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He stroked her jaw with the tip of one long finger. She froze, breath halted as he mesmerized her with his silky voice.
“You’ll be waiting a very long time,” she whispered huskily. She pushed at the wall of his chest.
He stepped back and licked his bottom lip, his dark, brooding eyes assessing her from head to toe. Her chest tightened and the inside of her thighs ached for the slide of his wet tongue. Could he see how much he had rattled her?
“I look forward to that night,” Dante said, his voice raspy and low, holding her gaze for one long, charged moment. Finally, he started toward the door. “I will have my lawyer get in touch.”
He walked out of the office, leaving the alluring scent of his cologne lingering in the air.
After the door closed, Annabelle pushed out a breath and rubbed the back of her neck under her thick hair.What have I gotten myself into?
To her horror, she felt dampness between her thighs, and her nipples tingled. Oh no, had he seen?
She glanced down at her dress, but her nipples weren’t pressed against the fabric. Thank goodness they hadn’t betrayed her.
She had run from this years ago. Back then, with very little to his name, Dante somehow managed to exude power. He overwhelmed. Now, he was more powerful. More overwhelming.
She wished there was another way to get what she wanted, but she needed him. At least he needed her too. They were stuck together in a twisted bargain.
And she had been the one to initiate the deal with the devil.
7
Dante walked to the front door of the Buchanan mansion, located away from the hustle and bustle of the city. All the homes in the community were custom-built and two stories, on no fewer than three acres of land. Buchanan & Buchanan Properties had built most of the residences in the neighborhood years ago and developed the landscape by incorporating walking paths, a huge manmade lake, and a private golf course.
As he approached the door, he straightened the charcoal gray jacket he wore over a crisp white shirt. He’d thought about adding a tie but at the last moment changed his mind. At this stage of his life, no one would dare comment on his lack of neckwear.
He rang the doorbell and almost immediately was greeted by the female butler, Grace, an older Black woman with wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and a friendly, open face.
As in the past, she wore a uniform of gray pants and a gray shirt, her graying hair smoothed into a neat French roll.
“Hello, Mr. Escarra,” she greeted him with a smile.
“Good evening, Grace, how are you?”
“I’m fine, thank you. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
Dante chuckled. “Yes, it has been awhile.”
“You look well.”
“So do you.”
“I have a few more gray hairs, but I’m of sound mind and body.” She opened the door wider, and he stepped across the threshold into the large entryway with an antique chandelier hanging from the high ceiling.
Grace clasped her hands in front of her. “I hear you and Annabelle are getting back together. Congratulations.”
She watched him closely, her dark eyes sharp, alert, and assessing. She had worked for the Buchanans since Annabelle was a little girl, starting in the kitchen and moving up to the position of butler.
“Thank you.”
“Love is funny, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Sometimes we’re not ready for it. We don’t know how to nurture it, take care of it, trust it. I do hope you’re ready now.” Her lips rested in a firm line.
Dante was about to speak when he caught movement at the corner of his eye.
