse and I are done.”
“She didn’t . . . she didn’t find out about us, did she?”
Leila hoped their affair wasn’t the reason why he was getting a divorce. She hadn’t wanted to put him in that position, for him to put everything at risk. That’s why she had walked away in the first place.
“No, she didn’t find out about us. Not that it would matter much, considering she’s been having an affair with Dante for about a year now.”
Leila gaped. “Dante? You don’t mean your brother Dante, do you?”
Evan nodded. “The one and the same. I ran in on those two in the shower together.”
“Oh, my God!”
She was stunned to hear that Charisse and Dante had been having an affair, but then part of her wasn’t. Even when she had dated him, there had always seemed to be something off about Dante—like he was hiding something beneath the surface. She also didn’t understand his hostility toward his brother Evan. It had seemed to come out of nowhere. Now she knew that hostility was deeper than she’d ever realized.
“But I’m not here to talk about Charisse and Dante. I’m here to talk about us.” He cleared his throat and took a step toward her. “When I decided to end my marriage to Charisse, I knew there were no guarantees when it comes . . . well, when it comes to us. I know I asked a lot of you before. I know you’re still married and—”
“No, I’m not,” she said. This time, he looked surprised.
“What?”
“My divorce was finalized last week. I got the papers in the mail. Brad wants to marry his new girlfriend and I guess she put pressure on him to move things along. He finally signed everything. So I’m not . . . I’m not married. Not anymore.”
He stared at her for a long time after that. “Well, that makes what I have to ask you a lot easier than I thought. It feels a little less crazy to ask it.” He took a deep breath. “Lee, would you—”
“If you want to try again, the answer is yes,” she blurted out, unable to hold in her joy. She couldn’t even pretend that she had to think things over. She was well past that point. “I’m willing to give us a second chance if you want to, Ev.”
He slowly shook his head. “That wasn’t what I was going to ask.”
Her breath caught in her throat.
Then what was Evan asking? She doubted he wanted her to work for him again. He wouldn’t come all the way here just for that. She was a good assistant, but she wasn’t that damn good. No, she thought. Or maybe he was only interested in just reigniting their friendship and nothing else. Maybe she had put him through too much over the years, yanking his emotions back and forth like a rag doll between dueling toddlers. Her shoulders fell. If that was case, she would just have to accept it.
She watched in confusion as he reached into one of his jean pockets and suddenly fell to bended knee. From that point on, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. He took out the black velvet box and flipped open the lid. He held the solitaire diamond aloft, and she took a hesitant step back, feeling as if her
knees were about to buckle.
“I know it seems like an empty gesture,” he began, “with me still being married. But as soon as my divorce goes through, I want to do this, Lee. I’m tired of waiting for the life I wanted to finally begin. I’ve waited too damn long. Will you . . . will you marry me?”
Leila’s heartbeat thudded in her ears. Her vision blurred with tears as she gazed at the ring he offered her. This wasn’t really happening, was it?
She must have stayed silent way too long because Evan lowered the ring box. He rose from his kneel to stand in front of her. “Like I said, I knew nothing was guaranteed,” he muttered.
“Yes!” she said, grabbing his arm. “Yes, Evan. Of course, I want to get married. Of course, I want to marry you! I . . . I . . .”
She didn’t know what else to say so she dropped Isabel’s cardigan, looped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back. They stood there in the living room, locked in each other’s arms for a very long time. As they kissed, the vibrations started all over again, undulating over her body like ocean waves. If she wanted him before, that was nothing compared to how much she wanted him now.
Leila abruptly pulled back her head, stopping them mid-kiss, and shoved away from him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked breathlessly.
Leila didn’t answer him. Instead, she grabbed his hand and tugged him out of the living room and down the short hall that led to her bedroom. Several cardboard boxes still sat on the carpeted floor, waiting to be unpacked. A pile of clothes was tossed on the foot stool at the end of her bed, waiting to be hung in her closet. But Evan didn’t give a second glance at the disarray surrounding them.
“How much time do we have?” he asked frantically as he started stripping her of her clothes and taking off his own.
“Two and a half hours,” she answered against his lips. “Maybe three.”
“Oh, that’s plenty of time.”
Within seconds, they were both naked and Leila fell back onto her bed, tugging Evan with her.
“Wait,” Evan murmured against her lips just as she started to straddle him. He pushed her back onto the mattress and crawled off the bed.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he walked across her bedroom. He started fiddling with the door handle. “Seriously, Ev . . . what are you doing?”
“This damn thing doesn’t lock?” he grumbled.
“No. Why?”
She watched in amazement as he yanked open the bedroom door and strode down the hall, buck naked.
“Ev, where are you going?” Leila shouted as she lay back on the bed, furrowing her brows with puzzlement. She instantly felt the chill of his absence and grabbed one of the sheets to cover herself. “Ev?”
He returned to the bedroom less than a minute later, holding one of the dinette chairs. She burst into laughter as she watched him close the bedroom door and wedge the chair underneath the door handle.
He turned around to face her and grinned. “I’ve had too many bad experiences with running in on someone or having someone run in on me. I’m not doing that shit again!”
“Come here,” she said, hooking her finger at him.
She didn’t have to tell him twice. In less than a second he was across the room and on top of her.
Chapter 25
DANTE
“Excuse me! Excuse me, ma’am!” Dante heard the office assistant shout on the other side of his door.
He looked up from his computer screen.
“Ma’am, you can’t just barge into—”
“I will do whatever I damn well please!” he heard Charisse yell as his office door suddenly swung open. The door almost hit the sleek console table along the adjacent wall where he displayed his awards and photos of himself posing with various celebrities and dignitaries he had rubbed elbows with over the years.
Charisse stood in the doorway, a more bedraggled version of her usual self. He could tell from her lack of makeup, disheveled hair, and wrinkled clothes that she was on one of her drinking binges. He could also tell from the unfocused look of her red-rimmed eyes.
“So . . . so this is where you’ve been hiding?” she shouted, jabbing her finger at him. “Behind a fucking desk! You and Evan have more in common than I thought!”
The beleaguered-looking assistant leaned her head around the door frame. “I am so . . . so sorry, Mr. Turner. I tried to tell her that you were busy,” the young woman said timidly, “but she wouldn’t listen. She just—”
“He isn’t fucking busy! He’s a fucking coward, that’s what he is!” Charisse glared at him. “Why haven’t you returned any of my phone calls? Why are you avoiding me?”
Dante pasted on a charming smile and rose from his leather swivel chair. “I’ll take it from here, Lindsey.” He walked around his desk and buttoned his suit jacket. “You can go back to the front office.”
Lindsey gave a worried glance at Charisse before nodding and turning back to the corridor, where other doors were now open. A few people leaned out of their offices to see the source of all the commotion. Dante watched as Lindsey began to walk toward the front of the law offices of Nutter, McElroy & Ailey, where Dante worked, where he had been trying for seven years to make partner.
And this bitch may have fucked up all my aspirations in one fell swoop, he thought as he angrily strode across his office, grabbed Charisse by the arm, dragged her farther into the room, and slammed the door shut. But that wasn’t a surprise. Charisse had managed to mess up all his other plans too.
“Have you lost your damn mind?” he asked. “What the fuck were you thinking coming in here like that?”
“Why haven’t you returned any of my calls?” Charisse repeated. Her cheeks were inflamed with indignation and the bourbon she probably had imbibed earlier that day.
He let go of her and contemplated coming up with an excuse, but honestly couldn’t think of one or work up the will to fabricate a conceivable lie.
“Because I didn’t want to talk to you.”
“Why?” she cried, looking so vulnerable at that moment, he almost laughed. “What did I do wrong?”
“What did you do wrong?” He couldn’t hold in his laughter anymore. In light of his reaction, her anger was replaced with confusion.
“What’s so funny?” she asked as he continued to laugh.
What did she do wrong? Where should I begin?
Maybe it was the fact that she had talked him into coming to her house the day that Evan had discovered they were having an affair. Dante hadn’t wanted to come to the Murdoch mansion. He had meetings scheduled throughout that Wednesday with several of his clients, but she had argued, whined, and cajoled. Finally, she’d sent him sexy text messages accompanied by X-rated pics of herself wearing nothing but a thong and a smile. He had found it hard to resist and agreed to stop by and stay for an hour or two.
The worst goddamn decision I ever made, Dante now thought as he glared at Charisse.
And when Evan had stumbled upon them together, Charisse hadn’t been smart enough to keep her mouth shut or act humble. She had instead been self-righteous and goaded Evan into bringing out the big guns. Now Evan was enforcing everything in their prenup, including the clause that said she forfeited all rights to his company shares if she committed adultery.
So there went Dante’s plans to use Charisse as a way to finally get a part of the legacy that his father had denied him. She would have been the sword Dante wielded to help take down Evan, to claim his rightful place in the Murdoch family. Thanks to her big mouth, there went all those months Dante had spent wooing Charisse, sexing her, and putting up with her drunken bullshit!
What a waste of time, he thought.
“Go home.” Dante waved her off, gesturing toward the door. “Just turn around and go back home, okay?”
“I can’t go home! You obviously didn’t listen to my messages. I tried to tell you that Evan is kicking me out!” She pouted her collagen-injected lips. “He .
. . he told me to pack my things and move out by the end of the week. I know he just wants to get me out so he can move in his personal assistant, Leila! I knew when I saw her that she was nothing but a piece of trash! They’re engaged, you know. I guess Evan forgot the little fact that he’s still married to me!”
“He and Leila are engaged?” Dante asked, feeling a spark of anger rise at that revelation. Leila had insisted that nothing was going on between her and Evan.
That lying bitch, Dante thought, shaking his head ruefully. I swear you can’t trust anyone.
But he would make her pay for deceiving him, just like he would finally figure out how to get to Evan. He would not give up on that one.
“He’s putting me up in some rental property . . . some tiny condo!” Charisse scoffed. “I told him that he might as well toss me out on the street. He said if I didn’t like it, then I could go live with my mother! My mother, Dante! Can you believe he said that to me? The fucking nerve . . .”
Dante loudly sighed. “And how is any of this my problem?”
“What do you mean, how is this any of it your problem? You can’t let Evan do this to me! I thought you were in my corner. That I could turn to you if I—”
“Well, you thought wrong,” he said coldly. “Look, Charisse, we had some good times and good sex, but that’s all it was. Don’t try to make it sound like I promised you the world, because I didn’t.”
“That’s all I was to you? Good times and good sex?” she screeched, balling her fists at her sides. “You . . . you asshole! You . . . you sorry excuse for a human being! You piece of—”
“And you’re a drunken, entitled whore,” he said, growing bored. “People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, Charisse.”
Charisse’s chest heaved up and down as she trembled. This time, real tears pooled in her eyes, but he still wasn’t moved. The tears spilled onto her reddened cheeks.
“You think you can just . . . just get rid of me like some . . . some piece of trash?” she whispered. “You think you can—”