Seduced by the Mogul Read online

  When business becomes pleasure

  Winning is a way of life for Dante Morretti, and he’s got the real estate empire to prove it. With custody of his four-year-old son, Matteo, at stake, Dante intends to win that, too. Marrying his best friend, Jordana Sharpe, is a vital step in his plan. But when the alluring actress takes Matteo and Dante sightseeing around Los Angeles, he’s waking up to a world beyond boardrooms and billion-dollar deals.

  Jordana is as committed to her acting as Dante is to his business. She doesn’t envision feeling that passion for anything else, until her no-strings arrangement with the gorgeous Italian magnate takes a detour...right into Dante’s bed. Suddenly everything is at stake—her career, his custody fight and a fake marriage that could very well lead to the real family they both secretly crave...

  “I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispered, seizing her in his arms. “Just act natural.”

  No! Jordana screamed, but the word got trapped inside her throat.

  In a blink, she was in his arms, flat against his chest, experiencing the pleasure of his kiss for the first time. He didn’t disappoint. He kissed her deeply, thoroughly, and with remarkable tenderness. Jordana didn’t know what to do, but in typical Morretti fashion Dante took the reins.

  Forgetting they had an audience, Jordana gave herself permission to live in the moment, to enjoy being in his arms, and his sensuous kiss.

  Dante moved his lips against hers, took his time pleasing her with his tongue and mouth.

  Goose bumps flooded her arms and zipped along her spine. His caress made her feel alive, oh-so-good, caused her body to throb with desire. He cupped her face in his hands, urged her to come closer. At his touch, her heart jumped for joy. He tasted sweet, like her favorite chocolate dessert, and she was hungry for more. I can’t believe it. This is really happening. Dante’s kissing me and it’s perfect, wonderful, the best kiss I’ve ever had.

  Dear Reader,

  The idea for Seduced by the Mogul came to me while reading a titillating article about relationships in my favorite magazine. I’ve never written a friends-turned-lovers story but once I “met” Dante and Jordana, I knew they were a perfect match. I didn’t realize Seduced by the Mogul would be filled with a dramatic, over-the-top proposal and erotic love scenes, but I should have known—after all, Dante is a Morretti.

  In the dictionary, under the word alpha male should be a full-length picture of Dante Morretti. The real estate mogul is accustomed to calling the shots. But Jordana Sharpe, the Midwest beauty with the effervescent personality and fiery wit, is having none of it. Friendship be damned. It is high time Dante learned to compromise, because if he doesn’t change his stubborn ways their fake marriage will be over before it even starts!

  Writing Jordana and Dante’s love story—a passionate, heartwarming tale about two friends who succumb to their desires and the will of their hearts—I was struck by how much Dante adores his son. Matteo is his world, and their incredible bond made me fall in love with them instantly. I hope you do, too.

  Hearing from readers is the highlight of my day, so keep the messages coming! I appreciate you, and I’m humbled by your support. Happy reading.

  All the best in life and love,

  Pamela Yaye

  Pamela Yaye has a bachelor’s degree in Christian education. Her love for African-American fiction prompted her to pursue a career in writing romance. When she’s not working on her latest novel, this busy wife, mother and teacher is watching basketball, cooking or planning her next vacation. Pamela lives in Alberta, Canada, with her gorgeous husband and adorable but mischievous son and daughter.

  Books by Pamela Yaye

  Harlequin Kimani Romance

  Games of the Heart

  Love on the Rocks

  Pleasure for Two

  Promises We Make

  Escape to Paradise

  Evidence of Desire

  Passion by the Book

  Designed by Desire

  Seduced by the Playboy

  Seduced by the CEO

  Seduced by the Heir

  Seduced by Mr. Right

  Heat of Passion

  Seduced by the Hero

  Seduced by the Mogul

  Visit the Author Profile page at

  Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  A special thanks to my bestie, Patrice Virtue. Thank you for being the best friend a girl could ever have! I appreciate you babysitting the kids so I could write (and for treating them like your own), and for making me all those delicious dinners, as well. One day soon, I’ll take you to a Toronto Raptors game so we can cheer on your beloved team (courtside seats. I promise!). One love, Patrice.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 1

  The Bombardier Challenger 850 Learjet landed at Los Angeles International Airport with such ease and precision, Dante Morretti didn’t realize it was on the ground until he opened his eyes and looked outside the window. The sky was free of clouds, cobalt blue and awash with radiant sunshine. It was another warm, spring day in the City of Angels, and Dante was glad to be home. Though born in Venice, Italy, he loved Los Angeles and would never live anywhere else. Everything he’d ever wanted was in LA—fame, power, prestige. And he was there to stay. At twenty-eight, Dante had a life most men dreamed of, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted greater success, more billionaire clients, and he wasn’t afraid to work hard for it.

  “I thought you might be thirsty, so I brought you some mineral water.”

  Turning away from the window, Dante regarded the stewardess. She had rosy cheeks and fiery-red hair, and she spoke with a Southern twang. Her black uniform revealed an obscene amount of cleavage, but she wore an innocent, good-girl smile.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  Dante dodged her lascivious gaze, instead pretending to stare at the flat-screen TV that was showing the local news. The stewardess had been throwing herself at him ever since he’d boarded his company’s private jet fourteen hours earlier in Hong Kong. But Dante wasn’t interested in joining the mile-high club. Did she read the article in LA Business magazine? Is that why she’s throwing herself at me? Because she wants to sink her teeth into my millions?

  As the jet crawled toward the terminal, his mind returned to the photo shoot he’d done three months earlier at his Beverly Hills bachelor pad. He’d given an exclusive sit-down interview to the magazine, and once the April issue had hit newsstands, Dante couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized. Gold diggers propositioned him everywhere—at the gym, on street corners, in restaurants and cafés. The more he resisted them the more aggressive they were. And the only thing Dante hated more than a provocative woman was a cheating one. Like his ex-wife.

  Slamming the brakes on his thoughts, he gave his head a hard shake and considered the events of the past week. The mag
azine article had shined a bright spotlight on The Brokerage Group. Founded in 1998 by three UCLA graduates, the LA-based company specialized in the acquisition, development and construction management of all property types, including shopping malls, condominiums, luxury hotels and office buildings. For five years, Dante had been the chief investment officer of the Fortune 500 company, and in spite of his furious work schedule, he loved his job. His undergraduate degrees in business management and urban planning had given him the necessary tools to excel in the field. He’d led his company to record profits each year and made it look easy.

  Pride filled him, turning his frown into a broad smile. Celebrities, politicians and savvy investors from all across the country were eager to do business with The Brokerage Group, and Dante was the reason why. His private company, Morretti Realty & Investments, was making money hand over fist. Thanks to his brothers Emilio and Immanuel, and his cousins Demetri, Nicco and Raphael, his firm had grown by leaps and bounds in the past six years.

  “Would you like a back rub? I’ve been told I’m great with my hands.” She leaned against his seat and twirled a lock of hair around her index finger. “Among other things.”

  I’m not surprised. I bet you’ve massaged every man you’ve ever met.

  “No, thank you—”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing,” she continued, in a singsong voice. Her eyes were glued to his crotch, and the expression on her face was pensive, as if she was cooking up mischief. “If you change your mind just give me a shout.”

  I won’t, he thought. Trust me. I know trouble when I see it, and you’re it.

  The stewardess sashayed down the aisle, switched and swiveled her wide hips. Dante was glad to see her go. Women were a distraction he just didn’t need, and even if he wanted female company—which he didn’t—he wouldn’t hook up with an aggressive redhead with dollar signs in her eyes. It would be someone elegant and classy, with a successful career and her own money. He was a real estate developer, not a bank. Dante was tired of women expecting gifts, jewelry and luxury cars from him. Why can’t I meet someone normal like...Jordana?

  At the thought of the Midwest beauty, a smile filled his face. He’d met the Iowa native last year, when she was dating his college buddy Tavares Butler. He’d been impressed with how intelligent she was, how lively and vivacious. The actress was a down-home girl with a big personality, and he’d liked her instantly. When Tavares relocated to Australia last summer for work, he’d asked Dante to look out for her, and he’d readily agreed. Three months later, they’d called it quits, but he suspected Jordana was still in love with her ex. She didn’t date, shot down everyone who asked her out and wouldn’t set foot inside the club. They were friends, but that didn’t stop Dante from admiring her from afar.

  The jet stopped abruptly.

  Dante stared out the window, but he didn’t see what the holdup was. Thirsty, he picked up his glass and sipped some water. He needed something stronger. The bar was stocked with everything from Cristal to vodka, but he chose to grab a wine cooler. Designed with scrumptious Italian leather, designer fixtures and state-of-the art electronics, the jet had all the comforts of home, and everything Dante needed was at his fingertips.

  Yawning, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His weeklong business trip to Hong Kong had been taxing, filled with so many late nights and early mornings he felt both physically and mentally drained, though his time abroad had been productive, and he was excited about his latest business venture. The Brokerage Group wanted to build several commercial properties in Asia, and if everything went according to plan, the deal would go off without a hitch and he’d be lauded as a hero.

  Ready to leave, Dante slipped on his aviator sunglasses. He’d been up since 5:00 a.m. and was looking forward to going home, putting up his feet and enjoying a cold beer. Or two. He deserved it. He worked fourteen-hour days, six days a week, and if not for the occasional brew—and Matteo—he’d probably be burned out.

  Thoughts of his mischievous four-year-old son flooded Dante’s mind. His smile couldn’t be any wider, any brighter. Matteo was his heart, his pride and joy, and his happiest moments were spent chasing him around the house, acting like a goofball to earn a laugh.

  The intercom came on.

  “I apologize for the delay, Mr. Morretti, but the Boeing 747 in front of us seems to be having mechanical issues and is stuck on the tarmac,” the first officer explained. “We’ll get you to the terminal as soon as we can. Thank you for your patience and understanding.”

  Dante returned to his seat, took his iPad out of his briefcase and turned it on. Might as well get some work done while I wait, he decided, typing in his password. The satellite phone sitting on the side table rang, and Dante answered it. Only a handful of people had the number, so he knew the call was important. The moment he heard the voice on the line, his heart stopped. It was his son’s preschool teacher, Ms. Papadopoulos. She sounded troubled, flustered. What was wrong? Did something happen at Beverly Hills Preschool Academy? Panic ballooned inside his chest. Was Matteo hurt? Had he fallen off the jungle gym again?

  “Is everything okay?” he asked, despite the knot stuck in his throat.

  “Have you heard from your ex-wife?”

  Dante frowned, gripping the receiver. “No, I haven’t. Why? Is there a problem?”

  “She’s thirty minutes late to pick up Matteo, and she isn’t answering her cell phone.”

  Thirty minutes! Damn. How could Lourdes forget to pick up his son? His ex-wife was punctually challenged, but whenever he had spoken to her about being on time she’d shrugged off his concerns. Lourdes had no reason to be late. She didn’t work, hadn’t held a nine-to-five in years, and even though she had joked being beautiful was a full-time job, it wasn’t.

  Hanging his head, he raked a hand through his thick black hair. Because of his furious work schedule, he’d agreed to let Lourdes have custody of Matteo, but he wondered for the umpteenth time if he’d made a grave mistake. His ex-wife was petty, thought the world revolved around her and used their son as a pawn. Dante wished Lourdes was a better mother—

  Who are you to judge? his conscience interrupted. You see Matteo only once a week.

  Dante felt helpless, as if his hands were tied. He wished there was something he could do, but he knew bad-mouthing his ex-wife to Ms. Papadopoulos was not the answer. He had always made a concerted effort to publicly support Lourdes, even when she was dead wrong, and he searched his mind for the right words to say. “I’m really sorry about this—”

  “This behavior is unacceptable and hurtful to your son, as well. Every day, Matteo is the last child to get picked up from school, and it breaks my heart to see him cry.”

  “Ms. Papadopoulos, this won’t happen again. You have my word.”

  “I hope so, Mr. Morretti, because the next time your ex-wife is late to pick up Matteo, I’m contacting the Department of Children and Family Services.”

  His spirits sank even lower.

  “As an educator, I’m legally and morally obligated to report all forms of abuse and neglect to DCFS. I won’t shirk my responsibilities.”

  Stunned, Dante couldn’t speak. Abuse? Neglect? The words rattled around his head, blaring like a police siren. His temperature rose and sweat drenched his blue polo shirt. He felt inept, as if he’d failed as a parent, and his heart throbbed in pain.

  Peering out the window, Dante noticed the plane was still hundreds of yards from the terminal, and he willed it to move faster. Hurry up, dammit! I have to pick up my son! Dante opened his mouth to speak, to plead with Ms. Papadopoulos for understanding, but she interrupted him.

  “The principal wants to speak to you and your wife about this matter, as well.”

  “Ms. Papadopoulos, I’m on my way.”

  “We’ll be waiting in the office. Please hurry. Matteo is very upset.”


  Click.

  Dropping the phone in the cradle, Dante checked the time on his gold wristwatch. Four fifteen. It was rush hour, bumper-to-bumper traffic on the I-10. It would probably take an hour—or longer—to reach Matteo’s preschool. Where is Lourdes? How could she do this? I love Matteo more than anything. Doesn’t she?

  Dante dialed Lourdes’s cell number. He drummed his fingers on the table. Her voice mail came on, but her mailbox was full so he couldn’t leave a message. Dante struck the armrest with his fist. Anger burned inside him, surging through his veins. It took everything in him not to punch the wall, every ounce of his self-control.

  Expelling a deep breath, Dante considered his next move. He had to find someone to pick up Matteo before Ms. Papadopoulos made good on her threat and called the Department of Child and Family Services. Women’s names and faces flashed in his mind, but since he’d never introduced any of his past lovers to his son, he didn’t feel comfortable asking any of them to help out. Dante considered calling his brother, but he knew it was a waste of time. Markos was either in court, or on the golf course wooing potential clients. A divorce attorney to the stars, who was also a partner at a prestigious law firm, Markos was the most sought-after and esteemed lawyer in the city. He was dating three very different women—a surgeon, an engineer and a drama teacher—and often joked there was more than enough of him to go around.

  “Jordana!” The name burst out of his mouth and ricocheted around the cabin. A week ago, she’d left abruptly for her hometown, and after numerous text messages he had learned her mom was sick. To cheer up Ms. Sharpe, he’d sent her a lavish flower bouquet and a gift basket. He’d never met Jordana’s mother, but he hoped to one day, and planned to tell her she’d raised one hell of a woman. Was she back in town, or still taking care of her mom?

  There was only one way to find out.

  Dante punched in her cell number. Images of her scrolled through his mind, warming his heart. Jordana, with her bright smile and fun-loving personality, reminded him of his kid sister, Francesca. “Hello?”