A Forbidden Love (Eligible Billionaires Book 9) Page 6

  Ilana licked her lips. No. She wouldn’t ruin Amelia’s opening night. “I just…good luck tonight.” Ilana pulled her best friend into a hug. She’d find a solution to the problem, she would, and if she didn’t and soon, then she would tell Amelia and they would find a solution together.

  Wouldn’t they?

  “Thanks.” Amelia slipped from Ilana’s arms. “See you in a couple hours. I’m so glad you’ll be there with me.”

  Ilana nodded. She shut the door behind Amelia and locked it again. She looked up at the ceiling and closed her eyes.

  A solution…she would find a solution, because she couldn’t go on hiding the truth about the lease from Amelia. That simply wouldn’t be fair.

  *

  Amelia DeLoitte was a big deal. An eclectic mix of art collectors, critics, entertainment industry executives, and celebrities packed the Legend Gallery. Brad Pitt and Dillon McElroy stood in the far corner discussing Amelia’s piece Desperation City with Rhiannon Legend, another huge L.A. artist and sister-in-law of the Legend Gallery’s owner, Amanda Legend. But Ilana wasn’t really surprised. Amelia’d been a big deal even in first grade when Ilana met her.

  Ilana’s first day had been midyear, and she hadn’t known anyone. New to Venice, she was too shy to talk to any of the kids. Popular Amelia, with her beautiful braids decorated with pink and white beads that said shh shh shh when she shook her head, had taken pity on Ilana, sitting all by herself with her pb&j at lunch. Amelia had sat right down and offered Ilana half of her blueberry muffin. That shared muffin had sealed the “best friends forever” deal.

  Across the gallery, Amelia stood beside the L.A. Times art critic, charming her with a big smile and warm laugh and the ability to put anyone at ease. The critic smiled and waved her arms toward Late Night Landscape, a depiction of downtown L.A. at night. Amelia nodded and replied. Although Ilana was too far away to hear the words, she was certain that her best friend said the absolute right thing in response, because that’s who Amelia was. The girl who always knew just what to say. Yes, after years of work, Amelia had made it in the art world. The same Amelia who’d been all-in when Ilana suggested the Enrichment Center and who had helped Ilana to convince their artist friends in their beachside community to give classes to the children of Venice.

  “People love Amelia’s art.”

  A shiver chased up Ilana’s back and warmth flooded her body. Just the sound of Devon’s voice made heat flow through her. Desire. Want. She turned and her breath caught in her chest.

  Would she ever look at Devon without being gobsmacked by his gorgeousness? Maybe, but probably not. That smile made sunshine look dim. Her gaze swept across the T-shirt he wore, just tight enough without being obnoxious. His pecs firm beneath the cotton fabric and the sleeves hitting the center of his biceps. Now those were a work of art. She imagined letting the tip of one finger trail over the golden skin, pulled taut over muscle. Having him lift her into his arms again and carry her across the room, maybe straight out to his car…

  Devon put a hand on her waist. Heat flashed down her hip and flared between her legs. He leaned forward. A whiff of mint and soap and clean-man scent filled Ilana’s nostrils, as he leaned in to kiss her.

  Heat cascaded through her body. His tongue touched her lips and teased them open. In this very public setting, Devon’s kiss seemed to tell the world that she was his. He pulled away. She fought hard to breathe.

  He pressed his forehead to hers. “Hello, beautiful.”

  “Hi,” she whispered, her pulse skyrocketing, her body craving a private place for them to kiss again.

  “I missed you today.” He pressed his lips to her forehead.

  Almost as though they weren’t in an art gallery filled with fifty other people. She closed her eyes. This, Devon, how she felt, her life, almost all of it seemed too good to be true.

  Fear sliced her heart.

  What if it was? What if something bad happened, what if—

  He pulled her body tighter against his. “I always feel better once we’re together.”

  Ilana sighed. This. This moment. She would surrender to it and simply feel the happiness, not second-guess it.

  “Me too.” She smiled up at Devon, the love she felt reflected in his eyes.

  Devon leaned closer. “I saw a couple of prominent buyers.” His voice was low and his breath tickled her ear. My God, even when the man was just talking about her best friend’s art, her nipples tightened beneath her shirt. “Good sign when museums want to buy your work.”

  “I’m so happy for her.”

  Devon smiled, nuzzled her cheek. “How’s the ankle?”

  Ilana shrugged. “It’s been a little sore. It’s been hard to stay off my feet as much as I should.”

  “Lean on me.” He pivoted and offered her his arm. “Makes me feel useful.” She wrapped her hands around his bicep. Devon steered them toward the nearest piece.

  “Do you have any of her work?”

  “From her early period. Third grade, I think?”

  “Seriously?”

  Ilana nodded. “We’ve been friends since we were six. Met in first grade when I arrived midyear.”

  “You guys are really old friends.”

  “Closest thing either of us has to a sibling.”

  Ilana’s eyes swept the canvas with bold brushstrokes of yellow in the mixed-media piece that featured wood cut-outs in amoeba-like shapes surrounded by screens with animated graphics that Amelia had designed. Amelia’s art was complex and cutting edge and intriguing.

  “I always wanted brothers and sisters when I was little. I thought it’d be cool to have a big family, but after my parents split up, my mom never remarried. It was just the two of us.”

  “You don’t talk about when you were little very much.”

  Ilana stiffened. She felt so comfortable with Devon that for a second she’d forgotten her mother’s admonitions. Never talk about your family. A heaviness seeped into Ilana’s heart. Could she really never share her past with Devon? Tell him who her parents really were, about the life she and her mother had fled? And the pain of losing her mother…Even after two years, Mama’s death felt fresh, a wound carved into her heart that wouldn’t heal. “It’s hard. Talking about it reminds me that Mama’s gone. Even though it’s been two years, her passing still seems so recent.”

  Devon nodded. Deep understanding and compassion filled his gaze. “Never goes away, does it?”

  Ilana leaned her head on his shoulder, thankful that she could say these things to him without feeling strange or morose. “I…I don’t think so. I think…I think I’m just…I’m getting more accustomed to living with the loss.”

  Devon nodded. “That’s a good way to put how it feels.”

  “Devon!” They turned together toward the voice. Amanda Legend, with luxurious black hair that wouldn’t dare be out of place, alabaster skin, and luminous blue eyes that nearly glowed in the gallery light, swept toward them.

  Devon kissed Amanda on both cheeks. “Amanda, this is Ilana Reynolds, the co-founder of the Children’s Enrichment Center.”

  “So nice to finally meet you. What a perfect idea for Venice, for the community, for artists in the community—”

  “Thank you for the paper, on behalf of the children and the Center,” Ilana said.

  “Of course. I want to hear more about the Center. There has to be a number of ways that the gallery can be supportive and helpful. Your Center is good for the entire community.”

  Ilana licked her lips and glanced at Devon, who smiled and squeezed her hand.

  “Admiring your new piece?” Amanda nodded toward the artwork that Ilana and Devon had just been viewing.

  Ilana’s heart beat faster. Devon’s new piece?

  “We’ll deliver it to your house as soon as the show is finished. Also, Sterling has that name for you. The commercial real estate agent you were interested in meeting?”

  “Great. I’m very interested in looking into some local acquisitions
for TF and—”

  Ilana’s phone buzzed and she slipped it from her purse. She mouthed “sorry” and turned and walked away from Amanda and Devon as their conversation turned to real estate.

  Ilana found a quiet corner and pressed a finger into her opposite ear so that she could hear. “Hello?”

  “Ilana? Ilana Rashnikov?”

  She closed her eyes. Irritation now edged her fear.

  “I told you that you have the wrong—”

  “Reynolds, then. Ilana Reynolds?”

  Ilana’s heart beat fast. “Who is this?”

  “Don’t hang up, please. This is your uncle.”

  Chapter 8

  “I don’t have any family,” Ilana whispered into the phone, straining to hear above the din of the gallery. “So why do you keep calling me?”

  “I told you in my voicemail. Because we’re family, and I need to speak with you.”

  “I don’t know you, I don’t know my father, and based on the things he did to my mother”—she kept her voice low—“and all the other people he hurt, I don’t want to.”

  “I won’t go away. Your cousins won’t—”

  Longing curled through Ilana.

  “I have cousins?”

  “Your mother never told you? I would’ve thought…but no, I suppose…” A long sigh on the other end of the line. “Yes. Yes, Ilana, you have cousins.”

  Her heart lurched in her chest. She’d always felt alone in the world. She’d always wanted a brother or sister or…cousins? As in more than one? Yes, cousins would do.

  “They’re all around your age.”

  “I…” She glanced around the gallery. Devon, still deep in conversation with Amanda, caught her eye and raised an eyebrow, as if to ask is everything okay? And everything was okay…except it wasn’t. Her entire world had flipped over. Again. She supposed if you got flipped around enough, you’d eventually get to standing. “I…”

  “They want to meet you, Ilana. I want to meet you. Your aunt wants to meet you.”

  Ilana’s heart cracked. She put a hand to her forehead. Family. She missed her mother, and while Devon was becoming important to her, and was quite possibly her future, Family was something else entirely, something she’d thought she’d never have…an extended family. For decades it’d been only she and her mother. Why had Mama kept all of this from her? My God, what had Mama been trying to hide and why?

  “I…I have to think about it. I need to process all this.”

  “I want you to join us for dinner.”

  “All of you?”

  “I’ll send a car for you. To the Center, tomorrow at six. We’ll eat at our home, in Malibu.”

  Ilana closed her eyes. Malibu? Why hadn’t Mama told her that she had an aunt and uncle who lived so close? Malibu was just a few miles away…what if she’d met her uncle or aunt or cousins before and simply not known they were related to her?

  “You have the address?”

  “Yes, my driver will pick you up. I’m very pleased, Ilana, and your aunt and your cousins will be as well.”

  After her uncle hung up, Ilana put the phone back in her purse and walked toward Devon. He reached out and pulled her close to him.

  He nuzzled her neck. “Who was that? I’ve never seen you look this serious.”

  She wanted to tell him, she did. She trusted Devon, she might even love him, but her mother’s words—Don’t ever tell anyone about your family—echoed in Ilana’s mind. The alarms of her childhood sounding like a firehouse call to an emergency.

  “Just…a thing for the Center. No big deal.” She glanced down. A slick oily feeling curled around her gut. She’d just lied to Devon. But she couldn’t tell him yet. She’d never met these people. What if she didn’t want to have anything to do with them…what if there was a reason that her mother had kept her away from them? She would tell Devon eventually, just not now. Devon planted a kiss on her forehead.

  “Tough being the boss. Work never ends.”

  Ilana nodded.

  “Did you want to go to Nobu with me tomorrow night? After the Center closes?”

  Ilana’s heart thudded. Lie upon lie upon lie. Her lungs filled with a deep breath. “I can’t,” she said, fiddling nervously with the leather tab on the zipper pull of her purse. “I have to…I have dinner plans with some friends already.”

  Not a complete lie, really. She did have dinner plans with her aunt and uncle, and she hoped that they would become friends. Maybe they’d someday even feel like family, although she had a hard time believing that anyone would ever feel like family again.

  “No problem.” Devon pulled her closer to his side.

  She just wasn’t ready to share all the secrets her mother had kept for all these years with anyone, including Devon and Amelia. She needed time to process and understand. Cousins? She had an aunt and uncle and cousins that she’d never met. Tomorrow she’d meet them all. All of them. Tomorrow night, she’d spend with family.

  Chapter 9

  Travati Financial had become a behemoth and Devon and his brothers rarely dealt with real estate agents at this level. People brought TF hundred-million-dollar deals through high-end brokers and holding companies and attorneys, not little real estate offices on the corner. But Devon was doing business differently with this new division. He would handpick the buildings they bought and he would decide which businesses were allowed to rent in those buildings.

  “Devon, so good to see you.” Felicia stood from her chair. She reached one hand out to shake his and ran the other over the top of her hair. This woman embodied everything that Devon had thought, before he moved to Venice, was completely L.A. Obviously dyed blonde hair, eyebrows that didn’t move, softball-sized and -shaped breasts that defied gravity, and ageless, unlined skin gleaming with shiny plastic transparency. Her suit, her towering heels, and her entire demeanor screamed sales. Dollar signs flashed in her eyes. She gushed, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  From whom? He doubted they had mutual friends, although he’d been referred to her by Sterling Legend. Her words meant that she’d been Googling him and his family. Researching who he was and trying to figure out how to get him to buy what she was selling. Her mouth had to be watering at the thought of the commissions his purchases would provide. And why not? This was her business.

  Devon sat in the chair in front of her desk. “I reviewed the properties you sent. I know my attorney contacted you about two, but there’s a third I’m interested in. The Wave Building over on Hampton off of Rose.”

  Felicia nodded, her talon-like fingernails tapping her computer keyboard. “Great building. Completely full. All the tenants paying full market value except one.” She pressed a few more keys. “A new business, but the current building owner won’t be accepting the assignment. The tenant will have four more months of the current assignment rate, as a courtesy really, then if they can’t pay market they’ll be locked out.” Her eyes didn’t leave the screen as she continued tapping on the keyboard. “Was a pet shop. Did adoptions, sold food and supplies. Owner retired to Belize. Now it’s an art center. For kids.”

  Devon narrowed his eyes. The very reason he wanted to buy the building was that it housed Ilana’s business. “You mean the Children’s Enrichment Center?”

  “You know it? Sweet, right? Local artists banding together to help children and community, yadda, yadda, yadda.” Felicia rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Too bad the business owners didn’t spend as much money on an attorney as they did on paints. Assignment isn’t effective without the written consent of the owner.”

  “So the rent goes up—”

  “After the six-month grace period. The business owner was completely surprised. Found out right before the Center opened. Really threw her, but business is booming at that place, from what I hear. Maybe they’ll make it. The location is so good that if the owner evicts them, they’ll have a dozen people willing to pay market rate for that location.”

  “Right.” Why hadn’t Ilana menti
oned the Enrichment Center was in danger? Did Amelia know? “I’ll have my attorney send you the offer.”

  “Great. Was there another property?”

  Devon stood to leave. “Not now, but keep sending them my way.” Why hadn’t Ilana told him? Even when he’d gone through all the options available to her to obtain nonprofit status or get grants or bring in an investor…she’d never once mentioned that the assignment of her lease hadn’t been accepted and the rent was going up nearly a thousand percent in four months. No, she’d kept all that to herself. Kept secrets from him.

  An icy, uncomfortable trickle of fear trailed through his blood. Not exactly a lie, but an omission. Omissions led to trouble. Sergey had never lied either, only concealed the truth about all the women he escorted to the clubs Devon owned.

  Devon walked out of the building into the Venice sunshine. He couldn’t possibly compare what had happened to him in New York with Sergey to what was going on now with Ilana. They weren’t even close. Sergey had pimped Russian girls; Ilana owned a business dedicated to helping children. Sergey was rotting away in a New York prison and Ilana was teaching voice to five-year-olds. Maybe she’d been embarrassed? Ashamed to tell him that she’d neglected to have an attorney review the lease? There had to be a reason she hadn’t said anything.

  Then why did he feel lied to? Deceived, as though Ilana had purposefully kept the truth from him? Because she had, obviously. Devon glanced in the direction of the Center. No, now wasn’t the time to talk to her about this. And tonight she had dinner with friends. Tomorrow. He’d talk to her tomorrow. He strode down the street toward his townhouse and the conference call awaiting him.

  *

  Sebastian chased Rhapsody across the front lobby. Magenta paint from his paintbrush dropped in giant splats onto the floor. What the heck? Ilana turned toward the art room door. Amelia, her face looking like the storm clouds that had brewed over the Pacific last night, gave chase.