At twelve-ten the next day, Dante rode the lift to the thirty-fifth floor of Vega International. His timing was intentional—fuck his father and his insistence on schedules. The cold, modern elevator, void of any warmth or color, with canned jazz played over the speakers, enveloped him in an icy sensation. Mirrors lined the walls, giving him an eerie sense of his reflection, stretching into infinity. When the door slid open, he actually shivered, as if released from some sort of prison into another.
“Mr. Vega,” his father’s latest blond faux secretary said to him, dressed to the nines in some chic designer outfit. “I’ll tell your father you’re here.”
“You do that.” He leaned over the counter in her direction as she lifted the phone to her ear. “And for Christ’s sake, don’t let him screw you. You’ll only be one of a long line.”
“Richard doesn’t…” she began, her cheeks a brilliant crimson. “Mr. Vega? Your son is here.”
Dante shook his head. “Get out while you still can,” he called as he strode toward his dad’s sleek corner office. “Whatever you do, don’t fall in love with him.”
“You’re late,” his father said, looking up from his paperwork, dressed in his usual Wall Street finery. “Dressed poorly, as usual.” He sneered at Dante’s choice of attire: torn jeans, a short-sleeved, body-hugging T-shirt, and red and black Gucci snakeskin sneakers.
“Good to see you, too, Pops. I can assure you this won’t take long.” He placed his hands flat on his aging, ‘still handsome if you like old coots’ father’s glass-top desk, looming over the man. “Your latest conquest is a little young, don’t you think? What, she’s all of twenty?” He stood up, leaning back as if an idea had occurred to him. “Wait. You love them as young as your kids, I forgot. How silly of me.”
“What do you want, Dante? I’m a busy man.”
“Nice try. I’m supposed to be impressed? You know that shit doesn’t work on me.”
“I’m still your father, Dante,” his father said, his face cold and impassive. “State your business so I can get on with my day.”
“You know I’ve never asked anything of you after the scandal surrounding Maddy’s death. I’m still paying off Marquise. For your mess.” His cheeks blazed as his anger built. “The only reason she’s keeping quiet is the money I send her.”
His father grew stone still, only a tick in his cheek indicating he heard what Dante said. “Your point?”
“I need a favor.”
“And what would that be?” his dad asked, in the icy, emotionless voice he used for mergers and acquisitions.
“I need you to stop an African prince from coming after my girlfriend. Call one of your political friends. Someone with clout.”
The prince part seemed to escape his father entirely. They could have been talking about the president, or the Queen of England, no doubt. His father wasn’t impressed by titles, thinking himself at the top of the food chain. “You don’t have a girlfriend.”
Dante thought about it for a moment. In truth, Kennedy couldn’t really be called anything other than a love-interest at this point…a hookup…an incredibly good booty call. But she already felt like so much more. “I doubt if you pay attention to my life, other than what you read on Page Six.” He rested his palms on the desk once more, hoping he left marks on the polished glass. “But we both know you don’t want your dirty business public.”
His father’s jaw shifted, then he caught himself and clamped his lips together. “What’s her name?”
“Kennedy Swift.”
“That girl from high school?” His father looked genuinely surprised.
“One and the same.”
“Who’s coming after her?”
“The royal brother of her…” He thought a moment. “Boyfriend. He died at the game reserve where she worked. She didn’t do anything wrong, but the twin brother wants reparations.”
“I might not be able to help,” his father said, glancing at his monitor. “I have a lunch meeting in about five minutes. Are we finished?”
“I don’t know. How badly do you want this left out of the news? Social media would explode if your secret came out, and you’d look extremely unfit to be a CEO. Your stock might plummet. And Mom would probably give you the boot you deserve.”
“Your mother and I are fine. Don’t be dramatic.”
“Your marriage is dead, and you know it. The coffin’s even in a state of decay. You should bury the damn thing and let her live.”
“We have an arrangement.”
Dante thought of the separate rooms they kept at their luxury apartment. They rarely occupied the same place, yet they attended the same parties, events, and social gatherings as if they were a happy couple. Dante never understood why they stayed together. His mother could do so much better than slum it with Richard Vega. “So, do we have a deal?”
“I can’t make any promises. I’ll make a couple phone calls, but that’s it.”
“I can see it now,” Dante said, swiping his hand through the air. “On the cover of Newsweek. ‘Richard Vega, CEO of Vega International, gets caught with his pants down in a…’”
“That’s enough, Dante. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He stood, picked up his jacket, shrugged it on his shoulders, and held his hand out toward the door. “Tell Sophie I’ll be out in two seconds.”
“You’re blowing me off to screw your secretary? Nice.”
His father’s jaw bulged, no doubt from the strain of grinding his teeth. “I have a meeting, son. With an investor. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“There’s no excuse for you, Dad,” Dante said, turning on his heel to stride away. As he passed Sophie’s desk, he said, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” before entering the elevator.
Once on the sidewalk, he began breathing again. He swiftly made his way to his accountant’s office. The only thing he gave his father credit for was his insistence on Dante managing his money.
“Don’t end up a broke, formerly famous, has-been like celebrities and athletes often end up,” he’d told him after Dante purchased his Porsche on a whim. After he’d loaded it with features, that baby had cost him what some people pay for a house.
They’d argued, but in the end, Dante got his Porsche, and he’d agreed to get his own accountant, Ryan Nicholson, a guy barely older than him with the instincts of a shark. Now, at Ryan’s office, he inquired about moving some of his vast fortunes in different directions, toward a good cause.
“Since when did you care about the wilderness?” Ryan asked him with a wry grin.
“Since I started dating a wild thing,” he said. He realized they’d barely begun seeing one another…hadn’t even discussed the exclusive clause…but rationalized using his money for good causes helped keep the taxman off his back.
When they’d finished, with time on his hands, he tapped the numbers for Damien.
“Dant!” his brother blurted into the phone.
“Hey, Dami. Want to go out with me?”
“Where to?”
“To the tiger sanctuary near the Bronx Zoo.”
“No, thanks. I’ve got an extra hour of video games today.”
“Come on, buddy. I want you to meet someone.”
His brother said nothing.
“Are you still there?” Dante said. “Did I lose you?”
“Kennedy, Kennedy, Kennedy,” his brother said.
“That’s right. She works there.”
“No.”
Dante blew out a breath. “Tell you what. I’ll sweeten the deal with a trip to the Science Center.”
“Hall of Science?” his brother said excitedly.
“Yep.”
“Robot Exhibit?”
“Absolutely.”
“Mars Rover?”
“You got it.”
“And you’ll let me stay until the end?”
“They’ll have to drag us away.”
“Okay, then. Let me tell Ben.” He clicked off the phone before Dante had time to utter another word.
As he headed toward his car, he bought an arepa de queso from one of his favorite street vendors. He quickly wolfed the cheesy corn cake, figuring he and Damien could pick up something else after saying hi to Kennedy.
Kennedy. Simply stating her name got his insides hot and bothered. He fantasized about doing her in different positions in his penthouse…dressed in nothing but high heels and panties…laid out across his sheepskin rug. On her hands and knees in front of the fire. Her beautiful breasts balanced in his palms as she stretched across the kitchen island, him banging her from behind. His dirty desires caused him to have to adjust his pants, ignite the Porsche engine, and speed onto the street.
And then he thought of his initials inked on her inner thigh. He wondered if he’d have to close his eyes to prevent looking at the D.V. when he went down on her. Because, frankly, those marks caused him to question his past behavior. Then again, how hot was it to have his girlfriend’s inner thigh, a place only he knew about, inked with his initials?
“There you go with your ‘girlfriend’ thoughts again. Get a grip. No one’s signed any papers or given commitment rings,” he muttered. Still, …the thought of calling her his girlfriend appealed to his libido. And hell, it even tweaked his heart a little, if he still had one.
By the time he reached his brother’s brownstone, his insides were whipped to a froth. “Calm down,” he said. He double-parked the car in the street and jogged toward the front door.
His brother burst outside, right as his finger poised over the buzzer.
“Science center!” he shouted, racing for the Porsche.
Tiger sanctuary, Dante yelled in his mind, as he hustled to follow Damien.
His brother talked nonstop about rovers and robots, all the way to the Heights. Dante nodded, smiled, commented in a manner he hoped sounded appropriate, all the while his mind stayed on thoughts of Kennedy. When they finally reached the tiger sanctuary, he wondered how he’d managed to even drive. “Okay, buddy, let’s go.”
“Okay,” Damien said. “Let’s be quick. I only agreed to do this because you bribed me with the science museum.”
“Damien, stop for a second.” He put his hands on his brother’s shoulders, trying to calm the frenetic energy buzzing all around his sibling. “This is important to me. I think you’ll like her. I want you to like her—I like her a lot. Can you at least try here?”
His brother’s eyes slid to the right and grew moist. “Are we going to have to say goodbye to her, too? The same way we said goodbye to Maddy?”
The words stung him like his brother had plunged a knife into his heart. “God, I hope not. No. No, Damien. We won’t have to say goodbye to her.” I hope.
Damien faced him, his eyes narrowed. “How can you say that? You don’t know.”
“You’re right. I don’t know. But I really, really hope we don’t ever have to say goodbye, okay?”
“Okay. Let’s get this over with.”
With his typical incognito costume of Yankees ball cap and dark shades in place, he and his brother roamed the tiger exhibits, looking for signs of Kennedy. They finally found her in the middle of a group of children, showing them a tiger cub. Dante’s heart burst with pride when he saw her, chatting with the kids, talking about the dangers of owning a tiger, all the while allowing them to bottle feed the cute little thing. Kind of a mixed message, Dante thought.
But then she beckoned to Big Jim, who stood by her side. “So, I’m going to take the cub back to his mother.”
“Awww,” the kids all cried.
“But you’re going to feed a couple of the big tigers with Big Jim so you can see how dangerous and beautiful they can become. We don’t want these magnificent creatures to disappear, do we?”
“No,” the children said in unison.
“So, what are you going to do when you get home?”
“Write letters to save the wild forests,” they all chimed.
“Yes. And when are you going to do it?”
“Right when we get home, so we don’t forget,” a young girl answered.
“That’s right,” she said. “Tell your moms and dads.” She scanned the group, and her eyes met Dante’s. A surprised, yet warm smile crossed her face as she looked at him, making him feel all mushy and funny inside.
He grinned back at her.
She directed the kids to say goodbye to the tiger cub and follow Jim to the feeding pen, then sauntered to where Dante and his brother stood, tiger cub in tow on a leash.
“Hey,” she said to Dante.
“Hey, beautiful,” Dante said, leaning in to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek, keeping his desires in check. “I see you’re skilled at fundraisers.”
“What? Oh. You mean getting the kids to care. Well, these kids happen to have wealthy parents. This group arrived by private limos,” she said, her eyes rolling. “They can at least make a dent. Sometimes I feel like my main job here is a fundraiser.” She sighed.
Moved by her kindness, Dante experienced stirrings in his chest, coupled with pride for her. “I, uh, want you to meet someone special to me.”
“Dant,” Damien said, rolling his eyes.
“This is my little brother, Damien.”
“Hi, Damien. I’m happy to meet you.” She held out her hand.
Damien stared at his sneakers. “Kennedy, Kennedy, Kennedy,” he said.
“Excuse me?” she said, her eyes full of mirth, withdrawing her arm.
“Dant was always saying your name when he was in high school. I had to hear him say it over and over and over.”
“Dami, stop.” Dante’s face grew warm.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” Damien said.
“Yeah, buddy, but Kennedy doesn’t need to know that.” He wanted to crawl under a bucket.
“Actually, I think it’s kind of cute,” Kennedy said. “Thank you for telling me, Damien.”
“See?” Damien said to Dante. “The truth is always appreciated. That’s what Ben says.”
“Ben’s a smart man,” Dante said, thinking of the crap and lies he carried to protect his family.
The cub tugged and pulled at his leash, causing Kennedy to lose her balance. “Excuse me guys, I’ve got to put Tobias away. Meet me at the snack stand in about ten minutes. I’ll have a few moments to spare before I have a meeting.” She winced, and her face grew somber.
“Not a good meeting, I take it?” Dante said.
“Don’t think so. The ax will no doubt fall. I think I’m going to hear about how this place is going under, and then my life will turn into a circus as I scramble to find good homes for all these wonderful tigers.”
She looked so sad, Dante wondered if she’d cry. “Everything will turn out okay,” he assured her, hoping Ryan worked swiftly to divert funds.
“What, you’re a wizard now?”
Damien laughed. “Dant’s no wizard. He can barely hold his own in World of War.”
Maybe not such a great idea to bring my compulsively, honest brother to meet Kennedy. Dante suddenly became self-conscious, a feeling he seldom, if ever, experienced. He dragged his hand through his hair.
Kennedy laughed. “Don’t worry about it, Dante. You said you wanted me to get to know the real you. How much more real can this get?”
He immediately relaxed, grateful for her calm demeanor. She seemed to ground him. As she sauntered away, tugging the tiger, his phone blipped.
“Let’s head to the snack bar,” he said to Damien, retrieving his phone from his pocket.
“And then we leave, right?”
“Right. Kennedy doesn’t have much time, so, yeah, and then we leave.” He flipped to the text message screen.
Kent wrote, Did some digging. Your girl lived the rock star lifestyle in Africa.
Pictures of Kennedy followed. Kennedy at a club dancing, looking extremely happy in the middle of a group of men; her getting into a limo flipping off the photographer; her being carried out of a different club in some guy’s arms, passed out or drugged out…
As he scanned the images, his mind did all sorts of mental gymnastics. One minute wondering what kind of life she lived with Prince Charming in Africa, the other questioning his involvement with her. He didn’t need more heartbreak in his life.
Wait, there’s more, Kent wrote. Did some digging to find this...
Dante clicked the link Kent sent him and flipped to an article in a British online news feed. He scanned something about the theft of diamonds from King Khari, the missing Kennedy Swift, a key suspect. His mouth turned dry. Am I dating a criminal?