Seduced by Mr. Right (16 page)

Chapter 18

E
very time Sharleen's cell phone rang, butterflies swarmed her stomach. But when she realized it was another pesky telemarketer calling, and not Emilio, her spirits fell.
Why hasn't he called? Doesn't he miss me? Doesn't he want to work things out?
She hadn't seen or heard from him since she left his estate on Memorial Day, and she wasn't sure if she'd ever see him again. For the past four days, guilt had been her constant companion. Sharleen regretted not telling Emilio about the bonus, but she'd feared that if she'd told him the truth he would have broken up with her.
Some good that did me,
she thought miserably.
He found out and dumped me anyway.

Her gaze strayed to her wall calendar, zeroed in on the date. They hadn't spoken in four days, but it felt like months since she'd heard his voice or seen his face. Emilio had promised to call but hadn't. She'd sent him text messages, emails and even tropical flowers from his favorite florist shop, but he still hadn't reached out to her. A troubling thought came to mind, one that made her heart throb in pain.
Has Emilio found someone else? Is that why he hasn't called? Because he's forgotten all about me?

Driven by fear, Sharleen picked up her desk phone and punched in his cell number. The call went straight to voice mail, but she didn't hang up. “Hey, it's me again.” She paused, took a deep breath to calm her nerves and wiped her damp palms along the side of her sleeveless dress. This was the third message she'd left for Emilio today, and this time she was determined to be concise, not emotional and upset. “I haven't heard from you since Monday, and I just wanted to see how you're doing. Please call me when you get a chance.”

Sharleen lowered the phone, remembered something else she wanted to say and put it back to her ear. “I miss you, Emilio. I know you think the worst of me right now, but I want you to know that I love you and always will, no matter what.”

Hanging up the phone, she dropped her face in her hands and released a deep sigh. At the office, she put on a brave face, acted as if everything was okay, but inside she was an emotional wreck. She wasn't eating much, had skipped her Stiletto Aerobics three days in a row and hadn't had a good night's sleep since she'd left Emilio's estate. Last night, she'd dreamed Francesca was chasing her around his kitchen with a butter knife, and she'd woken up drenched in sweat.

Determined not to spend the entire day fretting about her problems, she logged on to her computer, typed in her password and opened her file on Rashad J. The R&B superstar was a handful, but rereading her session notes was the perfect distraction. Hard at work, despite the thoughts of Emilio crowding her mind, she didn't hear Antwan enter her office and yelped when he touched her shoulder. “Don't sneak up on me like that. You scared me half to death,” she said, resting a hand on her pounding, thundering chest. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard about your showdown with Francesca on Monday and thought you might need to see a friendly face. And since I was in the neighborhood, I decided to drop by.”

Sharleen evaded his gaze by rearranging the pictures on her desk. “That was very sweet of you, but you shouldn't have wasted your time. I'm fine.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Did you give Francesca a copy of the check you mailed me?”

“No, of course not,” he said, shaking his head. “I hired her to help me around the office for a few weeks, but when I found out she was snooping through my personal files, I fired her.”

Antwan leaned against her desk and gave her a slow appraising glance. “In all the years we've been friends I've never seen you in a dress.” He winked and grinned like a leprechaun who'd found a pot of gold. “You look amazing, Sharleen. Love
definitely
agrees with you.”

Sharleen started to dismiss his compliment with a wave of her hand, then remembered what Emilio had said to her last week at the Exotic Car Show and nodded her thanks.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

She asked the question at the forefront of her mind. “How is Emilio doing?”

Antwan pointed at her desk phone. “Why don't you call him and find out?”

“I tried, but he won't take my calls.”

“So, that's it? You're just going to throw in the towel?”

You don't understand. Being rejected hurts, and I'm scared of putting myself out there—

“Emilio's crazy about you, so hurry over to his estate before he leaves for Milan.”

Sharleen shot straight up in her chair. “How long will he be gone for?”

“He's attending the Classic Car Show in Milan this weekend, then spending some time with his friends and family. He'll be back in town a couple days before the All-Star Race.”

Her head spun, and her heart thumped.
He'll be gone for the entire summer? But doesn't he know I'll miss him terribly? Does he even care?

“I can't go to his house. What if he won't talk to me? Or walks out on me again?”

“He won't. Emilio loves you, and he's miserable without you.”

“Then why hasn't he returned any of my calls? Why hasn't he reached out to me?”

“Because he feels guilty,” Antwan explained, wearing a thoughtful expression on his face. “Emilio knows he messed up, but he's scared to make the first move. He's worried you'll reject him.”

I'm so confused. I don't know what to think.

“Give some serious thought to what I said.” Antwan kissed her on the cheek and stood. “You don't have much time, though. Emilio leaves for Milan at six o'clock.”

Sharleen gasped. “Tonight? And you're just telling me now? Some friend you are!”

Antwan chuckled and slipped on his sunglasses. “How are things going with Rashad J?”

“Terrible. He's spoiled and cocky, and he treats everyone around him like crap.”

“I know, that's why I advised Urban Beats Records to hire you. If you can't save the Bedroom Maestro from himself, no one can.”

For the first time that day, Sharleen laughed. But when Antwan left her office seconds later, the heaviness in her chest returned. The only place she felt safe and loved was with Emilio, and she longed to be back in his arms. She thought about their romantic weekend in Miami, the night they'd made love, their whispered promises and declarations. They were more than just lovers—they were best friends, and Sharleen missed having him to talk to. He was warm and affectionate, always made her feel good about herself and never failed to make her laugh. Emilio was the kind of man a woman didn't forget, and Sharleen feared she never would.

* * *

“I want you both to know I thought long and hard about this decision.” Mrs. Fontaine clasped her hands on her desk and glanced from Brad to Sharleen. “After serious deliberation, I decided to choose the person I feel embodies all of the traits and characteristics I'm looking for in a vice president.”

Sharleen nodded, as if she were listening, but her thoughts were a million miles away. This meeting was just a formality, and the only reason she'd come to her boss's office that afternoon was because Mrs. Fontaine had personally summoned her. On Monday, as she was leaving Emilio's estate, her boss had called her cell phone and interrogated her like a homicide detective. Their thirty-minute conversation had been tense, plagued with sighs and long bouts of silence, and when the call ended, Sharleen knew there was no way in hell she was getting the VP job. But she had bigger problems to deal with than losing the promotion to Brad. What was she going to do about Emilio? Should she cut her losses and move on or drive to his estate and force him to talk to her?

“Congratulations, Ms. Nichols. I hope you make the most of this life-changing opportunity...”

Sharleen blinked and surfaced from her thoughts. “I'm the new vice president of Pathways Center?”

Mrs. Fontaine laughed. “Yes, you are. You're the perfect person for the job, and I'm thrilled you're going to be my right hand.”

“This is bullshit!
I
deserve to be VP.” Brad jabbed a finger at his chest. “I've been at this center for nine years, and no one works harder than I do.”

“Brad, calm down,” Mrs. Fontaine said. “You're yelling.”

“Sharleen can't be vice president,” he continued, his voice deafening. “She's screwing her clients for money, and God knows what else.”

“That's a lie, and you know it!” Sharleen met his gaze, refused to back down. Brad was a jerk, nothing more than a bully in an Armani suit, and she'd had enough of his self-righteous behavior. “You have no right to judge me. You're an embarrassment to this profession, and you give life coaches everywhere a bad name.”

Brad laughed off her comment. “My clients would beg to differ.”

Yeah, probably because you're blackmailing them!

“Check out FameAndFortune.com,” he said, pointing at Mrs. Fontaine's computer. “There are pictures of Sharleen and Emilio Morretti all over the internet. Kissing in front of her house, making out in his Escalade, draped all over each other in the airport VIP lounge...”

Sharleen frowned and cocked her head to the side.
What's Brad talking about? There were no pictures of me and Emilio at the airport.
Unless... Realization dawned, and her eyes widened in surprise. The truth was staring her right in the face. She didn't want to believe it, but it was Brad—not Francesca—who'd set her up to fall. “You've been spying on me!” she raged, anger pounding furiously through her veins. All the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle fell into place, and the devilish grin on Brad's face confirmed her suspicions. “
You
took those pictures and sold them to humiliate me!”

“You humiliated
yourself
, toots, so don't blame me for your problems.”

Mrs. Fontaine raised a hand to silence them, then addressed Brad seconds later. “I value the contributions you've made to Pathways, and I admire your drive and tenacity, but my decision is final. If you'd like to discuss this matter further, I can meet with you when I return from my book tour next—”

“Go home, save your marriage and forget about that stupid book tour,” Brad snapped, rudely cutting her off. “I can run the center in your absence.”

“Excuse me?” Mrs. Fontaine narrowed her eyes and gripped the arms of her leather chair.

“Jules is running around with other women, and you're too busy promoting your new book to notice.” Brad shook his head as if he were admonishing a child. “He practically lives at the strip club. In fact, he's at Club Onyx so much the owner gave him his own parking spot!”

Mrs. Fontaine stood and pointed at the door. “Brad, that's enough. Please leave.”

“With pleasure, and I'll be taking my celebrity contacts with me.”

Sharleen watched him swagger out of the office and was relieved to see him go. He was a loose cannon, and the center was better off without him. At least the pictures of Jocelyn—and the other women he'd been blackmailing—had been destroyed when he spilled coffee on his iPhone. But Sharleen wondered if Brad had any other tricks up his sleeve. He was out for revenge, but she wasn't going down without a fight.

“I'm sorry Brad lashed out at you, but he's going through a difficult time right now.”

“Yes, I can imagine. Having to program his new iPhone must be
extremely
stressful.”

Mrs. Fontaine gestured to the chair in front of her desk. Sharleen didn't want to hear about what a great life coach Brad was, or about all the big names he'd signed over the years, but she sat down and crossed her legs. She was curious about the accusations Brad had made about Mrs. Fontaine's husband, Jules, but didn't dare ask the questions in her mind. It was none of her business, and she didn't want to upset her boss.

“Brad's wife walked out on him last year and took their three young sons with her. He hasn't seen his boys in months, and it's killing him inside. He's angry at the world right now, and he's taking his frustration out on everyone around him, especially women. I'm not making excuses for his behavior, but I do empathize with him.”

“I had no idea Brad was having personal problems, or that he had a wife and kids, but there's no excuse for his behavior.”

“You're right, and I'm working with the HR department to investigate the claims that have been brought to my attention,” she explained. “I'm disappointed with the choices Brad's made, but he's worked at Pathways since day one, and I feel compelled to help him find his children. They're sweet little boys who need their father.”

Though she was angry at Brad for harassing Jocelyn, and spying on her, Sharleen understood why Mrs. Fontaine wanted to help him.

“By any chance, have you met Emilio's brother Immanuel Morretti?”

“No, I haven't,” Sharleen said. “They've been estranged from each other for years. Why?”

“Apparently, he's one of the best private investigators in the business, and his agency, Mastermind Operations, recently opened offices in Atlanta. You're fooling around with his kid brother, so I figured you could give me some additional information on him.”

Sharleen dropped her gaze to her lap. She couldn't talk about Emilio without tearing up, and she knew if she didn't change the subject she'd burst into tears. “Why did you give me the VP position?” she asked, her curiosity getting the best of her. “What was the deciding factor?”

“You did something no one else has ever done, and I was impressed with your ingenuity.”

Sharleen thought for a moment, tried to figure out what her boss was referring to, but came up empty. “What did I do?”

“You orchestrated the perfect publicity stunt, and now my phone is ringing off the hook!”

It wasn't a publicity stunt. I love Emilio with all my heart, and I want to marry him.