Seduced By The Mogul. Pamela Yaye

know what I’d do without you,” she said quietly. “You’re such a good girl.”

      “Mom, I have to go. Are you going to your meeting tonight?”

      The silence was deafening, lasting so long Jordana had to repeat the question.

      “I don’t feel like it. Not tonight. I want to stay home.”

      Jordana didn’t push. Not this time. “Okay, Mom. I’ll call you later.”

      “Have a good day, honey. I love you.”

      “I love you, too, Mom. Try not to worry.”

      Ending the call, she dropped her cell in her purse, and tiptoed toward the bathroom door. Opening it, she peered down the hall, in search of her crotchety supervisor. Finding the coast clear, she hustled down the corridor as fast as her ballet flats could take her.

      Approaching her cubicle, she heard male voices, and frowned. Her supervisor was talking to someone, and the person sounded a lot like Dante. No way. It couldn’t be. He was surely at his fancy downtown office, not at LA Marketing Enterprises shooting the breeze with her cranky boss.

      Turning the corner, she felt her eyes widen and her legs wobble. Jordana stood there, with her mouth agape, unable to believe what she was seeing. Is this for real? Is my supervisor actually laughing with Dante, or am I dreaming with my eyes open?

      “There you are!” her supervisor said brightly, his smile showcasing every crooked tooth. “I was just telling Mr. Morretti what a valuable member you are of the LA Marketing team, and how much I enjoy working with you.”

      That confirmed it. She was dreaming. Had to be. There was no way in hell her supervisor was publicly praising her. Yelling and screaming, yes; compliments, no.

      “Ms. Sharpe, are you okay?”

      Dante moved in close, and rested his hand on her arm, giving it a light squeeze.

      Goose bumps tickled her skin, and her temperature rose. He was a friend, but he was also a man—a very attractive man who reeked of masculinity—and his touch excited her. In his designer sunglasses and impeccable black suit, Dante was the picture of a young debonair professional at the top of his game. He was hot, no doubt about it, but his appeal didn’t lie in his soulful eyes, and dreamy grin, but in his extraordinary generosity.

      “You look upset. Is something the matter?”

      Before Jordana could answer, her supervisor spoke up. “Of course not. She’s excited about your business lunch, and anxious to tell you about our wonderful agency.”

      Jordana reclaimed her voice. “What business lunch?”

      “Ms. Sharpe, I hope you haven’t forgotten our plans.”

      What plans? We don’t have any! she wanted to scream, giving him a bewildered, what-are-you-talking-about look. And why are you calling me Ms. Sharpe? We’re friends, not strangers. Heck, I’ve known you for almost two years!

      “No, no, of course not,” Mr. Lundqvist said, adamantly shaking his head. He gave Jordana a shove, practically pushing her into Dante’s arms. He spoke in a loud, booming voice, drawing the attention of everyone in the office. One by one, her colleagues poked their heads out of their cubicles. They all wore curious expressions on their faces, and the women were slobbering all over their fancy designer clothes.

      That was no surprise. Dante attracted attention everywhere he went.

      The real estate mogul had a reputation among women, and the house parties at his Beverly Hills mansion were legendary, but he was more than just a handsome face and hot body. He had a keen mind for business, was as gregarious as they came, and was a great listener. He was, without a doubt, the smartest person Jordana knew, and she valued his friendship. He was always teaching her new things—such as how to select the perfect bottle of wine for a pasta dinner—and if not for his support she probably would have returned to Des Moines a long time ago.

      “Ms. Sharpe has been preparing for your meeting for several days now, and she’s anxious to tell you about the charities we support here at LA Marketing Enterprises.”

      “I’m happy to hear that, sir.” Dante put on his sunglasses, and took his keys out of his pocket. “It’s been a pleasure speaking with you, and I look forward to doing it again soon.”

      Pride covered his fleshy face. “Thank you, Mr. Morretti. I’d like that very much.”

      “I’m ready when you are, Ms. Sharpe. Shall we go?”

      A giggle tickled Jordana’s throat.

      “Do whatever it takes to impress him.” Mr. Lundqvist spoke just loud enough for her to hear. “And don’t come back until you have a sizable donation. Understood?”