Seduced By The Mogul. Pamela Yaye

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?”

      Happy to hear her voice, he sighed in relief. “I need a favor.”

      “Hi, Dante! I’m fine. Thanks for asking. How are you?”

      “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude,” he said, feeling contrite.

      Jordana laughed. “Relax, buddy. I’m just kidding.”

      “How was your trip?” Dante asked. He didn’t have time to shoot the breeze, but he was curious to know how her mother was doing. Based on past conversations they’d had, he knew Jordana adored her mom, and he hoped Ms. Sharpe was doing better.

      “Good, but it’s great to be back in LA. There’s no place like home.”

      “You grew up in Des Moines, remember?”

      Jordana groaned. “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

      “How’s your mom feeling? All better and on the mend?”

      Silence infected the line. Several seconds passed before Jordana spoke.

      “She’s coming along,” she said quietly, her tone losing its warmth. “Thanks for sending her flowers. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Helene so excited.”

      “It was my pleasure. I’m glad she liked them.”

      “You said you needed a favor. What is it?”

      “Matteo’s school just called,” he explained, glancing out the window. He couldn’t see anything, but Dante felt the plane moving and knew that was a good sign. “Lourdes was supposed to pick him up at three twenty-five, but she’s missing in action, and I’m stuck at LAX.”

      “Oh, no, that’s terrible. I hope she’s okay—”

      “Screw her,” he snapped. “Lourdes doesn’t deserve your pity. She’s probably at home screwing the gardener in the house I paid millions for, and forgot all about my son.”

      “Dante, Matteo’s her son, too, and I find it hard to believe she’d deliberately hurt him. I know you guys have had your problems in the past, but give Lourdes the benefit of the doubt...”

      A bitter taste filled his mouth. Dante was pissed. Mad at himself for marrying Lourdes Faison four years ago. If he could turn back the hands of time, he never would’ve hooked up with the buxom hairstylist on New Year’s Eve. They’d met at an upscale martini bar and had spent a wild, drunken night at his swank bachelor pad. Two months later, Dante learned he was going to be a father. It took weeks for him to come to terms with the news, then he’d done what any stand-up guy would do—he’d popped the question.

      Dante scowled. He didn’t have a choice; her father had threatened to kick his ass if he didn’t. His heart wasn’t in it, but since it was the right thing to do, he’d played the role of the devoted fiancé. But just days after their lavish, three-hundred-guest wedding in Palm Springs, Dante had realized he’d made a huge mistake. Lourdes complained incessantly, spent money recklessly and treated his staff like crap. In spite of her diva behavior, he remained committed to their relationship. Coming home from work and seeing his infant son was the highlight of his day. It was what gave him the strength to endure a loveless marriage.

      His thoughts wandered, returning to the worst day of his life. One week after their two-year anniversary, Lourdes left their estate with Matteo and filed for divorce. Dante never saw it coming, was blindsided by her deception and betrayal. She went on to publicly humiliate him, telling sensational stories to the newspapers that tarnished his reputation. He’d never forgive her for vilifying him in the press.

      “Do you want me to pick up Matteo? I can go get him right now.”

      Relief flooded Dante’s body. He could breathe again. “I’ll call Matteo’s school and let them know you’re coming. Thanks, Jordana. You’re the best!”

      “I know, and you can tell me how fabulous I am the next time we have lunch at Spago. I’m an aspiring actress who can’t afford to eat at fancy restaurants, so it’s your treat!”

      “I’ll