Seduced By The Hero

Dionne burst out laughing. Surely he wasn’t serious? Jules thought if he poured on the charm, she’d be putty in his hands, but his attempt to sweet talk her was so pathetic she rolled her eyes to the ceiling. His moods changed as often as the weather, and she’d always been on guard around him. She never knew what to expect, what would set him off, and hated how he used to take his frustrations out on her. “You don’t love anyone but yourself. That’s how it’s always been, and you’ll never change.”

“If you come back home I’ll buy you a Porsche, a new mansion, anything you want...”

Dionne tuned him out, losing interest in his smooth, slippery speech. Instead of trying to fix the problems in their marriage, Jules had put all his time and energy into running his family’s construction business, Fontaine Enterprises. To this day Dionne felt as if she’d never truly known him. He had a temper, but it was his lies and infidelities that had destroyed their relationship. Despite his family pedigree and accomplishments, Jules was the most insecure man she’d ever met, and Dionne had no respect for him.

“Is this about money?” she asked.

Jules barked a laugh, and the sharp sound pierced Dionne’s eardrum.

“Of course this is about money. With you it always is. Call off the divorce and I’ll increase your weekly allowance by ten thousand dollars. Will that make you happy?”

Disgusted, Dionne stared down at the receiver with contempt. Jules was showing off, talking big, but she knew the real reason he was calling, why he was blowing up her phone day and night. Jules had political aspirations, dreams of being the next mayor of Atlanta, and feared a divorce would tarnish his perfect image. Dionne didn’t give a rat’s ass about his public persona. Reconciliation wasn’t an option, never would be. It wasn’t in his DNA to be faithful and honest, and she was tired of making excuses for his poor choices. Their marriage was broken, irrevocably damaged, and nothing could change that. “You know what would make me happy, Jules? A divorce. So revise your initial offer, or take your chances in court in November.”

“I made you a generous offer, and I’m even willing to overlook the money you stole from me.” His voice was terse, colder than ice. “If you embarrass me or my family in court I’ll make your life a living hell, so I strongly suggest you think long and hard about your decision.”

Dionne broke into a cold sweat and couldn’t stop her hands and legs from shaking.

“Imagine what would happen to your business if the truth came to light.”

Panic drenched her skin. Dionne had one regret in life, and it wasn’t eloping at nineteen with her first husband; it was confiding in Jules about her past. He was threatening to tell the world the truth about her rags-to-riches success story, and his threats were weighing on her. On the surface, she appeared to be strong, but she was stressed out about the divorce and her future.

“You’re not a self-made woman. You’re a fraud, and if you don’t do what I say, you’ll suffer my wrath...”

Dionne was afraid of losing everything she’d worked hard for, but she refused to buckle under the weight of her fear. Jules didn’t control her anymore, couldn’t tell her what to do, and she was sick and tired of arguing with him. “This conversation is over.”

“Like hell it is. It’s not over until I say it’s over. You hear me?”

“Goodbye, Jules. See you in court.”

Without a second thought, Dionne dropped the receiver on the cradle, pushed all thoughts of her estranged husband out of her mind and got back to work.

Chapter 2 (#ulink_7a7b1cfd-e04b-5ea5-8131-20013b6fe0df)

Two weeks. That’s how long security specialist Immanuel Morretti had been trailing Dionne Fontaine. Always from a distance, he kept a low profile and blended into the background, wisely hiding himself in the crowd. He’d followed her husband’s instructions to a tee, and was surprised to discover everything Mr. Fontaine had said about his estranged wife was true. She was curt, demanding and obsessed with her looks. Beauty treatments, shopping sprees and spa days were the norm. She loved dining at chic restaurants filled with socialites and celebrities.

Parked under a lamppost in a black Ford Expedition with tinted windows, Immanuel watched the front door of Pathways Center, keeping his eyes trained on the brick building in the middle of Peachtree Plaza. His company, Mastermind Operations, specialized in physical, personal and cybersecurity, and his surveillance division was in such high demand he’d had to hire additional staff last week. Since opening Mastermind Operations in Atlanta three months earlier, he’d been working nonstop—meeting prospective clients, training staff and creating innovative ad campaigns. But since Jules Fontaine had insisted Immanuel personally take on his case, he’d had no choice but to clear his schedule and leave his business partner, Malcolm Black, in charge. Jules Fontaine was not someone you refused, and Immanuel knew working for the esteemed CFO could open doors for him.

Immanuel had committed Dionne Fontaine’s daily routine to memory. He’d collected a wealth of information since “meeting” her, but he hadn’t uncovered anything incriminating yet. Her husband was convinced she was having an affair with a younger man, and he wanted physical evidence before their November court hearing. That gave Immanuel eight weeks to prove his worth to Mr. Fontaine, and he would.

Yawning, Immanuel leaned back in his seat and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He’d been sitting in his truck for hours, but had used his time away from the office wisely. He’d read his emails on his BlackBerry, returned phone calls and spoke to his assistant at length.

His BlackBerry sounded, flooding his truck with light. Pressing Talk, he put his cell phone to his ear and greeted his cousin. “Hey, Nicco, what’s up?” Immanuel lowered the volume on the radio. “How’s married life treating you?”

“Great, coz, I couldn’t be happier. You have no idea what you’re missing.”

“I think I do, and I’ll pass. Marriage isn’t for everybody, and it damn sure isn’t for me.”

“I felt the same way until I met my baby,” Nicco said good-naturedly. “You’ll change your mind once you meet Mrs. Right. You’ll see.”

Immanuel shook his head, snorted a bitter laugh. “Mrs. Right is a myth, so don’t bet on it.”

Nicco chuckled, and Immanuel did, too. He didn’t talk to his cousin often, only a couple times a month, but whenever they did, he had a good laugh. Now that he was living in the States, he planned to reconnect with his relatives, starting with Nicco and his brothers, Demetri and Rafael. He was looking forward to getting to know them better.

“How’s Hotlanta treating you? Finally settled in, or still living out of boxes?”

Regret tormented his soul. After last year’s scandal, he’d had no choice but to close down his offices in Venice. But not a day went by that he didn’t think about his family, especially his grandmother, Gianna. They were close, and despite the mistakes he’d made in his past, she’d always been his most fervent supporter. “Dante found me a bachelor pad in Brookhaven, and as of last night I’m all moved in,” he said. “I’m starting to like Atlanta—”

“Liar. You’re homesick and anxious to return to Venice, aren’t you?”

“Far from it. I have my hands full at the office and more work than employees.” Immanuel had done his research, taken the time to explore the market, and realized the Peach State was an entrepreneur’s dream. It had one of the strongest economies in the United States, and was home to prominent, influential businesspeople. Within months of opening Mastermind Operations, it was the agency to the stars. Thanks to his cousins’ numerous connections, celebrities and entertainers were flocking to his agency for protection, and business couldn’t be better. He had twenty-five employees on his payroll, and planned to double that number by the end of the year. He gave his staff the freedom to be themselves, encouraged them to think outside the box, and was reaping the dividends of trusting his team. Immanuel was contemplating opening a second location in Georgia, and had commissioned his younger brother, Dante Morretti, to find another property in Savannah.

“It sounds like business is booming. Tell me more.”

Immanuel did. He told Nicco about his five-year plan, his latest ad campaign and the Fontaine case. It was the big break he’d been waiting for, and if everything went according to plan, he’d be doing business with Fontaine Enterprises for years to come. The Atlanta-based, family-operated company was one of the premier construction companies in the state. It owned dozens of local businesses and had plans to expand into other American markets.

“Jules Fontaine of Fontaine Entreprises? He’s a big fish. How’d you meet him?”

“Through a mutual friend.”

“I’m glad things are working out for you,” Nicco said, his tone filled with warmth and sincerity. “And I’m looking forward to seeing you in December.”

“You’re coming to Atlanta for the holidays?”

“No, I’m going to Venice for Emilio’s wedding. Aren’t you going?”

Immanuel raked a hand through his dark brown hair, searching his brain for a suitable excuse. His sister, Francesca, had called him weeks earlier with the news, and as she chatted about Emilio and his fiancée, Immanuel got the sense that his brother had changed his life for the better. He was proud of him, but he didn’t want to reunite with the superstar. “I can’t go to the wedding. I have to work.” He added, “You’re an entrepreneur. You know how it is.”

“Nothing’s more important than family, Immanuel. Never forget that.”

That’s easy for you to say. Your kid brother didn’t screw your fiancée.

“I called Emilio yesterday to congratulate him on his engagement, and he sounded great, all excited and amped up. His fiancée is obviously a miracle worker, because the last time I spoke to Emilio he was an emotional wreck.”

And for good reason. Immanuel thought of Lucca, and pain stabbed his chest. His nephew, an adorable five-year-old with curly hair and wide, expressive eyes, had died in a tragic pool accident at Emilio’s Greensboro estate. The last time he’d seen his brother was at Lucca’s funeral, and Immanuel cringed when he remembered the cruel things he’d said at his nephew’s grave site. He’d let his anger and resentment get the best of him, and knew deep down he owed Emilio an apology. But he wouldn’t attend his December wedding. Just couldn’t do it.

“Coz, I have to go...” Nicco trailed off and didn’t finish his thought.

Immanuel heard children’s voices, laughter and a door slam.

“I told the kids I’d take them to Chuck E. Cheese’s, and they’re getting impatient.”

“No worries, Nicco. Check you later.”

“I’ll call you next week. Love you, man.”

Immanuel ended the call and plugged his cell phone into the charger. He picked up his energy drink and took a swig from the can. He glanced at his Rolex watch and frowned. Mrs. Fontaine usually worked until six o’clock, but it was seven forty-five, and he still hadn’t seen any signs of her. Stretching, he leaned back in his seat and drummed his fingers absently on the steering wheel. Minutes later, the lights went out in Pathways Center, and the front door opened.

And there she was. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen: Dionne Osman Fontaine. Immanuel bolted upright and peered through the windshield. The sidewalk was her stage, her own personal runway, and as she strode toward the parking lot with an air of confidence, desire shot through his veins.