WickedTakeover (12 page)

“A housing development. Go up two more blocks. After the
stop sign turn right then pull into the first driveway.”

She stared at the house or rather mansion he’d directed her
to. Spanish style, it was probably five thousand square feet with white walls
and a red tile roof. Lush vegetation hugged it, the palm fronds, flowers and
bushes wiggling in the breeze. Its arched front door had lacy ironwork embedded
in the glass. There were two double garages for four vehicles.

Dante exited her car. Lauren got out on her side before he
could come around to her door. It was incredibly quiet here, even more so than
the park had been. The wealth obvious. With her hand in his, Dante led her to
the front door. She expected him to ring the bell. Maybe they were going to a
party that was taking place in back. The front of the house was dark except for
the porch and landscaping lights.

She looked around for other cars parked nearby. There were
none except hers.

He pulled out his ring of keys.

Lauren gaped. “You have a key to this place?”

“Yep.” After he opened the door, Dante punched in a code on
the alarm and turned on the lights.

Her mouth sagged open at the foyer, its tan marble floor
streaked with white, the walls ecru, the massive chandelier made of sparkling
crystal with dozens of bulbs that he hadn’t flicked on. To the left was a
spacious living room. It boasted a milky marble fireplace, beige leather sofas
and chairs, a wrought-iron-and-glass cocktail table, windows draped in raw silk
curtains, the glass stretching from the floor to the ceiling, sumptuous wall
hangings. God, it was spectacular.

“Are you a real estate agent in your spare time?” she asked.
“Are you selling this place?”

He flicked another switch. A zillion points of light rained
down from the chandelier. “I’ve already sold it.”

Lauren turned a slow circle to take everything in. Her first
impression had been a sea of tan and white. Now she saw splashes of rose and
gold. The interior design was impeccable, as though it were the setting for a
television show. Possibly a reality series about millionaires. “Your commission
must have been un-freaking-believable.”

“I didn’t get one.” He laced his fingers through hers again.

“You’re still waiting for it? The broker stiffed you?”

Dante regarded the house with indifference. “This used to be
my place. Owned it free and clear. Had more money than I knew what to do with.”

Stunned, Lauren squeezed his hand. “What happened? Did you
lose it in the recession? Your stocks tanked? You lost your job?”

He shook his head and turned to her. “I decided to face
reality.”

Lauren’s face flushed with his reminder of what she’d said
to him days ago. Dante hadn’t meant to be mean, simply honest. “It’s all
right,” he murmured. “I know you weren’t trying to hurt me.”

“I did though.”

Oh yeah. Even though she’d been dead wrong about him, her
words had still stung. He’d tried to let it pass. With anyone else, Dante would
have, not caring what that person thought.

He couldn’t with Lauren. Not only did he want her respect,
he couldn’t deny her importance to him. This last week had been god-awful. He’d
kept wondering if what they’d found in each other was already over. All because
she couldn’t see past meaningless stuff to who he really was. He could have
argued his case to her, he was fucking good at that, but Dante hadn’t wanted to
convince. He needed her to accept him as is, as he had with her.

His hope for that had continued to fade until she’d decided
to wear a skirt again. It was nuts for him to put any credence in a woman’s fashion
choice, but Lauren’s small gesture meant more to him than an apology ever
could.

“You didn’t know about me,” he said at last then glanced at
the house, a reminder of his old life. “You didn’t know about this.”

“I still don’t. Will you tell me? I want to know.”

He heard her concern for him. It stirred something deep
within Dante that he couldn’t fight. He nodded then asked, “Are you hungry?”

His change in subject clearly caught her off guard. “Ah…”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He locked the front door and
captured her hand to lead her to the kitchen.

Lauren held back. “If you don’t own this place anymore, how
come you have a key?”

“I sold it to Scott, a friend of mine. He travels at times
for his job. Lets me use the place whenever he’s gone.”

That didn’t get her to move. “You come here often?”

“Are you asking do I miss it?”

“Yeah.” She took in what she could, clearly dazzled. “Who
wouldn’t?”

“It’s not what I want anymore. The last time I was here was
almost a year ago. Scott’s girlfriend threw him a surprise birthday party.
Damnedest thing, they broke up that night.”

“Wow, bummer. Did you guys work together at one time?”

It had been so long since Dante had talked about himself and
what had happened, he felt the old reluctance creeping back. “No.” He pulled
Lauren down the hall toward the kitchen. “He was an attorney on the other
side.”

She stared at the TV room they passed, its monstrous
flat-screen, the Intracoastal Waterway visible from the wall of windows. “Other
side of what?”

“He was opposing counsel during my last case.”

She stopped again. Dante pulled her forward. At this pace,
they’d never reach the food. “There should be steaks in the freezer. Probably a
lot of other stuff in the fridge. Scott likes to eat. Don’t worry, he won’t be
back until tomorrow morning.”

“You’re an attorney?” she asked.

“Was.”

She gasped. “You were disbarred?”

Dante stopped this time and frowned. “No.”

“Hey,” she shot back. “Don’t blame me if I jump to the wrong
conclusion with your cryptic comments. You keep making me guess. Don’t you ever
spit things out like the rest of us?”

Not since he became an attorney. Sharing as little
information as possible was so ingrained in him, Dante hadn’t realized he was
still in lawyer mode. “I quit my job as lead counsel for one of the largest
civil litigation firms in Palm Beach. My department handled product liability.
Most of the time I was able to get out-of-court settlements. When I went to
trial, I always won. I was fucking good at what I did. Too good.”

They’d reached the kitchen. Its square footage was just a
shade less than all of Wicked Brand’s. Dante turned on the lights, a series of
recessed bulbs in the ceiling and a wrought iron chandelier. Its amber shades
glowed softly above the mahogany island in the center of the room. Wood
cabinets, copper utensils and black granite counters provided a decidedly
masculine feel.

Lauren regarded the refrigerator’s engraved wooden door.
“What do you mean you were too good? How is that possible?”

“I won when I shouldn’t have.” He pulled china and a silver
serving tray from the cabinets, handing them to her.

Lauren studied the pieces. “Are these yours too?”

“Yep. Sold everything except my clothes and pickup.”

Lauren put the plates and tray on the island. When she
joined him at the refrigerator, he showed her two frozen rib eyes. “These look
good.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it. I haven’t had steak in
months.”

“That’s right. Thank god there’s no peanut butter and jelly
here—hey.” She’d slapped his arm. “That fucking hurt.”

“No it didn’t.” Lauren kissed his tat. “Better?”

She had no idea. Her warm lips were a balm for his lust and
longing. “Maybe.” After pulling out a third rib eye, Dante put the meat on a
plate and ran cool water over it.

“Are they dirty?” she asked.

He laughed. Clearly, she’d never cooked unprocessed food.
“No. The water helps them thaw.”

Lauren nodded. “Why shouldn’t you have won? You said that
earlier. It doesn’t make sense. If you don’t want to tell me,” she added
quickly, “that’s okay. I can see how much this hurts you.”

Dante hadn’t realized his feelings were still that strong or
obvious. “I need to get the grill ready. I’ll tell you everything while I do.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want,” she murmured.
“Whatever happened, you made the right choice as long as it made you happy.”

Her approval was such a gift, Dante wrapped his arm around
her shoulders and pulled Lauren close. She hugged him without restraint, her
hands moving up and down his back as though to console. He pressed his cheek to
hers. “I want to tell you. Come on.”

She followed him out the sliding backdoor that led to the
patio. As he headed for the bricked-in grill, Lauren spotted the pool. Only a
small wall separated it from the Waterway. Dozens of stars dusted the sky,
adding their sparkling light to the heavy moon. A smudge of clouds muted its
brightness. Warm, humid air drifted past, ruffling vegetation, delivering it
and the water’s pleasant fragrance.

Lauren turned to him, her expression awed, eyes glittering
in the soft landscape lights. Dante recalled feeling the same when he’d first
seen this place and had known he could easily afford it. A hell of an
accomplishment for a Cuban boy who’d grown up in Little Havana in a financially
strapped family.

As though Lauren recalled what he’d willingly given up,
embarassment flooded her face.

“It’s all right,” he said. “The place is beautiful. Nothing
can ever change that.”

“What happened?”

“Before I tell you, I have a request.”

“I won’t judge.”

He knew that now. Being with her was so fucking comfortable
again, Dante felt mischievous. “That’s not my request. Actually, it’s a demand.
Show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.”

Lauren’s attention darted to the neighbor’s yards, hidden by
tall stone fences and vegetation, then to the Waterway and finally to the landscape
lights. The illumination was hardly enough to expose the area to prying eyes
from passing boats. There weren’t any at the moment and probably wouldn’t be at
this hour. Whether that or desire stoked Lauren’s courage, she pulled down her
skirt and stepped out of it.

Dante grinned at her naked tummy and cunt. “You didn’t wear
panties.”

“You told me not to.”

That he had. “I said that about your bra too.”

“I won’t have it on for long.”

She ditched the rest of her clothes quickly then toed off
her sandals. In the yellowish lighting, her pale skin took on a golden hue,
except for her rosy nipples. Tight as hell, the tips rigid.

His hunger for her kicked in again, big time.

Lauren pulled one of the deck chairs to the grill, turned it
away from the Waterway to face him, then sank down to its plump cushions. With
her legs parted widely and her arms folded over her head to display her
breasts, she said, “Show me yours. Please.”

Dante’s smile died, taking his lust with it. He pulled a bag
of mesquite chips from one of the drawers beneath the grill, along with a large
aluminum bowl that he filled with the chips and water. As he stirred the
concoction with his hand, he said, “When I first started law, I had no
illusions about making the world a better place. I can’t remember a time when
my parents didn’t struggle to feed all of us. I didn’t want that for myself,
them or any of my brothers and sisters.”

He turned to her. “I wanted money. Hell, I worshipped it.
Well before I passed the bar, I knew product liability was the way to go as
long as I was on a corporation’s side. I was as greedy as they come.”

“I don’t believe that,” she said. “You were tired of
struggling. Who wouldn’t be?”

“I could have been a better man,” he argued. “I knew exactly
what I was doing when I twisted the law in favor of the businesses I fought
for. Don’t get me wrong, I never did anything illegal. I simply pushed the
envelope. For a lot of the plaintiffs that made sense. Everyone knew they were
trying to stiff the companies. The bigger the business, the better the payoff.
To them, a suit was their way of getting rich. I was simply keeping them from
fucking others who’d worked for their money. Soon, I looked at all plantiffs
that way even if they had legitimate complaints.”

He shook his head at how judgmental and arrogant he’d been.
“I got to the point where the truth didn’t matter anymore. I dragged everyone
through endless depositions, delayed their day in court as much as I could,
wearing them down until they were willing to settle for practically nothing and
were grateful to be getting that. At the time I told myself it was all right
because I wanted to pay off my parents’ mortage, send my brothers and sisters
to college, buy this place. If not for my last case, I’d probably still be doing
it.”

Lauren had already lowered her arms. With her hands clasped,
she leaned forward, listening, not judging.

Dante wasn’t certain he deserved her support. Until now,
he’d been fairly certain he’d forgiven himself, yet all of the shame edged
close again.

He cleared his throat and laid it all out. “On my last case,
a toy manufacturer retained the firm to fight a class action suit filed by a
group of parents. Their children were injured by a tricycle the company sold.
Two of the kids died.”

Lauren’s eyes widened.

Dante should have stopped but couldn’t. He wanted her to
know. “All of the kids had been riding the trikes without direct parental
supervision, meaning the kids were with their siblings rather than an adult at
all times. Even if the parents were around, they were busy with other stuff,
barbequing, doing yard work, you name it. Just like countless other people
every day. But that’s what I honed in on. The fact that the parents hadn’t
watched their kids every minute they were on the trikes. Not that it would have
mattered if they had.”

He leaned against the grill and took a deep breath. “The
turn radius on the trikes was off, which made them tip over if the kid got a
little rambunctious. What kid doesn’t? One little girl went over the handlebars
and landed on her head. She died of brain injuries on the way to the hospital.
A boy fell sideways. He was near the edge of a curb and injured his spine. He
won’t walk again. He’d just turned three. The trike was a birthday present.”