WickedTakeover (15 page)

Lauren’s throat continued to tighten. “Jasmina.”

He nodded. “She’ll be let go like Dante. My company will
give them a very nice severance package,” he added quickly. “And a bonus to
stay on to train my crew on Wicked Brand’s operation. That shouldn’t take
longer than two weeks.”

Lauren felt the blood draining from her face.

Mike pulled a sheaf of papers from his leather tote. “I’ve
spelled out everything here. If we agree on terms, I’d like to take over as
soon as possible.”

Lauren stared at the papers, reluctant to touch them.

“If you have any legal questions concerning my offer,” Mike
said, “you can contact my attorney. His number’s at the top of the first
sheet.”

She didn’t bother to look.

Mike waited a moment then said, “I’ll need your attorney’s
name, should I have any questions.”

Lauren didn’t know what to say. The only lawyers she knew
were the one who’d handled Frank’s estate and Dante. How in the hell was she
supposed to tell him about this? How could she begin to soften the blow? Wicked
Brand wasn’t the sum total of his life, not with his legal talent, but it had
offered him a chance to heal from what he thought he’d done. Frank’s friendship
had surely helped. Now both he and the parlor were history.

She would be gone soon too, leaving Dante where she’d been
when Lauren had first walked into the parlor. Alone, tossed aside, searching
for a job.

Dante kept checking the time on his computer. Lauren had
been gone for more than six hours. No interview he knew took that long unless
the powers-that-be had taken her to dinner. Even with that, no meal lasted for
five hours. He’d already checked all the area hospitals to see if she’d been in
an accident. Thankfully, she hadn’t. He’d called her cell. She hadn’t answered.
He couldn’t leave a message since her voicemail was full.

Edgy, Dante went to the front of the parlor again. Van Gogh
and Jasmina had left a half-hour ago. Before she’d taken off, Jasmina had asked
repeatedly about Lauren, wanting to know if she’d gotten the job.

All Dante could do was lift his shoulders. “I know as much
as you do,” he’d said.

She’d wagged her finger at him. “If you’d pursued her like
you should have, she wouldn’t be leaving us.”

Dante had wanted to laugh and sigh. He’d made love to Lauren
as he hadn’t with any other woman. He’d shared more laughs with her than he’d
done with any guy. Not to mention paddling her when she’d been bad, which was
often since she liked being spanked. What the fuck else was he supposed to have
done, declare his undying love? The thought of her rejecting him, saying they
shouldn’t see each other again made Dante queasy. “She needs a real job in her
field, Jasmina. Wicked Brand isn’t her field.”

“Why not?” She planted her hands on her hips. “She can’t do
human resources here? You, Van Gogh and I aren’t human?”

“You and I are,” he conceded. “Now Van Gogh?”

Jasmina slapped his arm. “I’m serious.” Her cell phone rang.
“I gotta go.”

The last he’d seen of her she’d been jogging down the street
toward the fast food joint where her boyfriend worked.

Dante returned to his station and checked the time again.
Where
in the fuck are you?
Lauren couldn’t have started work already. What job
required that on the same day as the interview? He debated going home, getting
his pickup and driving to the company where she’d interviewed to see if her car
was still in the lot. If it were, he’d drive away. She’d never have to know
he’d been there. If it wasn’t…

He’d worry about that later. After shutting down everything
in his station, Dante hurried to the front of the shop and flinched. Lauren
stood just inside the door. She’d taken off her suit jacket and looked beyond
wilted. Her eyes were red and puffy with mascara smudges beneath them.

Shit, shit, shit.
They’d turned her down. Fucking
a-holes. “It’s okay,” he murmured. Moving first, he gathered Lauren in his arms
and rubbed her back. “There’ll be other opportunities. Better ones. They must
have been nuts not to have—”

“I got the job. All I have to do is say yes.”

Dante frowned, not understanding and eased back to see her
face. Her eyes glistened with new tears. “It wasn’t what you wanted? It’s a
lesser position?”

“It’s in Pensacola. Six hundred miles away.”

Everything went still for a moment then reality slammed into
Dante, leaving him stunned. That much distance meant he couldn’t see her on
even a semi-regular basis. At least, not in the physical sense. There could
always be computer or phone chats, but who did that for any length of time?
Once she left, she’d really be gone.

His belly twisted so hard, the pain nearly knocked him down.

He wanted to tell her to stay, but couldn’t. It wouldn’t be
right. It’d be beyond selfish. He’d been that way before with his fucking cases
and the plaintiffs he’d hurt. He couldn’t do it again, especially not to her.

“Didn’t you hear me?” she asked.

“Yeah, of course.” His gut continued to ache. “Is it a good
opportunity for you?”

She covered her eyes with her hand. “It’d be a good
opportunity for anyone. A great title. More money than I’ve ever seen. A chance
to move up in the company.”

Dante didn’t want to hear any more but wouldn’t turn away.
She deserved his support. He tried to sound enthused when all he wanted to do
was get drunk and pass out. “Then you did the right thing by accepting.”

Lauren dropped her hand. “Haven’t you been listening? I have
until Tuesday to give them my decision. They told me to run their offer by my
attorney. Outside of the guy who handled Frank’s affairs, you’re the only other
lawyer I know.”

He stepped back. “You want me to look over the paperwork?”
She wanted his help to get her out of his life? Fuck no. No goddamn way would
he do that.

“I’m sure Mike wouldn’t think that was such a good idea,”
she said. “Of course, Mike doesn’t know you’re a lawyer.”

“Mike?”

“The guy who wants to buy the parlor,” she said.

Christ.
This was getting worse by the minute. “You
sold the place too?” All in one pissing afternoon?

She continued to breathe hard. “He wants my attorney to look
over his papers. He loves Van Gogh. Wants to give him a raise.”

Dante’s thoughts were still spinning. He mumbled, “Good. Van
Gogh deserves it.”

Lauren frowned. “You do too.”

He made a face. “I don’t care about money.”

“I know. You should.”

He growled, “I have all the money I need.”

“You don’t have any goddamn thing,” she snapped, making
fists. “He wants to replace you with his own manager. Jasmina too. Both of you
will be gone in two weeks just as soon as you train the other crew to take
over.”

Everything went quiet again.

Dante finally understood that this was really it.

No wonder Lauren had taken so long to return and had been
crying when this should have been the happiest day of her life. She’d been
scared to tell him the truth that it was over, just like that.

Or maybe it had never begun.

Dante cleared his throat and tried to sound nice when his
first urge was to put his fist through the goddamn wall. “If you want, I’ll
tell Jasmina tomorrow. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this as easy as
possible on—”

“Easy? I’m dying here, can’t you see that?” She got in his
face and spoke through her teeth. “Do you want me to go that badly? If you do,
say it, dammit. I want to hear the words.”

“What are you talking about?” he snapped back. “You’re the
one who wanted an HR job. I’m trying to be supportive.”

“So you do want me to go. What we did together was no
fucking big deal for you. It was just screwing around with the help.”

“The help? Have you lost your damn mind?” Dante jabbed his
thumb into his chest. “I’m the pissing help.”

“Since when? You’re the one who’s always been in charge of
this place and me, and you damn well know it. I remember every fucking thing
you said, even if you don’t.” She made her voice low-pitched like his. “No more
panties from now on. I want you wet whenever I’m near. You have to wear a
skirt. No bra either.” She hollered in her normal voice again. “Like I’d ever
fucking do that.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You said you liked it.”

“The games, not going without a bra. What’s wrong with you?
Can’t you see how big I am?”

Dante clenched his jaw and moved closer, crowding her.
“Don’t you ever, and I do mean ever, say that again. There is nothing wrong
with your goddamn figure.”

“Except it’s too
big,
and I’m not pretty enough,
and—”

“Not pretty enough? Are you blind? You’re beautiful.”

She bounced on her heels and clenched her fists. “You’re
just being nice. You’re too fucking kind. With your great looks and good heart
every woman who meets you wants you.”

He backed up a step and shouted, “Now you’re accusing me of
flirting again?”

“You don’t have to,” she cried. “Even if you don’t notice
them, women still want you. That’s why you want me gone.”

“The hell I do,” he yelled. “I don’t want you to leave ever.
I’ve never wanted you to do that, but I don’t have the right to ask you to stay.”

“Why the fuck not? Don’t you care for me at all?”

“Care for you? Hell, it goes way beyond that. I fucking love
you even though I haven’t a goddamn clue how you really feel about—”

Lauren threw herself into his arms, stopping Dante’s words.
He staggered then righted himself and her.

“You love me?” she cried. “Really?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Oh my god, I’ve never wanted anyone like I do you.” She
pressed her face to his neck. “I don’t want to take the job. I don’t want to
sell the parlor. You can’t make me, dammit.”

Like he was trying to? This had gotten so out of hand, Dante
finally told himself to get a grip. Grasping Lauren’s biceps, he eased her
back. “Baby, I’m not trying to make you do anything. That’s not my call. It’s
yours. If you’re worried about me, hell, I’m a big boy. I’ll find another job.
I just want you to be happy.”

“Do I look it?”

Tears streamed down her cheeks, taking her mascara with it.
Her mouth trembled. She could barely catch her breath. If he hadn’t loved her,
Dante would have thought she looked like hell. “No. But you have to be sure,
Lauren. These are great opportunities for you. Think of the money.”

“Screw the money.” She sniffed. “I want you more.”

Oh god. Dante pulled her back into his arms and held her as
hard as he dared, afraid if he let loose he’d crush her. “You won’t regret it?”

“Will you?”

Hell no. There’d always be other jobs and buyers. There was
only one Lauren.

“Never,” he promised, slanting his mouth over hers, claiming
her for his own.

Now that he knew how she felt, there was no fucking way
Dante would ever let her go.

Eleven months later…

Relatives, well-wishers and neighbors packed the Avanas’
small backyard to celebrate Sofia’s
quinceañera.
Today was her fifteenth
birthday, a girl’s official entry into womanhood.

“Remember, you’re still a baby,” Dante warned his little
sister. “No boys, driving or makeup for years.”

Their five brothers—Hector, Miguel, Angelo, Juan and
Eduardo—nodded solemnly.

Lauren could tell the guys were teasing, all of them trying
hard not to smile.

Their macho humor was totally lost on their baby sister.
Like the teenager she was, Sofia rolled her eyes and looked to Lauren for
support.

Smiling, Lauren tried out her Spanish,
“No tienes un
tatuaje y te irá muy bien.”
Just don’t get a tattoo and you’ll be fine.

Sofia screwed up her pretty face.

Uh-oh. “Did I say that wrong?” Lauren asked.

“You nailed it,” Dante said. “And you’re absolutely right.
Sofia shouldn’t get a dog. She’s too young and irresponsible for something that
serious.”

“Wait.” Lauren looked from him to his sister and back. “I
didn’t say anything about a dog. I was talking about tattoos. That she shouldn’t
get one.”

“As if I would?” Sofia crossed her arms over her chest. With
her sparkly tiara and ball gown, she looked like a petulant princess. “Tattoos
are gross. Now piercings…” She sighed wistfully. “Mmmm,
tan caliente
.”
So hot.

Lauren smiled. “Too bad you have to be forty or so before
anyone will give you one. Isn’t that right?” she asked Dante.

“It’s worse than that.” He slung his arm around Lauren’s
shoulders. She leaned into her man, his size, strength and heat solid and
welcome. “Her kids are going to have to be in their fifties before I say okay
to any piercing.”

Sofia’s laughter pealed above the noise of the Spanish music
and countless conversations. “Get real.” Wide-eyed she looked at Lauren. “How
do you put up with him?”

Lauren patted Dante’s hard belly. Today, he’d worn a
guayabera shirt of white linen, lightly embroidered, the same as his
hotter-than-sin brothers. Come Monday, Dante would be back in a suit. “He knows
how to make real food,” she said.

“Not that it’s necessary.” He tightened his arm around her
waist. “Lauren isn’t half bad in the kitchen. Although I have to say her
Spanish is way better than her cooking.”

“Damn,” Hector mumbled. “You’re in trouble man.”

“I heard that,” Lauren said.

Hector gave her a sexy smile, the same as he did Wicked
Brand’s many female clients. He was now one of the parlor’s tattoo artists with
as much talent as Van Gogh. To advertise their skill to passing tourists,
Lauren had him and Van Gogh inking customers in the front window of the parlor,
as long as no intimate body parts were involved. That alone had increased foot
traffic by forty percent given their incredible designs.

To entice tourists further, Hector’s drawings and Van Gogh’s
paintings graced the parlor walls. On average, they sold several pieces each
month with that number continuing to rise.

The local press had covered Wicked Brand on several
occasions since Lauren had taken over. Hector had become a legend on the area
TV stations. Van Gogh said he’d rather ink his own eyeballs than ever be on
camera. Recently, there’d been a spread about Wicked Brand in a major magazine.
Lauren now devoted herself strictly to marketing and HR. Jasmina, who was
sailing through her college classes, managed the place as Dante once had.

He’d left the parlor eight months earlier to accept a
partnership in Scott’s firm, fighting for people who needed a champion on their
side.

Money still didn’t matter to him. Lauren didn’t care about
it either any longer.

Funny thing, they now had more dough than they knew what to
do with. Wicked Brand was turning an enormous profit. After giving everyone a
huge raise and setting up medical, dental, 401(k) plans and profit-sharing for
the staff, Lauren had plowed a lot of the funds back into the business to help
it thrive.

She never wanted the staff to worry about losing their jobs.
She never wanted to work for anyone but herself.

With her salary and Dante’s, which was ginormous, they’d
paid off her student loans and had bought a modest home in West Palm Beach,
took care of his relatives who needed help and added to the college funds of
his younger brothers and both sisters.

Gaby was off to the side, speaking quietly and demurely to
her boyfriend.

The skirt of Sofia’s gown bobbed as she boogied hard with a
gangly young man. Dante’s father, still strikingly handsome, watched the couple
carefully. Dante’s mother, a pleasingly plump woman with a pretty face, wasn’t
as discreet. Hurrying over to her youngest daughter, she said something that
not only put distance between Sofia and the boy but also kept them from
wiggling their respective booties.

Lauren gave Mrs. Avana a thumbs-up. The woman smiled broadly
then danced back to her husband who grinned at Lauren. She blinked back
grateful tears at how easily they’d accepted her into their lives, loving her
as Dante did.

For the first time in forever, she had a family. Her mom
could rest easy now, because Lauren wasn’t alone any longer. She wondered again
if Frank had wanted this for her and Dante when he’d given her the parlor.
Lauren hoped he had, wishing she could have thanked him, needing to forgive.

The booming music the teens had put on stopped suddenly,
replaced seconds later by a slow Spanish ballad. The kids groaned loudly. The
adults ignored them.

Dante eased Lauren into his arms and moved to the sensuous
beat. It filled the sultry air along with the wonderful scents of flowers,
Cuban food and his clean musky fragrance. His hips pressed into hers. As usual,
he was sporting an erection.

“Careful,” she murmured, her cheek on his shoulder. “Your
mom’s gonna come storming over here to tell you to behave.”

He clucked his tongue as his mother frequently did with
hers. “I’m a man. I can do what I want.”

Lauren snickered. “Think again, babe. Her balls are bigger
than yours, Jasmina’s and your dad’s combined.”

Dante’s shoulders shook with his laughter. “Good point.” He
sighed contentedly. “I’ll misbehave tonight.”

That he would and she’d join him whether it was at their
backyard pool, in their bedroom or one of countless places around West Palm
Beach. So far, they’d made love in the park, at the carousal again, on the
beach, in his firm’s office and Wicked Brand’s roof. Moments that had been
dangerous and hot.

The best though were the quiet times when they simply gazed
at each other, content with their lives finally. They weren’t only lovers but
friends who finished each other’s comments, disagreed without causing hurt and
were simply comfortable being together. For Lauren, that was the sexiest thing
of all.

Melting into Dante, she moved with him through the dance as
she was doing through life.

Finally at peace. Finally at home.