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1
Dante Escarra lined up the golf club against the ball and then took a swing. There was a low pop and the ball shot into the net at the end of his office, which kept it from crashing through one of the many windows that gave him a spectacular view of the Houston skyline.
A couple of years ago, he turned one end of his huge office into a miniature driving range, allowing him to practice during breaks throughout the workday. The exercise also helped him think. He’d solved many problems with a golf club in hand.
As he set another ball atop the tee, the muffled sound of raised voices came to him from the other side of his office’s double doors. Cocking his head, he listened closely and was about to walk into the outer office to find out what was going on when one of the doors thrust open from the other side.
He watched in shock as the last person he expected to see flounced into the room on a pair of black stiletto heels and a determined expression on her face.
Annabelle Buchanan. His ex-wife.
All the hairs on the back of his neck stood at a 90-degree angle.
“I’m sorry, Dante,” his male office manager said, glaring at the back of Annabelle’s head. “I turned my back for a second, and she slipped past me.”
Most people couldn’t get past Sebastian because he intimidated them at over six feet with the build of an athlete. Not Annabelle, though. No one intimidated her. She was as vicious as she was beautiful.
“That’s okay, Sebastian. I’ll take over from here.”
Sebastian sent one more angry glance at his ex-wife and walked out.
Annabelle shot a fake smile at Dante. “Hello, darling.”
Her tone was soft, like the low purr of a lioness angling to pounce on unsuspecting prey. The combination of the endearment and the sound of her voice made a tingle of awareness skitter over his skin.
Her cultured voice had a soothing lilt. He used to keep her on the phone just to hear her speak. Other times, he laid his head in her lap and told her about his dreams while she listened and then gave her opinion in the same voice, helping him work through various scenarios. She had been the respite he needed in an otherwise challenging and chaotic world. A long time ago.
Carefully, Dante placed his golf club against the wall. “Get out.” He wasn’t going to waste time being polite or exchanging pleasantries.
“Don’t be so nasty. Is that any way to talk to your ex-wife?” She batted her eyelashes at him.
“It’s the only way to talk to an ex-wife who’s a soul-sucking demon.”
Her laughter was throaty and sexy, and the way his dick jumped at the sound pissed him off.
“You haven’t changed a bit, Dante. You’re as charming as ever. Do you think you could put aside the animosity for five minutes and listen to what I have to say? I came to talk to you about something important.”
She crossed the room, bringing the scent of orange blossoms and sweet jasmine with her, and plopped her taupe Bottega Veneta tote on the edge of his huge L-shaped desk made of glass. His eyes followed the movement of her body—a body that, at one time, he’d had the right to explore and had done so with enthusiasm at every opportunity.
As usual, she was incredibly well put together. Today, she wore a blue and orange print sheath dress that completely covered her with a high neckline and long sleeves, but the outfit clung to her mouth-watering curves in a sinfully provocative way. The dress might as well have been painted on, emphasizing her full breasts and great ass. Her dark hair contained honey-blonde highlights and tumbled onto her shoulders with the faux carelessness only a professional stylist could manufacture.
Her makeup was immaculate, highlighting her long lashes and brightening her golden-brown skin—the result of having a white father and Black mother. Her skin glowed with health and vitality—no doubt from the magic of the best regularly scheduled facials money could buy.
Against her swarthy features, her eyes were a striking gray with hints of blue. Bronze lipstick brought attention to full lips that dominated her face and reminded him of the power they’d held over him when he had been foolish enough to fall for her charms.
“I’m not interested in anything you have to say, so don’t waste your time.”
“Time with you is never a waste,” Annabelle said sweetly, posing with one hand on her hip.
Dante chuckled to himself in an effort to cool the heat rising in his body. “What game are you playing, Anna? You and I have not spent any time together since we divorced.”
“Not true. We see each other now and again, and I saw you as recently as six months ago at the Fight Hunger in Houston event. Don’t you remember?”
They had seen each other from time to time over the years, at various social and industry events around the city. Instead of dwindling, their animosity had grown with each brief encounter. Instead of time healing their wounds, it caused them to linger and fester.
Annabelle continued. “You arrived with that woman who calls herself a model—oh, what was her name?” She lifted her gaze to the ceiling and snapped her fingers twice before locking eyes with him again. “Tatiana, right? Where did you find her?”
“If I didn’t know better, I would say you’re jealous. But you’d have to have feelings to be jealous, no?”
